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In The Fog Of War Like Father, Like Son

Yusuf Deyr

The American dream has run out of gas.   The car has stopped.   It no longer supplies the World with  it’s image, it’s dreams, it’s fantasies.  No more.   It is over.  It supplies the World with it’s nightmares and terror.  The raid and conquer and occupation of other countries like, Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Libya, Yemen, and Somalia.   It is nothing but new version of mperialism, domination and oppression..  Licensed to ruin and destroy mainly Moslem countries with carpet bombing; as an excuse of fighting terrorism.  Delivering bullets with biscuits and bombs with books at the same time to innocent kids.  As a token of American imperialism and oppression.  Advocating for the freedom of a sixteen year girl from the custody of her parents and ignoring the will and the self determination of a whole nation.  We, as Somalilanders, we shall listen, not lecture; learn, not threatened.  We will enhance our safety by earning the respect of our neighbors and others, and showing respect for them.  In short, our foreign policy will rest on our sacred and old traditional values of restraint and empathy that we have inherited of our forefathers; not on military might and muscles like the Evil [ Empire in Mogadishu believes.  Good neighborhood, passion, compassion, compromise, dialogue and wise judgment will lead us to safety and security, prosperity, strength and protection.   The Somaliland Flag with it’s  three colors expresses our entity of the past, present and the future.  The white color stands for our entity as a peace loving, dove nation.   The red expresses our suffering and struggle in the past;  and the green expresses our hope, inspiration, future prospects and dreams, for a better tomorrow.  All in all, it is the symbol  and icon of our freedom, national pride and history.   The scars and the stains of the Civil – War  are still deeply embedded in our hearts.   The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people, but it is the silence over that by the good people.  We shall forgive but we shall never forget our past.   We must pass it from one generation to other generation.  Blessed are those who can give without remembering and take without forgetting.

As Somalilanders, our mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive, and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor and some style.  The good life is the one that is inspired by love and guided by knowledge.   The purpose of Art is washing the dust of daily life, of our soul.   Perseverance is failing 19 times and succeeding the 20th.   Dear reader, the cost of freedom is always high, and the Somalilanders have always paid for it enough.   Dear reader, we are all tourists in history, and irony is what we win in wars.   In peace, sons bury their fathers.   In war , fathers bury their sons.   The military don’t start wars.   Politicians start wars.  Mr. Farmaajo, a leader who doesn’t hesitate before he sends his nation into battle is not fit to be a leader.   It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded,  who generates and starts war.   Every gun that was bought, every war – ship that is launched, every rocket that was fired, signifies in the final sense that it is a theft  from those who are hungry and are not fed, from those who are cold and are not clothed.   Dear reader, a six year old boy examining his testicles while taking a bath.  He asked, Mama, are these my brains?   Not yet, she replied.  Dear reader, Mr. Farmaajo who was undoubtedly busy with the diplomatic relations, between his testicles and a woman’s breast,  speaks softly and carries a big stick.  Mr. Farmaajo, as a veteran old man, let me tell you that women don’t want  testicles.  Because no woman in her right mind is going to carry around a bag that she can’t put stuff in it.   My son, Mr. Farmaajo, the very essence of literature  is the war between emotion and intellect, between life and death.  When literature becomes too intellectual, when it begins to ignore  the passions, the emotions, it becomes sterile, silly, and actually without substances. The real and lasting victories are those of peace,  and not of war.   A pint of sweat for peace saves a gallon of blood.   The more you sweat in finding a solution for peace, the less you bleed in war.  If Mr. Farmaajo has ever looked into the glazed eyes of a soldier dying on the battlefield woul had thought hard before starting a war.  But I don’t blame him, because he is a spoiled child.   He thinks that war is a poor chisel for carving out peaceful tomorrow.   Remember !  When the war of the pygmies  is over, the war of the giants will begin.   Dear reader,  war is never a lasting solution for any standing problem.

But the Evil – Empire in Mogadishu with the fallen asleep conscious, always renew their weapons to create and sow malice, destruction, pain, death, violence and war that only lead to death.

But, as Somalilanders, the object of war is not to let our soldiers to die, but to make the other bastard on the opposite side to die for his country.    That is why our soldiers pray for peace, because they fully understand that  it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war; not that timid bully, Mr. Farmaajo.

Dear reader, there are two problems for our species survival.   Nuclear war and environmental catastrophe.  But we, Somalilanders, will try our best to fight for peace, whatever the cost may be.   If there is no other choice and we are obliged to war.  We shall defend our boundaries manly, we shall fight in the fields, we shall fight in the sea, we shall fight in the hills and we shall never surrender to the Evil – Empire in Mogadishu.

Remember ! In the past, leadership meant muscles; but today means getting along with people.  Leadership is a privilege to better the lives of others.  It is not an opportunity to satisfy your personal greed.

Mr.Farmaajo, you are  a fear – monger like your deceased Godfather.  You are just like father, like son.

Yusuf Deyr, Somaliland political therapist

Hargeisa, Somaliland

 

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