The reminiscence of my old days
“Old is gold” This saying is quite exciting when you have brilliant memorial days. Your past is the father of the present. Be aware of your past father. In the past time, I was lucky. Yes, the lucky one. I was one of nine children of a low-income family. I was also the fourth child. Two boys and one girl had joined the family before me. I am the luckiest one among those. How can I say that? I know you are confused about it. Around the age of ten, I was enrolled Dugsi Qur’an which is far away from my home. Yes, it was 10 KM far away from my house. Literally, I have no memories of those days. What an emotional discomfort is! When you have a little reminiscence of your childhood life is called emotional discomfort. This is what most Somali children are getting when old. Somali parents are not so well educated onthis issue. The first days of the Qur’an dugsi were full of lesson days. We were five to six friends from one village. It was not a village, but to describe it simply I use the word village. We settled at a small agro-pastoralist village, where there is no one modern-built house. All houses were made up of wood glued together and dried grasses are above. The house contained one room. There were no more utensils in the home. No electric light and no water pipes. We were real nomads. You go to school from morning to afternoon. No break time or lunch. It was really hard to believe in this modern context. Inside the Dugsi, no books or pens to write. Only loox (designed wooden for handwriting). Each student has one or two loox. There is a fewKitabo Qur’an. Those days are golden days, when I look at one side, but honestly, I have little memory that I can recall. There is a day I will never lose its remembrance. It hit me hard and frustrated me badly. It was early in the morning. I and three of my school friends were going to school and that day our teacher was absent. Obviously, we were aware that he was. As we are heading to the school, we saw the footsteps of swine. It was near time. The pig’s footstep drifted a narrow street other than the one we were heading to. I told my friends that I am following in these pig’s footsteps. The narrow alley was full of sarmaanthorns. I did and when I was near to the main road, a very sharp of sarmaan thorn pricked the slipper of my right leg and the next step it pierced the muscle of my left leg. At that moment I felt I was caught I yelled my friends and told the thorn had penetrated my left leg. They came around me and tried to pick the thorn up, but unluckily they were not able. We are at the main road that connects a large area. It is the main road that most of the nomads use for watering their animals. We met a group of people who are heading to where all nomads in that area water their animals and lives. They saw us and tried to help, but the thorn already dived inside the blood. We were not as clever as we are today. Compared to the distance between school and home, the home was nearer than the school. We thought not to come back home since it was near to us. Instead, we continued our walk to the school. No walking. Even I cannot stand right. I crept and continue creeping until I reached the school. The sun was hot that day. It was hitting us directly. We were at school the whole day. Around 4:00 PM, we left the school and forwarded home. My friends are slowly walking around me and I am creeping beside the road. Sometimes they try to make me stand and carry me. We had many trials from different people we met on the road. Since our walking was not normal, we became late and the sun has set. After the sun has set down, dark came around us. Some of scared. I told my friends one of us must rush to the house and inform my mom what had happened to me and she will also run and reach us quickly. We did that and it became as I pointed. Mom and my elder brother Ahmed came and carried me. I was at a couple of weeks for that thorn and still, I have its effect on my left leg. This is the most memory I have of those school times.
I left the agro-pastoralist life and joined urban life. The people call it urban, but no more differences except for well-built houses, electric lights, and water pipes in the houses. In this new lifestyle, I got another emotional discomfort. I do not remember my first arrival in the city. One thing yes. The day I moved to my uncle’s house. And I also remember the sound of bullets coming from the south. We were three: my aunt, her husband (who is also my uncle), and I. Uncle’s house was overcrowded and most of the members of kin who recently came to the city were there. I was the youngest one among them and they named me Cali Yare- the young one. Mostly they were porters and worked at port. Some were working building sites. I was the only one who do not go to work. Around sunset, I used to go to the market as to find feed for some goats of my uncle. Months later, I started learning at the mosque. It was such that until I finally joined the school. Wonderful day and a wonderful beginning! Memories are like the soil. They cannot be counted. Unfortunately, I have a few of those uncountable recalls. I feel guilty for losing beautiful memories. When you are a pastoralist or semi-pastoralist, you have enjoyable memories. Memories are full of every piece of your life, and I recommend you to keep them.
I started school in class five and finished class nine. It was a great journey. Not only a great journey but a life change expedition. The next one was more important than it. When I had a yellow uniform, I strongly wanted to have a white uniform. On the day I graduated from high school, I rejoiced to be a university level. This is the nature of life. Humans are always eager to have what is absent from them. They are curious. Curiosity is what drives us to reach our destination. Now I am a university graduate and I still feel unfinished. Still remaining. I am lucky to be born there. Really, I am lucky that. I am blessed by my family. Even my elder and your brothers and sisters. I have that fortune. Fortune of leaving there and studying. My dugsi Qur’an friends are still in the rural village. Yes, they are still there. I was among those who had the lead of the school in the rural lifetime. In my uncle’s house, I was talented and courage one. When began school, I was also a bright student. There was a time I had become the first student of the school. In my university, I was such an active student. Let me commend myself. I am lucky and a genius man.
My old days were full of lessons and having a little of these lessons is forcing me not to forget the following ones. Keep your memories alive and recallable.
Ali Hussein Ahmed
