January 31, 2008 - 13:43
Wake up, Mr. President. Wake up!    

Nin daar ku jiraa, duufaan ma arkoo
Deegaankiyo, duurku waw nabadoo
Dugsiga aqalkaa, illayn dagayee
Dadkii dhimaye, Daahirow toos

Dabaylaha guban, ka doodiyayaa
Docdaaday iman, daaduunkooduye
Intaan duulaan, dermeda kuu rarin
Dadkii dhimaye, Daahirow toos

Qaylaa la diraa, durbaan la tumaa
Oo deeq iyo kaalmo, loo dalbadaa
Kuwaa diqimdidu, dalkooda heshee
Dad iyo duunyaba, dun go’a joogiyo
Miyaanad dareemin, daranyada (--- Bashir Goth) .

Wake up, Mr. President. Wake up! Don’t be deceived by your cozy palace, the luxurious sofas and the glorification by your lackeys. No Mr. President, if your cronies tell you everything is fine and people are enjoying their life, it is not true. Sometimes, Mr. President you need to stretch your legs and go out walking in the countryside. It is not only good for your health, but it is good for your governance. Because, Mr. President, you will find the truth, the naked truth. The truth that thousands of nomadic people, living from Jidhi to Cali Xaydh, have lost their entire herds in devastating rains and cold waves of weather that hit the area. Tens of people have lost their sight, while many others are suffering from hypothermia. These people, Mr. President, are still in the mercy of nature. Just like sitting ducks, they are waiting nature to decide their fate. They have no clothes, no shelter, nowhere to seek refugee. Their children, suckling mothers and elderly people have nothing to eat and nothing to protect them from the biting cold and torrential rains.

But the irony, Mr President, is that these people have been the backbone of the country’s economy for decades and will continue to be if they survive this catastrophe. It is because of their livestock, their goats, sheep and camels, that you enjoy your opulent salary and affluent lifestyle. These people rarely complain, Mr. President, because they are content with their Spartan life and rely on their labor and their animals. They generously give their milk and meat. And we say give because the labor and energy they put in rearing their livestock are more costly than the price they get when they sell them in local markets. But it is the value of their livestock that fills your coffers. You know Mr. President that your government cannot survive without these nomads’ goats and sheep. When you meet foreign dignitaries you boast of the country’s livestock wealth. This much you know, Mr. President, and you have the right to brag about the livestock that the Almighty has bestowed on our people. But you have to know, Mr. President that livestock do not breed in the wilderness. It is the nomads who breed them and devote their lives, generations after generations to spare them from extinction. This is how they support our economy and keep you and your ministers in power.

But why do you ignore them, Mr. President, when natural disasters strike them? It is baffling to us Mr. President, how patriotic and active you become when someone makes negative comments about your rule or about your political stances but you lose all zest when natural disasters devastate large swathes of your people.

We wonder, Mr. President, whether you are at all aware that you are a President of a nation. It is natural, Mr. President, for such amnesia, such indifference, to happen when a president stays in power for a long time. He ends up seeing only the walls of his palace. So please, Mr. President, step out of your Presidential prison before it is too late and enquire about the condition of your citizens. Go to the countryside and talk to the people shivering in the mountains of Guban, take blankets and food with you and make them feel that you are their leader and you care about them.

Do not tell us that you have no funds. You have, Mr. President, because we know that you give thousands of dollars to your cronies to buy their loyalties. Only a fraction of the outrageous amounts that you extravagantly splurge on your supporters will be enough to the nomads. You do not have to even dig into your pockets and treasures, Mr. President; all you need is to appeal to our businessmen and to the international community for help. You need only to shout and tell the world that your people are suffering. We do not understand why that is so difficult for you to do, Mr. President. It is nearly one month since the catastrophe struck the Guban people and you have yet to say a word. Wake up, Mr. President, before the Tsunami of the Hungry and homeless people storms your palace. Look at history, Mr. President. Remember if you eat cakes, thousands of your people who have put you there are sending their children to sleep on empty stomachs and you have failed to even issue an appeal on their behalf. Wake up, Mr President. Wake up! Dadkii Dhimaye, Daahirow Toos.