Yes, it's been a while (a loooong while) as some of my readers have pointed out, but I have good reason to have been absent for so long. I've been working hard and traveling harder. While I have no intention of slowing down now that summer vacation is near (although it's getting chillier here in Windhoek, our version of winter), I do hope to at least make a better attempt to write here more often. I had some amazing adventures in East Africa and sadly, had the misfortune of being in Kenya at the time of the election madness. I had already been there for several months when the elections happened and although I was nowhere near ready to leave (I never am, I love Kenya) my parents felt that it was best for my own safety to move on to Tanzania, which I hadn't planned on visisting til a few months later. It was heartbreaking to see what became of such a lovely country, but I'm quite glad to see that things are slowly but surely returning to their peaceful state. Tanzania was stuuuuuunning! Got to head to Mt. Kilimanjaro and visited Dar Es Salaam, Arusha and even Zanzibar. I think if I ever get tired of living in Namibia, TZ is my next home! Spoke to my old roommates Ama and Ngozi who are still in Canada and bragged about snorkeling and scuba diving while they were suffering through the dead of winter lol. I got some hate mail (sprinkled with love and laughter, of course) :) from them. I miss them and their crazy selves, but I don't miss Canada! For those who were raised in Africa like me, or lived in (however briefly) Africa, you all know that nothing can compare to the sweetness of the breeze in your hair or the sunshine on your face. There is just something about an African sunset that makes it unlike any other in the world. I am glad to be back and to have rekindled my love affair with my favorite continent! I'm going to visit some family in Europe in a few weeks, so more travel tales to come. It's good to be back, in more ways than one :)

I'm back, back home, back to blogging, back to my senses, you get the point. Ok, so I have had quite a little journey across the southern cone of this beautiful continent and have come home to regroup before hitting up the eastern coast to visit some relatives and wonderful friends. A big Ramadan Karim to all my Muslim people (better late than never) and blessings to you all in this and the coming months. I took a million pics of the unbelievable things I saw on my trip and sure enough, I ended up forgetting my camera in a bathroom stall at the airport, only to realize once I had boarded and we were airborne. Typical of me and my absentmindedness. Oh well. I have not had much of a chance to write and update the blog, but I hope to do a little catching up before heading off on leg 2 of the journey. I have so many tales, I'm not quite sure where to begin. I'll mull it over and return soon, I'm exhausted and my bed is calling. Until next time.

My journey home to Namibia was a safe, (alhamdulillah) if difficult one due to my unfortunately injured foot. It is much better, I am now walking with a cane and no crutches (yay!). It was wonderful to see all my family after so long, (I haven't returned in 4 years) and I was amazed at how different they all looked. I missed them terribly and, while I had some wonderful experiences in N. America, I'm very glad to be back to "the motherland." I am now in Capetown, S.Africa, visiting some old friends and schoolmates, and the beauty of this country never ceases to amaze me. I have been to S.Africa many times, but had never had the opportunity to do the one thing I have wanted to do for a very long time: visit Robben Island. For those of you who are not familiar with Robben Island, historically, in the 1600s, it was used as a lieu of imprisonment for Dutch rebels and leaders, who were exiled to S. Africa from other Dutch colonies. It later was used as a leper colony and eventually became a prison once again during Apartheid, housing some of the anti-apartheid movement's most important figures, the most prominent of course being, Nelson Mandela. In the late nineties, it was declared a World Heritage Site, and has become one of S. Africa's biggest tourist attractions.

I decided that now was the time for me to make the trip to R. Island and I knew just the person to accompany me: My father. I called him, as he was going to be coming to Cape Town on some business, to see if he would be interested. "Of course my child!" He responded enthusiastically just as I knew he would. My father, the history fanatic, had been to R. Island before, but he would not pass up an opportunity to do so again. He has always encouraged in his children a sense of curiosity and a thirst for knowledge, and so he was naturally pleased that I would take the initiative and invite him on such a journey. So a few days later, when my father had arrived, we headed over to the Robben Island museum in order to catch the boat heading out to the island. The boat ride itself was amazing, as you get a wonderful view of Cape Town. We landed on the island and got on a tour bus which took us around the island, all the while we were
being given the history of the island, from the time before the European settlers arrived to the days of apartheid. We were given a tour by a man named Phinneas, a former freedom-fighter and prisoner duirng apartheid and he took us around the prison showing us the ins and outs of the prison and giving us a detailed description of the life of an apartheid-era prisoner.

It was an incredibly moving trip and I felt emotionally drained by the end of it. Somehow, the spirit of all those who were imprisoned for so many years (sometimes decades) for fighting against a regime that debased and dehumanized them and treated them as inferior beings simply because of the colour of their skin, was still palpable. You could hear it in Phinneas' voice, feel it in the walls, see it in the prison yard. So much had happened there, so much history had taken place in between those walls, spirits were broken as well as strengthened and it was wonderful to be able to take part in such a tour. My father was a lovely companion, interjecting quietly every once in a while with some tid bit of information he felt I should know. He was quiet and lost in thought as always, and as we were leaving the island said to me: "My child, there are those who come here simply because the tour books tell them to do so and leave with nothing, and then there are those who arrive with curious hearts and minds, and leave with them more full than ever because they carry forth what they have seen and experienced here. I know you are in the latter category, I saw it in your face." That was all the closure I needed.

Well it's been a good long while since my last post and that has been 60% due to me being busy and 40% due to sheer laziness. A great many things have happened since I last posted, so many in fact, that I don't even know where to begin!

I'll start with this...I broke my ankle while playing basketball (typical of me and my clumsy self)...which led me to go to the med clinic to get it checked out, where I just so happened to meet the man of my dreams...who turned out to be getting married 2 weeks from that very day...The story goes a little something like this...I hobbled into the clinic using my roommate Ama, who drove me there, as a crutch, she sat me down so that she could find a better parking spot...In walks this magnificent creature of a man, lookin all tall and scrumptious...anyway...he sits down next to me (and I'm looking as busted and sweaty and bummy as ever of course). After a few moments go by, he goes to me, "OOOHHHH, that doesn't look good" and is looking at my foot. Of course I'm horrified that he even looked in my direction as horrible as I look right now...I mumble something like "It feels worse than it looks if you can imagine" He goes..." Ya I can, I used to play football (soccer for you N. Americans) and I've seen and felt it all." I'm like DAMMIT!! He's a footballer (my one athlete weakness)?? This is is too much! The pain is making me delirious at this point and I'm afraid I'm going to say something I might regret, so I make some sort of mumbling noise to show acknowledgement...the guy keeps talking, starts asking me questions, where I'm from, what I do, etc...I tell him I'm Somali, just finished school am few months away from moving back to Namibia, where I grew up...He goes "No way! I'm half Somali half Italian!

So now I'm looking around for Ama to see of she's going to pop up from behind a door saying "It's June, but April fools biatch!" Cuz this has got to be a joke now...I'm in pain and pissed now so I go "Is this some kind of joke? Where's Ama?" He looks at me like I'm crazy...(I don't blame him) He goes " I don't know who Ama is, but this isn't a joke, my dad is Somali, my mom is Italian, I grew up in Italy, but I live here in Toronto now, I'm working as a financial consultant here. I just stare at him like I'm slow (mixture of pain and disbelief, he is sooooooo FINE, it's hard to look away and also because he looks mixed, but not the least bit Somali even though we come in all shades, I can still 96% (yes, I said 96%) of the time tell a Somali from a non Somali, even mixed ones)...So after a few moments, I aplogize and tell him I'm sorry I thought this was a joke, my roommate owes me one cause I played a really great one on her for April fools etc..." He starts laughing (I melted a little, he had dimples and a beautiful laugh) and goes "I see, I think we might get along, I'm a big prankster as well." I'm completely intrigued at this point, but there's something that is pulling at the back of my mind, so I ask him "So we know, why I'm here at the clinic, why are you?" He hesitates a little, then answers sheepishly (I wasn't imagining this, it was sheepish, like he was embarrassed to say) " My fiancee is a nurse here, our wedding is in 2 weeks and I came to pick her up to go check out the floral arrangements." I say "Oh that's nice." Meanwhile, my heart is completely sinking and I'm thinking damn bastard, why did you have to talk to me, I would've just admired you from afar in awe had you not. I'm sure my gut reaction is all over my face too because I'm terrible at hiding my emotions. And like clockwork, Ama comes strolling in and looks him over, raises her eyebrows at me and sits down with a big grin, and seconds later, his finacee comes into the room. The pair are like one of those ridiculous unfair couples that are almost too good looking to be together...I say to him "Well goodluck with everything (lamest last words EVER)" and I turn to Ama as he leaves with the wifey. I tell Ama the story and she laughs, saying " That is soooooo your life story!" I can't help but laugh at how right she is, this is typical of the kinds of scenarios I find myself in...until next time kids

Greetings my 3 readers! So, as I mentioned in my last post, I'm getting ready to graduate in a bit. I've been running around trying to complete everything and tie up all these loose ends and once this is all done it'll be "no more pencils, no more books, no more teacher's dirty looks." Hurray! I'm being pressured by my parents to pursue a Master's degree after this and frankly, the thought makes me want to vomit. I could not possibly do a Master's right now, maybe in a few years, but for now, I NEED A BREAK!

I will be returning home to Namibia and will begin looking for a teaching job in Windhoek. I have to say that I will miss the great friends that I've made in my time in Toronto, but I will definitely NOT miss the city. I am not a fan and I'm not cut out for this winter shit. I am AFRICAN to my very core, and winter is not for me. People who go skiing and enjoy winter sports are insane to me, I would much rather be surfing at the beach back home anyday!!

My time in this city was not all bad though. For the first time in my life, I was exposed to my fellow Somalis and actually have some Somali friends now. This is a first for me, as I have had friends from pretty much everywhere but my own country. It hasn't been due to a lack of desire though. I simly haven't lived anywhere where Somalis have lived! I will miss my roomates, who are also international students from Africa and with whom I navigated my way through this city. I have traveled extensively in my life and thankfully, this has helped me to adjust to life in Toronto! Before I leave though, I would like to visit Montreal for a bit, I always hear wonderful things about it and have some dear friends who live there. If anybody reading this knows of interesting places to visit in Montreal, please leave a comment and let me know! Also, if there are any of you who have had a similar experience as me (no exposure to fellow Somalis), I would love to hear from you, it's hard to feel like a lone alien all the time! This has been my longest post to date, which means it's time to wrap it up, so until next time, Mac'salaama!

It has suddenly dawned on me that I am about to graduate from uni and have no idea what I am going to do next. I will be graduating with a degree in english lit, which incidentally happens to be the most useless degree a uni grad can hold. Why did I major in eng lit do you ask? Well, dear reader, the answer is because I was not thinking about the future at the time that I started my undergrad and I now must suffer the consequences of such a stupid decision. No offense to all my fellow english lit grads out there, but I personally feel it was a waste. Keats, Joyce and Hemingway will not pay my bills.

P.S. The next person I hear say "wawaweewa" is going to get the worst beating the world has ever witnessed....and on that positive and loving note, until next time people!

Somalis are a cruel bunch I tell you. I speak from experience believe me. I happen to be one of the unlucky few who was born and raised in a country (Namibia) where there were few if any Somalis at all and as a result, my somali language skills have suffered. I'm barely functional and, while it is quite pathetic, it is not my fault. I have lived in Namibia my whole life, except for my recent (and current) stint in Toronto for uni, and frankly, have never seen as many somalis in my lifetime as I have seen in this city. I have been ridiculed and criticized for not speaking the language. I've been called whitewashed, westernized and everything else under the sun. People have said "kids who were born here speak it, why don't you?" Kids here, live in a city FULL of somalis, of course they speak it, but I grew up in a region where somalis were a rarity, it can't be held against me! I fear that it is now too late for me to learn it, as I'm in my early 20s. It has always bothererd me, but never more so than when I moved to this place. I guess it's something I'll have to deal with until and if I ever manage to learn it!