Somali heeso: the other weapon in the 1977 Ogaden war

What a pity that the pastoral interlocutors had apparently never heard of that British wizard of words, named Shakespeare! If they could override the barriers of space, language and culture, the English Bard would no doubt win many literary disciples among the Somalis – Said S. Samatar

It has been repeatedly noted that if Somalis possess anything of unique value, worthy of sharing with the rest of humanity, it is poetry. Abdirashid Ali Shermarke, a former Somali president, once quipped that it was one of our national assets, alongside Islam. However, as long as we fail to recognise our own eminent experts in this field – such as the late Said Samatar, Ahmed Samatar, and Ali Jimale Ahmed – we remain trapped in the colonial perception famously echoed by Richard Burton, who described Somalia as a land “teeming with poets...”. Nevertheless, it was from his mouth that the words emerged which would ultimately define us, words later echoed by a few civilised Westerners (M. Marino, John Johnson, I.M. Lewis, Margaret Laurence, and B.W. Andrzejewski), who, sharing none of his racial zeal, testified to the fact that we Somalis are endowed with the prowess to weave words of wisdom into poetic masterpieces.

Throughout their existence, Somalis have chronicled their affairs in waves of metrically measured words. The gabay – a genre of Somali poetry and a powerful oral weapon – has been used to narrate, commemorate, and analyse both times of prosperity and hardship. Most often, Somali poetics has served to mourn the uncertainties of war. Thus, Mohammed Abdullah Hassan, one of the prominent leaders of the Somali anti-colonial resistance, deployed poetry in his fight against the British, just as poetry was also used to garner support for the fledgling freedom movement in the 1940s.

In the 1940s, balwo, a genre pioneered by Abdi Sinimoo, marked a departure from traditional Somali poetic forms. It was a concise and emotionally charged style, distinct from the elaborate and highly structured gabay. As balwo gained popularity, it began to merge with instrumental accompaniment – particularly the lute – ushering in a more melodious and song-like form known as heello. This transition signalled the birth of hees by the 1960s, a genre that retained the poetic essence of gabay while embracing musical elements that made it more accessible to the masses.

With the emergence of hees (song) or heeso in the plural, gabay, long regarded as the primary vehicle for conveying history, grievances, and praise, gradually loosened its grip as the unrivalled artistic medium.

Somali poetry has served to grieve the uncertainties of war. Thus, Mohammed Abdulla Hassan, one of the prominent leaders of the Somali anti-colonial resistance, deployed poetry in his fight against the British, just as poetry was also used to canvass support for the fledgling freedom movement in the 1940s.

Heeso first gained favourable notoriety for its patriotic themes in 1954, when Britain contemptuously transferred part of British Somaliland, the Reserve Area or Haud, to Ethiopian ownership. It was here that the indomitable patriot and father of Somali music, the late Abdullahi Qarshe, mourned the occasion with the now-famous signature tune of the BBC’s Somali Language service. Writing for the Guardian, Mohammed Hirmoge, noted: “the music are deeply anti-colonial, and deliberately designed to be remembered by Somalis every time they listen to the British radio station’s instrumental”. The song goes:

Dadkaa dhawaaqayaa 
Dhulkooda doonaya 
Haddii u dhiidhiyeen 
Allahayoow u dhiib.

Waxaan la dhuubanee 
Dhifkayga Dhaawacaan 
Idiin dhammaynayaa 
Dhega ma leedihiin. 

Those hollering people 
Are asking about their land  
As they strive for it 
Oh God let them succeed.  

Why I am so frail 
Looked so injuriously weak 
To tell you about it all 
Could I have your ears?

On that foundation, exactly twenty-three years later, as the Ogaden war with Ethiopia erupted in 1977, gabay completely ceded, albeit unwittingly, its patriotic territory to heeso, which in turn eagerly took on the responsibility and, with lightning thunder, showed up for the occasion.

Somali songs, unfortunately an art form that has recently suffered from considerable fatigue in parallel with the disintegration of the nation itself, had already proven to be a powerful tool for capturing the mood and pulse of the public by encoding episodic, emotional tales in music, giving both the past and the present state of the nation a palpable form. Thus, in 1977, when Somalia plunged into full-scale war with Ethiopia over the Ogaden region, the most effective weapon used was the Somali heeso, which proved psychologically lethal. For nearly a century, ethnic Somalis in Ethiopia had been claiming mistreatment at the hands of successive Ethiopian regimes and longed to extricate themselves from Addis Ababa’s unsympathetic clutches, seeking to reunite with the rest of what was then called the Somali Democratic Republic.

Evidently, if the armed forces were in charge of live ammunition to confront the Ethiopian army, Somali poets were in charge of massaging the nation’s emotional ego ... 

Evidently, if the armed forces were in charge of live ammunition to confront the Ethiopian army, Somali poets were in charge of massaging the nation’s emotional ego, and the burdensome responsibility of justifying why Somalia should go to war with their much-venerated (with the rest of the African continent and the world) older sister nation, Ethiopia, vicariously fell on them as well. Suddenly, poets in mainland Somalia deployed the least expensive yet most effective weapon in their possession: Heeso, broadcast over Radio Hargeysa and Mogadishu. It was least expensive because Somalis did not have to beg or plead with foreigners but possessed the capacity to produce them with unparalleled dexterity.

When performed by the finest vocalists and choirs—such as those of waaberi, halgan, heegan, and iftiin—heeso soared in impact, reaching both soldiers on the battlefield and civilians at home. Somali poets ingeniously blurred the distinction between Somalis living in the Ogaden region and those in the Somali republic, reinforcing the idea of a single, united Somali nation. Heeso lamented human rights abuses and environmental degradation in the Ogaden while calling upon all Somalis to take up the struggle for liberation. These compositions presented a clear and convincing argument that there was no degree of separation between the mistreated Somalis of the Ogaden region and the privileged Somalis with all the amenities freedom affords.

One particularly influential hees from 1977, Ninkii Diley Walaalkeen (The One Who Murdered My Brother), delivered a direct message to the Organization of African Unity (now the African Union), asserting that Somalia was not violating Ethiopia’s sovereignty but merely reclaiming a lost part of its homeland:

Ninkii diley wallaalkeen 
Anana waa noo danleeyahay 
Dakhar baa gaadhidoone,  
Hoy Afrikay daya.

Dalkayaga ninkii doonayeyoow 
Inuu duudsiyaa raggoow  
Anagu diidnaye ogoow!         

Man who murdered our brethren  
Has similar designs towards us  
But, O Africa, be a witness  
For he’ll incur/sustain a scar. 

He who is encroaching upon my land 
To deny me of its ownership 
Note so that we refuse.

This was no empty rhetoric. At the time, Somalia had one of the strongest military forces in sub-Saharan Africa, with a young, readily trained, and dangerously armed force. And the war effort was bolstered by a national spirit that had been carefully cultivated through poetry and music. Thus, the verbal warning shots were well warranted.

Another iconic hees from this period was Allah Weyn ("God is Great") by the esteemed poet Mohamoud Tukale Osman, himself a native of the Ogaden region. Displaying his talent with words, the poet made it clear that there was no room for doubting that sacrificing yourself for your country was the most noble, patriotic cause. Thus, a Somali dying for the Ogaden region was no different than a Somali dying for Somalia:

Allaa weyn   
Ninkii aaminaa awood leh,

Ummad waliba aayaheeda  
Inay garato iyadaa leh,

Inaan la shahiido adoonsiga 
Qoommiyadayda adkeeyo

Xornimada ilays u ahaado, 
Igu waajib weeye oo anaa leh, anaa leh.

God is great 
He who has faith in him is triumphant,

Each nation  
Designs its own destiny, 

To fight against colonialism 
To affirm my patriotism, 

A light for freedom 
Is a necessary duty 

Additionally, Dhulka saw anigu ma lehi (Isn’t the Soil Mine) by Mohamoud Abdullahi Essa (sungab), masterfully addressed what and how much of the ogaden region was lost to cultural eradication and environmental degradation, which was carried out by the occupying entity. The song iterates:

Miyey dhimashadu  iqoontaayeey? 
Miyaan dhiig baxay ka diidaayeey? 
Shahiidku miyuu dhib diidaa?

Baddayda  miyaa la dhurayaa? 
Cirkayga miyaa la dhoofshaa? 
Dhirtayda miyaa la jarayaa? 
Dadkayga miyaa la dhalan rogi? 
Ciidaydu miyey dhamaataa?

Dhulka saw anigu ma lehi? 
Dalka (dadka?) saw aniga ma lehi?

Am I fearful because of death? 
Am I nauseated by spilled-blood? 
Should a martyr avoid an adversity?

Hasn’t my ocean been looted? 
Hasn’t my air been exported? 
Hasn’t my forest been gutted? 
Haven’t my people been disinherited? 
Has my mother-soil been sapped off?

The land (Ogaden region) is mine 
The people are my people,

On the other hand, if there was even the faintest doubt that Ethiopia was the aggressor in the war, the always imaginative and articulate, Mohamed Diriye wanted to put that to rest:

Gobonimodoonka Soomaaliyeed ee Galbeed 
Gobonimodoonka Soomaalyeed ee Galbeed,

Gafka uma dul qaataan 
Gardarada ma yeelaan 
Geerida ma diidaan,

Haddaad garasho leedahay  
Gumaysiga gabooboow,

Wax dhan baad garaacdoo 
Guudka aad ka rarratoo 
Xoolo raacsanaysee,

Garaad laawihiiyoow 
Ka guntade xumaantii 
Geyigooda oo dhacan 
Gama’ yeeli mayaan.

The Western Somali Liberation Front 
The Western Somali Liberation Front,

Will not condone your injurious assault 
Will not yield to transgression 
And will never avoid dying,

If you own an iota of wisdom 
You, the ancient, oppressive regime,

Abuse them at length 
Laden them with brutalities 
Enslave them for your own leisure,

You, the ill-informed regime  
Note they would no longer endure your maltreatment

As if the emotions conveyed were not profound enough, the insightful Said Salah Ahmed navigated the topic by exploring the deep psychological connections between Somalis and their camels through a historical lens. Said Salah unearthed the infamous days of 1897, when Italy—worse than Britain, which at least allowed nomads grazing rights after ceding Somalis territory to Ethiopia—arbitrarily imposed an invisible border. This line split Somalis land, designating one side as Somalia and the other as Ethiopia, while also banning cross-border grazing. They made a part of the homeland a foreign country. 

In Said Salah’s masterful work, an imaginary herd of camels grazing in that very region at the moment of partition was divided, half remaining in Somalia, the other half in Ethiopia. Fittingly, he named the herd haleelo, meaning “the most auspicious of she-camels.”

By 1977, the descendants of the divided herd’s original owners simply saw the opportunity to reunite the offspring of those long-separated camels, or so it appeared. However, this hees exemplifies what Margaret Laurence described as “incomprehensible to an English reader,” even with English translations. The English translation could never capture the depth of the Somali people's bond with their camels, nor the poetic richness with which a Somali storyteller conveys it. In the hees, Said paints a vivid picture of a long-divided herd finally coming together at a watering well—which in itself is the ultimate success for a camel-herder: just gathering the whole group of camels in one place at the end. Thus, in due deference, no English translation is attempted:  

Haybta geela haleelada ugub 
Horweyn iyo rummag,

Hasha madida ah hayin awriyo 
hoobala Helleey 
Hoobala helleey,

Qaalinta hebla ah hadday rimmaydiyo 
Aaranku hogtaan waa u naf hurijirey,

Hoobey hoobeyoow haa 
Haa, hoobyeeyow haa,

Hoobey haday taalliyo 
Haday taalliyo, 

Hoobey haday duban tahay 
Haday tuban tahay, 

Hoobay looma kala hadhan 
Looma kala hadho. 

It was not surprising that Somalis, with their unrivalled skill in oratory, unleashed a torrent of polemics in heeso and gabayo for the war of 1977. However, the surprising thing was how the poets were able to masterfully interweave the story of Somalis in both the Ogaden region and the mainland Somali republic, binding the unbreakable genealogical linkage tighter and, in the process, artfully defining what Somalinness (soomaalinimo) is. Here, the virtuous and peerless Abdiqadir Hersi (Yam-yam), God bless his soul, bared it for all to feel and taste what Somali or Somalinness is. Yam-yam conclusively dictated that all the traits in one Somali are shared amongst the rest. For that, a Somali in the Ogaden region is as much Somali as the one in mainland Somalia and vice versa:

Waqtiyada socdaalka ah 
Ayaamaha silsidda ah 
Xilliyada bal suuree 
Soojire haddaad tahay 
Sadarrada dib ugu noqo 
Soomaali waa kuma? 
Soomaali waa tuma?

Sinnaantaan la magac ahay 
Sanku-neefle ma oggoli 
Inuu iga sarrayn karo,

Anna garasho sogordahan 
Sooryo ruux ugama dhigo,