A
stone cast
Falls
close by
But
a word cast
Courses
around the world—
Forever.
—A Somali saying
You
are not gonna live forever
So
leave
Some
bonbons
Some
bons mots
Behind.
— A
Somali saying
Here
is the poem
That
put Somalia on the literary map of the world
Here
is the poem
That
immortalized Arfaye
Here
is the poem
That
made Togane more famous than the town
The
Japanese named Togane
After
Togane’s father
Here
is the poem
That
proved
The
Faith of Hawa Isse Alasow
In
her son Togane
When
she broadcasted
When
she baramburred
her
ode
When
her love for her son
Boss-teye
The
champ that chews up chumps
When
he chows down
When
her love for her son
Bubbled
over
Wixii
buug dhigi jire waa ka wada baqen:
All
those who once penned books
Are
panicking now
Because
of Boss-teye!
Here
is the poem that
Gilbert
H. Muller
Of
the City University of New York
John
A. Williams
Of
Rutgers University
Put
in their book
Called
Bridges:
Literature across Cultures
To
pay homage
To
the lyrical legacy of the Somali race
Here
is the poem
That
students across the world
Now
mark and study and copy
In
their notebooks
Here
is Arfaye
The
metaphor of Mogadishu
Mister
Mogadishu
When
Mogadishu was no mean city:
ARFAYE
A
man without a nickname is like a goat without horns.
—A
Somali saying
Arfaye:
the sweet-smelling one
Fattest
Somali
In
the city of Mogadishu
City
without deodorants
Everybody
knows his nickname
And
the irony that sweetens the truth
Nobody
knows his real name
I
can see him now
In
my mind’s eye
In
the middle of Main Street
In
the frying sun
Melting
away
About
to drown
In
his sweaty khaki uniform
Flinging
sweat away from his eyes
Trying
to direct a traffic of stubborn donkeys
Skittish
camels
(Impatient
drivers poking their behinds)
Hauling
grass and milk
Donkey-carts
driver by heedless drivers
Who
claim the city belongs to their clan and donkeys
Goats
Sheep
Cattle
All
on their way to the slaughterhouse
Jay
walkers
Paraplegic
beggars scuttling on all fours
(An
American nicknamed them spidermen)
Beeping
Fiats and thunder-farting ancient Mussolini trucks
without mufflers
Out
of this medley
Sometimes
A
relief
A
release
Would
appear
Quivering
breasts of a careless bushwoman
Or
some undulating steatopygous behind
Then
Arfaye
would pause
Tilt
his head
In
worshipful wonder
Flash
a smile
And
throw darts of desire.
—M. S. Togane
