Shah Macaan: A Never-ending Qayilaad and Marqaan Merriment

I want you to picture a man. For the sake of identity, we will give him a name and call him Abdi because it is one of the most common names in the Somali community. And one of the easiest to pronounce, as well. Now, let me tell you the weird thing about Abdi.

This guy wakes up at 2 p.m., stretches and yawns lazily, creeps out of bed, staggers to the bathroom and takes a quick shower (sometimes without a shower gel and soap, sometimes with shower gel and soap), heads to the living room to hurriedly eat lunch (if he is a bachelor he goes to the nearest hotel) and heads to the base to wait the 3 p.m. miraa – an ever-green shrub grown in the Horn of Africa and the Arabian Peninsula and chewed as a stimulant – from Meru town. He starts chewing the green shrub from 3 p.m. to 4 a.m. (sometimes till 5 a.m.) when he finally finishes the marqaan session, goes home with a mixed feeling of self-hate, anger, hunger and hangover and sleeps without eating, without talking to anyone. He wakes up later at around 2 p.m. while hungry and re-starts the process again.

This is a complete life cycle that is sadly common for most men in Nairobi’s Eastleigh neighbourhood. The hood has many dashes (marfish) that bring together hundreds of men who take part in this qaad chewing sessions. The dashes are run by women who prepare and sell tea as well as water, peanuts and other commodities used by these men to spice their marqaan. The trend is the same in Northern Kenya where the Somalis live and in big Somalia towns like Mogadishu and Hargeisa as I have once written it here.

That site makes many to drool. Image credit: the internet

There are many bases for these miraa chewing sessions and one popular spot is Eastleigh’s Shah Macaan. Shah Macaan is a Somali phrase meaning sweet tea. The dashes in Shah Macaan stretch to as far as more than 200 metres in one of the abandon lines in Eastleigh’s 12th street, behind Equity Bank. The place is known to attract a good number of miraa chewers who waste away their days and nights in endless chewing sessions. As the name suggests, the ladies who operate the dashes prepare their tea in a way that makes these men gulp sips after sips and yearn for more. A sweet tea laced with different spices and café! Hundreds of plastic chairs and stools are lined inside and outside of every marfish for the men to sit on. The stools are used to place the cups for drinking the tea, mineral water bottles as well as the twigs and peanuts. A complete comfy for an ordinary chewer!

Most of these men rely on their relatives in the diaspora who send them remittance after every end month. This allows them to have the time to waste, chewing the twigs from evening to dawn without thinking about where to get the next meal for their family. Their discussions in these dashes range from politics to family issues. These miraa chewing sessions qualify for fadhi ku dirir (fighting while seated), a term used widely in Somalia and among the Somali populace. They often discuss the political landscape in Somalia and far afield while being loud and noisy. One will be forgiven for thinking that they are fighting or are about to engage in a fight.

Amidst all these noisy discussions about politics and society, there are those who just put on earphones and listen to music and chew their twigs nonchalantly. These guys are often seen as ‘discipline’ chewers because their marqaan doesn’t involve arguments and loud talks like the former. The silent type use their eyes for observation and the ears for the Somali music that is often used as an ingredient for the Marqaan. Another popular thing that is often common in this base is the Ludo game. They place their smartphones on the stools and play in groups of four. You will see them carrying their chargers in case their mobile phones run out of charge while playing it.

The funniest aspect of this Marqaan sessions is the ability of these men to build castles in the air. “Dawaqyaal aan jirin ayee dhisaan (they build inexistent castles in the air)” is a phrase often used by the non-chewers to make fun of these guys. When they get stimulated by the twigs they chew, they start creating their own stories, making their own plans and other unimaginable thoughts. A chewing man can plan his own wedding, execute all the necessary steps, marry the wife and divorce her while still seated on that plastic chair chewing the twigs. Or he will plan something that he has to do tomorrow and when that day comes he will be either sleeping or sitting for another chewing session with the plan up in the air. It is something they are known for. You will hear people say, “Did he say it while he was chewing? Then forget it. It will evaporate.”

Shah Macaan marqaan sessions are seen as the epitome of laziness and irresponsibility. That is why most residents of Eastleigh describe it as a base where the ‘wasted’ waste their remaining time, chewing aimlessly while making delusional plans day after day. When you are on the phone and you tell the person on the other end of the line that you are passing near Shah Macaan their telephone conversation immediately changes and they will ask you sarcastically, “Do you want to sit?” a phrase that means do you want to chew?

The intriguing thing about these men is the ability to stay without eating for a long time. Most of them prefer not to eat food during these marqaan sessions. Some will sit from 3 p.m. to 5 a.m. and eat around 6 a.m. before they sleep, but some will head straight to bed to redeem the sleeping hours they lost. Those ones will have their next meal 24 hours later. The miraa leaves and stem contain dopamine and cathinone which induce euphoria, stimulation and dispel fatigue. This explains why these men overlook food and many other basic needs. Their routines are confined to only chewing and sleeping for long hours. There is a joke in which people say “the qaad caused them bowel obstruction” referring to how they have no urge to eat normal food.

Often, it is these men’s wives who take care of the kids without these guys raising a finger. It is not uncommon to see women taking and bringing kids from school while these men sleep or chew the mild narcotic in faraway marqaan bases.

For some, Shah Macaan is a dreadful place where men are wasted yet for some, it is the perfect haven to chew away their worries, build inexistent castles and plan their lives while seated and high on these stimulant leaves.

Meaning of words and phrases:
Shah Macaan – Sweet Tea
Qayilaad – Chewing
Marqaan – Stimulation
Fadhi ku Dirir – Fighting while seated

Let’s Indulge in Shah Caano Geel (Tea with Camel Milk)

“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea,” Fyodor Dostoyevsky wrote in his novella, Notes from Underground. I think there is no one who doesn’t know what tea is or who has never taken it. Tea is a popular drink and is known to be one of the greatest stimulants ever discovered. Drinking tea (or is it taking tea?) gives you that sensational feeling of getting your brain bombarded with an unknown substance that cleans and relaxes it with excitement and ease.

Hardly will a day pass without me having two or three cups of it and the trend is the same for many Somalis who consider tea as a number one drink. Forget about those wannabes who pretend coffee is what makes their brains function. Those wannabes who move around with small cups (I don’t know what they are called) and take sip after sip bragging about their never-ending relationship with coffee – something they have seen after leaving their villages for the cities.

See, unlike the coffee, the tea gives you that type of excitement that even makes you forget your two-minute-old heartbreak that crumbled your world and happiness to your feet. But here is what you have to know; tea with camel milk gives you that who-the-f**k- cares-about-what-is-going-on-in- the-world feeling when you take the first sip. It literally makes you bow down and give your salutation to the cup that is holding it, the thermos that kept it hot and most of all, the person who made it.

The sight of it been poured from the thermos with its aroma – aided by the spices added to it – wafting through the air gives you that unexplainable feeling of merriment. It will have you drooling unknowingly.

Now let’s indulge in shah caano geel, Shall we?

A group enjoying tea at a joint

Relaxed Mind

As I have said, tea with camel milk relaxes your mind and makes you, for the whole period of drinking, forget about your woes and day to day worries. The moment you take the first sip, your concentration will have an-all-ears moment on the cup of tea travelling in between your lips and the table and you become relaxed with no worry in the world like a one-year-old baby suckling his mother absent-mindedly. Your clogged brain will automatically get itself rid of all the decomposing thoughts and uncertainties and tosses them to the nearest bin. Look, when I take an afternoon nap and wake up feeling dull and angry, the second thing I go for after praying is a hot cup of shah caano geel with good spices and boy, has there ever been a more joyful moment than that?!

Tea joints

There is nothing more fulfilling and exciting than having shah caano geel with friends at tea drinking joints on 10AM Saturdays and Sundays or 6PM of every day. If you have been taking it at home and have been getting distracted easily by the missus or the kids after the first cup (the first cup is always a starter for many), then your perfect refurbishment is the tea drinking joint.

That sight will always have you drooling even if your crush is right beside you

I always enjoyed tea outside than at home and that is why I go out every evening and spend an hour or two having tea and discussions with friends. It has, in a way, become a ritual for me since 2012 and it looks like it will be an everyday-think for me till I sink into the deepest abyss of senile-hood. You see, here, friends come together, form a circle with a cup of tea in front of everyone and the discussions made cover every topic. The best thing about these Kamukunji shah sessions is that you will have as many as three cups and still get the appetite to have more. And remember you have thrown away all your woes and worries. Aaaaah, see how sweet that is? No matter how many cups of tea were drained down the throat, there has to be one person who takes the responsibility of paying the bill. Here, the rule is clear: do not split the bill!

Take it to the study

Whether you are reading an intriguing and complicated Robert Ludlum novel or writing an article that has to beat a deadline, a cup of shah caano geel makes it easy for you to navigate through it. Take a small flask that carries four cups of tea accompanied by a cup and drink away to that task. Wear a kikoi for it and fold it up to your thighs as you sip it quietly and read/write. Make sure you put the lid on the thermos tightly so that the tea doesn’t get cold as you slowly take one cup after the other and have your assignment done/novel read. So people, indulge in shah caano geel as you fold your woes and worries and toss them into the nearest dustbin.

The identity crisis of Somalis in Kenya

“We are like ignorant shepherds living on a site where great civilizations once flourished. The shepherds play with the fragments that pop up to the surface, having no notion of the beautiful structures of which they were once a part,” Allan Bloom wrote in his book, The Closing of the American Mind. And while the author and academician mentions the barrier to long lost cultures, the solution is educating ourselves on it.
But how exactly can we revive our culture?

Halima Hassan, a student from Kenyatta University drinks from the traditional Somali calabash.

The Somali Heritage Week took place in Nairobi mid-November this year and not only opened minds of Kenyans who love culture and know of its beauty, it also brought the opportunity to encounter and celebrate it openly.
For many, it was an opportunity and a refreshing time to unearth the not so known culture of the Somali people and have a taste of what may have been tossed into the dustbin, and a time to start reflecting on our similarities as the people of Kenya and appreciate one another.
“As a Somali, the Somali festival accorded me the chance to share and associate with many Somalis and communities from across the World,” says Abdalla Rashid, an activist.

Abdalla Bash (in white robe) addresses the media. He says “There are two things people are confusing; Ethnicity and Nationality. Ethnically we are Somalis and Nationally we are Somalis”

There were many youths who came from as far as Europe to attend the festival to help them interact with different Somalis and other communities from different walks of life. And just like Abdalla, they got the opportunity to know about their culture better, which to them has been unclear.
Abdalla is quick to note that the Somali culture is quite unique in its own way and different from other African cultures, a fact that he is proud of.
Muna Ismail, a communication student in Nairobi, strongly feels that the festival was long overdue. The fact that this was the first time such a festival was being held in Kenya especially since Somalis both from Kenya and Somalia live here, nonetheless, relieved that it finally happened.
“It is really sad that the Somali community has been part of Kenya since independence yet not a single activity reflecting its culture has ever taken place. Like you will not see forums like this type and I cannot stress enough the impact activities like this can help in finding solutions for extremism within the region,” Muna laments. “But it is great that it at least happened and a start towards the right direction,” she adds.
Muna thinks many people are interested to take part in such festivals and would love the idea of holding it on annual basis so that it brings the Somali culture to the limelight. “The minute the festival was shared on social media, it went viral. Everybody started sharing and talking about it. The festival has a promising future and I would love to see it done often,” she says.
The festival, besides being a chance to introduce the Somali culture, was also an opportunity to speak about the Somali issues in Kenya today and far afield. It created a safe space where people shared their ideas and opinions on topical issues that the Somalis are facing. Extremism and radicalisation of the youth by terror outfits, discriminations of the Somalis by the other Kenyan communities, identity and many other pressing issues were largely discussed during the festival.
The issue of identity was and is always a problem for the Somalis living in Kenya and the festival saw many Somalis mostly of Kenyan origin discussing it with mixed feelings. Some are always against the phrase ‘Somali-Kenyan’ and would either prefer being called ‘Kenyan’ or ‘Somalian.’
It is a situation that has the Somali community in Kenyan between a rock and a hard place because some of them cannot tell their exact identity.
“There are two things people are confusing; Ethnicity and nationality. Ethnically we are Somalis and nationally we are Kenyans. I think that is where the confusion is,” Abdullahi Bash, a journalist and analyst says.
For Muna, it is good to accept who you are, and is saddened by the fact that the other Kenyans do not accept the Somali community as Kenyans and view them as outsiders. “However, being a Kenyan should not out shadow the fact that you are Somali ethnically. At the day though, we are still not all accepted as Kenyans by our brothers and sisters. And that is why you hear about the phrase ‘Kenyan-Somali. I don’t think that phrase would exist if we were fully accepted as Kenyans because you will not hear of a Kenyan Kikuyu or a Kenyan Luo or something like that. We are all Kenyans of different, yet vibrant and rich ethnic backgrounds,” she notes.
To most in Kenya, distinguishing between Somalis of Kenyan origin and Somalis from Somalia is a problem because of the similarities in everything.
“When the Somalis from Somalia came to Kenya fleeing conflict, they had no legal documents and couldn’t assimilate with other Kenyans because of language barrier and not indulging in each others cultures and roots. A lot of Kenyan communities do not know the difference between a Somali from Somalia and a Somali from Garissa, Wajir or even Mandera,” Abdullahi says.
According to Abdullahi, the Somalis from Somalia are bold and do everything with hope and enthusiasm hence very successful despite being stateless. “The Somalis from Somalia are risk takers,” he says.
Mr Bash also points out the angle of ethnical inclination where Somalis from Somalia interact with those North Eastern Province because of their ethnic relation. “You will see an Ogaden from Somalia related to an Ogaden from Garissa and Someone from Somalia related to another from Mandera or Wajir.
So the interaction among the Somalis has taken that inclination of whom do you belong to? Do you belong to Garissa people, Mandera or Wajir? But they are one and the same people.
This Kenyan-Somali and Somali-Somali thing is a confusion of identity. People are confused. Do you give allegiance to the people you are identified with or the country that you feel you belong to and yet is oppressing you?” he poses with a concerned face.
Abdullahi believes that the Somali Heritage Week extravaganza was a start for the Somali people to share their culture with other diverse communities in Kenya. “Everybody was happy about it. It was a historic moment for us and other communities will see the other side of Somalis. That Somalis are people with rich culture and heritage. It exposed the other narrative that Somalis are not as bad as they are perceived. They are lively, jovial and entrepreneurial. Mr Bash suggests that the Somali Heritage week be taken to other places other than Nairobi in the near future. “I think we need to share our widely rich culture and way of life,” he concludes.

Somali traditional  artifacts on display at the Louis Leaky auditorium.

I originally did the story for Warya Post.http://www.waryapost.com/the-identity-crisis-of-somalis-in-kenya/

Art meets art lovers in colourful celebrations

All roads led to the National Museum of Kenya in the last two days where the Somali Heritage Week is ongoing. The event — the first of its kind here in Kenya hosted by Heinrich Boll Stiftung and Awjaama Omar Cultural Research and reading Centre — brought together different Kenyans of different background but mostly of Somali origins.

Nanjala Nyabola moderating the Panel

The festival which runs till Saturday and with the aim of celebrating the rich Somali Culture saw artwork, music, Somali traditional dance, discussion of different topical issues by various panels as well as poetry all taking centre stage.

Abwaan Abdirisack Kabaxaay from Dadaab with his band entertained the audience in every start of every session with different traditional Somali dances with the popular Somali Saar leading the way. The group, all clad in the traditional Somali attire, left many an audience amused and thrilled with their scintillating performances.

 

Imaging the sound of the traditional Somali trumpet (buun) blown inside the Louis Leaky auditorium hitting your eardrums after the end of every session?  Or watching it being blown in front of you by a man in full Somali traditional attire? Isn’t that a sight to behold?

Abwaan Abdirisack Kabaxaay with members of his band in full traditional Somali attire

In one of the most entertaining and educative sessions, popular Somali writer and poet Ahmed Farah Idaaja took the audience through the Somali Literature and Language where he mainly focused on poetry both written and spoken. Idaaja says, “The Somali literature is diverse and the most popular one is poetry and that is why Somalia is called the nation of poets. It is the biggest and strongest and it has to have meaning and needs prose escort.”

He went on to read some poems composed in the early 50s with some leaving the audience in the hall in stitches. Idaaja told of an unknown male poet who, when he first heard of the bra worn by the women, composed a poem to critic it and a reply by woman, an exchange that had the audience laughing for most part of the session. He also recited a poem in which a man pleads for a she-camel. Idaaja recited the poem in a manner that evokes the power of poetry among the traditional Somalis. The popular poet also described and narrated how poets used to send poems in form of messages to their relatives and far away friends.

In the museum’s exhibition centre, drawings, paintings and other artworks by Somalis and other artists in Kenya focusing on themes and issues affecting the Somalis were displayed. Works by Somali visual artist Deqa Abshir were put in all corners of the exhibition room as well as works by popular Kenyan photographer-turned activist Bony Mwangi, Hussein Mowlid and Georgina Godwin.

Some of the Somali artifacts on display

The extravaganza continues today and tomorrow when the final curtains will be raised and with the broadness and richness of the Somali culture, I’m sure there are still a lot to see and showcase in the remaining days. A journey of entertainment and colourful celebrations beckons and I hope you will not regret going to the National Museum of Kenya to see a culture that will forever leave something in you to tell in generations.

 

I originally posted this story on Warya Post.

 

Agonizing pain

Her Dad’s words ring in her ears 15 minutes after she leaves the sitting room.

The words pierce her heart and for a moment, she feels like her world is crumbling to her feet.

Suddenly she is in agony. They give her a nightmare and her bright day quickly fades.

She tries – in her best way possible – to get them out of her head but they refuse to go away. It is like they are stuck, held there by glue. For some reason, the words haunt her. More than a relative’s death haunts one.

She reaches for her smart phone on the other side of her bed and sends a quick text to her boyfriend: “Baby, Dad is forcing me into a marriage I don’t like.” The text sends a cool chill through her body.

She cries, throws her phone away. For a moment, she feels like she has committed a crime. A grave one. She starts to feel hate seeping through her skin. She cannot understand why her dad is doing this. She hates him; for troubling her, and herself for troubling her boyfriend.

The rest of the day, she stays in her bed wrapped under a blanket, legs folded as though she has caught a cold. Not even the sound from her phone moves her, text messages spiralling in. Not the sound of its ringtone and neither that of the activities outside her bedroom.

Her world is suddenly reduced to the smallest of spaces.

She never wants to leave her bed, even to fetch a cup of water. She never wants to pick her boyfriend’s calls nor reply his texts for she knows she has troubled him and that she has lost him.

She is in distress.

By now, one thing is in her mind – to leave the world. To her living is suddenly ‘nothing – meaningless’. She wants to leave, hide her face from it all. From its sorrow. From its torment. From its misery. From her Dad’s stern face and words. From her marriage to her would-be husband. It is her only way out of all these troubles. Death is her only way out. Death is her saviour.

The door opens and her mother steps in. She knows there is something wrong with her daughter. She knows she isn’t happy with what her father told her earlier. She moves slowly towards her bed and sits beside her.

She takes her hand in hers and says, “It’s OK, darling. Be strong.”

And in that moment, she starts to remember her father’s orders and his plans for her life. Fresh tears starts gushing out of her already red, sore eyes. It is like she is reliving it all over again.

Her mother’s reassurance means nothing to her. She knows her mother will always support her husband’s decision no matter how wrong it is. It is clear to her, they both want her to marry and settle with a 60-year-old man.

It means only one thing to her; she is a wasted soul. With tears and agony punctuating her words, she replies, “Mum, I wi… I will ne..ver. I Would ra..ther die than ma…rry him.”

Her mother is in utter shock. How could her loyal daughter, Mariam, talk to her like that? Her 20 year old baby. How could she contemplate suicide? Has she suddenly forgotten her religion’s teaching about suicide?

“But sweetheart, is it such a mistake heeding our decision? We just want a good life for you and Abdullahi would be the perfect and ideal man to give you such a life.” She bends, kisses her forehead and says: “Darling, repent to Allah. Suicide is a crime.”

Her mothers words don’t sink in. She just wants one thing – to be alone. A lot of things are in her mind. The dreams she shared with her beloved boyfriend, Kassim. Her father’s stern face and his heart-piercing words. The text she sent to her boyfriend. The calls and texts from him that she never bothered to respond to out of frustration. It is not that she is bad but the whole story is a nightmare for her to fathom.

Her mother is now in deep thought. Mixed feelings. Angry. Frustrated. And, most of all, worried. “Is she serious about this suicide thing? What if we find her dead in her room with a rope round her neck?”

Too many questions, unsatisfying answers. The evening’s sun light shining through the window, betraying the tears that are now visible on her wrinkled face. She is lost for words. It is beyond her control, thoughts spiral in. She has to talk to her husband. Jerked from her seat, without a word, she shuts her daughter’s bedroom door behind her and leaves.

Her mother is lost. Lost between her husband and daughter. She knows her husband would be furious if she goes against him. She knows she will be miserable if her daughter makes true her threats to commit suicide, because of their decision to marry her to a 60-year-old-man.

“She is contemplating suicide”, she breaks the news to her husband who is now sipping tea and maybe thinking about the money the rich 60-year-old Abdullahi would give as dowry. How he would share the loot amongst his relatives. How he will entertain his friends.

To him, Mariam is now someone’s wife and this suicide issue is a tale. “Suicide? Over my dead body.” He quips sipping his tea. He has to see her. He has to confront her and tell her to forget about it because she will be settling with a man. No discussions about it. She will only die when death itself knocks at her door. Death should look for her. She shouldn’t look for death.

He summons her to where he is seated in the living room. He wants to see her immediately. What utter nonsense is this, he cannot comprehend the situation.

Still in her bed, she can hear him calling, but she ignores. Seeing him is the last thing she wants to do. Not when her eyes are still open. Not when her ears can hear his words.

He waits for her but she doesn’t show up. Now, he has to go and talk to her. He has to make her understand, she is now a wife, a woman.

He knocks on her door and enters uninvited. He orders her to sit up and face him. “Listen, I am  your father and you will obey my order. I have chosen Abdullahi for you and you should bring no qualms about that.”

She wishes she were deaf not to hear his hurtful words. Her thoughts are cut short. “Mariam, let’s go to the sitting room and have tea. You are exhausted. Don’t depress yourself, we are here to help you. We are your parents and we will never wish you a bad life,” she can hear her mother saying in her usual soft voice. She obeys.

In the sitting room, her Dad and Mum are giving her all sorts of lectures. She is told her would-be husband is nice and a rich man and he will provide her with everything. She is assured of everything she would need as long as she lives. She is told to take it as a blessing rather than a bad omen.

She feels in some way, reassured, and in few minutes all her worries are gone. After all, they are her parents, and they know what is best for her. She sips her tea happily and her mother’s embrace bring back light to her pale, sore face again.

Weeks after, a marriage is quickly arranged. Relatives are present. She is now the wife of 60-year-old Abdulahi, the marriage she dreaded the most. Inside her she knows she doesn’t love him and it’s only by her parent wish that she has accepted him.

For her, Kassim is the ideal man to be her husband. The man to give her kids. Cute and brilliant kids. She is however determined to try.

Despite her diligence, his old and rugged face is a constant reminder of all that she has lost and done. She knows she is in the wrong marriage, and cant help think of Kassim.

Days go by, the marriage is settled, she is in her house.

The cracks on the soil, the mud on the ground brought about by the last rains, has barely dried , yet she is already a bad wife in her husband’s face.  The house has become a battle field. It is always a quarrel and a fight between her and her new husband, a man her father’s age. They have no common ground. For some reason he always threatens to kill her if she keeps disrespecting him.

The fights do not subside, instead they get worse.

On this particular day, they quarrel and are suddenly in a brawl. He locks her in the bedroom and threatens to take her life.

She is scared. She fears for her life but a voice inside her tells her not to be cowed and without thinking she strikes him.

Within a blink of an eye, she is on the ground. He has hit her back. It is a hard and strong blow and she succumbs to it. Out of extreme anger, he opens the flask she brought him earlier and pours the hot tea on her innocent body lying unconsciously on the ground.

Mariam is now on a hospital bed with excruciating pain battling for her life. Because a 60-year-old has made her life miserable.

Every day, about 10 Somali girls are forcefully married off to men older than them. Men their fathers’ ages. Because these men are rich. Because these men are distant relatives. With a lot of awareness, these forceful marriages can be prevented. Every action you take against this will help a girl. Today, take the responsibility. Save a girl. Save her from torment, from misery. #JusticeForVulnerableGirls.

From The Horse to The Equine

They told me that I belong to the same house as you,

they single-handedly made the decision,

they drew a line and instructed me not to cross

to the other end where my brother, the ZEBRA resides.

With no authority and say, I accepted,

with no fear and suspicion, I accepted,

with no hate and jealousy, I accepted

 

But brother, you weren’t the same.

you aren’t the same up to now – half a century later.

You aren’t comfortable with me in the house we call

home,

you aren’t ready to accept me as a co-owner of the house,

you never want me to live and enjoy myself comfortably

in this house.

To you, my hair is a problem; my skin colour is a problem,

my appearance is a problem; my existence is a problem.

 

Brother, everything that happens in the house I’m responsible,

you say,

My innocence never believed; my presence never trusted,

my doings not trusted; my hard-work envied with bad

allegations from bribe to terror to piracy, to frauds.

 

Brother, there is a difference between me and

my other brother, the ZEBRA.

I belong to the same house as you,

he belongs to a neighbouring house.

I understand he is now dwelling in the same house with us

but you know the reason.

You know that his house is burnt, brought down, in chaos,

in mayhem.

 

I hear you say the ZEBRA brought some disorders in our

house but does it mean I am him? He is me?

remember I’m the HORSE, your brother who is living

in the same house with you and he is the ZEBRA,

our neighbour whom we offered shelter in our

house because his isn’t suitable to live.

 

Brother, tell me; what is all this about?

I’m uncomfortable, I’m in a bad state, I’m not happy

in my own house.

Are you trying to force me out of the house?

where do you think I belong?

it is now half a century of torture in my own house

I can’t just watch you hurt my pride like this.

I’m tired of this, I’m fed up with this,

I hate this, I’m saying NO to this!

Peace!

 

Poisonous honey: the mirra menace in Northern Kenya

For many, it is peer pressure, others curiosity. While for some it is addiction resulting from hereditary. The Miraa, also known as Khat, menace in Northern Kenya is causing marriage doldrums.

Catha Edulis – known in popular parlance as khat – is an evergreen shrub grown and chewed in the Horn of Africa and the Arabian Peninsula, a fact that explains the traditional use of the substance among people from these areas. Khat leaves and stems contain dopamine and cathinone which induce euphoria, stimulation and dispel fatigue.

Dashes (Marfish)

Arguably, Miraa is the bane of the Somali community, a label that exactly fits because of the community’s immense partake in Miraa consumption. In Garissa alone the wild narcotic is sold and consumed in over hundred temporary built shades commonly known as Dashes (Marfish). It’s in these Dashes that the chewers gather and make stories while they wait for it. The sight of it being brought to the Dashes from the transporting vehicles makes them cheer wildly while tossing their hands in the air in merriment. It’s a scene of exuberance and pandemonium!

The evergreen shrub is used by both young and old men alike and even – women – though not as many as their opposite sex. Men of different age groups spend most part of their nights chewing Miraa at social gatherings – a fact that raises an eye brow among their wives.

These men are known for staying up late till three or four in the morning thus not meeting their wives’ desire for intimacy and sexual needs.

Raha, 39, explains how her husband is taken away by the Miraa menace. She says it’s her hard work and tolerance that the family is getting their daily bread. Her husband is not making an effort of providing the family with daily needs. She says the family lives in a rented house and it’s her relatives abroad who pay her the rent. “You will see him roaming in the compound late night after he finishes chewing. At a time when everyone is sleeping and I always warn him of possible attacks by thieves but he heeds not my warnings,” Raha laments.

According to Raha, her husband doesn’t care whether the children eat or sleep hungry, a fact that makes her worried of her children’s future. “He is no longer interested in me or the children. I think the Khat is his wife and kids,” she adds in a rather angry tone. He sleeps throughout the day and wakes up at around dusk to start all over again.

Bulging cheeks

Adan Hussein, a 26 year old Miraa addict, is happy and feels good about it. He has been chewing since age 16 and still enjoys it though he knows the effects. At that relatively young age, his once full and white incisors and canines are replaced by glaring black spots dotting his gums.

He says he is aware of how his teeth changed and that will not stop him from chewing. I could see a discolouration along his receding gum line and in between his teeth clearly as he was responding to a question I posed to him. His bulging cheek couldn’t go unnoticed, either. Adan chews the poisonous honey, as he calls it, with his friends, most of who are divorced. He is not yet married and to him it is not a big deal as long as he enjoys life as a great Miraa chewer. He says Miraa can take the place of a wife in his life and he will not bother looking for a suitable spouse. “Why would I waste time in the name of looking for a spouse while the Miraa will reduce all the stress?” he asks rhetorically.

Adan chews the wild narcotic daily and he says he never misses money to buy it. When his pocket is empty his friends take the responsibility of buying for him. “Once you are a chewer, the question of where will I get Miraa today shouldn’t disturb you because you will never miss a friend who is willing to buy for you,” he says happily. Some also buy it on credit as they are known to and are long-term customers of Miraa traders.

The trend is not new in other parts of Northern Kenya. Men in other towns like Mandera and Wajir enjoy the habit too. Interestingly, men in Garissa who chew Miraa know their counterparts in other towns and even enjoy it together when they visit these towns. You will not to see a Miraa chewer in Garissa who doesn’t know another chewer. “Right now if I go to Wajir or even Mandera, I will not miss a friend to chew with. I can even get accommodation and everything,” Adan says. “I have many chewing partners in these cities” he adds.

Family Break-ups

Miraa consumption is known to cause both health and marital woes at equal measures. Many Somali family break-ups results from Miraa addiction by husbands. Hundreds of family break-ups are as a result of this menace.

The Garissa Kadhi (judge) alone hears and settles 25 to 35 of family dispute cases resulting from Miraa per week. Victims of such brawls, mainly women, flock to the Kadhi’s chamber to seek divorce and free themselves from the nightmare. “We handle quite a good number, roughly 25 to 35 and most complaints raised in court by women are mainly on lack of maintenance which is caused by men spending all their earnings on Miraa,” says Garissa law courts Kadhi, Mr. Juma Ali Abdalla.

Mr. Juma says a marriage will be dissolved if the woman proves beyond reasonable doubt that the father of the children spends all his money on Miraa and doesn’t provide the basic needs for his family. “My verdicts are based on the Islamic law guided by the civil procedure rules. I normally grant the complaint her prayers if she proves her case beyond reasonable doubt and if not, I dismiss the case”, he says. According to Mr. Juma, most defendants who chew Miraa are hostile by nature. He says he takes as a responsibility to inform such persons that they’re in court and violent acts amount to creating disturbances in a court of law which might lead somebody being jailed or fined.

The Kadhi says he is intending to sensitize the community on the effects of Miraa and other drugs that lead to divorce through the local FM stations. He also says he discussed the issue with local sheikhs. “I have discussed the issue with the local sheikhs and we agreed that everybody takes the responsibility of sensitizing the community through Friday summons and mosque lectures.” He adds: “The most important thing to note is that we should all take a collective responsibility as a community and this shouldn’t be left to the Kadhi or sheikhs alone.”

Children remain the main victims of such family break-ups as they are left with one parent to raise them in a financially difficult situation. In North Eastern Kenya, it is normal to see a Somali child staying with relatives because his/her parents divorced and was left without the custody of any.

Health hazards

Besides the social woes, Miraa is known to pose a threat to one’s health. In 1980, the World Health Organization (WHO) classified the shrub as drug of abuse that can produce mild to moderate psychological dependence, albeit less than tobacco and alcohol.

Miraa consumption may cause insomnia, nightmares and even tremors. Diseases like lungs and heart cancer are also associated with the shrub. Because of its simulative effect on the body mechanism, Miraa causes increase in blood pressure, body temperature and rate of respiration. Among female dependants, especially expectant mothers, Miraa adds health hazards to their unborn babies.

Miraa has seriously damaged the health, finance and relationships of Somali families in Kenya and needs to be addressed seriously, beyond community leaders. There is a need to raise awareness on the effects of Miraa, both on personal and social levels.