The Day Sheikh Sharif moved to Villa Somalia!
Amid heightened security and great noise, the right honourable Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed, president of Somalia and former Courts Movements leader entered Villa Somalia. Within thirty seconds of walking into the presidential lounge, he dismissed his companions and demanded to have a minute alone. The room was vast. The big western style sofas looked expensive. The faded blue curtains looked depressing. The Kashmir rugs looked comfortable.
He coughed and heard the echo of his cough reverberate around the room. He coughed even louder and the echo came back louder. A civil servant poked his head through the door and asked if everything was ok. The president waved him away and carried on surveying the room. As he did so, he thought about the task ahead. He knew that a lot of work would have to be done to make his plans succeed. He knew he’d have to make many compromises. He was sure he’d be ridiculed. But he was a man on a mission and he had a clear picture of how he wanted to proceed.
“First, I am going to get rid of these ghastly sofas” he said. “Then I am going to order two dozen pillows and a few mattresses,” he added.
He took a step back and started to examine the ceiling. He noticed some cracks from the endless bombardments of the previous few years. “Hmmm! We will have to repaint this and, we’ll also have to change those ugly curtains” he mused.
He walked to the centre of the room, stood straight and widened his feet. He looked at the empty space between his feet and said, “This is where I am going to put my plant”. He slowly swirled on the spot and took a look at all corners of the room. He seemed to imagine different people sat in various places. He beckoned an imaginary person to him and sat on the floor whilst facing this phantom adversary. He smiled, nodded, shrugged, stretched his arms in a besieging way, smiled again and then bid whomever it was he was imagining to bear with him for a minute and hear him out! He stuck his hand in his upper coat pocket and took out a miswaak. He beckoned his opponent to come even closer and pointed him to a spot on the ground. He suddenly gasped and was out of his reverie in an instant. “Sand! We need to have some sand here!” he said to himself.
Now the picture was really forming in his head. He will bring the outside to the Inside. His meeting room is going to be a replica of a Somali traditional summit! “The blue colour will have to go,” he said to himself. “We will have to blend sandy yellow with bright green,” he added.
He called for his assistant to enter the room and gave him instructions on how he wants things to be done. The assistant stood there looking at him with an open mouth and confused look.
“ What’s the matter, man?” Said the president.
“You really want to have a tree in the middle of the room, sir? An acacia tree?” asked the assistant.
“YES. Please see to it that it is planted here as soon as possible. I have no time to waste and have many other things to deal with,” Said the president.
“But, sir, can you not have the tree in the presidential garden? We do have a very spacious garden,” Said the assistant.
“Do you even know why I want the tree here?” asked the president, irately.
“ I am guessing you want to follow the traditional Somali way of sorting disputes, sir,” replied the assistant.
“ Good man. Good man. You are not as retarded as you look after all!” beamed the president.
“But, sir, I still cannot see why you can’t do that in the garden” Asked the assistant patiently.
“The garden will not do, man. Do you not understand? These are secret affairs of the state and I can not conduct such affairs in the open air, the wind has ears” reasoned the president.
“ I understand, sir. So, you want an acacia tree planted in this here spot and you want lots of sand around it, right?” asked the assistant weakly.
“Yes and yes. Hurry up and see that it is done as soon as possible” said the president. “Also” he added, “Make sure that all the other adjustments I asked for are done at the same time”.
The assistant disappeared out of the room for five minutes and returned carrying some urgent dispatches.
“What are these, man?” Asked the president.
“Some paperwork that needs your signature, sir” Replied the assistant.
“Later. Later. First let us get this place in total shipshape. You can’t expect me to fix the country if I can’t even fix my own residence?” He shouted.
“No, sir” Said the assistant.
“What is the presidential bedroom like?” asked the president.
“Err, it is very spacious, sir” replied the assistant.
“Does it have an en-suite bar? I don’t mean an alcohol one, I mean does it have a fridge?” He asked.
“No, sir. But you can order anything you need from the kitchen and someone will bring it to you straight away” said the assistant.
“NO! This will not do. I want you to make sure that the bedroom has a fridge, a TV, a phone or two and an en-suite bathroom. Make sure there are towels and some of that free soap in the bathroom too,” he said.
“As you say, sir” said the assistant.
President Sheikh Sharif stood contemplating for a few minutes. Scratched his beard. Looked down at where his tree shall be planted. Looked at his assistant, and finally said:
“I have noticed that at the entrance to the building there are a couple of soldiers sat on stools by the gate and asking visitors for ID before letting them in”.
“Do you want to get rid of them and open the doors of the palace to the populace, sir?” asked the assistant expectantly.
“No. NO. I just find it queer that only one set of people are meeting and greeting these visitors! Here is what I want you to do. Just before you reach the doors to this room, I want you to put a huge desk and place two pretty girls on it so that they can meet and greet our visitors” said the president.
“Like in a hotel foyer you mean, sir?” asked the assistant.
“Exactly like a hotel. I want the star of Somalia placed behind them in a big green crest” he said.
“But the star of Somalia is blue, sir” said the assistant.
“Not under my leadership. I am an Islamic president, man. The Islamic colour is GREEN,” bellowed the president.
“Very well, sir. Any other orders?” asked the assistant resignedly.
“NO. That is it for now. Just send me the masseur on your way out” he said.
“We don’t have a masseur, sir. Should I employ one?” replied the assistant.
“What? You don’t have a masseur? The presidential palace of the Somali president does not have his own masseur? Why even the worst hotel in Asmara has one!” He shouted and secretly wondered if this job was worth all this hassle after all.
He coughed and heard the echo of his cough reverberate around the room. He coughed even louder and the echo came back louder. A civil servant poked his head through the door and asked if everything was ok. The president waved him away and carried on surveying the room. As he did so, he thought about the task ahead. He knew that a lot of work would have to be done to make his plans succeed. He knew he’d have to make many compromises. He was sure he’d be ridiculed. But he was a man on a mission and he had a clear picture of how he wanted to proceed.
“First, I am going to get rid of these ghastly sofas” he said. “Then I am going to order two dozen pillows and a few mattresses,” he added.
He took a step back and started to examine the ceiling. He noticed some cracks from the endless bombardments of the previous few years. “Hmmm! We will have to repaint this and, we’ll also have to change those ugly curtains” he mused.
He walked to the centre of the room, stood straight and widened his feet. He looked at the empty space between his feet and said, “This is where I am going to put my plant”. He slowly swirled on the spot and took a look at all corners of the room. He seemed to imagine different people sat in various places. He beckoned an imaginary person to him and sat on the floor whilst facing this phantom adversary. He smiled, nodded, shrugged, stretched his arms in a besieging way, smiled again and then bid whomever it was he was imagining to bear with him for a minute and hear him out! He stuck his hand in his upper coat pocket and took out a miswaak. He beckoned his opponent to come even closer and pointed him to a spot on the ground. He suddenly gasped and was out of his reverie in an instant. “Sand! We need to have some sand here!” he said to himself.
Now the picture was really forming in his head. He will bring the outside to the Inside. His meeting room is going to be a replica of a Somali traditional summit! “The blue colour will have to go,” he said to himself. “We will have to blend sandy yellow with bright green,” he added.
He called for his assistant to enter the room and gave him instructions on how he wants things to be done. The assistant stood there looking at him with an open mouth and confused look.
“ What’s the matter, man?” Said the president.
“You really want to have a tree in the middle of the room, sir? An acacia tree?” asked the assistant.
“YES. Please see to it that it is planted here as soon as possible. I have no time to waste and have many other things to deal with,” Said the president.
“But, sir, can you not have the tree in the presidential garden? We do have a very spacious garden,” Said the assistant.
“Do you even know why I want the tree here?” asked the president, irately.
“ I am guessing you want to follow the traditional Somali way of sorting disputes, sir,” replied the assistant.
“ Good man. Good man. You are not as retarded as you look after all!” beamed the president.
“But, sir, I still cannot see why you can’t do that in the garden” Asked the assistant patiently.
“The garden will not do, man. Do you not understand? These are secret affairs of the state and I can not conduct such affairs in the open air, the wind has ears” reasoned the president.
“ I understand, sir. So, you want an acacia tree planted in this here spot and you want lots of sand around it, right?” asked the assistant weakly.
“Yes and yes. Hurry up and see that it is done as soon as possible” said the president. “Also” he added, “Make sure that all the other adjustments I asked for are done at the same time”.
The assistant disappeared out of the room for five minutes and returned carrying some urgent dispatches.
“What are these, man?” Asked the president.
“Some paperwork that needs your signature, sir” Replied the assistant.
“Later. Later. First let us get this place in total shipshape. You can’t expect me to fix the country if I can’t even fix my own residence?” He shouted.
“No, sir” Said the assistant.
“What is the presidential bedroom like?” asked the president.
“Err, it is very spacious, sir” replied the assistant.
“Does it have an en-suite bar? I don’t mean an alcohol one, I mean does it have a fridge?” He asked.
“No, sir. But you can order anything you need from the kitchen and someone will bring it to you straight away” said the assistant.
“NO! This will not do. I want you to make sure that the bedroom has a fridge, a TV, a phone or two and an en-suite bathroom. Make sure there are towels and some of that free soap in the bathroom too,” he said.
“As you say, sir” said the assistant.
President Sheikh Sharif stood contemplating for a few minutes. Scratched his beard. Looked down at where his tree shall be planted. Looked at his assistant, and finally said:
“I have noticed that at the entrance to the building there are a couple of soldiers sat on stools by the gate and asking visitors for ID before letting them in”.
“Do you want to get rid of them and open the doors of the palace to the populace, sir?” asked the assistant expectantly.
“No. NO. I just find it queer that only one set of people are meeting and greeting these visitors! Here is what I want you to do. Just before you reach the doors to this room, I want you to put a huge desk and place two pretty girls on it so that they can meet and greet our visitors” said the president.
“Like in a hotel foyer you mean, sir?” asked the assistant.
“Exactly like a hotel. I want the star of Somalia placed behind them in a big green crest” he said.
“But the star of Somalia is blue, sir” said the assistant.
“Not under my leadership. I am an Islamic president, man. The Islamic colour is GREEN,” bellowed the president.
“Very well, sir. Any other orders?” asked the assistant resignedly.
“NO. That is it for now. Just send me the masseur on your way out” he said.
“We don’t have a masseur, sir. Should I employ one?” replied the assistant.
“What? You don’t have a masseur? The presidential palace of the Somali president does not have his own masseur? Why even the worst hotel in Asmara has one!” He shouted and secretly wondered if this job was worth all this hassle after all.
