By Abdi-Noor Hagi Mohamed
Friday, November 09, 2007
This poem is written by an American poet and writer who once worked in somalia in the good old days. He is George Mateos of Authorsden.com, a most cherished site where more than 50,000 writers and poets areregistered. If only a handful of people like George were in the world, Somalia would not have suffered from the brunt of neglect and isolation.
Unfortunately some of these leaders do not even know where in the world is Somalia located or have not even traveled beyond their local borders. And it is pity that the world listens to them not to people like George or you and me.
Please share George's introduction and poem with me:
Long, very long ago I visited Somalia, a gentle land full of gentle people, before gang-lords and anarchy and chaos. One can fall in love with a land so different than yours, but with the same friendly heart to bridge the differences. I can understand a Somali pain when he or she was forced to leave, like saying goodbye for ever, to our mothers...
My Sweet Soomaaliya: Dedicated to Somalia
God created it like a prod, eons ago,
a little gentle land in the Horn of Africa,
kissed by the sun and the arriving seas
a sprung kingdom from golden sands.
The winds would come announcing
of trade-men their camel’s caravans,
with sweet dates from far Morocco
and fine powdered spices from Chad.
Tuareg blue men wearing black serfs
coming from another sea, the Sahara,
which is made of waiving sand dunes
a high seas storm ever petrified like.
Wind, sun, travelers, all converging
rivers to pour into a gracious land
of honey, milk and smiling children,
their skin by thousand suns tanned.
People around the world don’t know
that there’s a country called as-Sûmâl
by the people dwelling around there
and that they heard being called Somalia.
Even today,among all the land's turmoil,
you will be invited to a home for Halal,
to be eat after the Tarawi Prayers
in the fasting month of Ramadan.
If you meet a Somali you will look into
the face that was seen by Queen Saba
and perhaps by some mighty Pharaohs,
show you respect with your best smile.
He, that was forced to abandon his home,
his nostrils will never forget the aroma
which only one will ever find in the grains
of his country dirt, embe dded in his heart.
Complied by: Abdi-Noor Mohamed
Writer and filmmaker
Mogadishu, Somalia
[email protected]