By M. J. Farah

They say Bodhari died before his time.  It was the burning love and its flame for Hodan that devoured this prolific poet in the 20^th century.  He fell deeply in love with Hodan in an age when love itself was a cultural taboo in their society of Berbera, Somalia.

Hodan was the daughter of a man who many in Berbera considered part of the aristocracy.  Her father knew a foreign language and this was considered a rarity in 1930s colonized Somalia.  In fact, he worked as a translator for the British who colonized this part of the nation.

In the village outside of Berbera, Bodhari’s family had the best portable nomadic houses, known in Somali as aqal.  His family held herds such as camels, goats and sheep in the hundreds.

With her stunning beauty many noble men sought to marry her.  Above her beauty it was her personality that captivated anyone that had come to know her.  Bodhari himself was also a very good looking man but he never concerned himself with looks or even women. He was a serious poet filled with endless wonder about the meaning of life others could never understand. Their paths would cross when Hodan and her friend entered a local Bakery shop where Bodhari worked.

Many people in the world do not believe in love at first sight or even true love but here was Bodhari with his eyes locked into Hodan. He was there to sell bread and she came to buy bread but he couldn’t help but feel this foreign rush of weird emotions rushing upward from the ground through his head like electricity.  He was a poet who understood many things but this kind of love was not one of them.  He was stunned and the impossible happened, his lips refused to release any words.

A few seconds passed, Bodhari was still unresponsive while Hodan and her friend stood inside the Bakery.  Along with her natural beauty, she wore stylish guntiino, embroidered four-yard cloth.  An elegant fragrance of uunsi emanated from her guntiino; which filled the air inside the bakery.  Uunsi is a block of perfumed resin that Somali women sometimes burn and drape their clothes over the burner so that the aroma permeates the cloth. Her cheerful demeanor, voice and physicality had done its job in intoxicating Bodahri to fall in love.

Hodan was the tallest girl in her village.  Even though Hodan was now in the age of marriage, she was the light in her father’s narrow dark eyes.  Her father would do anything to prevent his daughter from falling into the wrong hands.  In those days the villages did not have any educational institutions.  The only form of education was to learn how make crafts out of nature.  Hodan studied arts from the women in the village who made handcrafted items.   During the carving sessions, the women sipped tea and sang songs while they turned tree logs into objects such as spoons, combs and bowls with stunning and artistic varying color lines.

The women would chant special poetry that came in the form of a melody called buraanbur.  The woman with the best voice would sing first while others hummed, clapped their hands and banged hand crafted drums.  By observing these women for many years, Hodan became the best carver, known in Somali as qoris.

When Bodhari finally found the courage to speak to Hodan, his jaw dropped, his eyes opened widely, his heart began to fill up with joy and a creative spirit of poetry overtook him.  His eyes gazed down as she felt goose bumps rising up all over her body.  Her voice seemed to curl deep down inside her as her stomach stirred unknown urges.  His poetry filled with compliments pushed her to feel shy. However, part of her wanted to stay and listen to the beauty of his poetry of passion.

With her timid feeling, she walked home and tried to forget about him.   His words made themselves a home deep inside her soul.  It was these words that wrapped themselves around her and prevented her from ever being sad or lonely.

Bodhari, with his bounding heart of bittersweet love, rushed out of the bakery and located his best friends Muse and Tobaase.  He told them about his electrifying feeling of love and passion for Hodan.  They were surprised but supportive that their dear friend had finally found someone.  Bodhari’s family was not considered poor, but they were poorer than Hodan’s family.

In those days, love and its romances were not part of the culture in the society.   Families used to find suitable husbands for their daughters.  In this case, Hodan’s father would select a mate for her whom no one could reject.

“I felt a magic in her presence” he said.  Everywhere he went, he could not get rid of the aroma of her uunsi.  The smell of the uunsi refused to leave his senses and he rejoiced knowing this smell would never leave. It was this perfume that would soon turn and carry him to his demise.

A feast was organized by Bodhari’s elders.  The women began to cook near the Aqals and the men gathered under the trees.  While the women cooked the food, the men ate the food first.  Then the women ate what was left over.  There was plenty of fresh milk and camels were slaughtered for the feast.   Bodhari was not among the men who gathered there.

A man, with a voice of poetic tone from Bodhari’s elders, carried the first dialogue “We came here to ask for your daughter, Hodan.”

Hodan’s father responded “my daughter is engaged and therefore she is taken.”

Everyone stopped talking at once.  The men accepted the explanation of the father as they began to depart one after another.

“Hodan is taken and she will not be yours.” the elders said.

As Bodhari heard the news, his agony grew enormously.   Hodan clouded his thoughts; her aroma of uunsi blocked his sense of smell, the love that he carried for her seemed to remove any human need such as food or sleep but sorrow had amplified his poetic ability.  He would stay in doors for days.  He ended his employment at the bakery and he would daydream about this love that had now transformed into pain.

While obeying her father’s decision, Hodan pushed any feelings of Bodheri deeper inside her being to never speak about him again. Her father’s decision was equivalent to a mountain and she could not speak against it.   Bodhari would walk around the neighborhood where Hodan lived.  The family began to guard their daughter.  His best friends thought that he had gone crazy.

“There are thousands of available women throughout the country.  You need to forget Hodan and find another woman.”  Tobaase said.  He hated those who advised him to find another woman.  He began to isolate himself from the rest of the society.  This alarmed his family.

His family lined up the most beautiful women from the village for Bodheri to choose from but he simply refused. Some of these women even went as far as standing in line without any garments but nothing could break the spell of love he felt for Hodan.

“Can you reach the sky?” Muse said to him.

“No.” Bodhari replied.

“Just like you cannot reach the sky, you will never reach Hodan.” Muse said.

The behavior of Bodhari had brought a shame to his family.  They could not understand why their son was behaving this way. He would eat very little food as he walked around reciting poetry of love for Hodan.   He had gained some fame in Berbera.  Many people considered him mentally ill.

He ceased to eat or to listen to anyone as the drums of Hodan’s love continued to burn in his heart.  He continued to express this love in the form of poetry until his voice withered and he died before his time at the age of 40.

After many years, Bodhari’s poetry of love for Hodan lives on as his graveyard became the symbol of love in the land of the poets.

***M. J. Farah, M. Ed., is an academic advisor, a writer, an instructor and a contributor of www.scartree.com.

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