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 naïve 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.