By Faisal A. Roble

On November 17, 2015, Somalis lost Ahmed Hassan Cowke. Nothing that one can do but to pray and have him returned to his creator (Inaa Laahi Waa Ina Ilayhu Raajiun). His sudden death in Jigjiga from a massive heartache left us with a void that is hard to fill.

Cowke was not a general who fought in epic wars; he was not born to a political family; neither did hail from a moneyed family. He was an ordinary son who rose to a national prominence because of hard work, love for his culture, and his unbridled crusade to serve the public. He did so while thriving professionally both inside and outside his home country.

Since his death, I watched more than a dozen YouTube videos. With a huge volume of superb work, it is impossible to cherry pick and choose one or two. Suffice here to say that his past and recent programs at Radio Mogadishu, in London, Jigjiga, and Hargaisa are memorable; they depict “the bad, the good, and the ugly” in us.

In a short film that he costarred with his colleague, Abdisalam Hereri, an armed militiaman in a violent scuffle frantically confronts Cowke: “who are you?” he asks. The gunman was trying to intimidate Cowke and coerce him to tell his clan affiliation; Cowke unequivocally defies the gunman, “I am Somali,” he responds. In that simple scene, Cowke taught us in one scoop the three elements of “the bad, the good and the ugly” in our community.

The one production that commanded my attention is a series of TV programs he has produced on the Somali region centered on Jigjiga. This series gave me a personal satisfaction for he invoked in me valuable childhood memories, good and bad; he took me to distant places. He had me met with people that I knew, like his life time friend, Engineer Ali Badal, who guided Cowke through the maze of establishing a modern water supply in Jigjiga.

Unforgettable to me was a scene where Cowke stretches his bonny arms wide open and takes a panoramic view overlooking the rolling wheat fields that begins at the gorges of Jigjiga leading to the water wells of Marar; these fields are where my late father both tilled the land and ultimately chose for his burial ground. Sharing the video with my son who is in the process of forming his African identity, I was thankful to Cowke for giving us a perfect virtual journey to dear and distant places.

Another video I stumbled across as I was writing this remembrance is a recent TV program he produced on Somali culture and artifacts. The setting is Hargaisa, with an educational theme. One of the legacies about this program is this: Cowke points to a Somali hut (Daso, or Aqal Soomaali) and tells a largely urbanized and unsuspecting young generation this: “I too grew up in a similar one just like this one here.” With that ownership of the hut, he succeeded to remind the young the legacy of past generation.

Like many Somalis, I first noticed Cowke in the early 1970s. It was through his kingly broadcasting of regional soccer games over the National Radio. Myself as a soccer player, his radio announcements of entire tournaments were captivating. Without being conscious, he gave us a near-reality narrative and took us inside Mogadishu’s Cons-stadium. If the late Mayo Angelou described the power of radio announcement to the millions of African Americans who listened to the famous 1938 boxing match between Joe Louis and the German boxer Schmeling, Cowke eloquently narrated complex soccer matches and millions of us who could not see them live inside Cons-stadium. For that, I will eternally remain indebted to Cowke.

One Mohamed Indha Yare was the catalytic for my turning on to Cowke while I was still in my tender years of teenage. You see, being located at the center of what forms a perfect triangle between Hargaisa, Diridhabe, and Djibouti, Jigjiga used to get 100s of students visiting families and friends during summer vacation. They would come from these cities for family vacations. One of my childhood friends, Mohamed Indha Yare, whose parents lived in Jigjiga was a close relative of Cowke. Most of our days would be spent playing soccer, then sit around teashops and sip Somali tea while listening to what was then called “barnaamijkii maqal oo macaanso,” a Somali equivalent to America’s Greatest All Time Top 100 songs, or to Cowke’s afternoon broadcasting of regional soccer games. Ina Indha Yare would never miss a chance to remind me that Cowke was his relative. That simple reminder from a close friend somehow grew my sense of loyalty to Cowke early on.

Then came the 1977-78 Ethio-Somali war. Overnight, the war became Cowke’s war, thus becoming Somalis Walter Cronkite. He gave the war a deeper meaning and a national face that Somalis everywhere could relate to. I still recall a famous phrase that became a household narrative throughout conflict. In it, he succeeded to extol and glorify the Somali National army. “Ciidamada Soomaalidu halkay cagta mariyaan caws dambe kama soo baxo,” or, “where the Somali army marches, the grass disappears” is that one phrase that will stand tall in Somali phraseology like a statute in a museum.

With his distinct voice, often giving his words a unique elasticity that stretch out the seconds that each word triumphantly reverberated in your ear drums, Cowke’s nightly commentary and the reportage of the evening news became part and parcel of the war of liberation. His eloquence both in war and peace times nourished the Somali soul, a soul that was thriving in the 1970s.
The second time I would reconnect with the indomitable and spirited voice of Cowke was in Los Angeles. It was in 1984. Feeling homesick and miles away from the Horn of Africa, a friend of mine brought to me several cassette players. In them, the epic poems of Guba were taped where Cowke assembled several poets, the most prominent being one Bulxan who at the time worked at the Somali National Bank. Cut by cut, poem by poem, Cowke would make an authoritative introduction to each piece, give the historical setting, clan affiliation of the poet, and then turn the mic to Bulxan to recite one poem of Guba after another.

The rich words of Ali Dhux Aadan, Salaan Carabay, Fiin, Qamaan Bulxan, Buraale Cali, Cilmi Carab, followed by an authoritative analysis by Cowe, quenched my thirst and wiped out my home sickness. It was then, yes in 1984 that I promised to myself to meet Cowke in person before one of us passes away.

It so happened I got a golden opportunity to go to Mogadishu in 1986 to participate a Rural Development Conference hosted by the respective Ministry headed at the time by Ahmed Sulayman Dafle. Thanks to Dr. Hussein Tanzania and the late Nur Abbie, they sponsored my trip so that I can do Impact Assessment related to the Conoco projects. I was treated well in Mogadishu; above all, Vice President Hussein Kulmiye Afrax, also Minister for Planning at the time, gave me a Land Rover and enough fuel so that I can get by.

One afternoon in October 1986, while dinning at Torino restaurant near Liddo beach, Cowke and my uncle, the late Garad Cali Yusuf (aka: Cali Xaydar who was incarcerated for many years at Laanta Buur), came to me and had with me a typical Mogadishu lunch – Primo (past), Secondo (arrosto), and terso (water melon with extra sweet Papaya). In the middle of our meal, Cowke took a minute and listened carefully to my regional [Somali] dialect; having difficult to locate where I hailed from, he asked whether I was“jigjigawi or Hargaisawi.”

“I am both,” I answered.

“But, I need where the umbilical cord is buried,” he asked.

“Jigjiga,” I said.

Before we departed company, Uncle Cali Xaydar told me Cowke was the best Abti one can have. (Cowke was a general maternal abti to Cali). Later on, I learned that uncle Cali depended on Cowke quiet a lot including for protect for a possible return to Lanta Buur. At times for months, Cowke would cover uncle Cali Xayder’s expenses including his rent and other necessities. They both lived in the same compound in Siinay or Hawl Wadaag district. It was then that I appreciated the Abti-child (maternal uncle) relationship more than the Adeer-son’s (paternal). There was some flavor of mutual caring to their relationship.

In his last days, Cowke interchangeably lived in Jigjiga and Hargaisa. There is a saying that most of those who hail from the districts where Cowke hails from must recall: “Xaaji Gaydh halkuu xamaanta dhigtiyo Xajkeenu Xidhinta weeyaan.” Whereas Xidhinta was associated with Xaaji Gaydh, Tog-Wajale was for Cowke’s father, Hassan Cowke. Yet both also maintained seats in Jigjiga. The affinity between his birth place, Tog-Wajale, and his place of death, Jigjiga, are tied together in many way.

When one remembers the Cowke family, there is this oral history (story) that comes to mind. Hassan Cowke, Ahmed’s father, was a tough, witty and sophisticated urbanite trader known in the region. Oral history has it that one unnamed trader from Jigjiga was trying hard to convince traders in Tog-Wajale of the superiority of his product and why they warrant high prices. Hassan Cowke, reading between the lines of the traders words, cautioned his friends to stay alert about this unknown scrupulous trader. Without hesitation, Hassan Cowke’s friends right away defended the trader and said “he is a good man, and he is from Jigjigjia.”
A bemused Hassan Cowke doubly cautioned his friends: “please don’t say the man is a good man, and he hails from Jigjiga in the same breath,” (Ninkani waa nin fiican iyo waa reer-Jigjiga kala daayaa”). This phrase is being used as a jab in the Kaftan talks pointed at “reer-Jigjiga.”

Ahmed Cowke definitely got wittiness and the art of wordsmithing from his late father Hassan Cowke. The only difference is the younger Ahmed Cowke turned his gift with words into a tool to eloquently impact political discourse, entertain millions of Somalis, and produce documentary programs to the delight of the Somali speaking nation. He has incomparably advanced Somali journalism with all its imperfections, and became an iconic figure to be remembered across generations. RIP BROTHER.

Faisal Roble
WardheerNews contributor
Email: faisalroble19@gmail.com
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Faisal Roble is a writer, political analyst and a former Editor-in-Chief of WardheerNews, mainly interested in the Horn of Africa region. He is currently the Principal Planner for the City of Los Angeles in charge of Master Planning, Economic Development and Project Implementation Division.