Cilmi Boodhari: The Prophet of Love

(Somali girl playing with seashells at Berbera Beach)

At times I made light of it 
And I was free.
Then suddenly I was shown her in a vision
And she was radiant in hue, like a lighted lantern. 
Surely she must have been imprinted on my heart
How else could I be so intoxicated with her? 
Inside my breast she tick-tocks to me like a watch
At night when I sleep she comes to sport with me
But at early dawn she leaves
At turns into a rising pillar of dust
(A Vision - Cilmi Boodhari)

Cilmi Ismacil Liban was born around 1910 in a border region nestled between Ethiopia and Somalia - which was under British Colonial Rule at the time; hence his nickname "Boodhari" which is a neologism of the English word "Border". Not much of his childhood or adolescence is documented, the limitations of Somali historiography is that it's one of oral traditions, so like many oratorical renditions the fat has been trimmed unfortunately. We do know however that in 1931 as a young man he left the traditional camel-herding lifestyle of the nomadic Somali people and moved to the ancient port city of Berbera to work at a teashop. Teashops are pivotal social avenues within Somali culture. They can be ornate buildings made of considerable quality but more often than not they were usually huts made of mud bricks and clay, roofed with corrugated tin and aluminum, and furnished by simple wooden benches and tables. Inside young men chattered away about all manner of topics: their personal lives, heated debates and discussions, news and politics, local scandals, and poetry recitations - all in typical Somali fashion: full of passion and dramatic flair. In Somali culture love songs were always cast as light-hearted artistic expressions. Men often sang love songs they've composed themselves or roared the classics many enjoyed, but it was never held to a serious standard within the apex of Somali artistic tradition. It was said that the love songs were for the youth, but for the elders it was the gabay.

Gabay is the height of Somali poetic achievement. It was the most complex in length and meter, full of various rules of composition and alliteration, and delved directly into the psyche, identity, and philosophy of the people. It was often a joyous and rowdy scene when love songs were sung by the patrons but once gabay was uttered the entire room sat in silence and absorbed every syllable of the what was being recited. It was through gabay Somalis could let people into the depths of their souls: their sorrows and their grief, their pride and their happiness, their faith or their disillusionment, their love or their hate - all was laid bare for others to witness and experience. Cilmi took no part in the going-ons of the teashop, he simply was there for work and nothing else. He never composed any songs or poems, never joined in the appraisals or criticisms of the singers or poets, he simply had no interest. Although he was ambivalent to it all he must have still listened all the same. Perhaps subconsciously the works of the legendary poets Sayid Maxamed Cabdille Xasan, Salaan Carrabey, and Raage Ugaas may have fostered an unknown influence on him and his future artistic expressions, but its only speculation. As far as anyone else was concerned there wasn't a remote possibility of him having any poetical inclinations, let alone a talent for it.

In Somali culture there is the concept of calaf - which in basic terms is the belief of predestination, the future of our lives pre-ordained by divine omnipotent decree. So in the Somali view not even Cilmi could escape his fate, for it was already pre-written. He was working for his Uncle at the time, at a shop owned by members of his family when one day a chance encounter would not only change the course of his life but also alter the cultural sensitivities of the entire nation. A girl walks into the shop, exchanged a greeting with him casually, inquires about a type of bread, pays for it and then leaves. What most would consider an ordinary encounter was far from it for Cilmi, for he fell completely and helplessly in love with her. By all accounts she was described by others as a rather plain girl but for Cilmi he found within himself an all consuming and fiery passion for her. Most people don't believe in love at first sight, but for Cilmi this one fateful encounter with the girl who bought bread from him would haunt him for the rest of his life. Her name was Hodan Cabdulle Walanwal. He kept his feelings for her a secret to everyone around him but as the days drew on he couldn't conceal his feelings for her any longer and decided to confide in his close friends about her. After working up the nerve he approached her family and begged them to be allow him to marry her, but they outright refused. They did not see it as a proper match for their daughter, his own direct family and clan disapproved as well. It was considered an insult to both their families. He was of a lesser clan and was mired in poverty, whereas she came from a more noble clan and middle class family, her father worked as an interpreter for British colonial employees and made a decent living. He was considered an ill suitor for Hodan. He asked them if he could pay the bridewealth (mehr/yarad) if they would allow him the opportunity to marry her and was told that they would consider it. She was fifteen years old and there was no rush for her to get married at that point in time. So it was settled, he departed from the blistering hot coastal port-city of Berbera to Djibouti, where the wages were higher. He worked tirelessly for years as a laborer on the docks to save enough money for the bridewealth. Eventually he made enough money and returned to Berbera with his procured wealth and hopes, but disaster struck. He stayed away far too long. In his absence Hodan was married to another man, one of considerable stature - they called him Maxamed Shabel (Maxamed the Leopard). He was left devastated, he would walk around the city aimlessly in an intense state of severe melancholy and depression. He could not escape the confines of the prison of love he had for Hodan so he quickly fell ill. It was then one of the most extraordinary transformations in Somali artistic history took place. It was then Cilmi Boodhari became a poet.

In Somalia; the land of bards as the European orientalists called it, no one becomes a poet suddenly, it was virtually unheard of. Many young poets would have to go through an apprenticeship, either by their own clan members or locals poets, composing short lyric songs before even thinking about tackling the difficult gabay. There is no formal instruction so the process of learning took years in order for one to come into one's own, even if you had a natural talent or knack for it. Many of the the words used in gabay are not a part of ordinary Somali speech, so you would have to master literary language before even attempting to craft gabay. The extremely challenging alliteration, a considerable knowledge of Islamic law and hadith, the verbose and dignified tone of intonation and incantation required of the gabay, it was no small undertaking. The stature of a gabay poet is quite high, you must produce work of a level of quality deemed satisfactory to your audience, anything sloppy or hasty will make you face mockery and disdain from the public.

Cilmi sidestepped all this and with the fierce flaming desire he held for Hodan dived head-first into the most difficult arena of Somali oratory. He composed spontaneous stanzas of poetry in the gabay form but what really set him apart from not only his contemporaries, but also the ancient oratorical traditions of his forebears was that all his poems were solely about Hodan and his love for her, and nothing else. The woman he only met only once in brief passing, still consumed his mind and soul years after that one fateful encounter. One of his poems is called Qaraami which means "Passion," where he describes Hodan in an endearing fashion and exults her beauty in his idealized rhapsody of her being.

She is altogether fair:
Her fine-shaped bones begin her excellence;
Magnificent of bearing, tall is she;
A proud grace is her body’s greatest splendor;
Yet she is gentle, womanly, soft of skin.
Her gums’ dark gloss is like unto blackest ink;
And a careless flickering of her slanted eyes
Begets a light clear as the white spring moon.
My heart leaps when I see her walking by,
Infinite suppleness in her body’s sway.
I often fear that some malicious djinn
May envy her beauty, and wish to do her harm.
(Passion - Cilmi Boodhari)

His poems took a dream-like quality, his interactions with Hodan had still remained that sole initial encounter, she was a married woman now and isolated from most and preoccupied by her own life. But yet for Cilmi she was very much still an active part of his life, not so much in the real world - as much as it pained him, but in the ether of his dreams and fantasies. He imagines himself being married to her, even going as far as to divorcing another wife in order to marry Hodan, the woman of his dreams, the icon of his enduring desire. Somalia even on the heels of modernity, was still a traditional culture, so even in his poems he attributes to her characteristics becoming of a lady, he imagines her virtuously doing her duty, seeking to assure himself that's she more than just simply an object of desire, but rather a person who encapsulates perfection in it's totality. His three closest friends Musa, Farah, and Tabase were very impressed with his flurry of passionate oratory and began to memorize his gabay and shared them in the various teashops around the town. Word travelled quick and his poems quickly spread across the town by word of mouth as if it were a highly infectious viral outbreak. The transient nomads, the dominant force of the country, took his love ballads to the far ends of the nation, from the rollings hills of Sheikh Pass all the way down to the white sandy beaches of Mogadishu, from village to village and to the various nomadic encampments across the expansive desert.

Winds that possess the power of speech
Are something new in this world, perhaps,
But you must swear to me, O Wind, by the Everlasting One
That you will receive the impress of my words!

Indeed I would have gone to the sailing ships
And handed them my letters in a packet
But ships may tarry on their journeys
And nights may pass before they come to port,
So it is you, O Wind, whom I have chosen,
You who have the speed I demand.
Swear to me then by the Everlasting One
That you will receive the impress of my words!

You pass above the ground,
Above the settlements of men,
Never resting, you run and run
As if sent by God on everlasting errands.
Weariness is not for you,
It is only the living whose breath gives out.
I have heard that other men have stepped forward
To claim the girl on whom my mind was set- 
Wind, swear to me by the Everlasting One
That you will carry my words through the air!

Daroole is where I found my solace,
That is the place that you must find,
And nothing must stop you -
Not bad roads, nor screens of matting
Muuse knows the country well
And he knows where she is to be found. 
There is a man who looks at her admiringly - 
O this world is a precipitous mountain path!

Tell her that stone houses and walls would have felt the pain
Tell her that termite hills would have sprouted green grass
If they had but heard these words of mine!
(The Messenger - Cilmi Boodhari)

Within a short few months he achieved a nation-wide notoriety and was extremely popular. However he was not met with universal acceptance as he was an extremely controversial figure. He was widely seen as unmanly and effeminate, it was an extreme taboo for Somali men to vocalize their feelings and say "I love you" to a woman, let alone in such a flagrant public manner, it was a prudish and reserved culture, one bound by machismo, honor, and shame. But no such confines could chain Cilmi, his love for Hodan broke centuries of tradition and culture, he didn't care about the ridicule he received or the shame he might bring to his family and clan, he only cared for Hodan. Somali men were expected to be in control of their emotions; even his own personal guilt and shame over his conduct could not contain the tumultuous yearning he held in the depth of his soul. He later gave Hodan the pseudonym Hadra, in order to obfuscate her identity, but it was of no use, everyone knew it was Hodan of which he spoke, Hodan of which he dreamed.

When the camels come back thirsty
From many nights of grazing in the Haud,
They are brought to a halt just short of the well
While a youth sings, trying to keep them calm.
But they want to press forward, for already they hear 
The "hoobay! hoobay!" of the watering-chant.

I am like that when I hear you say "Hodan"!
Her name seems to you so simple,
But to me it brings grief and woe.
I shall never give her up,
Not till the day they tread earth into her grave.
Rapt in a deceitful trance
I thought I was sleeping by her side,
But it was a jinn, not she herself,
A Jinn made in the image of her sister.
I tried to catch her by the hand
But the place by my side was empty -
I found I was striving in vain
For there was no one there.
I tossed from side to side, then suddenly awoke -
I rumpled my bed like a prowling lion,
I attacked the bedclothes and pounded them,
As if it were they that had caused my loss.

Like a hero against whom men have combined
I covered my face, all but my defiant eyes.
I was humbled, like a boy who could not save from robbers,
The herd entrusted to his care.
I felt disgraced, as a woman does
When the words "I divorce you" are said to her.

It is degrading to yearn for what you cannot have.
Alas, alas, what disaster has befallen me! 
("A Vain Love - Cilmi Boodhari")

People came from across the country to visit him and pray for him. He was still ill so he claimed, despite the local doctor's assessment that there was nothing wrong with him. Was he faking it? One answer could be that the the field of medicine was limited back then, even today the concept of mental health is neglected field in Somalia and a foreign concept to many Somalis. Perhaps he made up his mind that we was going to die, for was life worth living if the world has denied him the one person he truly loved. He was distressed as if tormented by a phantom no one could see, he barely ate or worked and was perpetually in a state of high fever and delirium. Despite the pleas, the medicine, and the prayers - not much changed and his state continued to deteriorate. He seemed to be on a track of which there was no recourse, no pivot, no focal point to deviate him into a new direction, perhaps this too was his pre-ordained fate. As Somalis say "Only Allah knows, and only Allah can judge." His friends started to get worried, they assumed this was a minor hiccup due to heartbreak and the miraculous artistic development that occurred was a welcome one, but they were concerned with his non-ending grief for this girl. Plenty of men fall in love with girls and then fail to consummate their love, it was normal and not the end of the world. Why was Cilmi any different? His friends struggled with finding an answer to that question. They resorted to sending out a nationwide appeal asking woman from far and wide to come present themselves to the ailing poet. Though gravely concerned, they figured perhaps one of these girls would help Cilmi move on from Hodan. At that point in time anything was worth a shot they figured, something had to be done, this was their desperate last ditch effort to save his life. The response to their appeal was overwhelming. Girls from all over the country heeded their call to aid.

Oh daughter of a Sultan, when camels graze at night, 
And when the males cannot find the she-camels, 
They do not keep silent, but call through the darkness.

From the dry plains of the Haud to the blistering coastal city of Boosaaso, from the lush jungles of Jubba to the radiant beaches of Xamar. Some traveled near and others far. From the motherland all the way to Ethiopia and Aden they came. All kind of girls came to stake their place in the afflicted poet's heart - Girls with skin as bright as the sun and girls whose dark skin shone like the moonlight in the night sky, girls tall and petite and girls short and buxom, girls who walked with the grace of royalty and girls who tittered with clumsiness, modest and shy girls who covered their face with their shawls and daring and assertive girls who wore no hijabs, girls whose shrill voices kept you attentive and girls who barely spoke at all. Some were simply there to satisfy their own curiosities, others were there out of compassion for this wasting starry-eyed lover, and others wanting to claim for themselves this man whose compassionate lyrics and powerful professions of love deeply moved them. There was a procession of people assembled outside Cilmi's hut on the designated day his friends had set to find him a woman. One by one women were ushered into his presence. Some were so infatuated with him that they openly bore their breasts to him, brazenly seeking to entice him with the sensuality of their bare bodies. Which spoke a great deal of his appeal considering the period of time this took place. He seemed to ooze an aura of lasciviousness, his gabay pierced his way through the hearts of many women whose sexuality had been caged by the traditional norms of modesty. Did the plan of his friends work? It decidedly did not, much to the dismay of them. Did Hodan still have such a strong hold over his heart, or was this new-found infamy and hopeless romantic persona one he sought to uphold?

If eyes could capture the splendor that could soothe the heart,
Or human beings could be satisfied by beauty alone.
I have seen already that of Hodan.
And now, young ladies, you have touched once more that wound.
The heart that I have been nursing, you have broken again.
Let God not judge you, cover your chests.

Where did Hodan fit in all of this you might ask. Well she never exchanged more than a dozen words with him since their inital encounter. All though that meeting meant the world to Cilmi, to her it was nothing short of the ordinary. She was happily married and content to be the wife of Maxamed the Leopard. She was a mother of several children and was a seamstress. It must have come as a shock and surprise to her to find herself thrusted into the role of a public figure. More so she must have been confused by the unyielding adulation and immovable devotion Cilmi held for her. Her concern grew with time and she finally asked her husband for permission to once and only for a brief moment, visit and speak with Cilmi, in hopes her company might console him. He gave her his consent and with that she departed to Cilmi's residence. When she arrived at his hut it was early in the afternoon. Cilmi had a high fever that day and had fallen asleep. She waited by his side patiently for as long as she could, but he never woke. When Cilmi finally did wake, she was gone.

Ill-starred and evil it is, to sleep in the day!
Do I bear a curse, that I should be denied the sight of her?

He never saw her again, for he died shortly afterward. He never got to know much about her, and perhaps that was for the best. She fostered within him a passion and love he never knew he had, one so powerful it arguably took his own life. He was a martyr of love as the legend goes. His reputation in his own land was so strong that people refer to him as the Prophet of Love, although it is heavily frowned upon for the blasphemous nature of giving that accolade to anyone other than the religious prophets of Islam. However Young Somalis who find themselves entangled in the rapture of love give him a true prophet's prestige by adding the phrase "May Peace be upon him" whenever his name is mentioned.

When you behold my incomparable one,
Your own wives, in your eyes, will all be old.
Alas, alas, for ye who hear my song!

(Compilation of photos of the Boodhari Breadshop in Berbera)

The story of Cilmi is one of intertwining myths and speculation. Even his last name is subject to a myriad of interpretations. I've seen it spelled as Bondhari, Boderi, Booderi, and Bonderi. Was he born in 1908 or 1910? Was Hodan's last name Cabdi or Cabdulle? Was she fifteen or considerably younger? There was a story I neglected were Hodan's clan almost came to blows with him for a poem he made. In Somali poetry in reference to anything sexual or intimate in nature poets would use metaphors as opposed to direct statements (for example: Instead of saying how'd they'd like to intimately touch a women they'd say they want to pluck an apple from a tree in her neighborhood). He broke that convention and Hodan's clan was so upset that when they threatened to kill him his friends had him ousted to the ancient port city of Zeila. There is also another story of Cilmi getting married but his wife eventually divorced him after getting tired of his unceasing infatuation for another woman. Irregardless of the stories and mythos that has developed around Cilmi and Hodan, one thing has remained constant. The influence he had on Somali culture is undeniable. There was more emphasis on parents to take in consideration of their children's feelings when it came to arranged marriages. Public displays of affection weren't seen as unthinkable within the arts. His work influenced of two types of Somali poetry/music: the balwo and the heelloy. He got back at all the Somali men that chastised him by setting an unattainable level of affection you could have for someone and raising the standards women now expect from Somali men. There's a story of a Somali politician who recalled the words he used to propose to his then bride-to-be. He said to her, "Okay, I can't love you like Boodhari loved Hodan. But I can love you."

Long ago, God the Just created women for love
Love came to the lordly man, 
Who shone with the radiance of God's throne...
Mankind was divided into male and female
So that they might be inspired with wonder at each other.
If it had not been so, they would not have spread from a desolate place, 
And the Somalis in their evil custom would not have mocked me

A significant portion of Somali music is about love, a trend that perhaps would not exist without him. Even today the breadshop where he first worked and met Hodan is visited by many young adults hoping to find a love like his. His influence on Somali ideas and perceptions of love and romance is considerable, some arguing that his body of work saved Somali poetry from the danger of irrelevance due to the rise modernity at the turn of the 19th century. He deconstructed the Somali male ethos, which until that point had been obscured by the philosophical warrior persona, and delved into a more softhearted and affectionate side of the the male psyche. Some say Cilmi was a blind fool, a weak coward, a hopeless romantic who drove himself to an early grave, and others praise him for his creative genius and consider him an ideal lover. I personally don't know what to think, ultimately I don't think it really matters in the grand scheme of things. Cilmi held a fierce conviction in his views and feelings and with such a unceasing furiosity it consumed even him at the end. I don't know if I could ever love someone so completely and so unreservedly, but like the star-crossed lovers under the shade of the acacia tree in the sweltering heat of the Horn of Africa, I do wish him peace.

Listen ye men, God's judgement, I say to you
Is ageless, unbending. And I am forever a poet.
When I am weary, and want no friend but peace,
And say to you, This night my songs are done',
Your clamorous voices still would force from me
One ballad more to warm the dwindling fire.