The following excerpt which I use as an introduction to the poem is from an article I wrote in 2007 about the status of the Gabooye community among the Somali people.
"The real tragedy, however, is that these people, the Sab or Midgaan, do not only look like us but are most of the time more handsome than the rest of us, while their struggle for survival over the centuries has made them more intelligent and more resilient. They are our traditional hunters, doctors, blacksmiths, craftsmen, singers, tailors and fashion designers, barbers and hairstylists, hygiene attendants and butchers. We defend ourselves with the weapons they make, cultivate our farms with the plows they fashion, wear the clothes they tailor, eat with the pots and bowls they make, drink from the earthen jars they mould, submit our heads to them to cut our hair, call them to circumcise our sons and daughters, trust them with our necks to cut our tonsillitis, enjoy their music but still we despise them. They speak the same language we speak and pray towards Makkah five times a day like the rest of us. But dare you tell any Somali to pray behind the most learned Imam of the Migdaan and he would rather go to hell. Without them we will be defenceless and perish in the harsh environment of our land but instead of glorifying them we look down on them.
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