Richard Francis Burton wrote that the Arabs called it “Land Of Give Me Something.” That the ground produced potato-like vines yielding an edible yellow fruit that the hungry inhabitants chose not to eat. They are not so yellow in the road as they are on the page, though, low-hanging promises beneath clouds of dust, a bit of local color to offset the duller hues of his archiving—tribal intrigues, weather and winds, elephant hunts, gifts of tobacco, legends of birds, and the ever-present threat of bandits, lions, thirst, and diarrhea lurking close at hand. Everything he said is true, only now some things are missing.*
The star on the flag in Mogadishu is white. The star on the flag in Hargeisa is black. The former British territory declared independence from Mogadishu twenty years ago, and no other state has recognized it since. They are still waiting for something to happen.
Yes, Richard, the poetry is stark. Yes, the termite towers tall. Yes, the cave paintings inspired, and the tea spiced with ginger. Yes, the frankincense and myrrh are harvested and shipped across the Mediterranean to Balkan monasteries. The camels are bartered in silence, two hands clasped and covered by a towel while hidden fingers pull on each other and quietly fix the value of things. The lions and elephants have been made extinct and the trees cut down, the sand released from the roots to blow across the land and remake it into something else.
* Appendix Number 4, on the circumcision of their women, is missing from the published edition, a victim of Victorian mores. It is the only part of his book written in Latin, so that read aloud it has that holy ring. I've read it, in Latin. Remind me to tell you later about what they do to the girls there.
The star on the flag in Mogadishu is white. The star on the flag in Hargeisa is black. The former British territory declared independence from Mogadishu twenty years ago, and no other state has recognized it since. They are still waiting for something to happen.
Yes, Richard, the poetry is stark. Yes, the termite towers tall. Yes, the cave paintings inspired, and the tea spiced with ginger. Yes, the frankincense and myrrh are harvested and shipped across the Mediterranean to Balkan monasteries. The camels are bartered in silence, two hands clasped and covered by a towel while hidden fingers pull on each other and quietly fix the value of things. The lions and elephants have been made extinct and the trees cut down, the sand released from the roots to blow across the land and remake it into something else.
* Appendix Number 4, on the circumcision of their women, is missing from the published edition, a victim of Victorian mores. It is the only part of his book written in Latin, so that read aloud it has that holy ring. I've read it, in Latin. Remind me to tell you later about what they do to the girls there.