Thursday, 15 May 2014

My conversation with Xamar Cadey

It's all I've ever known. All I've ever referred to myself as,when they ask I say: gabar soomaaliyeed oo ku dhalatay Xamar cadey aan ahay.
At times wanting to roar from the top of the mountains but there were times the lioness in me retrieved back to the little cub finding her voice with a silent little hesitant whisper.
I am a second generation somali you see, I am a child of civil war. There's forever been this deep, intense passionate fire in my soul that is the love and respect I have for my ancestors. Love for the land with every fibre of my being.
But I am a second generation somali you see, a child of civil war. I was denied my rightful throne. Birth certificate burnt, libraries and schools blown up. Had no choice but to leave the warmth of my mothers embrace and my kingdom, the cool ocean breeze and the warm protection of that village that was meant to raise me.
 Departing on what was meant to be in the safety of my Moses basket, just for the oceans to spit me up at what was meant to be my Jerusalem.
Physically safe, mentally at war, sword drawn, emotionally ship wrecked in no mans land. Spiritual disconnection was what was planned for me and my generation. Our history books buried under the tree.
Was this the vision the brave warriors had when they shed blood sweat and tears to gain back what was once taken away from them 70 years ago? What is rightfully mine? Kings and queens we were born as, adopted into a world of family destruction and spiritual damnation. Without the connection to the motherland how do we rise and once again claim our rightful throne?
You see I am a second generation somali, I hear the call of the old tree. I am finding my books, my history, my heritage.

My love for you will stand the test of time.
For you once again I will cross seas, forgive me if I have been gone too long but I'm coming home Hooyo macaan.

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