Most Somalis over the age of 60 years can not specify the exact date–and sometimes in the exact place–they were born. In our traditionally nomadic life, these birth details used to be so minor and thus of a family’s least worries. Parents usually told each of their offspring that he/she was born in, say, the spring, summer, autumn or winter of, say, so-so year and in so-so place. And that was it!
If you ask elder Somalis about their birth certificates, one would most likely be confronted with a stern stare and a condescending rejoinder of “What birth certificate?” It was so rare for one to be born in a hospital. And if, indeed, one was, it was rarer for parents to demand a birth certificate for their new born baby.
Hassan Gure Jama was somewhat luckier than most in this usually vague birth date/place approximations. At least it is known that he was born in exactly the town of Hargeisa. He once told me that he had, most probably, been born in 1945, just after the Second War ended. So when Allah Almighty took him to His Eternal Custody and Care in May 16, 2020, Hassan was just shy of 75 years of age.
At any rate, if more additions, reminiscences and elaborations of Hassan’s prolific life are needed I would cede the floor to those, I am sure, who are better equipped and articulate to do so.
His sociability: Hassan was a gregarious, pleasant and witty person. But the difference with his cheerfulness was that it was infectious. If Hassan met a most shy introvert or even an ill-natured person, he would loosen and make him laugh. He was such a man that if called you a “bad person”, you be happy with that–so much so that if he didn’t call you a “bad person” for some time, you would miss it and wish that he said it to you indeed. This is because Hassan had the knack to make his “bad person” utterance come out like “nice person”.
He was an articulate person who could present his case or opinion with rare clarity and purpose. But he was also concise and to the point as not to squander his audience’s attention and patience.
His Generosity: Financially, Hassan was neither needy nor well to do. However, everyone who knew him well agree that had he not been so exceptionally generous and kind he would have been a rich man. He had been once a businessman and quite successful at that. He contributed almost all his fortune towards the SNM-led liberation struggle. True to the Somali tradition of looking after the welfare of non-resident guests, he would make it his duty to foot bills of abode, medical and others expenses of acquaintances from as far away as Kismayo, Biodaba, Mogadishu, Beletweyne, Galka’ayo, Garowe, Jigjiga, Djibouti …..
Too much beyond that is luxury. And the problem with luxury is that it breads greed and corruption.”
Hassan: “Okay, no problem. Don’t worry, Ahmed pal.”
His Knowledge of Somali Culture: Hassan himself wasn’t a poet or a writer, but he was a walking depository of Somali culture and literature. His cognition of famous poetry, legends, precedents and anecdotes were extensive and comprehensive. He wasn’t unique in this; many others espoused and continue to spouse the same talent. But what was different with Hassan was that he never used to throw around his cultural assets unnecessarily or pointlessly. He used to keep them up his sleeve and target-fully evoke the relevant of them only when situations merited it.
One of our Sultans once encountered an unusual situation. He had made a ruling on a case with which one of his subjects was unhappy. The man rose in front of all present and battered the Sultan in a volley of abuse. Insulting a Sultan was unheard of before in Somali tradition.
His Magnanimity: Hassan had suffered more than his share of injustice, oppression and harassment. He started his SNM activities in Hargeisa at height of Siyad regime’s savagery and persecution against the Northern Somalis. Some argue that SNM home activists displayed more courage and faced more dangers than those who fled the country and struggled from Ethiopia. since being caught meant torture, death or intolerable worse-than-death captivity.
What Hassan hadn’t envisioned was that after the nation was liberated from barbarism, he would be a victim of similar injustices that he had endured under Siyad regime. During the infancy years of Somaliland’s re-independence, there was a degree of chaos and inter-communal conflict in the land. Hassan never had any hand in these unfortunate disturbances. In fact, he spared no effort to calm things down.
I might be excused to cite another instance I had experienced Hassan graciousness. The Yemeni war has certainly been a humanitarian catastrophe of monumental dimensions. Among its on-going dire effects are widespread displacement of people and refugees fleeing for dear life.
“Well, then, How well can we manage this situation? Any ideas? Raise your hand, please” Hassan said.
“We should segregate them. Those who are Yemenis should be turned over to UNCHR and other relief agencies and good riddance. The Ethiopians will certainly find their way to their country and good riddance too. As for the Somalians, we should tell them, in no uncertain terms, that there is no place for them in Somaliland and order them to move on. You can walk to Somalia or whatever.”
Hassan’s nature was such that to the day he passed away, he never held neither bitterness nor grudges against those who had wronged him. Some of them are people holding high office today in Somaliland. Amazingly, I have witnessed his friendliness and loyalty to them. He was utterly generous in forgiving an insult or injury; free from petty resentfulness or vindictiveness. Such was the nobility of his mind and character.
These questions and others are beyond the scope of this paper so I better leave them at that.
However, one thing couldn’t be in doubt. To oppose and take up arms against a regime that was so powerful, perverted and all encompassing as Siyad’s had been, was an exceptional display of courage, gallantry and daring. As one of the most eminent activists in both within and without, Hassan certainly shared those lofty attributes with everyone else who did the same.
Hassan, the Great Conciliator: Nothing more disgusted Hassan then to see disputes, conflicts, vanity and misunderstandings both within and between communities. It pained him that this ludicrous and pointless misfortune had been afflicting Somalilanders since the re-independence era. But Hassan had never been one to throw his arms up in frustration and say “To hell with it.” Instead, he would tirelessly go to any length possible and practical in order to mitigate these problems even when they were foolishly recurring.
It was at this spectacle that I had privilege to observe closely Hassan’s conciliation prowess. We first met the Westerners and next day the Easterners. Hassan’s tactics were truly amazing.
Furthermore, Ibrahim did his part in reinforcing Hassan’s psychological, though well meaning and therapeutic, assault on both sides.
To make amends, each group immediately started to flock on alternate days to the other side of the silly line for dialogue and socializing. Except for the first two days in our ten-day sojourn in Burao did Hassan, Ibrahim and I participate in a solely sectarian or clannish event. From then on, we enjoyed in diverse, representative, tolerant and intellectually rewarding gatherings–manifestations of legendary Burea-ism.
The few pages of this obituary neither can nor are meant to do justice to the content of Hassan character and personality. That would need a thousand-page book in the least. I hope that someone, someday would have the inclination, knowledge and wherewithal to write it. That writer, should he come, would doubtlessly find an eager and appreciative national readership.
Moreover, selfish as it might sound, Hassan had been a dear and close friend of mine. Though we were at about the same age group, I, in fact, regarded him as an invaluable mentor and consultant. I’m sure I would sorely miss him to the day I would inevitably follow him to the eternal world that he is today a blessed citizen. In the meantime, I would keep and treasure his memory for as long as I live.
I’m finally mourning for the Somaliland nation which, in Hassan’s departure, has been robbed of an iconic and caring son. It is a country and people he so much loved and so much and tirelessly endeavored to serve to the best of his ability. Surely enough, the nation will miss him too.
For fear of Allah, Almighty, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that Hassan was an irreplaceable son. It is Allah’s sole and exclusive prerogative to make replacements of good people and things when they are unexpectedly lost. In the meantime, my prayers first are to Hassan to be bestowed in Allah’s most beautiful Jannah and then to the nation for Allah’s help to bear this loss.
Allahu Akbar Wa Ilaahi Hamd.