Rants of an angry somali man

Just everyday shyt that bothers me....and probably you, too.....basically its mumbles and rambles i ramble to myself....i hope i can release them all here

Friday, December 29, 2006


Ok y'all...I have a lot of stuff on my mind...but since I promised the second part of the Ukranian story, here 'goes...

First of all, since I was the only black male on the trip, and the only male traveling from my uni, period, I kind of had to be mindful of my behavior out there. I was the only African person most of these ukranians had ever seen in real life. So because of this, I was somewhat forced into becoming the unofficial "Ambassador Of All Black People" while I was out there. We had two question and answer sessions to educate folks about American( not to say i've ever considered myself american) life. Guess what almost every one of my questions were about?

If you guessed anything other than race, then you probably should just stop reading right now. Slow people don't need to be on the internet.

But back to the Q&A sessions. They asked me shit like "Do they spray you all with water hoses or attack you with dogs?" or "Do you know Coolio? What about M.C. Hammer?"

So yeah, I had to actually address shit like this without being a jackass and hurting anyone's feelings. The ONLY images of black people they had ever seen were the sterotypical representaions you see on television and in the movies. So I felt that I couldn't be the "Angry Black Man", the "Lazy Shiftless Bastard", the "Oversexed Black Coon" or the "Loud Obnoxious Con Artist Nigga." It was bad enough that I made them believe that all black guys could play ball earlier in the gym...I had to make up for it as far as with the other stereotypes.

One question from the Q&A actually got some chick in trouble. She asked me "Do you have any children" to which I responded "NOOOOOOO". So she then stands up again, grabs her chest, and says "Do you want any?" The professor from my school was hating and making jokes about that the rest of the week, but I was rather flattered by the outright sluttery displayed by this Ukranian lady. It's a good example for all women everywhere who hope to someday approach me and start conversation ;)

The other story is actually two condensed into one. It was the day after we'd left donetsk to go back to Kiev. As we were getting ready to board a train for Kiev, a group of skinheads came over. One of them grabbed my professor and said "Yankee go home!" So I hear this and turn around to get a look at who said it. As I turned in their direction, this bitch ass frail looking skinhead pointed at me and said "LOOK! NIGGER!" It was as if he'd never had an actual chance to call someone this before. He seemed almost happy to see my black ass. So I was faced with two options: Option 1, take the bottle I had in my hand and crack it over his skull, or Option 2, walk away.

I was kind of angry, but a few thoughts ran through my mind really quickly. The first thought was that even though the skinhead who actually called me the N-word was small, the other five were kinda big. The biggest one looked just like that old school wrestler King Kong Bundy. He was THAT big. I know none of those punk asses from the other US uni's would have had my back if I got in a fight with that guy. The second thought that ran through my mind was the image of the hospital in donetsk. Picture the front of Fred and Lamont's house on Sanford and Son, only with containers of medical junk outstide...That's what it looked like. If you end up there, you're pretty much a goner. The last thought I had was that if a ukranian hospital looked like that, I can't even imagine what a ukranian jail looks like. I'll be damned if I end up in one of those.

So I decided to walk away and just be a nigger that day. The train police chased the skinheads away pretty quickly, so it was the right move.

The funny thing was, once I got on the train...still filled with Angry Black Man rage, I ran into some other African Americans...and not just any African Americans, but the Preservation Hall Jazz Band based out of New Orleans. They were just as happy to see another black face as I was. Very cool folks. Once we got to kiev, they took me to a Georgian resturant(for free), then gave me front row tickets and a backstage pass for their show that night. I almost even got some Ukranian groupie ass since folks thought I was in the band, but the groupies decided they wanted the white guy who played the bass...go figure. Either way, that was definitely a fun experience. If the Preservation Hall Jazz Band is ever in your town, I recommend checking them out. GREAT music, played by a bunch of cool people.

Alright y'all...That's enough ukranian stories for you. I actually do have more, but I would be typing all night long and you'd probably get sick of reading it all. I guess if you have any questions about the trip, feel free to ask me...Either in the comments section, or if you know me in person, go ahead and ask next time you see me......have a happy eid y'all!!!.......and happy new year!!!

Tuesday, December 19, 2006


Today ladies and gentlemen, I am going to discuss my first(and sadly, my only) experience traveling to eastern europe. In 2001, I was selected to do an exchange student program for about a month and a half in Ukraine. The areas I stayed in was in kiev, ukraine. I'm not even going to lie to you all, I didn't want to go at first. My brother(hakeem currently a convict in san diego) and my mentor mwangi pretty much stayed on me until I wrote an essay for the selection committee. When I was selected, they were extremely happy, and I was thinking to myself "SHIT!"

My friends were all putting negative stuff in my ear, too. Talking about "You're gonna be the only black person in that entire country. Man, don't go over there. You know they still got Nazis".

To which I responded "You dumb fuck. ukraine fought against the Nazis...Read a book you...simpleton."

The funny thing is, I DID run into some skinheads out there, but I'll get to that in part 2.

As the trip drew closer, I got more and more excited about going. There were a few drawbacks...For instance, I was the only black person and the only male from my university going on the trip. Plus, they tried to teach me how to read cyrillic and speak Russian in what amounted to less than one month's time. That shit would have been hard if I didn't have other classes and a job...but since I did have other classes and a job, I didn't learn much before leaving for my trip.

The pluses far outweighed the minuses, though. My host brother Dima was about as cool as they come. He helped me with translations, and I helped him with his people skills. Plus, his family was wonderful. The grandma would come over almost every day and fix some really good meal. It's funny, because we had fish(coz practically thats the only halal thing i trusted) and potatoes almost every time she cooked, but she never made that shit the same way twice the whole time I was there. I didn't even know there were that many ways to prepare fish and potatoes. Folks thought I wasn't going to eat much out there, but I actually gained weight. The only funny thing about the family was that I still to this day do not know if Dima's family was a member of the Ukranian Mafia or not. His dad owned a fishing business, and most of the businesses in town after the fall of Communism were run by the mob. You could tell the mob folks when you saw them, cause they would have on flamboyant shiny ass Puffy and Mase style designer suits, while the rest of the country wore old 80s looking outfits like Levis and t shirts. Dima's pops never wore anything like that, but he did enough suspicious stuff to make you wonder about him.

The university was my favorite part of the trip. That's where I became Feisal: International Celebrity. First of all, damn near every girl there wanted a piece of me. I think they read or heard about the sterotype that black dudes have big abdalla's, cause that shit was constant. I was getting gifts at school almost on a daily basis. At first, I wasn't thinking about those Ukranian women, but after about 2 weeks of so away from black women, I started to notice that some of them were actually pretty. And no, they weren't all big hairy bohemoths...There were plenty of girly girls who shavewd their legs and cleansed. The one that actually wore me down was VERY pretty. I never did it to her(for fear that I may come back with some ukranian disease that wasn't even in the States yet...I was ignorant about russians as hell back then), but we had a routine: after uni, we'd meet up with our mutual friends, get folks to translate some shit talk(she spoke no English), and then drink vodka and make out. What started it was the day she went up to my host brother and had him teach her how to say "Feisal, I'm cold. Hold me." That showed me that she had a little bit of Russian game in her. I wonder what Aksana is up to these days...Probably married to one of those shiny suit mobsters or something.

The university's basketball court made me a celebrity, too. The way the Ukranian school system was set up, the gifted athletes went to certain schools, the intellectuals went to other schools, and the Joe Schmoe average motherfuckers had their own school. The one I was at was an intellectual school. The ukranian students there had to be fluent in either English or German just to attend it. So these guys were not exactly athletically inclined. The only athletes at the school were the boxers that trained in the basement of the school and only came up to run and eat.Once I got on the court with the guys at the school, I showed my ass. No look passes...coast to coast layups past all five defenders...Pullup threes from NBA range...I even tried to dunk on one of them(back then I could dunk with one hand). They thought I was Jordan, Magic and Bird all rolled into one 6'0" frame. Someone even asked me whether or not I was going to the NBA. I said "Only if they make a league for people 6'5 feet tall and under."

My basketball shenanigans were exposed later in the trip. Folks heard about my game, and I got invited to play at another school. What they didn't tell me was that the guys at this school were the best players in their region. I'm talking about folks training for the Olympics type of good. So the inevitable happened...They busted my ass out there. I maintained respectability, but I was in a state of shock and awe. That's about as helpless as I'd ever felt on a basketball court. I shook everyone's hand after I left, but I know they were probably talking shit after I left. Saying shit like "Look at the 'Big Bad AMERICAN!'(coz they all thought me coming from american uni i was american) I told you they are WEAK! They cannot hang with Mother Ukraine!"

Either way, it was fun. Look out for part two, where I'll discuss being Ambassador Of All Black People, The Skinhead Incident, and other stories from the trip. I have too many to just put them in one entry......i'll write them up once i have an off day.........by the way has anyone else been experiencing posting comments or is just me......can't post any on any blog it simply refuses.....don't know 4real!.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

I Can't Be Even Be Mad At This?

Good morning,...........i just heard to say that this morning haven't that to somebody in a while.

Today, I was reading some messageboard, and the topic of racism came up. People were sharing stories about racist things that happened to them recently. As I read about the things that other folks have gone through in 2006, it reminded me of something that happened to me about a month ago down in near kensington.

I was on the commuter bus headed home from collegues house, when this drunk, smelly, disheveled white couple got on. Of course, since smelly people always seem to know when I'm taking the bus or train, they sat their stankin' asses down about two rows from me on the opposite side of the bus. Still WELL within traveling distance for their booze and underarm stench to reach my nostrils.

Since the only folks on the bus at that time were them, the bus driver, an older nigerian lady in the very back of the bus, and myself, everyone could hear their conversation.

They began talking about somebody named Ronnie, and the man called him a nigger. So then the woman agreed and said she "can't stand that guy because he's nothing but a nigger."

So I looked right at the man when he said it, and he looked at his lady and tried to backpedal a little. He said "All black people aren't always niggers, but Ronnie is a God-damned nigger."

So my first thought was, how the fuck can these filthy, dirty, skinny, scab-covered, smelly, alcoholic, homeless-looking pieces of shit have the NERVE to look down on anyone else? Have they looked in a mirror lately? When was the last time they bathed? It doesn't even make sense to get mad at these dumb bitches.

Still, I was tempted to say something to him. I just let it go, because I knew as drunk as the guy was, I was probably going to end up having to knock his dumb ass out. It wasn't even the fighting thing that made it unappealing...Knocking that fool out and making his lady cry might have been pretty fun. I just didn't want to TOUCH that motherfucker. Those folks were THAT disgusting. I took a photo on my cameraphone, but it came out too grainy to really see what he looks like. I was going to put him here on the blog and make him famous with a caption that said "If you see this wino lying on the london (kensington high) streets, KICK HIM. HARD. He thinks you're a nigger anyway, so fuck it." Alas, the cameraphone failed me, so I can't turn this into an "investigative journalism" piece and hopefully inspire someone to kick him in the ribs or piss on his jacket while he passed out drunk next to a underground station or on a park bench. Either way, it appears that life has already laid the smackdown on that fool, so I guess it was for the best.....how ignorant are this english pricks?......any way i'm having a nice day happy mood feel like chewing khat(gomba).....we'll see......later's

Monday, December 11, 2006

Helping My Fellow Somali Man

Yesterday I was on a train headed to my cousin house in harlesden north west london, when I saw something that saddened me, but also made me feel helpless since it was none of my damn business so I could not offer any assistance. The train stopped at paddington, and these art students got on. This really pretty young somali lady, 5'6" dark skinned, nice ass, beautiful smile etc., got on the train and sat across from me. So before I got a chance to slide across to the edge of my seat and say hello, this somali guy came and sat down right next to me. I know what you're thinking: ANOTHER somali dude was cock-blocking. I don't think that was the case, though. They were apparently classmates, because the two started talking about school stuff.

Once they stopped talking, I noticed something: somali guy was looking visibly nervous and started writing on the folded up piece of paper that he had in his hand. Of course, I had to read what he was writing, because someone sitting directly next to me on public transportation looking that nervous was cause for alarm. He might have been trying to take the train hostage. I had to make sure I wasn't going to have to whip his ass Harrison Ford style and save the day for everyone.

Thankfully, it wasn't what I thought. He was writing a note to that girl in his class. The note had her name on it, then it said "Will you have dinner with me?" Right before he could give it to her, the train stopped, and she jumped off with some of the other women in her class and ran off the train. somali man looked so dejected and sad. I felt bad for him, but I couldn't really say shit to him since I wasn't supposed to be reading the note. So now, I am going to put my advice here in the hopes that he actually sees this and reads it. Anonymous somali Art Student, the lines below are for you:

My friend, the first thing you need to do is acquire some confidence. Remember this one mantra: "There is no such thing as out of your league. As soon as you consider a woman out of your league, that is the exact moment that she actually becomes out of your league." It's like in sports. If you try to play any game with no confidence, your odds of success are few. You have to believe that you can achieve it. You're already in there with her part of the way, since she speaks to you. All you have to do now is tell her how much you like her and how you want to lick every inch of her smooth sexy chocolate body.

Ok. Leave out the part about giving her a tongue bath. That only works once she's already touched your abdalla. On purpose, that is. I'm not talking about incidental contact, cause that shit does not count.

To acquire the confidence to approach her in a manner befitting a man and not a nervous little beeyatch, remember these two things:

1.) Rejection is not as bad as most people think. Especially if you aim high. Since you're going after someone pretty, no one will blame you for trying if she happens to say no. They'll probably respect you more for having the balls to step to her. So don't even think about how bad a "no" would be, because trust me, it won't be bad since she likes you enough already to engage in conversation with you.

2.)You gain the confidence to talk to women like that by accentuating your positive attributes and either downplaying the negative ones, or ignoring them altogether. I usually choose to downplay my faults instead of acting like they're not there. I mean, I'm impatient, I tend to talk fast, and my money still hasn't made it to where it needs to be yet. Despite this, I feel like I have at least a 70% chance with any woman that I am attracted to. 20% of the no's are either married or lesbians, and the last 10% just flat out has bad taste. I feel this way because I accentuate my positive traits(my sense of humor, infectious smile, charm, style, creativity, etc.) and use those to increase my appeal.

Hope this helped you, my brother. If not, I will print this out and carry it with me next Monday in case I see you out there again. That said, I'm giving you until then to try your hand with that sexy ass girl with the nice legs and pretty skin, or it's open season. That should help increase your sense of urgency, knowing that a gentleman of leisure like such as myself is going to get at her if you don't. No pressure, walalo...No pressure.

Friday, December 08, 2006

It is NEVER a Surprise

at last!!.....god it's been long since i typed on my blog......fuckin NHS has holding me up with no off days.....alhamdulillah i'm free till next wednesday....lemme tell ya all something......it was saturday last week i decided to run out to grab a couple of things from Tesco's. This shouldn't take long at all. No holiday rush, it's a work day, AND mfs should be on the road. I'm good. So I thought.

I get my shyt I came for and get in line. Some random girl with a rack of shyt is in front of me. I'm daydreaming, thinkin' about what imma eat when I get home, when I realize..."DAMN, I've been standing here a WHILE." So I direct my attention to random lady in front of me. She has this shocked look on her face. You have GOT to be bullshyttin' me.........

The total on the register says, "£122.79."
This mf pulls out a debit card and says, "Scan this first to see how much is on there."
Did I hear her right?
The cashier says, "£17.00."
Random Girl replies, "Well, pay £15.00 off that, and then scan these to see wassup."


You got the cashier scanning 4 different cards, readin' you the balance of each like she works for Bank of scotland? And get this. She's paying £15 on each card, and the remaining balance in cash? WTF. When you gotta use each of your credit/debit cards to "take a lil bit off" the overall balance, and STILL gotta come outta your pocket.....STAY DA FUKK HOME!!

She standing up there lookin' shocked. This ain't a surprise. You just gon' fake like you didn't KNOW you was broke? Bytch, you knew yesterday. Hell....you knew on your way TO the mf store. Even if you didn't know for a fact, you had SOME doubt floatin' around in your head. That alone, should make you at least CHECK. In the front of the line, after your total is displayed is a little late in the game to check.

And you got BIG SHYT being rung up too.....big candles, a mf blender, cereal, 2 pair of jeans, detergent, and a 12 pack of paper towels. Oh, and some DVD's. Now, you wanna smile at me and apologize. Tryin' to strike up conversation and include me in your broke azz world. I TOOK the time yesterday to move MY cash around so this shyt wouldn't happen to ME. AND....this is supposed to be my LAST time doing ANY mf shopping until after idd. Now, you done fukked THAT up.

The moral of the mf story: It's NEVER a surprise that you're broke.

Talking about my job i just have to let it out.......I HATE STATISTICS!!!

Although I was never a hardcore stat-head, I had to endure the requisite statistical methods courses in both college and grad school as part of my radiological training. (The ugliest course requirements repeat themselves, the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce.) Although they were billed as the 'empirical' part of the discipline, I regarded them as the purest mysticism, and, with the benefit of hindsight, still do

Anybody with even the faintest whiff of mathematical training, or intuition, or common sense, can spot flaws in most of the statistics used to make decisions. That's not a shot at the folks generating the statistics – they/we know perfectly well that most of the information is partial, somewhat corrupted by flawed collection methods, and extremely hard to isolate from other variables. (“they changed the department requirements last year, and this year the cases went up 5%. Clearly, the new MRI is responsible.” Um, not really...) The problem, other than the fatal combination of small samples and sheer complexity, is that most of what we want to know derives from problems we didn't anticipate, so we didn't think to collect the data at the time that would address the question we hadn't thought of yet.........SO COZ I WASN'T WHEN THEY WERE DOING THEIR PRE-ANNUM STATS WHY INVOLVE ME I JOINED WHITECHAPEL IN AUGUST....ITS SIMPLE I SHOULD BE DEALING WITH NExT YEAR'S STAT'S!......i don't know how i will get out that shit without sounding rude or arrogant!!

ohh the good thing that happened this week was BARCELONA winning against WERDER BREMEN and qualifing 4 the next round.....Barcelona, moreover, may be about to prosper. Samuel Eto'o and Lionel Messi are yet to return from injury, while RONALDINHO is in such form that Eidur Gudjohnsen left the Nou Camp saying: "One of these days he will make the ball talk."........Even by Ronaldinho's standards his was an exceptional performance, capped by a goal that had his colleagues talking animatedly about an hour after the final whistle. Seeing that Werder Bremen's players were going to jump in the wall at a free-kick, Ronaldinho struck the ball under them and Barcelona had their breakthrough in the 13th minute.

this is what gudjohnsen said after the game " Before the game, the manager just said to enjoy it. What happens, happens but he said to imagine the people who dream of playing in front of 100,000 fans and to experience a fantastic night like this. For me, playing for Barcelona has been everything I dreamed of and more. You can understand why every footballer in the world dreams of playing for Barcelona. Everything about the club, the stadium, the fans, the build-up - and the best player in the world."