The Gangs Of New York
BY:-Yusuf Deyr FROM Hargeisa

Being
a father of eight kids with unshaved heads and a wife with a ringing
to ngue.Plus the political hiccups of President Riyalle.Sleeping has
become light er and more difficult to persuade.
That is why I often have a premonitory bad dreams that signals in my
intuiti on the mysterious narrow vision of our politicians in the
political arena. They are desperate for help but shying away from
asking, due to their deep ignora nce.
A missing relationship of trust in between the public and the
political leaders is a crucial factor. That is why our political
pledges don’t see the light of the day time. Because our politicians
have been blinded by the gold – dust. That is why they can read
neither our lips nor our hearts. Mr.Riyalle believes that the self –
absorbed – act of taking is a worthy quality. But giving without exp
ectation of reward regarded as an eccentric one. Who knows where it
might lead us to? In a country where all mired in poverty,
unemployment, illiteracy, and disease.
While some of special interest- group jealously hoarding good amount
of fort une of the nation’s treasury. And yet they are baffled by
the resentment th eir ill action generates.
Slamming the door on our face in this age and time. A window – user
spends one third of his life in sleeping, one third in hesitating,
and one third in waitin g . It is a bizarre! No jokes from now and
then. The thought is too scary rath er than to be funny. Stay tuned
and watch.
Nowadays Mr.Riyalle is touring in Sahil Region partly because a
goldfish was stolen in Berbera Seaport and partly because our
Godfather in Jibouti, presid ent Geele is spinning an evil wheel to
install a Marine Storm Prevention Syste m to monitor our coast.
The contract was given to a French company. Also the foundation
stone of a French Bank will be erected soon to replace the Sheikh
Basheer School. That is the good news of the week. What a big poor
lie and a poisonous prescripti on! Mr.Riyalle, Sin has many tools
but a lie is the handle that fits them all. Mr.Riyalle, is dry ice
solid or frozen? Tell that sheer nonsense and a fishy sto ry to the
camel drivers. A leadership deadly infected with serious greed, dec
eption, and out - right lie.
Lack of National Purpose of Direction is the symptoms of my killing
disease. Go od guys have to shoot so the evil must not win. We need
a Messiah with a gi mmick stick to intervene. Just an appropriate
school for my betrayed child, an affordable electricity, and a
healthy water to drink . That is all for my dem ands right now.
Until my favorite hero Mr.Six restores back life and comes ba ck
from his self – imposed – exile.
They are twisting my heart, but I am too old to cry. The morning
mist on the flowers is my shed tears; and the whispers of the trees
is the wailing of my devastated heart. They are expert only on how
to divide among families and friends. But we want what inds us, not
what divides us. Mr.Riyalle, ingratitu de is a human nature. How you
are punishing us with our own mistake is almo st unreal to believe.
It is not dark yet; but it is getting too late.
Mr.Riyalle is raising the statue of
liberty with his long right arm; and the Mad
Cow Cashier of our Revenue
Mr.Awil, is holding the torch of freedom with his left arm. What a
confusing legacy life can play!
Since 2001, I was roaming around the war torn Republic of
Somaliland. Wear ing sharp, keen eyes dressed up with a highly
sophisticated telescope. Hunti ng and fishing almost any scene that
deserves a senior diplomatic’ mission attention. While having a long
nose and acting as a rude intruder for a fact finding mission.
Acting as a black man street preacher who carries a small portable
organ in the streets of New York. Teaching Christianity to the white
people. Publicly raising his voice against the vast skepticism and
apathy of life. Trying his best to disassociate God from harm,
terror, humiliation, and misery that we humans, commit against each
other; and later blaming God for every thing bad that happens.
Answering why God never show up in some circumstances, though it was
necessary for his favorable intervention. To my great
disappointment, along that period, I couldn’t trace out a single
project that is worth mentioning. I have no a clue of any tangible
pilot project installed by our blood donors, with the exception of
the European Common Market.
There are more than fifty International Relief Agencies stationed in
Somalila nd acting as the characters of the children’s movie, Tom
and Jerry.
The UNDP, our role model who is supposedly teaching us the format of
good governing is one of them. It is very discouraging to see our
devoted, but help less doctors using rusty
scissors and metal files in
their high risk operations; under the shades
of those tiny dusty rooms, stinking of
urine. Our local farm ers are not nourished, or oriented with
the measures of the healthy methods of farming. Neither have access
to those simple tools and humble equipment standing idle in your
junkyard. More disgustingly, when food shortage strike s; you rush
us with your surplus of dead maize.
Which depresses our local prices. Undercutting home grown products;
and helping to transform subsistent farmers in to a chronic Aid
Recipients. Just treating us as a market place for your dead maize,
which is the left - over of your horses and mule. It is sad but
true! Above that, with that much capacity of knowledge and means of
the donors , yet they couldn’t afford to facilitate a healthy water
to drink. People are dying in our capital for drops of water to
drink, for the last six years. What a crying shame to humanity!
While your highness, Mr.UNDP, driving luxury vehicles and taking
your R&R ( Rest and Relaxation ) in every two or three months.
Hiring people on the merit
of their connection to our big brother,
not to their knowledge.
Or importing some school drop outs from neighboring countries. While
our cream scholars wandering around the dusty streets of Hargiesa,
sitting hand in chin. Above that, the Golden Gate Bridge of Hargeisa
which is located across the UNDP Head Quarter is down, for the last
three years. You worried about the neglected dogs in our towns, but
giving deaf ears to our alarming call for our basic essentials
needs. Our local NGOs are copped and bullied by the UNDP. Flatly
tells not to feed them if they are associated with Anti – Federation
policy. The UNDP and it’s offspring of international relief agencies
stationed in Somaliland, are promoting and marketing nothing but the
phobia of the HIV – AIDS and implementing that abhorring process of
Great Somalia.
Plus freeing our women from the shackles of slavery of the Moslem
Religon, as they claim in their clandestine symposium.
Releasing delusive reports to the International Community, is a
proof of their mischief and double standard policy. All in all, the
political cold shoulder to our cause, and the chilling phrases they
say, when it comes to the true reflec tion of this helpless nation,
is a compelling evidence of their hidden agenda. They have a draft
budget to funds that bury our entity as a sovereign State. Using
Somalia letter headed stationary in their offices here in
Somaliland, is one of the great ironies they practice. The UNDP
wants to rip us out of our social, cultural, and political identity
as Somalilanders. That is the straw that broke the camel’s back! We
will tell that sad story to our school children. The collateral
damage they impose on us outweighs what we benefit from their ill
dirty looks. Mr.UNDP, if we are wild animals; you are wild hunters
too.
What is next? I am afraid that they may introduce the Mass – Gay –
Wedding - Rally in our towns for the ongoing modernization process.
What a stark picture! Sir, if you are a healthy Christian you must
respect the mass – graves of our dead heroes by giving at least,
shelter, schooling, and bread to the deserted orphans of our dead
heroes. Remember that, apples are golden in the morning, silver at
noon, and lead at night. Sir, when you see people standing along the
streets in front of the tea- shops or restaurants.
Don’t assume that there are armed robbery. But we are on strike, and
that is our own way of picketing in lines. Because these guys that
are running the policy of the country are foreign contractors, and
they have failed to respe ct the bonds of their contract.
You can read that from their eyes when they are bargaining with you.
I am tipping you as a favor to update your books. As our genuine
chartered accountants and auditors are on their way back home. Sir,
nothing is secret in this small World of the internet era. We need
the hands that built America, not the gangs of New York. We already
have enough gangs here. My high school teacher Mr.Blume, told me
once that Christians are like green tea, and you can’t tell it’s
strength until it is put in hot water. Mr.UNDP, I can see and
understand your frustration. You see me as a beggar who is at the
same time dictating the deal. I am not that much naďve and I admit
for million reasons that you are harvesting the beads of sweat that
your forefathers invested in the past.
To guarantee you the legacy of the present extravagancy and the
opulence that you are indulging right now. I accept that with no
malice. You wine and dine on the lap of luxury. Skiing on an Island
of paradise surrounded by an ocean of starving people. I have no
objection. You drink with those rose colored glasses; and feast your
self with that juicy T – bone – Steak and that tasty lobster.
But after you take the lion’s share of the spider web budget. Please
toss a little portion to the right frying pan. Be a healthy
Christian. We are neighbors. Watch out for the evil – eye of my
starving child. Of course after my big brother’s allotment is
settled and he assures you with his greedy smile, from ear to ear.
Otherwise he will puff the fire off, and will toss my dirty pot
flying, leaving the food undone.
By now you are old enough to play by the African rules. You have to
speak with two tongues. Already your daddy told you this primary
lessons before he let you join the Salvation Army. Don’t be mad if I
call you lily – white beca use you owe an old favor for calling
names. Don’t bother with the leather boot. Because all our snakes
bite by the neck. Just remember, what I lack in tact, I will make
you up in sarcasm. I hate to say I told, but I did.
We need the
hands that built
America, not the gangs of New
York.
Being white doesn’t make you right.
Yusuf Deyr
yusefdeyr@hotmail.com
Hargeisa
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