8 minute crash course about Somalia

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Tales about a nation of poets edit: This is one of my educational videos to educates, the ignorant, youths and the people full of the clannish ideology. Here is one of my favourite Somali poem. Axmed Ismaaciil Diiriye [Qaasin], 1965 poem title: Macaan iyo Qadhaadh meaning in english Bitter and Sweet translated by, B. W. Andrzejewski with Sheila Andrzejewski, 1993 Consider the aloe how bitter is its taste! Yet sometimes there wells up a sap so sweet That it seems like honey in your mouth. Side by side the sweet and bitter run Just as they do, my friends, in me, As I switch from sweet to bitter And back to sweet again. My two hands, right and left, are twins. One twin gives food to strangers and to guests, It sustains the weak and guides them. But the other is a slashing, cutting knife As sharp to the taste as myrrh, As bitter as the aloe. Do not suppose I am the kind of man Who walks along one path, and that path only. I go one way, and seem a reasonable man, I provoke no one, I have the best of natures I go another, and Im obstinate and bold, Striking out at others without cause. Sometimes I seem a learned man of God Who retreats in ascetic zeal to a seclude sanctuary I turn again and Im a crazy libertine, Sneakily snatching whatever I can get. I am counted as one of the elders of the clan, Esteemed for my wisdom, tact and skill in argument, But within me there dwells a mere townee, too A no good layabout he is, at that. Im a man whose gullet will allow no passage For food that believers are forbidden to eat, And yet Im a pernicious, hardened thief The property of even the Prophet himself Would not be safe from me. I have my place among the holy saints, I am one of the foremost of their leaders, But at times I hold high rank in Satans retinue, And then my lords and masters are the jinns. Its no good trying to weigh me up I cant be balanced on a pair of scales. From this day to that my very colour changes Nay, Im a man whose aspect alters As morning turns to evening And back once more to morning. Muslims and infidels I know their minds And understand them through and through. Hes ours! the angels of Hell proclaim of me No, ours! the angels of Heaven protest. I have, then, all these striking qualities Which no one can ignore But who can really know my mind? Only a grey head who has lived for many days And learned to measure what men are worth. And now, my friends, each man of you If either of the paths I follow Takes your fancy and delights your heart, Or even if you cannot bear to lose The entertainment I provide, Then come to me along the path Youre free to make a choice!

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