Unlocking the Khatumo Heavens !
You Never believed in miracles…
[It feels like… “I have been locked out of Heaven” plays the song on the radio by Bruno Mars.
but somehow in this hazy and hot summer afternoon, you feel like gobbling up some fresh home-baked bread served with junks of chicken-breast stew_a typical dinner in your home somewhere in North America. You know you are full when you order your two cream and two sugar _ double double coffee in Toronto. One sip of this Khatumo Coffee and your world seems to spin around; Right, Left, North, South, feeling lost and dizzy as you search for meaning and direction to your journey of this thing called life.
You remembered many a fortnight when you travelled on foot from Jiidali to Far-hareeri, and Buhoodle to Bo’ame, you speculated that years of doubt and confusion led many of your people astray from the path of freedom and liberty. manipulated and maimed.Wait … but there is hope; Once again, it is late in August 2013, and you find yourself gravitating towards a special town in Somalia between North and South; a place that is neither Hargaisa nor Garowe; a Dervish City centre with historical fortresses, forests and Fig trees from which the Khatumo fruits are harvested. Fruits that could provide the vitamins missing in the diets of many in Sool and Sanaag regions.
In search of safer and greener pastures, “Aahhh! at last i can unload the caravan and settle the family here in Taleh City. Unlike the hustle and bustle of Western life, the people here are more genuine and welcoming” you assured yourself. It is early morning and you feel like exploring different villages and alleyways of this Historical City. After all, i am tired of life in the big cities of North America. “Come in my son” said a voice from behind the mud house in this Dervish neighborhood. afraid of hitting your head on the ceiling, you lowered your body as you stepped down the stairs of the tiny entry door of this traditional home. “It feels like I have truly arrived” you secretly confided in yourself. looking around, you observed the dwelling of your aunt Amina’s. You could not help but notice a white plastic sack that seemed to sit alone in the entire kitchen area. “it must be the flour supply of this monsoon season” you predicted.
“When was the last time you had three pieces of Somali Anjera and a cup of dark over-sugarated tea” asked your aunt with a smile. You rushed your hands to your mouth so you could lick the surplus drippings of the white oil from the Anjera bread, hhmm! It has been almost two decades Habaryar” you finally confessed with a sigh! You also remembered your aunt when you were little, she used to make Samosa, and Bur and Buskud and…all the other blessings derived from this one ingredient _ Flour.
shaking your head, You seemed to shrug off the nostalgia of your younger days, but you could not help your eyes as they were locked and fixated at the small brown Panasonic Radio beside your aunt’s Burjiko. She slowly turns the FM station, a young female Somali journalist reports in Somali that PLand has returned a ship carrying donations of food and Flour rations allocated for the residents of Taleh. Also in the news today: Medicine Sans Frontier MSF has vacated their offices in the cities of Bosaso and Bur’o. continued the reporter. However, Your aunt asks you: why did they leave? and As you tried to hypothesize the reasons, you wondered since there were no MSF offices in Taleh city, perhaps, a better question would have been: Why have they never set up shop in Khatumo Region in the first place? Why do your neighboring administrations work tirelessly to scare away NGO doctors who would help your people. Why did Somaliland’s former mayor of Lasanod confiscate your medical supplies coming through Berbera port. Why do they invade and start the wars that create perceptions of instability of security in landlocked Khatumo region. How much of this is the work of my enemy neighbors vs. how much of this is my inability to win the rat race to the white NGO-man’s heart.
It is at this point that you hear a heavy thunder in the skies of Taleh city; “is it supposed to rain” you asked… only God knows” said your aunt. but “Ilaahay Samadiisu waa furan tahay” [Allah’s heavens are un-locked] your aunt philosophized again.
As you left your aunt’s house, and back on the main street in Taleh, the noise of the thunder seemed to intensify to a deafening degree. feeling tall and proud, You looked up this time and noticed not a single drop of rain but a passenger plane landing. Young boys and girls converging at the Taleh airport runway … welcoming delegations and diaspora community who came not just to attend another conference, not just to ratify the Khatumo constitution, not just to vote for a new Parliament and President of Khatumo administration, but to bring with them bags of Flour and Medicine for their beloved in Taleh…
Back in Toronto, Home away from home. Summer’s humidity seems to be fading, You turn on your iTunes Radio station, this time, the radio plays Keinaan’s Waving Flag. a flag similar in colour and character to that worn by the kids of Taleh. A flag that proudly hovers over the skies and heavens of Taleh.
Glancing back at the Flour bag, you wondered what would happen to my aunt and her family. What if the whole village ran out of Flour supply and they can’t afford to buy… would they have to choose between Medicine or Food ?. perhaps one day neighboring administration would stop returning food shipments destined to Taleh city… perhaps one day, khatumo marked NGO donations and medical supplies will be liberated from the use of enemy _albeit Federal_ports of Boosaaso and Berbera. perhaps, I dont’ have to look to the South or North to feed my own people. And never again shall i put my head down when i am entering my aunt’s house. From now on, I will always Look Up … Up to the sky… for the heavens are always unlocked to good people on this earth.
Miracles of Khatumo continues…