Hussein
Afrah Sheengiyaale died in the dead of winter
Earth,
receive an honored Somali guest
Hussein
Afrah Sheengiyaale is laid to rest
In
this alien snow
In
this old cold exile
In
this old cold Canada
In
this our old cold “Lady of the Snows”
“O
all the instruments agree
The
day of his death was a dark old cold day”
Meanwhile
Back
home
Where
the humiliating hurt is
Where
the clannish hate is
In
the nightmare of our Somali old cold dark desperate dog days
All
the yay
All
the jackals feast on the carcass of Mandeq
All
the clannish scavengers of Somalia bark
All
the crazy clans cower & wait
Each
sequestered in its hate
Woefully
arrogant
Willfully
ignorant
That
today
An
important Son of Somalia died
In
old cold Canadian exile
That
every day
Thousands
of Somalia’s best & the brightest
Languish
In
anguish
Shivering
In
this old cold Canadian exile
Eating
for breakfast
Every
day
This
old cold bitter Canadian cotton moldy bread of old cold Canadian
exile
Mad
Somalia drove Sheengiyale into this old cold Canadian exile
In
the restaurant of Kamtiray
In
the dead of a distant winter
I
ran into him in Toronto
Incredulous
I
remonstrated
Why?
Why
are you here?
What
are you doing here?
Don’t
you know
That
there are certain Somali trees that cannot be transplanted
Trees
that perish when they are transplanted Hussein
Abti
You
are one of those trees!
You
don’t belong in old cold Canada
Where
for half the year the trees are cold naked
Where
for the other half of the year the people are buck naked!
You
are not a maple tree
You
are a gob tree
How
you gonna cope in old cold Canada?
You
are up an old cold Canadian tree!
You
are out of your sunny Somali shady tree!
Why?
Why
are you here?
What
are you doing here?
How
you gonna cope in this old cold Canadian exile?
—Abti
This
abomination uprooted me
Out
of my umma
Out
of my Somali nation
It
was right after the main Friday prayer
Barely
outside of the main mosque of Mogadishu
When
bullets barked
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
The
dead man was an elder about my age
The
coon kaffir killer with his kalashnikov
Swaggered
À
la John Wayne
To
the fallen man
Took
the Koran the dead man was still clutching
Took
one hundred US out of the Koran
Drop-kicked
the Koran into the crowd
That
was still coming out of the mosque
And
walked away with an arrogant ignorant impunity
With
his nose up in the air
Like
one of those camels he used to herd
In
the benighted bush
Where
he was yesterday a camel jockey
That
abomination
That
sacrilege
Decided
me
To
cut out
To
quit
What
was once our country
What
was once our second mother
What
was once our motherland
What
was once our Somalia
What
was once our home
What
was once Heaven’s junior sister
Where
once the Holy Presence of Allah was most palpable
Where
now Allah has withdrawn His Holy Presence from
Where
even now the very trees are on hunger strike
Screaming
For
visas
Out
of hellish Hutu Hawiyeland
Out
of the moriyan mad murderous mess of Mogadishu
O
all the instruments agree
The
day of Sheengiyaale’s death was a dark old cold day
Allah,
receive now the returned soul of your slave
Hussein
Afrah Sheengiyaale
May
he now rest
Basking
In
the home of your Holy Presence
May
he drink now
His
fill of bliss
From
Al Kawthar
From
the river of abundance
In
that Paradise
That
you had bestowed
Upon
our Prophet Muhammad
Upon
his Umma.
May
peace be now upon our Prophet.
May
peace be now Upon Sheengiyaale.
Mohamud Togane
