AFWAYNE’S SWAN SONG
When Farah Gololay saw
Through the pomposities
Through the pretensions
Through the bullshit platitudes
Through the crazy conceits
Through the dirty Darod deceits
Of Afwayne
Of his Darod mad MOD minions
Gololay summed up the sorcery of Siad Barre
By quipping:
Sing hosannas to his Holy Highness Afwayne
Or
Report to the local lockup in Afgoye
Or
Shut the fuck up!
As far as I know
Gololay had not foreseen Afwayne
As an albatross
That will be around the neck of Mandeq forever!
Look at how now
General Mahammad Siad Barre
(May Allah have mercy on his sorry ass!)
Better known to my generation as
Afwayne
Straddles Somali history
Just like colossus
Just like Hitler
Straddles German history.
A German journalist recently wrote:
Hitler “has played a trick on us.
This Hitler, I think
He’ll remain with us
Until the end of our lives.”
I have no doubt
That you can say
The same thing
About our Somali Hitler
About our Afwayne
About our Darod Druid.
All the current warlocks
Who are warring now
Over the carcass of Mandeq
Who are now contending
For power
For pelf
For bililiqsi
For the throne of Afwayne
For the adoring throngs of Afwayne
All
All of them
Are Afwayne’s zombies
All of them
Are following
The script
The unholy writ
The unholy gospel according to Papa Doc Afwayne.
This is how well
Our teacher
Our father
Of all knowledge
Of all wisdom
Knew us silly Somalis:
When the Darod Elders
When the Darod Betters
Paid Afwayne a visit
In Kenya
Right after the flight of defeated Darod
Right after the Fall & the Decline of the dirty Darod
Right after the overthrow
Of the Darod Mad MOD regime
Of tyranny
Of terror
Right after the Darod defeat
&
Their Hutu Hawiye hangers-on
&
Their Eedor pack-donkeys
Right after the Darod were driven out of Mogadishu
Right after the Darod Overlords were overwhelmed
By the headless Hutu Hawiye hordes—
Flood waters
&
Headless Hutu Hawiye Hordes
Who outnumber you overwhelm you—
Afwayne said to the Darod Elders
Afwayne boasted to the Darod Betters
“Why do you look
So dejected
So downcast
I
For one
Am not angry with the heedless headless Hutu Hawiye…”
“What do you mean
What can you mean
Have you already forgotten
That you had to flee
In a funk
In a tank
With your Darod Marehan tail between your legs
So humiliated
So humbled
So humped
So harried
So harassed
So tormented
So tortured
That you hadn’t even had time
To finish eating your spaghetti
Because the black Hawiye hoards were
Swarming
Like locusts
All over the walls of Villa Somalia
How could you have forgotten all that so soon?
How can you be so forgetful
As forgetful as Lethied lass
Who is now ready for sport
Who is now raring to rock & roll
Having completely forgotten how she forswore fucking
In her difficult pregnancy
In her labor
In her travail
The Sorcerer of Somalia replied
“Despite all that
I still maintain
I still say
I am not angry with the Hutu Hawiye
I hold no grudges
I hold no resentments
Against the hapless hopeless Hutu Hawiye heathen hordes
Since I had left behind in Mogadishu
My junior
My minion
My apprentice
My namesake
My spiritual son
My secret weapon
Mahammad Farah Aideed
&
Enough weapons
For the Hawiye hordes
For the Hawiye Ali Baysten
To wipe each other out
Enough weapons
To keep the Hawiye busy killing each other
Till hell freezes over
Till kingdom come
So I say
Lift up you dirty Darod fallen fugly faces
&
Smile
&
Laugh
&
Enjoy like I am
&
Rejoice with exceeding gladness
Watching from this safe distance
The Hutu Hawiye Horror Show
Playing in Mogadishu now
According to my Darod deft directions!”
Afwayne was right
He was right on
For to this day
The Hutu Hawiye are still at it
They are still busy
Butchering each other
Murdering each other
Maiming each other
Mutilating each other
And right now
It is a toss-up
It is too close to call
As to whether the Hawiye will first
Run out of American & Russian bullets
Or
Run out of Hawiye bodies
To butcher
To murder
To maim
To mutilate
You may say whatever you want
About that old dirty Darod devil
Afwayne
Abihi Gar’ayada
But you may not say
That he did not know his three Somali stooges:
Darod
Dir
Dayoos
That he did not know his Hawiye
That he did not know his Darod
That he did not know his Eedor
That he did not know us Somalis
Afwayne was a Somali
Afwayne was Somalia
Afwayne is Somalia writ large
There is a little Afwayne inside me
Screaming to get out!
There is a little Afwayne inside every Somali
Screaming to get out!
The French existentialist philosopher
Jean-Paul Sartre
Observed
“Hell is other people”
The people of Baydabo say
Hawiye Na-red!
Hawiye is hell!
And they are so right!
Afwayne’s mad MOD was Darod
Ergo
Darod is hell too!
There is no doubt about it
We Somalis have become each other’s hell!
Once Afwayne opined
“When we Somalis all go to hell
Allah will haul us all to hell
In a street car called
Qurun iyo Qabeel!”
What Afwayne forgot to add
Is
“And I
Il Buono Condottore
Il Duce della Somalia
I
Afwayne
Shall be driving the street car called
Qabeel iyo Qurun!”
For still
Right now
The politics we Somalis practice
Hither in the Diaspora
&
Thither back in what was once our homeland
Are
The politics of Afwaynisssimo
Without Afwayne
Which is what the French call
Le politics de pire
The worst sort of politics
The politics of
“The lesser breed without the law”
The politics of
Kaffirs
Who are
“Half devil
Half child”
Our Ma’alim
Our teacher had taught us very well
Our Master
Our Guru Afwayne has been teaching us Somalis very well indeed
For over two decades now!
&
What Baron Samedi Papa Doc Afwayne had taught us so well
What Afwayne is still teaching us Somali zombies so well
From the grave
Is
Far graver
Far worse
Far more menacing
Far more grievous
Far more damaging
Far more lethal
Than this endless pain
Than this endless suffering
Than this endless exile
Than this endless bickering
Than all that Afwayne & his apt pupils had inflicted upon us silly Somalis
That is why today
Mogadishu
Our erstwhile capital of the Somali nation
Is clannish hell visible
Bearing Dante’s invisible hellish inscription
Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch’entrate
“All hope abandon, ye who enter here.”
Is there really no more hope?
I remember
About a decade ago
With Ahmed Isse Awad
In Montreal
I remember
Uncle Ambassador Abdullahi Holif
Telling the prominent Canadian politician
Honorable Ed Broadbent
Who once led the National Democratic Party
Who was then directing
The International Centre
For Human Rights
&
Democratic Development
I remember Holif bearing witness
That
“We Somalis are still Muslims!
We dare not abandon hope in our Allah!
We will always have hope
Even unto Death!”
Yes
Our Muslim Somali hope was
Tried
Tied up
Beaten
Bruised
Busted up
Broken
Buffeted
Pummeled
Prostituted
Pimped off
Deceived
Denounced
Disappointed
Deferred
Denied
Denuded
Defaced
Defecated upon
But never ever
Defeated
Or
Destroyed
Or
Extinguished
Or
Exhausted
But
“Hope is a good breakfast
But a poor supper!”
&
According to the late Hyena of Garbaharay
Who had our number
Who knew
What clannish buttons to push to punish us Somalis so
What clannish buttons to push to drive us silly Somalis
Until we go ape
Until we go amuck
According to our Papa Doc Afwayne
We Somalis have no more hope left
For Afwayne
In his swan song orated:
After I am through with Somalia
After I am through with Somalis
There will be no people left
For anyone else to lord over
They will all be
Gone
Gone in my trail of destruction
Gone with my whirlwind
Of flood
Of fire
Of ferro
Of fuoco
Of force
Of fission
Après moi le deluge!
Après moi le feu!
Finally
It seems
That we Somalis are finally offering
On a silver platter
To our enemies
The Ethiopians
The Kenyans
All the Somali lands and seas
That they have always coveted.
Afwayne
Our Lord
Our Master
Our Father
Our Teacher
Drove his point home
With this chilling prophesy
With this powerful parable
With this parting shot
With this swan song:
One day
The Hyena of Garbaharay
The tribal totem of the Darod Marehan
Was stuck with the unenviable task
Of keeping a Milchcamel & her Nursling
Away from each other
Apart from each other
The Hyena of Garbaharay
Got a huge headache
From running to & fro
Like the devil he is
From running after them
From running in pointless circles
Of confusion
Of consternation
Of cussedness
When he was about to give up
When he was about to throw in the towel
When he was about to collapse
In hopeless defeat
In helpless despair
The Hyena of Garbaharay hit upon a brilliant beaut
He ate the udder of the Milchcamel Mandeq
He ate the soft succulent lips of the Nursling too
Mandeq the Milchcamel took to her heels
To Jamal Jaan!
&
The Nursling took to her heels
To Futobe’eed!
The Hyena of Garbaharay collapsed
In helpless laughter
Peeing uncontrollably all over himself
Rejoicing in his jubilant jocosity
&
Sang this soaring solo:
With what will the poor Nursling suck!
From what will the poor Nursling suck!
To make sure
That every silly sorry-assed Somali got the message
Afwayne signified so:
I am sure many of mindless minions will come after me
Contending to rule Somalia
Not asking themselves
With what will they rule
From what moral authority will they rule
It will be as entertaining as Cinema Hamar
It will be as laughable as two completely bald kaffirs
Fighting to the finish
Over a cussed comb they have no use for.
When I now ponder upon the Somali fate
When I now consider our sordid Somali affairs
When I now cast a cold eye
On Darod
On Dir
On Dayoos
On their current crazy Somali Scene
In Eldoret Kenya
&
Everywhere else in the world
I swear to God
I hear Afwayne
Laughing in his grave
Laughing at the shenanigans of his Sharmootos
Ina Sad Salad Boy
Hasan Abshir
I swear to God
I hear the Hyena of Garbaharay
Splitting his sides with loud laughter
Peeing all over his silly self
Beside himself with high hilarity
Choking
Chortling
I told you so!
There is no one more stupid than Somalis!
