Rabbits can give birth to a litter of bunnies a month. They breed with the enthusiasm of Crusaders sacking Jerusalem. God really adores rabbits. No nine month fertility cycle for them. A bit like Somali s in that respect. Normal women can conceive only once a year, but these xaliimos squeeze one out like maxaa ka gale.
It got me thinking about child rearing. In Iran you can't get a marriage license without taking family planning classes. Sounds like a wise policy. I think we need a baby license too. A man shouldn't be able to discharge his lust into a woman till they learn some things about child raising. Let's face it, many qaxootis are lousy parents. Just lousy, lousy, lousy. I used to get the shit beaten out of me as a kid. I was beaten when I was bad, I was beaten when I was good, and I was beaten when it was uncertain whether I was bad or good.
I love my ma and pa, but man did they get things wrong sometimes. They took care of my material needs, but emotionally and intellectually, they were as competent as Homer Simpson (no offence to Homer if he's reading this). We never really understood each other.
See, when you have so many kids, you can't spend quality time with them. There's not enough hours in the day, what with work and all. So you're impatient and irascible. Most of my conversations with M and P consisted of them barking orders at me. "Warya, inta ka bax ... Xaga aad ... Sariirta kor ... Jinni ha ku cuno ... Warya! Warya! Naya!"
One thing I hated about growing up is that my house was like a hotel. The doorbell used to ring 24hrs, a constant stream of visitors flowing in and out. No privacy whatsoever. Half the time my bedroom was host to some long distance relative coming over to stay who looked like a child molester, his cheek bloated with qaat and eyes red like shimbir. It was never safe to wank in your own bedroom. I had to seek refuge in the bushes for my sexual needs, so you took your chances with foxes in the dark.
And then there was dugsi. Religion is an extremely interesting subject. It's full of stories about people who lived for ninety years, humans who were 80 feet tall, the moon splitting in half, armies swallowed by the Red Sea, angels throwing down with homos, a man being swallowed by fish. This is wonderful. But what did I get? Nothing but a karbaash to my head if I didn't memorize words I couldn't understand and which nobody bothered to explain.
Growing up was rough. It always is. But it was rougher than it had to be. Here's what I wanna know. How will you parent differently when, God forbid, one of you losers actually becomes a mom or a dad? What changes will you make? Will this generation do a better job?
It got me thinking about child rearing. In Iran you can't get a marriage license without taking family planning classes. Sounds like a wise policy. I think we need a baby license too. A man shouldn't be able to discharge his lust into a woman till they learn some things about child raising. Let's face it, many qaxootis are lousy parents. Just lousy, lousy, lousy. I used to get the shit beaten out of me as a kid. I was beaten when I was bad, I was beaten when I was good, and I was beaten when it was uncertain whether I was bad or good.
I love my ma and pa, but man did they get things wrong sometimes. They took care of my material needs, but emotionally and intellectually, they were as competent as Homer Simpson (no offence to Homer if he's reading this). We never really understood each other.
See, when you have so many kids, you can't spend quality time with them. There's not enough hours in the day, what with work and all. So you're impatient and irascible. Most of my conversations with M and P consisted of them barking orders at me. "Warya, inta ka bax ... Xaga aad ... Sariirta kor ... Jinni ha ku cuno ... Warya! Warya! Naya!"
One thing I hated about growing up is that my house was like a hotel. The doorbell used to ring 24hrs, a constant stream of visitors flowing in and out. No privacy whatsoever. Half the time my bedroom was host to some long distance relative coming over to stay who looked like a child molester, his cheek bloated with qaat and eyes red like shimbir. It was never safe to wank in your own bedroom. I had to seek refuge in the bushes for my sexual needs, so you took your chances with foxes in the dark.
And then there was dugsi. Religion is an extremely interesting subject. It's full of stories about people who lived for ninety years, humans who were 80 feet tall, the moon splitting in half, armies swallowed by the Red Sea, angels throwing down with homos, a man being swallowed by fish. This is wonderful. But what did I get? Nothing but a karbaash to my head if I didn't memorize words I couldn't understand and which nobody bothered to explain.
Growing up was rough. It always is. But it was rougher than it had to be. Here's what I wanna know. How will you parent differently when, God forbid, one of you losers actually becomes a mom or a dad? What changes will you make? Will this generation do a better job?
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but I turned out alright? Tbh if I always gossiped with my hoyoo I would turn out to be a wimp, being banished in my room allowed me constant access to the worldwide web where I collected and retained so much information.
I am a very atypical Somali. I go against most stereotypes. Me and my father are besties and him having a STEM background helped me out in school.
