At times I made light of it
And I was free.
Then suddenly I was shown her in a vision
And she was radiant in hue, like a lighted lantern.
Surely she must have been imprinted on my heart
How else could I be so intoxicated with her?
Inside my breast she tick-tocks to me like a watch
At night when I sleep she comes to sport with me
But at early dawn she leaves
At turns into a rising pillar of dust
(A Vision - Cilmi Boodhari)
Cilmi Ismacil Liban was born around 1910 in a border region nestled between Ethiopia and Somalia - which was under British Colonial Rule at the time; hence his nickname "Boodhari" which is a neologism of the English word "Border". Not much of his childhood or adolescence is documented, the limitations of Somali historiography is that it's one of oral traditions, so like many oratorical renditions the fat has been trimmed unfortunately. We do know however that in 1931 as a young man he left the traditional camel-herding lifestyle of the nomadic Somali people and moved to the ancient port city of Berbera to work at a teashop. Teashops are pivotal social avenues within Somali culture. They can be ornate buildings made of considerable quality but more often than not they were usually huts made of mud bricks and clay, roofed with corrugated tin and aluminum, and furnished by simple wooden benches and tables. Inside young men chattered away about all manner of topics: their personal lives, heated debates and discussions, news and politics, local scandals, and poetry recitations - all in typical Somali fashion: full of passion and dramatic flair. In Somali culture love songs were always cast as light-hearted artistic expressions. Men often sang love songs they've composed themselves or roared the classics many enjoyed, but it was never held to a serious standard within the apex of Somali artistic tradition. It was said that the love songs were for the youth, but for the elders it was the gabay.
Gabay is the height of Somali poetic achievement. It was the most complex in length and meter, full of various rules of composition and alliteration, and delved directly into the psyche, identity, and philosophy of the people. It was often a joyous and rowdy scene when love songs were sung by the patrons but once gabay was uttered the entire room sat in silence and absorbed every syllable of the what was being recited. It was through gabay Somalis could let people into the depths of their souls: their sorrows and their grief, their pride and their happiness, their faith or their disillusionment, their love or their hate - all was laid bare for others to witness and experience. Cilmi took no part in the going-ons of the teashop, he simply was there for work and nothing else. He never composed any songs or poems, never joined in the appraisals or criticisms of the singers or poets, he simply had no interest. Although he was ambivalent to it all he must have still listened all the same. Perhaps subconsciously the works of the legendary poets Sayid Maxamed Cabdille Xasan, Salaan Carrabey, and Raage Ugaas may have fostered an unknown influence on him and his future artistic expressions, but its only speculation. As far as anyone else was concerned there wasn't a remote possibility of him having any poetical inclinations, let alone a talent for it.
In Somali culture there is the concept of calaf - which in basic terms is the belief of predestination, the future of our lives pre-ordained by divine omnipotent decree. So in the Somali view not even Cilmi could escape his fate, for it was already pre-written. He was working for his Uncle at the time, at a shop owned by members of his family when one day a chance encounter would not only change the course of his life but also alter the cultural sensitivities of the entire nation. A girl walks into the shop, exchanged a greeting with him casually, inquires about a type of bread, pays for it and then leaves. What most would consider an ordinary encounter was far from it for Cilmi, for he fell completely and helplessly in love with her. By all accounts she was described by others as a rather plain girl but for Cilmi he found within himself an all consuming and fiery passion for her. Most people don't believe in love at first sight, but for Cilmi this one fateful encounter with the girl who bought bread from him would haunt him for the rest of his life. Her name was Hodan Cabdulle Walanwal. He kept his feelings for her a secret to everyone around him but as the days drew on he couldn't conceal his feelings for her any longer and decided to confide in his close friends about her. After working up the nerve he approached her family and begged them to be allow him to marry her, but they outright refused. They did not see it as a proper match for their daughter, his own direct family and clan disapproved as well. It was considered an insult to both their families. He was of a lesser clan and was mired in poverty, whereas she came from a more noble clan and middle class family, her father worked as an interpreter for British colonial employees and made a decent living. He was considered an ill suitor for Hodan. He asked them if he could pay the bridewealth (mehr/yarad) if they would allow him the opportunity to marry her and was told that they would consider it. She was fifteen years old and there was no rush for her to get married at that point in time. So it was settled, he departed from the blistering hot coastal port-city of Berbera to Djibouti, where the wages were higher. He worked tirelessly for years as a laborer on the docks to save enough money for the bridewealth. Eventually he made enough money and returned to Berbera with his procured wealth and hopes, but disaster struck. He stayed away far too long. In his absence Hodan was married to another man, one of considerable stature - they called him Maxamed Shabel (Maxamed the Leopard). He was left devastated, he would walk around the city aimlessly in an intense state of severe melancholy and depression. He could not escape the confines of the prison of love he had for Hodan so he quickly fell ill. It was then one of the most extraordinary transformations in Somali artistic history took place. It was then Cilmi Boodhari became a poet.
In Somalia; the land of bards as the European orientalists called it, no one becomes a poet suddenly, it was virtually unheard of. Many young poets would have to go through an apprenticeship, either by their own clan members or locals poets, composing short lyric songs before even thinking about tackling the difficult gabay. There is no formal instruction so the process of learning took years in order for one to come into one's own, even if you had a natural talent or knack for it. Many of the the words used in gabay are not a part of ordinary Somali speech, so you would have to master literary language before even attempting to craft gabay. The extremely challenging alliteration, a considerable knowledge of Islamic law and hadith, the verbose and dignified tone of intonation and incantation required of the gabay, it was no small undertaking. The stature of a gabay poet is quite high, you must produce work of a level of quality deemed satisfactory to your audience, anything sloppy or hasty will make you face mockery and disdain from the public.
Cilmi sidestepped all this and with the fierce flaming desire he held for Hodan dived head-first into the most difficult arena of Somali oratory. He composed spontaneous stanzas of poetry in the gabay form but what really set him apart from not only his contemporaries, but also the ancient oratorical traditions of his forebears was that all his poems were solely about Hodan and his love for her, and nothing else. The woman he only met only once in brief passing, still consumed his mind and soul years after that one fateful encounter. One of his poems is called Qaraami which means "Passion," where he describes Hodan in an endearing fashion and exults her beauty in his idealized rhapsody of her being.
