Editor’s note: An
iconoclast like Saado is a rarity. But this one was ours. A poet, an
artist and a brave human right activist. She was a mother, a sister and a
daughter to a whole nation. Her velvety voice, we hummed, whether
singing about a lost love or a besieged nation. She stood erect for the
voiceless. She was a gift to us and we lost her too soon. We will mourn
her loss for years to come. As we try to make sense out of her futile
killing, WardheerNews will share with you our esteemed reader, a series
of tribute about our fallen hero from our dedicated contributors,
scholars and Artists.______________
By Mohamoud Yusuf
As diva in her time, saado was a class of her own. She was one of rare celebrities who were the backbone of Waaberi, Somalia’s renowned music band. Saado excelled in her artistic career by her extra-ordinary confidence at stage, coupled with her melodious voice. The luminous charm on her face and the gorgeous moves she made on stage, seemingly self designed but selectively fit into the essence of her songs, made her a Fannaanad with versatility. They say frank Sinatra did things in his own way, so did Saado by claiming the stage with her own unique performance. She was also the only female poet who busted the patriarchal glass barrier of modern Somali poetry. All these made her the sole Somali fannaan of her own class, so genuine and so unrivalled as such.
I never had the chance to come close to her before April 23, 1991. This time she wasn’t on stage; but rather, she was on a rusty old truck, fully packed with men women and children of no fewer than fifty people. They all had one thing in common-to escape the horror of Mogadishu, where marauding mooryaans devastated and devoured whatever they found on their way.
Being part of first of series of exodus waves from Mogadishu, I too, was one of those escapees on that particular truck on that fateful day. Sitting on a narrow corner, next to her, I admiringly exchanged a few words with her, albeit not in a mood of celebrity and fans’ joyous encounter. We merely run into each other as we run for our lives. What really struck me was her warmth, charisma and leadership quality. She immediately took in charge of the truck and the people aboard along with some men in guiding and directing us. We were heading Kismaio, about 500 km away. Kismayo was our permanent centaury at the time but, the source of the second exodus wave later on.
23 years later, 23 of april, 2014, it was shocking to know that Saado Cali Warsame was shot dead in Mogadishu by unidentified gunmen. Every life on earth will one day come to an end but it’s unbearably deplorable that she has fallen prey to the very conflict she was escaping 23 years earlier. The longevity of Mogadishu’s chaotic status quo, up to date is so depressingly lamentable. Surely so many prominent personalities perished in Mogadishu’s dusty streets and Saado will not be the last, unless we Somalis come up with a new strategy to terminate this conflict ridden culture and impunity? Whatever the answer might be, peace and stability in Somalia is seemingly on distant horizon.
Despite her artistic talent, Saado will be remembered of her consistent and unwavering patriotic advocacy for Somalia’s cause, in which she ultimately paid for her life. Saado will be also remembered of being the national symbol for unity. If shred of Soomaalinnimo is there left in Somalis, then let us remember Saado in honoring her by raising a giant monument standing firm and high, side by side, to that of Xaawo Taako. Alas, I doubt if the latter’s is there any more. Xaawo Taako fought for Somalia’s liberty with weaponry of mere stones. Equally Saado fought for the reincarnation of that lost nation, with weaponry of verse and prose. She was a star; she wore a star-the Somali star, a rare star has indeed fallen.
Mohamoud Yusuf
Email:max_jousef@hotmail.com
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