We Somalis have failed

to listen

to learn

the lesson the Mennonites have been trying to teach us

for the last fifty years:

to love God and to love each other.

That is why today the Somali nation is homeless

that is why we Somalis have made our home

Somalia

into a hell to flee from

Not only have we Somalis failed

to listen

to learn that lesson

we Somalis have also killed

on July 16, 1962

one of the Mennonite teachers

who came to teach us Somalis that lesson:

Merlin Russell Grove.

Right now

in my mind’s eye

in the village of Mahaddei Uen

I can see Merlin

I can even hear Merlin

singing

as it was his wont

the best definition of Islam there is:

Perfect submission, perfect delight

Visions of rapture now burst on my sight

Angels descending bring from above

Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

Perfect submission, all is at rest

I in my Savior am happy and blest

Watching and waiting, looking above

Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

This is my story

This is my song

Praising my Savior all the day long.

This message of the Word of Love

This message of the Prince of Peace

This message of Jesus

that

Merlin and his fellow Mennonites have been trying to teach us Somalis

for the last fifty years

is no different

from the message

Weel-waal too tried to teach us Somalis ages ago.

Will we Somalis ever listen

Will we Somalis ever learn

their message of

“What Makes Men Dwell Together in Peace.”

Weel-waal

King of the Darod Bartire tribe

one of the rarest ornaments of the Somali race

called for a powwow with his braves

and addressed them thus:

“I want you to return to your homes

I want each one of you to kill the best lamb of his flock

and come back on the morrow with the part of the animal

that makes men brothers or enemies.”

When the morrow dawned

one brave brought the royal shoulder

so-called because it is served

to royalty

to heroes

to honored guests

another brave brought a good saddle of mutton

another brought a leg

another brought the ribs

another brought the liver

but when Omar brought out the gullet

they all blurted out

in dismay

in disgust

in chorus

“What an egregious insult!

What a heel!

What a heller!

What a hellion!

What an awful hellhound

to offer an offal

to the father of us all

to the king of us all.”

But Weel-waal smiled

saluting Omar

as the wisest sage

as the savviest son of a gun of the Somalis

saying

“Omar is right-on

The gullet is the symbol of selflessness

The gullet is that part of the animal

that makes men either brothers or enemies.

The gullet is no greedy Habar Gidir

The gullet is no absurd Abgal

The gullet is no habarkintir

The gullet is not habarkuulay

The gullet is no deceitful Darod

The gullet is no Qaat-crazy Eedor

The gullet receives the food first

but the gullet is most selfless

like my mother who always ate our leftovers

the gullet chooses to eat last

the gullet does not hoard the food

the gullet does not hog the food

the gullet is guileless

the gullet is guiltless

the gullet is not greedy gut at all!

The gullet passes the food down

the gullet downs the food

sending it down

down to each and every part of the body

awaiting

all the while

Patiently

for her fair share.

O man of greed and graft

go for it

go the distance

go to the mat

go for broke

go to the gullet

consider her ways and be wise.

So long as men share

fair and square

as the gullet

they dwell together

like us

in peace

in unity

and behold

how good

how pleasant

it is

when brothers

like us

dwell together

in peace

in unity

but how can there be peace & unity

when one SOB seizes power & pelf

eating alone

gloating

slobbering silly & sick

bloating with pride

playing with his seven insatiable bellies of unbelief

in the Grace of God

growing fat

growing forgetful

growing slick

growing as slick as seal

hording

hogging

living

high on the hog

looking like the pig he is

oinking like the pig he is

rooting up his own grave with his own snout

like the pig he is

while the awful long sharp nagging needles of hunger

are leaching life out of his neighbor?

Omar!

The more words I weave

the more miserable you make your mien, why?”

“Alas, My King!

The praise you have just heaped upon me

belongs to my fifteen-year-old lass

Sophia

who prevailed upon me to bring you the gullet!”

“Glory be to God in the highest!

There is no power nor strength nor wisdom nor glory save in God!

Then Sophia is the wisest sage of all of us Somalis!”


Montreal,

September 2002



Author’s note:

I dedicate this poem to my beloved teacher, Mary Gehman, who taught this Caliban

in the benighted bush of Mahaddei more than her language: who taught me

how to mine the meaning and the marrow of poetry.
M. S. Togane


Caliban, “a savage and deformed” subhuman character, appears in Shakespeare’s Tempest.

A representative manifestation of wild untamed nature,

Caliban is “a natural man.” He learns to speak--not only to curse--but to rise to lyrical poetry.

Shakespeare accords him some of the loveliest lines of the play.

In the end he recognizes his folly and express his intention to improve himself in a religious metaphor:

he will “seek for Grace.”