mkhadarmay

[mkhadarmay]

“The books she read took her to places she would never visit, gave her friends she would never have, offered her a life she would never live. They were her escape from the world - they provided therapy for her mind, for her heart. They were hermits trusted companions.Because unlike people, books didn't care if you were a princess or a pauper. Their content didn't change depending on whose eyes travelled over their pages. Books just were.” ― Lynette Noni, We Three Heroes.

[mkhadarmay]

"Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about."

--Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore.

[mkhadarmay]

Here every meal comes with meat

A few months ago, I went to Somalia to do a one-week assignment and it was quite an experience. This was my second assignment in Somalia, but it was a different one. My assignment was in Garowe, the capital of Puntland state and unlike Nairobi where I got used to, the whole experience was different.

Here, every meal comes with meat. I wasn’t surprised with this because I have heard about the…

[mkhadarmay]

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…

[mkhadarmay]

Hodan Nalayeh: A blazing torch who left a light that will never be deemed

Hodan Nalayeh: A blazing torch who left a light that will never be deemed

During the last Somali Heritage Week, I walked into the main auditorium of the Kenya National Theatre to catch-up with a story telling session which was almost coming to an end. The hall was almost full and semi-dark, with the zeal and devotion of the audience to grasp something hanging in the air. You could tell they were in for something worthwhile. Something appetizing. The speaker who grabbed…

[mkhadarmay]

When resting hippos amazed me. :)

[mkhadarmay]

The ants weigh more than the elephant.

Fiona Apple.

[mkhadarmay]

The sun stopped shining for me is all. The whole story is: I am sad. I am sad all the time and the sadness is so heavy that I can’t get away from it. Not ever.

Nina LaCour, Hold Still (via the-book-diaries)

[mkhadarmay]

I was very fond of you, but now I’m so, so tired. I’m not happy to go, but one needn’t be happy to make another start.

Albert Camus, The Plague (via the-book-diaries)

[mkhadarmay]

Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible will give you a book hangover. 

[mkhadarmay]

One from my blog.

[mkhadarmay]

A great sorrow, and one that I am only beginning to understand: we don’t get to choose our own hearts. We can’t make ourselves want what’s good for us or what’s good for other people. We don’t get to choose the people we are.

Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch.