Last week, Somalia lost one of its greatest poets, Mohamed Ibrahim Warsame. Affectionately called Hadraawi, which means the “master, or father of speech”, Warsame was regarded as a pillar of modern Somali literature and a strong advocate for peace and democracy. In 1973, he spent 5 years in jail because he spoke against the revolution led by then president Siad Barre; this resulted in his work getting banned. Despite censure, Warsame remained undeterred and continued his work, composing poetry upon his release, songs, and verses. The poem, “The Killing of the She-Camel” led to his imprisonment without trial. In the 1990s, he called for an end of the civil war which has destroyed the country, and displaced countless people. Last week, Somali president, Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, said “Poet Mohamed Ibrahim Warsame (Hadraawi) was a symbol of unity and peace,”… “He was one of key pillars of Somalia’s art and literature who took a leading role in preserving the Somali culture and promoting the Somali language. His death is felt in every Somali household.”
Is there a better way to celebrate the life of Hadraawi than to share this poem? Against corruption, disrespect of the human condition, and nepotism, Warsame says, “Never will I ever accept a single insulting slide from those grasping commissars…” For his everlasting fight for justice, he says “Until the grave’s prepared… I’ll keep rallying and calling until the Day of Judgment.” Enjoy The Killing of the She-Camel (Hal La Qalay) by Mohamed Ibrahim Warsame, translated to English by Said Jama Hussein and Maxamed Xasan ‘Alto’.
Hal la qalay raqdeedaaHal la qalay raqdeedaa Lagu soo qamaamoo Qalalaasihii baa Nin ba qurub haleeloo laba waliba qaybteed Qorraxday ku dubatoo Qoloftiyo laftiibaa Lagu liqay qallaylkee Qosol wuxuu ka joogaa Qubannaa danbeeyee Weli qaba hamuuntee Buuraha qotada dheer Ka arkaaya qiiqee Qarka soo jafaayee
Qalwadii masbaa galay Qodax baase hoos taal Fule quudhsigii diid Geesi qoorta soo dhigey Faras qaayihiisii Qurux buu ku doorsaday Qabqab dhaafay baa yimi Qosol qoonsimaad noqoy Qabyo waa halkeedii
Qarandidu libaaxbay Ku qadhaabataayoo Soo qabo tidhaahdaa Qaankiyo biciidkoo Qaybtana shanlaabay Qoondeysataayoo Isagnaa qorshaha guud Qanjidhkiyo xumaystay Ha qawedin tidhaahdaa Aarkuna ma quustoo Ma qarsado xanuunkee Hadba qaran jabkiisiyo Qiirada xasuustuu Kolba dibin qaniinaa
Qalwadii masbaa galay Qodax baase hoos taal Fule quudhsigii diid Geesi qoorta soo dhigey Faras qaayihiisii Qurux buu ku doorsaday Qabqab dhaafay baa yimi Qosol qoonsimaad noqoy Qabyo waa halkeedii
Weligay cad quudheed Anna qaadan maayoo Qalanjadan faraa dheer Wax la qaybsan maayee Bal inay qabuuruhu Saddex-qayd ka maarmaan Ama qoor-tal jeexaan Labadaas mid quudhaan Xilka qaawan saaraan Hadba qaylo-doon baan Ka horow qiyaamaha Ku qulaamin maydkee Aan qoofallaadee Qarqarsiga ha iga furin.
Qalwadii masbaa galay Qodax baase hoos taal Fule quudhsigii diid Geesi qoorta soo dhigey Faras qaayihiisii Qurux buu ku doorsaday Qabqab dhaafay baa yimi Qosol qoonsimaad noqoy Qabyo waa halkeedii
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The Killing of the She-Camel (Hal La Qalay)
How they came rushing to that place Where the carcass of the she-camel lay, and what a commotion there was as each caught at her flesh pair by pair clawed off their share frying it in the glare of the sun and cramming down dry its crisp skin, crunching the bones. You’d bare your teeth too to see their scattered followers come still cramped with greed, ravenous at seeing the smoke ascend from the colossal mountain’s top, scrambling up cliffs and ravines.
The snake sneaks in the castle: Although it’s carpeted with thorns still the coward casts off his curses so the courageous must stretch out his neck; the cob stallion sells his values in order to cut a fine figure. When such cockiness struts forth and even laughter becomes a crime our country has unfinished business.
When the aardvark tells the lion how it’s supposed to hunt and orders it, ‘Go catch the young camel and the oryx’; then carves five times its share setting this aside while granting for the lion’s role glands and offal, commanding it, ‘Don’t quibble,’ the lion can’t cave in and doesn’t hide its hurt but now and then remembering the loss of its prestige it bites its lip in bitterness.
The snake sneaks in the castle: although it’s carpeted with thorns still the coward casts off his curses so the courageous must stretch out his neck; the cob stallion sells his values in order to cut a fine figure. When such cockiness struts forth and even laughter becomes a crime our country has unfinished business.
Never will I ever accept a single insulting slice from those grasping commissars – I won’t share a thing with them. Until the grave’s prepared to forego its three yard shroud or a collar round the neck, since one at least is needed to cover the naked dead, I’ll keep rallying and calling until the Day of Judgement, pray my cries can comfort the dead: tie me to this task, and don’t release me from its harness.
The snake sneaks in the castle: although it’s carpeted with thorns still the coward casts off his curses so the courageous must stretch out his neck; the cob stallion sells his values in order to cut a fine figure. When such cockiness struts forth and even laughter becomes a crime our country has unfinished business.
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