“1 tea with
lemon, 2 sugars please” I ask. Quietly, the lady passes my order while I pay
her for the service, “Mahadsanid” (Thank you) I said. With a bleary response I
receive a “where are you from?” “Somalia” I state sarcastically. “No, I mean
where did you reside before coming here?” I replied back with “Ohio” just for
the heck of it. Smiling, she leans over and whispers in Somali “People think
you Diaspora’s are arrogant but I think your manners will change our country”. Why
she said, I will never know but cannot forget that day.
From there,
with me being me, carious, I started to focus more on people’s conduct in my
ancient city of birth, noting the response, the greetings and so on. A survey
kind of habit, from the caasi (Bus) drivers, (I highly recommend you read 20 minutes in a Caasi) relatives, work
colleagues, the average individual and whoever I can find that would quite
possibly contribute into this fact finding mission. And boy was I in for an adventure.
Driving
towards a narrow road space for one vehicle, a car comes approaching from my
front who seemed as if he was in rush, I paved way for him and gave him a flash
light signal to make it aware for him to come forward. Without any hesitation,
he revved passed me. as I watched him move alongside me expecting a hand signal,
wave, whatever that could let me know of his appreciation, but no, nothing,
heck I don’t even believe he noticed me so I thought otherwise and let him pass
on that without any hesitation. Maybe he was late for work? Maybe he was
picking someone up? Or just maybe that he was a joy rider, pretty much
everywhere nowadays, who hadn’t even noticed me. I chose the most reasonable
answer and let it pass by me.
Heading on
and driving along Maka Al Mukarama Road, I looked at my petrol meter and it needed
filling ASAP. So I pulled over to a make-shift petrol station, a middle aged
lady with plastic full of petrol on the side walk (there are at least 100s of
private petrol stops along Maka Al Mukarama). I called her over, told her I
needed some gas filling with again, a friendly tone, as a way to respect her
dignity. She smiled as she was filling up my car, but I don’t think she noticed
me looking at her as I had my dark sunglasses on to protect my visual sight
from Mogadishu’s bright sun.
I paid her
the cash in dollars and generously, told her to keep the change as a tip. She
smiled and said “thank you dear”. I looked at her and said “no problem”. Before driving off, she pulled me back and
said “why has a young man like you come back into this nightmare of a country”.
I replied back smiling with a clutched fist, one word and knowing that any more
response would make us go back and forth; “Wadani” (Patriotic). Never have I
seen a smile so colorful that followed after my response.
Although good
conducts take you very far elsewhere across the world, I must add that
sometime, manners are taken as a sign of weakness in Mogadishu. You can only be
so polite for so long. Everybody has their rude side, me included and trust me, you wouldn’t want to see that. Coming from abroad, people generally view
you as rather soft or weak but little do people know one can have smart moves
hidden that you can never visualize. You see and hear everything but keep so quiet
and ware, and hit them your actions like a toxic lethal injection. I was always told that the loudest
mouth in the room tends to be the one who knows nothing and trust me, not that
I am labeling anything or anyone; there are a lot of loud people here. The
smart guy keeps quite and real low, grabbing everything along the way.
Sometimes in
life, to get what you want, you must play by the rules and if you can make them
to your advantage, even better.
With that
being said, you can’t rule out the fact that I love my people and love my city.
Long Live
Soomaaliya!
Mohamed Hassan (Dj)
Comments
Post a Comment