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As a follower, but not necessarily highly cognizant on the matter nor myopic religious robot, I often cherish every minute of such occasions along with my family and others. The food, the sharing, the festivity mood and code of conducts are all remarkable experience. This has been the case since my childhood times, including my long sojourn in the fabulous but now forgotten Mogadishu. This year was not much different, save for that I found first time a minor change of the Eid-ul-Fidri praying format: a near miss of the lively Takbir singing hymn during procession, which left on me uneasy spiritual angst. In an age where billions of honest Muslims are caught between a vicious cycle of Salafist propaganda wars and counter-propagandas of Islam phobia forces, no wonder that every move of spiritual conduct would attract suspicion and unfounded paranoia. As the long, hard fasting days of Ramadan at North Pole frontier were about to wind down, preparations for the colorful festivities/prayers of Eid began at earnest. Final rituals of the daily Aftur’s delicatessen of Samosa and varied other homemade food with distinctive divine smells and tests were done. Shopping for the family’s new clothing and necessary ingredients for dishes required my spouse - who is truly a genius of culinary savvy from Zaila coast- were in order. I often found myself wolfing down anything put on table as long as it is freshly cooked and prepared. In a subculture where consumption and brands of junk food invoke mystical imagess, eating at home became my last gastronomic refuge of sort. At five o’clock in next morning every member of the household was upbeat and ready for the action. I particularly found interesting how kids, who otherwise seem lethargic and glued onto cartoons in normal days, were acutely responsive to the grand event. By 7 am we were at the doorsteps of prayer site, which was a public gym-turned-mosque makeshift not far from us. As we intermingled with the crowd, an exchange of hearful greetings, hugging and warm hand shakes (never mind swine flu pandemic fears) along with infectious, goofy smile among friends and complete strangers alike overwhelmed. Puzzled with the carefree stance, my kid would ask me later whether I knew all these strangers in which I responded to it “no” except that spirit of the grand celebration demand everyone to let loose and conduct in certain ways. The huge praying hall was divided into sections in middle with simple rag and about a meter high separating men and women mass prayers. I would have preferred if the sections were set in parallel positions similar to some mosques instead of one line after another, lest the rampant religious bigotry of du jour try to make gender issue out of it. After awhile, the noise and flow of the crowd subsided and every one hunkered down in full anticipation of the imam’s words and chants of the Takbir in vain. Speakers and imam’s chair were idling and readily visible from distance. More minutes passed by and still no action except couple of young men with mid-eastern features and outfit who kept scurrying back and forth at the stage. They finally sat down and still not the soul soothing Takbir melodies. I felt wanting to the point where I wanted to say “whatever happened to our Takbir, dude?” But then again my expertise on the topic was not as much knowledgeable as I would have preferred. Not even close. It reminded me a funny and yet credible Somali story I heard before. Legend had it that a waranle (commoner nomad) and neophyte to the holy gatherings went to the city mosque couple of days taking part only in four Rakas of Dour and Asser regiments as nomadic circumstances would permit. Next day, he overstayed in the city for some reasons and went to Maghreb prayer lead by prominent sheik from rival clan with profound mistrust against. Big mistake: after sheikh completed regular three Rakas, he became upset and said “silly me, I knew it. The bloody imam from clan-x was up to something malicious. He even denied us half of the holy Rakas.” Later, I discretely surveyed around faces of the mass that were mostly Somalis and other Sub-Saharan origin. They were in the same stifling mood. Then I heard a shockwave sound of “Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar Wa Lilahil…” coming from few lines behind us. To my relief, a mutiny lead by middle-aged Somali man broke off among the mass and I happily joined the rhythm. Got my sense of spiritual awakening or so I thought at last. Men at the stage made gauntly looks toward us and engaged in a subdued conversation with each other until final prayers started. I heard people at the front were probably volunteer students from middle-east for the busy schedules of Eid unlike officials imams of regular mosques who fellow conventional prayer rules. Thousands of students from mid-east have been flocking into the Canadian Universities and Colleges since September eleven incident in the US to avoid security hassles associated with issues of entry visa in America and all that. Main attraction to Canada is the relative similarity of the Anglo-American institutional settings with respect to language of instruction, material contents, etc. of the countries. In turn, Canadians are after the much needed cash follow that the filthy Arab riches pump into system every year. Time and again, one finds that while Somali far out number other groups in critical masse prayers of many Canadian cities of like Ottawa, Toronto and Montreal, it is different picture when it comes to leadership and decision-making roles. There appears a trend that Somalis are often happy with playing in secondary religious fiddle in most cases. Leadership ranks are invariably from Mid-east and South Asia and there is nothing wrong with, except that these people are not immune from pushing personal and unique regional prospective of their own. On the other hand, Somalis follow anyone else with sheer naivety and pomposity. Case in point is an alleged terrorist plot in Toronto years ago in which young men were involved, including couple of naïve Somali youth who probably fell in between the cracks in the wake of dysfunctional nucleus families and failure of larger community. Reportedly, these youth were coxed and brainwashed by non other than a simple clergy in exchange for tons of money from overzealous security agents (some are released by judges later) to participate in a rogue plot. The noted trend is one more symptomatic to a leadership vacuum, societal fragmentation and general socio-cultural malaise of community in the Diaspora and home alike due the protracted civil war. Little wonder now that a handful of fugitive foreign criminals, with subservient role of the so-called al-shabab group, found safe heaven in Somalia turning the country into theatre of global inferno at all cost in its wake. It is anyone’s guess right now whether return of Somalia as a peaceful and functioning nation serves these people’s best interest. And why it should? These groups are stateless, international pariah without cover after all. Still previous incident lingering in mind, I went to the same spot and with same determination in Eid-ul-Adha’s mass prayers. But luckily things went well this time around and our holy celebration ended without hitch as planned. Hopefully, our next congregation of Eids in the future will have similar outcome of happy endings. God willing! Mohamed A. Awale
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