……two of the highest modern virtues; the carrying out of obscure duties, and imperishable idealism..

Jose’ Ortega Y Gasset

(A Somali Play by gh wiilwaal)

Office of the Somali Translator. A typical office except for the inexpensive bust of the “immortal  Spainaird” laying the desk of so unlikely a man. With the Somali translator is Helen— A Friend-Activist.

Translator: (over the phone)         ………yes, I understand the importance of Salad, and why we must pray five times a day… no need to call me names… what I want   to know is: how do you  want,  how on earth can translate that to your   employer…..no he will not get  it…..no, no, it’s no use… of course, you can sue  your boss…..hello…hello..

Helen: She hang up?

Translator: It’s he. How I hate this.

Helen: You’re just having a bad day.

Translator: I’m doing a bad job. Can’t help it though..

Helen: You can always go back to school.

Translator: And flee there, that’s isn’t helping. School is  security and too much security demoralizes  man.

Helen: Ortega?.

Translator: Philosophy. For me Ortega is philosophy.

Helen: What was his problem?

Translator: Who? Ortega?

Helen: The man. Your last caller.

Translator: His employer will not give him  ten minutes break to observer his regular  Salad. In Islam.—

Helen: Thank you, I know all about Islam….you forgot I taught religion.

Translator: You taught Sufism and it isn’t Islam proper. Sufism with its mysticism fits   well with this “Yoga-ridden age.”

Helen: Ortega again.

Translator: Orwell, I admit the phrase’s Orwell’s. I told you I only steel from the brave.

Helen: And steeling is part of your culture?

Translator: Robbery, not theft. Ideally, we should only rob great and rare stuff—-in the  past camels for our burden and  now hunters of the great quote that will  unburden  us..(silence. lasts  few seconds ) My last caller  is a park  attendant.

Helen: So?

Translator: He is an attendant. Well, let’s just say he will not win his lawsuit, that is, if he   ever  attends well to the business of suing. (Hears a car, looks at the window.)   They are here. Come and see them.

Helen: The battered women?

Translator: Correction: the embattled women. Look at them, note well  their warlike walk,    how they swagger their arms, spitting on the street, how they defy gravity,    you  can  tell they are not from around here..Look here! They have stopped    stranger, luckily a Somali fellow, they are probably asking for my office, he’s    pointing at  our direction, hide yourself. But did you see the way they stopped the stranger,   no “excuse me”or “please”, they simply grabbed his shoulders and turned his  whole being around.

Helen: They did no such thing; you exaggerate. I will tell you what I see. I see two overweight, middle-aged Somali women, alone in unfeeling, unfriendly   North  America, thousands of miles  away from their “ancestral dry lands”—the phrase is yours of course who are cold and broken, wearing uncomfortable snowsuits (hence, the “swaggering”of the arms) and they are coming to see  you, Mr. Translator, the man whom they believe will relate their problems to the new world.

Translator: Clever but not quite so. And how do you explain away the scuffle with stranger, you witnessed it, just now.

Helen: They probably now the man. I have often observed how Somalis get very  physical, and  get all worked up when they great each other..I saw how same men  great you sometimes. They hug you so hard, they almost choke you and you   afterward  complain to me about the pain in your neck, how you hate to go  through this “farce”, how you will require a special car “like the pope.”

Translator: True, I will need  all the care I could get if I’m to do my service  with dignity.

Helen: They’re coming up, I think.

Translator: I can hear their heavy footsteps too. Just remember what I told you.

Helen: No stupid sympathies.

Translator: Right. For in their eyes you’re an enemy. A simple fact. Nothing else matters to  them. You’re not how you see yourself. You’re not  a prof, a therapist, an activist, a  workaholic, all in all a tireless promoter of women’s rights.

Helen: I’m also the wife a distinguished philosopher and a mother of two.

Translator: Your husband is scholar and you know I will not commit blasphemy and call the man a philosopher.

Helen: If I am an enemy in their eyes, how—

Translator: I will qualify you as a useful enemy, that they will understand.

Helen: I don’t like being an enemy; theirs or anybody else’s.

(The two woman enter slowly, one after the other. They don’t see the friend-activist who sits quietly at the corner, silently observing. They go on to great the translator.)

First. Woman: (in Somali) Nabad ina-adeer iyo Barwaaqo

Peace kinsman and prosperity.

Translator: Nabad.

Peace

Second Woman: Waan kuu baahnayn.

We need you.

Translator: So dhawaada, soo dhawaada.

Welcome, welcome.

First Woman: (hands him a paper). Eydii baa noo soo dirtay.

The dogs have sent us this.

Translator: Maxaad samayseen markana?

What have you done this time?

Second Woman: Maxaan samayn lahayn nacasyahow; anagaaba nala dacweynayaaye.

“What  have you done this time?”You fool! It is they who have accused us.

Translator: Halkan waxaa ku qoran maxkada in la idinka rabo.Waxaad isugu tagteen macalimad.

It says here you have to appear in court, you two have  beaten up a   school teacher.

First Woman: Way ku sugnayd.

She deserved it.

Second Woman: Waxay riday curudkeena

She failed our first born son.

First Woman: Waana markii labaad!

And this is the second time!

(Here, the two woman become aware of Helen’s presence, after she unwittingly coughed..)

First Woman: War maxay naagtu ahayd?

Who is this woman?

Translator:: Waa qof idin caawin karta.

She is someone who can be of help to you.

Second Woman: Qujujuc, qujucjuc, yaa caawimo weydiistay.

So she says, who asked for her help.?

Translator: Ayadaa iskeed u rabta.

By her own choice she wants to help.

First Woman: Sir bay wadataa.

She has an agenda.

Second Woman: Yaa ogaada waa masiixiyada waxfaafinaysee.

She is probabley a Christian missionary.

Translator: Ma aha sidaas.

She is not that..

First Woman: Maxay na tari kartaa?

What effort can she make on our behave?

Translator:       Maxakamada way ka dhaadhicin kartaa inay tihiid dad aad u dhibin.

She can convince the court that you’re very troubled individuals.

Second Woman: Taasi cadayn uma baahna;

That  doesn’t need a prove.

First Woman: Waan nahay waxaan nahay.

We are what we are.

First Woman: Adigu maxkamada ma noo raaci.

Are you coming with us to the court.

Translator: Haa, waa idin raaci

Yes, I will accompany you.

Second Woman: Ha lagu arko.

See you then.

First Woman: Nabad Galyo.

Peace to you.

(They two depart as they come. Their footsteps can be heard as they descend the stairs—cursing the translator’s sub-clan)

Helen: So much for your “embattled women.”.

Translator: (still examining the letter, ) Maxaad tiri. I mean what did you just say.

Helen-Friend-Acivist: Speaking Somali to me, that’s the first time. You must have be overwhelmed.

Translator: Uneasy maybe. A little.

Helen: They did not look threatening to me.

Translator:              Read this.(hands her the paper.)

Helen:                     (reads the note) Still there must be a reason.

Translator:             The teacher is a fellow woman too, a “sister” so to speak. If you want know why?, she has failed their child. But not just a child: their first born   son—twice they insisted..

Helen: How many children do they have.

Translator: Each has eight or nine I believe.

Helen: You’re not serious!

Translator:               I am.  Moreover, they look after their elderly parents.

Helen: If I had to all of that I am sure I will go mad. And no husbands either.

Translator: No, they have husbands. They opted out for America.

Helen: I really want to help them now more than ever. Can you talk me to their  houses, to get  to know  them a little better, meet  their kids, perhaps..

Translator: (putting on his jacket) Maybe another time. I have two more cases to   translate.

Helen: When will you have the time.

Translator: It’s not about time. You saw the look they gave you.

Helen: They didn’t beat me up either.

Translator: Yes, that’s to your credit. Come, let’s leave this little room.

They exit.

(Waiting room. Family doctor. With him an elderly Somali patient. The    translator is   reading a book. Has a book in his pocket; always and everywhere.       Other patients in the room..  The elderly patient is humming  religious  poem—derajaale Eebahay –A hymn to  God).

Nurse/secretary: Aamino Mohamed. here?

Translator: She is here. Na keen eedo. Came aunt.

Amina-Elderly-Somali- Patient: War i dhaaf.

You leave me alone.

Translator: Waan ku baryayaaye ina keen.

I’m begging you, please do come with me.

Amina-Elderly-Somali- Patient: Wax walboo dhaca ninkaas qolkiis cag ma saarayo. Hadduu ii   baahan yahay. Halkan ha iigu yimimaado;

There is no way i will put my feet in  that man’s room [meaning the doctor’s].   Let him come here if he needs me.

Translator: (facing the nurse) She does not want to go to the doctor’s room. Is it possible for  the doctor to come here instead, she won’t change her mind, believe me.

(The translator opens his book where he left. The patient continues to hum. Enter the doctor followed by a nurse.

Doctor: How are you Aamino.

Translator: Good afternoon Doctor Thomson.

Doctor Thomson: Good afternoon Mr. Farah. I have been leaving message for Amina.. I am  afraid I have a sad news for her.

Translator What is it?

Doctor Thomson: She is dying.

Translator: Dying?

Doctor Thomson: Cancer. She had it all along.. Something could have been for her. But she  will have none of it. And not because I am a man. I know how Somali  women have a  religious scrupulous  about going near men. Amina  wouldn’t even talk the test with my  colleague  Dr, Kimberly.

Nurse/secretary(almost in tears) I  feel very sorry for her.

Doctor Thomson: Can you interpreter what said to her.

Translator: I will do it on the way.

Doctor Thomson: Do it now, please.

Nurse/secretary: Let him do that at her home, with her loved ones.

Doctor Thomson: But she has no family….in Canada. She lives by herself in housing unit for   the elderly.

(The nurse is saddened by this news. She approaches the patient who pushes her away.)

Translator: Eedo daqtarkaagu wuxuu sheegay inaad cudurka kansarka qabto, aadna u dhimanayso

Aunt, the doctor is said you have a cancer and  will die of it soon.

Amina-Elderly Somali Patient: Wuxuu og yahay baa iska yar doofaarku, wuxuu eebahay ii qoray  baan i heli.

This pig[meaning the doctor] does know any better. Only  what God prescribed for me will happen to me.

Doctor Thomson: She seems unconcerned.Tell me what she said.

Translator: She said only what God wills will happen to her.

Doctor Thomson: Interesting.

Translator: Good-by doctor.

(The translator helps the patient get up. And they walk toward the door; she leaning on him.)

Nurse/Secretary: Please, take care of her.

(  High School. Vice Principal’s office. Somali Father. His sons sits mutely with  him. Home teacher in the room. Translator is standing, anxious as always.)

Vice Principal addressing the father) I have called you here because of your son and this  man whom you may or may not know is a Somali translator. Your son Abdi has a   dream, something we encourage around here. He wants to be a ballet dancer and we, myself and his home teacher whom I asked to present at this meeting,  we believe he will be star someday. But Abdi here is afraid to fellow his heart    because he thinks  you will, let say you will not be happy about his choice.. So I have   called for this  meeting to bring  about understand between father and son  and to  prevent a   crisis.

Father: What’s balle?

Vice-Principal: So you do speak English!

Father: Tell me now what ballee dance is?

Home-Room-Teacher: Ballet is an art.

Father: Art? One time you say dance, now art, you don’t make no sense to me.

Home-Room-Teacher: Well, it’s an art form, mixture of music, dance—.

Vice-principal: Can’t you simply translate what is that we are talking about  to the father.(sarcastically)   You  do know  what ballet is?

Translator: Yes, I know what ballet is but it’s not so easy. There simply is no word for ballet    in our language.

Home-Room-Teacher: That’s odd.

Translator: What is so odd? That Europe has neglected to introduce ballet to our   people?.(To Vice-principal)You can show him pictures.

Vice-principal: I have another idea, we can show him a tape. And right here in my office we a   have VCR.

Home-Room-Teacher: But we have no tape,  not here in this room.

Son: I have tape. (opens his school bag and hands proudly two tapes to the   Vice-principal)

(Tape is shown. father  restless.  horrified. unable to sit still.

Father.(getting up)Cabdiyow haddaad sidaa damacday waan ku dayriyee gurigayga ha’ iga iman abadan

Abdi, if you want to be that I disown you so do not ever come to my home.

( Translator. At home. One bedroom. Living room: “Sofa-bed-office”.Safety-gate which keeps his son, age one, away. His wife is getting ready to attend a Somali wedding. Daughter studying at the dinning table. Not far from him.)

Tuulip: Farah, what’s your favourite bird?

Translator: Camel, why?

Tulip: (laughing) Camel is not a bird, doqon.

Anab: Don’t call your father Farah or a fool either. Say father.

Tuulib: What if he wants me to call him Farah.

Anab: He does not.

Translator: Tuulib is right.

Anab: Then you’re teaching her how to disrespect her parent.

Translator: I am teaching her how to just estimate things and men.

Tulip: Farah, can I call you “dad.”

Translator: “Dad” sounds even dearer. Call me Farah for now.

Tulip: When will I call you father?

Translator: When you’re eighteen. And then only if you think I did you good.

Tulib: Okay, Farah.

Anab: As for me you’re to call me mother day and night , now and forever.

Tulib: Okay, mother.

Translator: Of to another wedding?

Anab: Shaashsaar this time.

Translator: I wish you would go out less often.

Anab: What’s the matter?. You used to encouraged me to go out.

Translator: I have also encouraged you to exercise, to read a good book  now and then, to   limit your TV  consumption,  to volunteer, to donate blood,—

Anab:               Stop, stop, I can’t do everything. Besides where will I volunteer.

Translator: You can  always start Somali language class for the neighbourhood kids  including  your own.

(the doorbell rings)

Anab: Are we expecting someone?

Translator: I am always expecting Helen.

Tulip: Me too!

Anab. Great, I will take her to with me to the wedding. Too bad she dresses to distract not     to attract. I know what I will do. I will make her wear one of my guntino and give  her my garabasaar.

Tulip: Mother, Dalmar is crying.

(The translator goes to the room.Tulip opens the door. Enter Helen.)

Helen: How is the lovely Tulip today?

The-lovely-Tulip: Good, and she has a new teacher.

Helen A new teacher!. What’s her name?

Tulip: Annie. She is Irish.

Helen: I bet you told your father you have new Irish teacher.

Tulip: Yes, I told Farah.

Helen: And he said—

Tulip: “The Irish people are a goodly tribe.”

Helen: That’s him alright. Hello Anab.(hugs her)

Anab: I am happy to see you Helen.. Tea?

Helen:          Love to .(whispering)Don’t tell him but I came here for the tea. Just love   your  tea guys. I know you  gave me the recipe, but its not the same. I’m afraid  I will  never learn how to make a proper Somali tea.

(The translator reappears with his baby boy, Dalmar. Anab is making, and serving the tea as they chat.)

Translator: You’re always welcome to have a tea with us.

Helen: Thank you. How’s the “land-rover”.

Translator: Literally, that’s what my son’s name means(hands the baby to his  mother) Please, breast feed him before you leave, I don’t want to have fight    in my  hands as soon as you leave. Land-rover that’s what Dalmar means in  Somali.I know it does not  sound romantic anymore in the  English language.  The  automobile industry is  to blame. I hope they don’t name a car after the   Noble One.

Helen: Ortega is safe as far as that industry is concerned. But you might be happy to   know  what my name means.

Translator: Your name has a meaning. Didn’t know that.

Helen: It has, at least had for my mother.

Anab: Tell us!, I want to know.

Helen: I will, but you will have to pass a test.

Tuulip: Can I play?

Helen: Yes my dear, you can play. You will to have to guess which of the following     famous  Helen I was named after. Helen the Brave or Helen the Beautiful.

Tuulip:                  Helen the Beautiful.

Anab: I second my Tuulip’s motion.

Translator: I’m at home with the brave..

Helen: I was named  after Helen Keller.

Tuulip: Who’s Helen Keller?

Helen: She was a brave little girl from Alabama. Just like you.

Tulip: But I’m not from Alabama.

Translator: (delighted),Indeed my daughter, we are not  from Alabama.(Turning   to Helen)There is  something I like  to show you.

Anab:.              You will show her nothing, dear. She is mine tonight.

Translator: I doubt any  Helen would want to go to a Somali wedding.

Anab: Maybe she does. Besides, she wants to know more about us; Somali women.   And weddings are important, how would he say—?

Helen: Constituent element in the lives of Somali women of the diaspora.

Anab: That’s it. That’s how he would say. Let’s go to our room and leave him to his    constituents.

(The two woman go into the room.. Tulip, with homework  in hand, following them. Translator left alone. He buries himself in papers. After while they reeappear. Tulip running ahead.)

Tulip: Farah.

Translator: Yes, Tuulip, you want to tell something.

Tulip (whispering) She has put on mother’s dress. You should see it.

Translator: She has?

Tuulip: She looks so..so

Translator: Pretty? Somali?

Tuulip: She looks so funny. And pretty too.

Helen: I am hopeless.

Translator: You look haboon tonight.

Helen: Hope that’s a good thing, but I feel weird.

Tuulip: You look so pretty in mother’s dress.

Helen: And funny too. I overhead you Tulip. Thanks dear.

Tuulip: You’re welcome.

Anab: Tulip show our friend how we dance at the shaashsaar.

Tulip: I will need a garabasaar.

Helen: Here, have mine.

(Tulip takes the garbasaar and puts on a good shaashsaar dance which delights them all.)

Helen: You were, you were….

Tuulip: Pretty?

Helen: Pretty and wonderful too. Come here (they hug)

Anab: Farah, no reading tonight, you have responsibility. Let’s go.

Translator: No reading.

Helen: Good night..

Translator:      Good night.

Tulib: Have fun!

Helen: We will!

Exit the two. Tulip goes back to work. Father takes baby to the room.

( Morning after. Somali restaurant. Near the Translator’s office, with him Helen, Friend-Activist.)

Translator: You haven’t told me about the party?

Helen: What party? Oh, the wedding you mean.

Translator: Somali weddings are excuse to party.

Helen. It was fantastic. I had splendid time. I really did.

Translator: They made you dance the shaashsasaar.

Helen:               (smiling) They did. Many times. And every time I put on a performance there is  such a   laughter and roar in the hall, very soon there isn’t single soul standing  to sa’ab for me so that I could continue the dance. One woman who    spoke not  a word of English couldn’t get enough of my act. She kept shouting   in Somali: bes,     bes, bes.

Translator: .   Bes means stop, I am sure you mean Biis.

Helen: Biis means repeat right?

Translator: Right.

Helen: She was the leader and the reciter so I couldn’t  refuse her requests.  It was   great  and exhausting. Anab said she would give me good shaashsaar lessons.

Translator: So you still think they are battered women.

Helen: I think all women are battered. If not my men, then by some other  circumstance,  by life to say the least. And my commitment to the cause of    Somali women is even stronger. Last night I have discovered  their warmth  and comradery.

Translator: Speaking of comradery, I have made an appointment for you with the embattled women.. They  have agreed  reluctantly to receive you into their home.  This Saturday at four.

Helen: This Saturday? But I am going to camping with my husband.

Translator: That’s not good, not in itself—I made a plan.

Helen: You know how seriously I wanted  to help. But we rented a cabin month ago   and  no  refund either. I rarely leave my work you know that or to use your phraseology, I hardly ever leave my post.

Translator: I will just postpone the meeting, they are not particular about time, the main   thing was  getting them to receive you at all. Remember to enjoy your stay out   there.

Helen: I well. And read a little.

Translator: What’s the subject?

Helen: Nietzsche and Margaret Mead—odd couple I grant it. I’m rereading him, and writing about her.

Translator: Excellent subject, the first I mean. If you were young, and undecided I would  insist you start with his Untimely Meditations. How   timely these four books  are  for youth.! But you probably would like his polemics. It’s  enchanting to see how old, and insignificant authors come back to life in his hands. Let him attack  “Old  Kant” or some  obscure author, he is like kitten playing with   inanimate  object, and the object  springs momentarily to life right before our   eyes. He cheers  me, even now. If only someone could translate him into   Somali. He will set the  Somali peninsula ablaze.

Helen: The Somali peninsula is already on fire, there’s the civil war, still on I  believe.

Translator: (sobering) That’s different.

Helen: You translate him.

Translator: I am not an artist. You read my resume: “an honest translator of Arabic, Swahili,  and   Somali.”

Helen: Come to think of it,  Nietzsche is the quintessential war-lord.

Translator: He was a nomad too, always on the move. And altogether: one of us–read his   life.

Helen: I know his life but what I didn’t  know till last night is that both of your parents have been  killed in the civil war.

Translator: (quoting a somali poet)

Kun baa laga dilee aabahay kaligii ma’ahayn.

“Many a men have been killed  besides  my father.” —My wife will talk.

Helen: She is not the gossipy type,  not Anab. She called you names which at first I did not understand.

Translator: Agoon, or perhaps Rajay.

Helen:               These were her exact words. When I asked her what they meant, she couldn’t  help narrating me the whole history.

Translator: She is a narrator, no doubt. Honestly, I don’t mind her narrating my whole life    if  she chooses to. What I can understand why mine, why not hers?

Helen: She didn’t tell me her story.

Translator: My point exactly. She would rather talk to the world about my problems, how I  am  motherless, and a fatherless, how I have been bitten by a snake when I was  seven,   how I lost this or that when in fact she suffered the biggest lose any human being at her age could suffer.

Helen: I really want know.

Translator: When she was eighteen my wife fled the civil war on an overcrowded ship that     was going  to Yemen. On board where her twins and husband. When  the accident that took her first family overtook her, Anab was begging  water    for her twins, strangers who were equally struggling for their lives where  pushing her around. Barely alive, her body was found by an Taiwanese boa  that was  illegally fishing on the Somali coast.

Helen: It’s obvious why she is so reluctant to share her story. Look at my tears and I  thought I was tough enough for almost anything. How is one to share anything like   that,  hard to believe.

Translator: I didn’t believe it either when I first heard it. I was her translator at her refuge   hearing. Another lie I thought to myself as interpreted her tale to the judges,     just to get landed, for in their scramble for Canada Somalis would often say   anything to secure their papers..It was after I met Anab two years later, I was    driving a taxi then, that I learned this woman’s tale, like many others,  was too true.   She bore herself  nobly—my wife.

Helen: I hope you didn’t marry her because of her story.

Translator: “She loved me for dangers I had passed,; and I loved her that she did pity them.”

Helen: Except in your situation it’s the other way around; you love her for the dangers she sufferred through.

Translator: You know your Shakespeare. Seriously speaking, I love my wife for her   cheerfulness,  gaiety and undauntednes. When I at surveyed her qualities   as   woman I  was most impressed by what she overcome, then I though to   myself who overcame so much will overcome much more. And life Ortega says   is about overcoming, a task awaiting to be done. I want to graduate with honour.(looks at his watch)I am late from work  Helen, I have an early case.

Helen: Why do you call what you do “cases”. You sound like a social worker.

Translator: Well, it’s a work, which is intensely social.

Helen: And universal in its implication.

Waiter: More Somali tea.

Translator: (getting up) No thanks, we were about to leave.

Helen: I will have another cup. Make it to go for me, please.

Translator: You know my wife, she can write her own Consolation of Philosophy.

Helen: She doesn’t like philosophy.

Translator: All the same, she benefits.

Helen: How?

Translator:         Through my good behaviour. Had it not for these rare writers I would not have  been the reformed animal that I am today.

Helen: A reformed animal you’re! I understand your good behaviour is important to  the  well being of your family, but what keeps Anab herself going after all that.

Translator: She keeps herself going. If you mean what sustains her, I would say Somali   poetry. By that I mean the whole  tradition. She has a way of leaning on every   line,  has a saying for every occasion, there is not a problem in the world   which   her proverbs  do not cover. I owe my understand of our poets to her.     Just now  I quoted a poet  in connection with my parent’s deaths. It is my of   consoling  myself after the fashion of my wife.

Waiter: Here. Enjoy your tea.

Helen: Thank you.

Waiter: please,  come again.

Translator: She will.

They exit.

Office of the translator. With him a gentleman for the Children’s Aid Society:

Child-Aid-0fficial: I have heard your service from a Somali activist, you must know him,   Araare Ahmed.

Translator: Don’t know the man, sir. What can I do for you?

Child-Aid-0fficial: Here is my card. I work for the Children’s Aid Society. I am sure you how  the CAS is has been in the news because of its Somali cases. We have   been  accused, unfairly I might add, of particularly targeting your  community.

Translator: I know of few cases where your organization  have rushed into decision—but do go on, please.

Child-Aid-Official: Possibly,  but that does give the members of your community the right to   call us racist, and  missionaries.

Translator: That too is rushing to a decision.

Child-Aid-0fficial: I am glad you see it that. way. Our only mission is to see to it that all children have happy homes, regardless, of race and religion.

Translator: That’s very noble. What’s is that you want of me?

Child-Aid-0fficial:We have a situation which we think will explode if something is not done. A  month ago we received a phone call from a family a doctor. He told us of     how  having just a examined a child, he believes the child by in a great   danger if something is not done immediately. This child, three year Somali     baby girl, has been taken into our custody. You should have seen the mother’s reaction. I am telling we have never seen anything like it. She bit  me, see(shows a serious injury on his left ear).The child now safe at a     foster   home.  Furthermore,  the mother  visits her on a regular basis. Here is the problem. She made an unsuccessfully attempt to run away  with the child. We have no fear now of that happening again. There is     something else which are unable to do anything about.

Translator: What is that?

Child-Aid-0fficial: The mother is speaking to the child in Somali.

Translator: That’s not a crime.

Child-Aid-Official: And what she is saying sounds harsh and unpleasant.

Translator: The Somali language sounds harsh and unpleasant to the unaccustomed ears.

Child-Aid-0fficial: You can also tell from the child’s reaction to her words. We would like   you  to be  present at some of her visits.

Translator: Will the mother be aware of presence?

Child-Aid-0fficer: Of course, she will. To do otherwise will be unethical.

Translator: Good. And is my role simply  to assess what the mother is saying?

Child-Aid-0fficer: That’s all.

Translator: One more thing. Am I to speak to the mother.

Child-Aid-0fficial: If you feel like conversing with her. I warn you though, she is a hostile and  I believe unstable woman.

Translator: Do call me two days prior to  the mother’s scheduled visit. And say hello to   Mr Aarlaaye Jama’, I have remembered who the thief was.

Child-Aid-0fficial: (puzzled) Araare Jamaal right! See you soon.

The Child-Aid-0fficial exits.

(Same day. Office of translator, enter Doctor-convert and his new Somalian wife.)

Doctor-convert: Aslaama alayckum brother.

Translator: Peace to you too. How can I help.

Doctor-convert: Only Allah can help me.

Translator: Dr. Thomson?

Doctor-Convert:’s New Somalian Wife: He is now Dr. Abbaas Khalid, manshalaha.

Doctor-Convert: Praise Allah!

Translator: Well, this is a surprise.

Doctor-Convert: You remember my patient Aamino Mohamed?

Translator: Distinctly! Two months I believe.

Doctor-covert: Forty Days to be precise!

Translator: What of Aamino.?

Doctor-convert: Amino dead yesterday. We buried her. My Allah rest her in peace. Allah used Amino to awaken my soul. Do you remember how she   reacted when I told her the news.

Translator: I wouldn’t say she reacted at all.

Doctor-Convert: Precisely. I was dumbfounded. Never in my life have I seen such   strength of faith, such a devotion to God, her indifference to death,   she was unworldly woman. I don’t how to describe what I went through the days that followed my encounter with Amina.

Doctor-Covert New Somali Wife: (Gently pressing his hand)You were lost, Dr Abbaas Khalid

Doctor-convert Yes, my dear wife, I was lost and Allah guided me.

Translator: Doctor, why are you here?

Doctor-Convert: To worship Him, what other reason is there. The world is His brother.

Translator: I don’t mean that. Here in my office, what brought you here today?

Doctor-Covert: I wanted to thank you for bringing Amina that day.

Translator: You’re very welcome doctor. Is that all?

Doctor-Convert: I also wanted to enlist your service.

Translator: You need a translation done, I suppose.

Doctor-convert: I want you to come with me to Somaliland. I am relocating my practice   there. The Somali people, our brothers and sisters, need us. I will have my  own hospital right in the heart of Mogadishu. Will you come with me?

Translator: Doctor, you just can’t uproot me again. It took me years to plant myself in  this  country. You might be a sincere man, but please leave me out of your   projects.

Dejected. Doctor-covert takes his leave.

(  Evening. At the Cabin. Helen and Husband..)

Helen: I had tea with Farah the other day.

Husband-prof: The Somali interpreter. How is he?

Helen: He is well and working hard.

Husband-prof uninterested) That’s good to know.

Helen: Why don’t you show him your manuscript?

Husband-prof: show him my manuscript?

Helen: Let him read your novel and see what he thinks..

Husband-Novel Writer-Prof: I don’t really care what he thinks.

Helen: Well, I do.

Husband-Novel Writer-Prof: Why did you tell him about my manuscript?

Helen: I didn’t. You should  appreciate a good reader though.

Husband-Novel Writer-Prof: I will go to him when I need a Somali translator.

Helen: He is not just a translator (she adds musingly) though heaven knows he wants to be anything  more than that. Somalis are know for their poetry. A nation of poets one critic called them.

Husband-Novel Writer-Prof laughting) Is that what they say. Somali poet? Somali warlord may be, plenty of them,  we keep hearing of them.

Helen: I will tell who has heard of a Somali poet.

Husband-Novel Writer Prof: You’re welcome to enlighten me.

Helen: Margaret.

Husband-Novel Writer Prof: Margaret.. who.?

Helen: The author of your beloved Manawaka novels

Husband-Novel Writer-Prof: I don’t about that..

Helen: A Tree For Poverty is her translation of Somali poetry.

Husband-Novel Writer-Prof:(somewhat surprised) Did not know that.

Helen(getting up) Just the other day he called Margaret an embattled woman .

Husband-Novel Writer-Prof: He calls every woman embattled.

Helen: Margaret might not so embattled, at least not in the sense he often uses the   phrase, but who would deny her creation, Hagar Shipling, is the most battled   hardened   woman  in Canlit…… our fire is dying and I am getting tired.

Husband: What do you mean my fire….

Helen-wife goes into the Cabin, Husband-Prof. following behind.

(Same evening. Knock on the Translator’s door. Does not open. Tulip there.)

Translator: Who goes there?

Young Woman: You don’t know me but I need your help.

Translator: With what?

Young Woman: To speak Somali.

Translator: Are you yourself Somali ?

Young Woman: No, I am a  Caucasian female.

Translator: Whoever gave you my address must have told you I am a translator not a teacher.

Young Caucasian Female: Let me in please.

Translator: I can let you in into my house.

Young Caucasian Female: Sir, I am serious. My fiance is a Somalian and we’re  in love.

Translator You sound young, I doubted it will matter to your fiance what you speak.

Young-Caucasian-Female With the Somalian Fiance: You’re right sir and he loves me just  the  way i am.. It’s his mother sir. She doesn’t speak a word of English and   I  want to learn your language just for her.

Translator:(opens the door) Here is the business card of Somali language teacher..

Young Caucasian Female With The Somalian Fiance: Thank you so much.

Translator: Good luck

locks the door

(Foster Home. living Room. Children Aid Official, Foster-mother. Foster-Father, Somali baby-girl. Enter translator.)

Official: Good afternoon Mr. Farah

Translator: Good afternoon.

Official:(introducing him) This is the Somali translator I have been telling you about. Mr.  Farah this is the Robinson family, they have been looking after Bilan.

Foster Father: How do you do Mr. Farah.

Foster Mother: Hi, good to meet you.

Translator: Good to meet you both.

Foster Mother: What does abti mean?

Foster Father: Bilan called you that when she saw you.

Foster Mother: She could see you coming from this window.

Translator:        Abti means uncle, mother’s brother. Come here abti.

The child comes to the translator, who gives her a tiny tidy bear.

Official: Happy Bilan?

Foster Mother: (picking the baby up) She doesn’t say much, this one, but you can tell she is  so  pleased with your gift. Thank you.

Foster-Father It’s so easy to please her.

Translator: Where’s the mother?

Official: She is here.

Translator: Here, in this house ?

Official: No, in the near by park, but she should be here any minute.

Foster-Mother: It’s really so sad.

Foster-Father: She has a limited access, so when she is not here she is always roaming in in the near-by woods.

Official: I don’t believe she even goes home. I think she sleeps in the park I have   asked the park authority to inquire into that possibility.

Foster-Mother Of course, we can’t help running into her when we go for a walk. She is  afraid to come near us I believe because she is afraid of dogs and we have a   puppy. But she is there on the hills all the same, fiercely looking, she   follows  us  from a save distance..

Foster-Father Sometimes she comes so near, almost right into our backyard, where we  can hear her footsteps.

Foster-Mother: She sings too: Hobeeya, hobeeya.

Translator: That’s a nusery rhyme.

Hobeeya  hobeeya ,alla hobeey hobeeyaay hobeeya

Foster Mother: Believe me, I  find her rhyming more touching than Beethoven. And Bilan   freezes when she hears,  stops whatever she is doing, she would go near the   window    and  cry hoyo, hoyo here.!  That must mean mother in your  language.. It’s one of the  few words that she knows in  any language. All this  is terrible for all of us including the baby  and the  mother.

Foster-Father: Mr. Farah did you know that our own children are not with us  as  a result of this woman’s troubles?

Translator: No!

Foster Mother: We have taken them to their grandparents. Our two sons wouldn’t go out  because of they say  “that Somalian woman in the woods.”And our eldest    daughter who loved Bilan dearly—she spent fortunes     on Bilan, I  never knew children could love so deeply–our Stepheny   started to have nightmares about the baby’s mother.

Translator: Was she afraid of the mother?

Foster-Father. Not at all.

Foster Mother She just wouldn’t accept why a child and so loving a mother should be   separated.

Foster-Father: This problem, I tell you, occupied my daughter day and night, “there must    be a  mistake” she kept repeating. and she is only nine.

Foster-Mother Her school grades were failing, lost weight, she would not eat or sleep. It’s    awfully haunting.

Official: The mother is coming!

Foster-Mother: We will take a walk.

Foster-Father: She can’t stand us.

(Exit the foster-family. Enter the mother. The baby runs to meet her.)

Mother: Hooyo, hooyo, bilantadyiyey.

My daughter, my dearest Bilan.

Translator: Maalin wanaagsan.

Good day to you.

Daughter:(pointing the translator) Abti, abti.

Mother: Abtigaa maaha bilantaydiyeey.

He’s not your uncle my dear Bilan.

Daughter: (insisting) Abti, Abti…

The baby shows the mother the translator’s gift to her.

Mother: Adna waxaad bilowday inaad sidoodoo kale wax u keento.

So you started to get her things just like them.

Translator: Waxba kama wada hadiyada.

I don’t mean anything by the gift.

Mother: Beenlow!

Liar!

Translator: Gabar caqli badan baad dhashay.

You have an intellegent child.

Mother: You kuu dirsadaday caqligeed.?

Who asked you about her intellegence?

Tranlator: Cidna.

Nobody.

Mother: Horta maxaad halkan ka haysaa?

What are you doing here in the first place?

Translator: Waxaan ahay turjubaan

I am a translator:

Mother; Ma tihide ruufiyaan baad tahay.

No you’re not; you’re an informer.

Official: What’s she saying?

Translator: Ordinary stuff. Wants to know what I am doing here. She call me an informant just now.

Official: Mr. Farah, what does Ey mean in your language?

Translator: Dog.

Official: Gaal?

Translator; An  Infedel.

Official: dofar ?

Translator: Pig!

Official: Dogon?

Translator: An idoit!

Official: Kashin?

Translator: Filthy!

Official: Garac?

Translator: Bastard!

Official: Sir, is there a word, I mean a term of abuse, in your language which this  woman has called  me the past three months?

Translator: I can’t think of any right now.

Official: This is too much. Do you have a family Mr. Farah?

Translator: I have a wife and two kids, why do you ask?

Official; Have you ever been a foster parent.

Translator: Well, If you’re thinking of transferring the child to my home, you’re   thinking wrong—I live in a very small apartment.

Official: We can do something about that, the CAS can help your family find a  bigger place.

Traslator: But the child has a foster home. already.

Official: The Robinson family is falling apart—you met them yourself.

Translator: Let me talk to my family about it. You needn’t worry any more  about this mother verbally abusing this child. My job here is done.

Official: Thank you for coming today.

Translator: You’re very welcome.

Translator waves good-by to baby. She waves back.

Mother:                     Ha salaamin tuuga.

Don’t greet the thief.

(Main Street. Before a Station. Translator waiting, Helen running to meet him. They’re both carrying daily newspapers.)

Translator: I am sorry I couldn’t walk back to meet you. I am expecting my bus any minute.

Helen: I understand.

(showing him the headline which reads: A Prominent Canadian Doctor Converts To Islam).

Translator: I know the doctor’s story, save yourself the trouble.

Helen: He knows you too. Mentions you as a man of faith and action.

Translator: I don’t know where Dr. Thomson…..

Helen: I believe he is now Dr. Abbas.

Translator: My mistake.

Helen: But what do you think of all this.

Translator: What would I think of this giddiness, this fickleness, this leave-like nature on the   part of contemporary western man who can neither bear well nor be true to his  success and fortune, the very signs of his science? It used the religion of the oppressed, now its all the same; doctors, rock stars, princes, high society and all..I   like to know  the marketing genius behind all this fuss.

Helen; But the doctor wants to help Somali people I thought that would please you the  most—tribal-minded that you’re sometimes. He wants to go to Mogadishu—read it for yourself.

Translator: He told me his crazy plan. He came to my office with his new wife. I can’t stand this nonsense.

Helen: I couldn’t help noticing the wife is so young and tender looking.

Translator: Besides, Dr. Thomson, rather, Dr. Abbas Khalid was already helping the Somali  people in his own way.

Helen: How do you mean?

Translator: The majority of his patients were Somalis from the metropolitan; he needed not to go to Mogadishu to show us his humanity. That must be my taxi I see coming.

Helen: Let me give you a ride.

Translator: I have a novel to read and wish to take my time.

Helen:(examining the novel) A Russian ?

Translator: If it’s not Russian or Stendhal— it’s not a novel.

Helen: That’s  a little harsh.

Translator: Not really, the 19^th century Russian writers were men before they were writers: there was nothing Victorian about them. And Stendhal is, as they say, something else.

Helen: While we are on the subject, I have finally made my husband give up his  manuscript. Read it please.

Translator: I didn’t know your husband writes novels.

Helen; You make it sound its an insult to write novels nowadays.

Translator: Not necessarily, I just don’t expect the thing from certain quarters.

Helen: This is something my husband was working on for the past twelve years.

Translator: You’re very brave Helen to hand me this after what I said about the subject.

Helen; Please, read  it and tell what you think, a lot more depends than you   might think, Mr. Translator.

Translator: I will as soon as I finish. It may take me same time though.

The Somali translator  lines up to board a bus..

Helen waving good-by) take your time.

(Playground. Outside the Apartment Complex. Somali and “canadian” children playing together. Among them Tulip. Translator watching the spectacle. Good afternoon. Enter a man who’s looking for the Translator.)

Man: Are you, by any chance Mr. Farah, the Somali translator.

Translator: I am he.

Man: My names Donald, I was the candidate for the left in the recent by-election.

Translator: I know that, I voted for you.

Man-Donald-Candidate-For the Left: Thank you very much, You may be the only Somali, the  only member of your community who voted for me.

Translator: I am sorry you have lost the election.

Man-Donald-Candidate For the Left: I lost the election because I lost the Somali vote.

Translator: That’s unfortunate Mr. Donald.

Man-Donald-Candidate for the Left; Mr Farah, I came to you in particular because I know for  a fact you’re not liked in your community either.

Translator: I’m needed. That’s more important.

Man-Donald-Candidate for the Left: They, my Somali advisers, were telling jokes at your   expense. They said of you “when he swore upon the queen” referring to your   citizenship auth, “he meant it,  godless that he is.”

Translator: And they didn’t, lairs that they are.

Man-Donald-Candidate for the Left: this afternoon I said to myself go to that man they were  abusing,  he must be a good man. I went to your home and your wife told me you took the  kids out. To make it short, I have few unanswered questions. I am a   black man  whose father is a self-made Jamaican immigrant. My father came this   country penniless, I would think your  people would relate to my experience but   they chose the other candidates—-why? I want to know why?

Translator:         (feeling cross examined) I told you I voted for you.

Man-Donald-Candidate For the Left-Black: Thank you again. But what about the rest of your community. Are they not poor, are they not black, tell me how do you people see  yourselves?

Translator: We haven’t learn to see ourselves at all, we are like children and we have no names for most of the things in this new found land of ours. Some Somalis see   themselves  as blacks and Africans , Some us Muslims only, some us members of   certain tribes,  and most of them see themselves all these things which is why we  are inefficient when it comes to answering any call from the outside world not  excluding yours  Mr. Donald., not excluding yours.

Man-Donald-Candidate For the Left-Black: Identity crisis, I see your point. Still I can’t    understand why your people are so bloody conservatives?

Translator: Conservatives you say? Among us there only men who are kept in check by fear. No, there are no conservatives in this community. Cowards possibly.

Man-Donald-Candidate For the Left-Black: If they’re not conservatives, then why did  they vote for that party?

Translator: Make your inquiry. And good luck with the general election.

Man-Donald-Candidate For the Left-Black: Thank you. I hope you will vote for me again.

Translator; We shall see. ….Tulip!

Tulip: Who was the man?

Translator; Aaba na keen.

Tulip: Now?

Translator: Now Tulip, where are your shoes?

Tulip: In my pocket.

Translator: Well, put them on.

Tulip:   (puts shoes on) Catch me.  Father runs  after daughter.

Office of the Translator. Enter a Somali teenage girl.

Somali-Teenage-Girl; Hi, can I come in.

Translator: Come in please.

Somali-Teenage-Girl: I need you to interpret for me.

Translator: How, I mean, which languages are we talking about.

Somali-Teenage-Girl: Somali. I can’t speak or understand.

Translator: Strange! And with whom do you wish to communicate.

Somali-Teenage-Girl: My mother sir, and sometimes my father.

Translator: Unbelievable, they never taught you Somali?

.Somali-Teenage-Girl. It’s a long story. What I need the most is how I can talk to my  mother—I don’t care if I speak to my father. Are you gonna help or   what.?

Translator: I am open for business….even though ..I would…..

Somali-Teenage-Girl: I will bring my mother, my father is never around. By now.

The child exits as careless as she came in.

(Office of the Translator. Just came in a lone white male. He is visibly drunk.)

Lone-White-Male:

Translator: Please, be seated.

Lone-White Male: I don’t need your seats.

Translator: And I don’t want no trouble here.

Lone-White-Male: I am hiring you.

Translator: Hiring me for what.

Lone-White Male: Inter…Translation

Translator: It’s getting late,  I was about leaving

Lone-White-Male: My neighbour is Somalian, frankly, I don’t care about your people.

Translator: Make it quick, what do you want of me

Lone-White-Male: He calls me names, well, we call each other names.

Translator; So, you have your war of words, that’s all.

Lone-White-Male: That’s not all. When I call him names he doesn’t seem to care and he    speaks good English too—-he is not dump.. I called him nigger, bushman,     refuge,  dirty—-

Translator: What a minute. Stop there.

Lone-White-Male: Just give me few Somalian words that will the do the trick, I hate the  bastard..

Translator: (amused) You want to abuse your Somali neighbor and need the right terms.

Lone-White Male: Yes, Just one or two that will get him mad.

Translator: Words will not do in this case.. Find the name’s of your neighbor’s  Somali tribe, he   should put  a spirited defense on their behave—-if he is Somalian   that is. And be  prepared for sound beating.

Lone-White-Male getting up) I can take care of myself.

Home of the embattled women. Translator and Helen-friend-activist just came in. The house is full of children. TV is on. Men coming and going. The two women sell, along with clothes and cosmetics, khat—-“the leaves of an arabian shrub, which are chewed as a stimulant” (Exford Dictionary)—Khat is illegal in Canada.

First Woman: So dhawaada

Welcome.

Second Women: So dhawaada.

Helen-Friend-Activist: Ma’adsanid.

Thank you.

Translator: Mahadsanidiin.

Thank you both.

First Woman; War bal fariista.

Be seated.

The visitors are seated–-children chasing each other and playing all around the visitors.

Helen-Friend-Activist: It’s so hot in here.

Translator: I know, the heat is unbearable even for an African.

(Tea is served.)

Helen-friend-Activist: Thank you, I love Somali tea.

Second Women(serving the tea) War maxay naagtu leedahay.

What is  the woman saying?

Translator: Waan jeclahay shaaha Soomaali?

She loves Somali tea.

First Woman: Wax walba way jecelyihiin.

They love everything.

Helen-Friend-Activist : Are you sure they don’t speak English at all.

Translator: Their English is as good as your Somali.

. Helen-friend-Activist: There must adult ESL classes they could attend.

Translator: There such classes and night schools. I myself taught there awhile. It just that they see at as a joke and you can get them stop speaking Somali. They go there to gossip and to get away from the kids.

Helen-Friend-Activist: But what are the men doing here I though you said their husbands went    to America.

Translator: They did. These men are their customers.

Helen-Friend-Activist: Customers?

Translator:    They sell jewellers and khat and sometimes special halal food from the middle- eastern countries  and Africa.

Helen-Friend-Activist: Khat is illegal in the country.

Translator: It is, that’s why the metro police ride their homes routinely, these two have been   in   and out of the courts since they come to the country. The police look the other  way  and  the local courts  are sick and tired of hearing about these two Somali  women.  Last time,   I was their translator, they slapped a judge. And he didn’t   expect it was  coming. I watched them go at him. Afterwards he cried “get these belligerent  women  out of my court.” You should see the fear in his eyes—the judge.

Helen-Friend-Activist: I can think of few judges that I felt slapping over the years.

First Women(shouting from the kitchen) War canab ka waran?

How’s Anab?

Helen-Friend-Activist: They know Anab?

Translator: My wife is their kinswomen. Way fiican tahay.(She is well).

Second Woman: Gabadhaadii magaca qalafsanaydna.

And your daughter, the one with the strange name?

Helen: One of the women is making phone calls over and over. Who is she calling?    

Translator: Way fiican tahay. She is well too.(turning to Helen) Probably Africa, its   difficult to get through the first time, especially with these phone cards.

First Woman: Gabadhaada maxaa magac muslin ugu bixin weyday.

Couldn’t you give your daughter a proper Islamic name?

Translator: Magac fiican way leedahay, micnuhu waa ubax

She has a good name which means a flower

Helen: They seem to be disputing something.

Second Woman: Haddaba maad aayar ubax ugu yeertid.

Then why don’t you simply call her Ubah.

Translator: (to Helen) They don’t like my daughter’s name. They would have prefer   they said  a proper Islamic name. (Turning to the two) Tuulib, Ubax waa isla  meeshii. Tulip, Ubah, its all the same.

Second Woman: War naagta waydii inay dahab naga iibsato.

Ask the women if she wants to buy jewellery from us.

First Woman: Tan uma eka tu dahab xirata.

This one doesn’t look like the type that would wear a gold.

Helen: She is talking about me.

Translator: How do you like to buy a jewellery from them.

Helen: Jewellery? Me?

Translator: They do not know about your feminism..

Helen: Show me some, I am curious.

Translator: Soo tusa.

Show her.

(  The two women bring two boxes of jewellery.)

Helen: (examining)This is a lot of gold! And they are not licensed, I suppose.

Translator: They have other things in their van— a huge truck that they drive around sometimes, selling all kinds of staff.

Helen:                 But why don’t they open a shop somewhere.

Translator: They prefer to work from home.

Helen: For the sake of their children, I understand.

Translator: Not only that. It’s cheaper this way. They are well known and their house  is right in the heart of community.

Helen: Who’s their supplier.

Translator: Each year one of them goes to the Middle East, all the way to Africa and does the purchasing. Canada custom officials know them now by name, which   is why come to my wife last year . They wanted  Anab to go to Syria. My wife  was  seven month pregnant then and that did deter them. They made a  point   about  how nobody  would  bother searching a pregnant woman   because they  said  “this is  Kanada!” Strange way of appreciating the  hospitality of the host nation—don’t  you think?

Helen: (turning to the women) I want guntina and (indicating with hands)  garbasa.

First Woman: Naagtu geesi sanaa; maryaha u keen.

How brave this woman is; get her the garments.

Helen: I want two guntino and one garbasa.

Second Woman: Waxay rabto sii.

Give her what she wants.

(Helen selects two guntiino and one garbasaar.)

First Woman: Masarkani waa hadiyad dheh.

Tell her this scarf is a gift.

Helen: Maha’adsanid.

Thank you.

First Woman: Ma’anaa mooday mase mahadsanid bay tiri

Is it me or she just said mahadsanid.

Translator: Mahadsand bay tiri.

She said so.

Second Woman; Ku macaanaa afkeeda in laga maqlay!

How sweat it is to hear it from her mouth!

(The guest tries to put on the Somali scarf; The two  women are amused as they show her how.)

First Woman: Guur ku banaan  markan.

She is marriageable now.

Helen: I have the feeling they like me now.

Translator: You’re a likable woman, your easy manners and luck of pretensions must have appealed to them.

(The two woman go back to their various household duties.)

Helen: They must be sisters.

Translator: They are though they don’t look alike. Neighbours too. One woman lives the  next  door.

Helen: That explains the coming and going of the children.

Translator: Strange phenomena! The Somali family in the diaspora is becoming    increasingly a matriarchy, not in principle, but in practice.

Helen: You mean women are playing the leading role.

Translator: They’re not playing , they’re doing most of the chores,  well everything.                                                                                                                                                                                                    well,

Helen:                    You should write about it.

Translator: Write about the problem of our being here?

Helen: That’s it:  the problem of your being here.

Translator: I wouldn’t know where to begin.

Helen:                      Try it.

Translator: By the way Helen, I have read your husband’s manuscript.

Helen: What do think of it.

Translator: I don’t like it and not because the author is not Russian.

Helen: Be specific.

Translator: I just didn’t like it. I usually feel invigorated to talk about things that I like.

Helen: It won’t  hurt you to comment the subject matter.

Translator: I will tell you a good subject for a novel. It’s an attempt to explore what woulod compel a well-adjusted family man, a man who has never lost a watch in his entire life, what makes a man like your husband write a historical novel about  the tumultuous middle ages.

Helen: You forget he teaches history.

Translator: That doesn’t make him a mediaeval baron. Your husband values himself too much,  that’s his sin.

Helen; We all value ourselves.

Translator:         That’s true. But your husband could have championed the first rates of the   past instead   of telling us the tribulations of boring  medieval baron. I think   the role of any  scholar  today is not to write petty novels or put forth new notions but  to keep green the ideas of  “the good  European”, the  lonely thinkers of the past. I   know for sure that Emerson’s  message self-reliance  can use a good communicator today.

The sisters have prepared a warm Somali meal. The meal is ready at the other house and the invited the two to go there. All this the sisters explained to Helen in a clumsy sign language which she appreciated

Helen:         Ma’adsanid. You talk sometimes—-

Second Woman: Adaa mudan.

You welcome.

Helen: What about the rest of mankind? You talk is if only European thinkers   matter in the world.

Translator: From Epicure to Ortega Europe has supplied the world with good men and  it’s not  in our power to deny it.

Helen: You’re a Westernizer in your own way.

Translator: I’m not a Slavophile for sure.

Helen: If only the world knew these preposterous ideas of yours!

Translator:   The world won’t ever know how grateful we are to those free thinkers who   labored in the dark to bring raw vision into a daylight fruition.  Let’s   go and eat, the sisters don’t like to be kept  waiting.

Exit the guest.

END OF BOOK ONE