During the Jiilaal seasons when winds and scarcity of water hit the parched Somali terrain, the nomads dig wells – Berkedo – to accumulate rain water. Those nomads who live at a distance from the Berked usually water their animals after every 9 to 10 days of thirst, thereby reducing the amount of journeys they’d have to make to the well. On the journeys to the Berked, the drover, walking alongside the herd, guides them into the direction of the Berked. The goats, being the leaders they are, pilot the herd and often seem to automatically recognise where they are going – or at least show the Sheep that they have a clue as to where they are headed. The sheep are naïve creatures and simply follow them. They lag behind and often require gentle whippings from the drover and a pebble-filled canister thrown their way to move them. Sometimes even the whippings of the drover mean little to them because of their insensitive nature and the thick fur that protects them. They have no inclination to move on their own accord and appear to be very sluggish in their movements. Having been driven out early to the watering grounds, the herd is not allowed to graze, but the sheep are often seen nibbling away at the grass.

When soo hor, cries the young herder at the well to the drover for a part of the herd to be released to the Berked, the goats immediately rush headlong into the direction of the Berked, dip their heads into the containers provided and after quenching their thirst, play about joyfully with a rejuvenated oomph. The goats are born leaders – or have qualities resembling a leader’s. They are lively and enthusiastic about life’s prospects, though they are deficient in terms of experience and, some times, competence. The young Waxar gracefully gambols around the Ardaa soon after birth and imitates the Ceesaan, who in turn imitates the Goat (Ri) in its high-pitched bleating.

They are bold and brash, principally driven by an impulsive rush into things. Their skewed judgment of their own vulnerability hinders them from looking further ahead into the possibilities of their actions. Amused by their own frolicking, they are diverted from the flock, though their senses are promptly reawakened by the hint of fox’s presence.

The sheep, however, like inebriated beings in a moment of drunkenness, dawdle absent-mindedly into the open environment, confounded by the happenings. They glance at each other in a moment of murkiness, then at the goats rushing for the Berked and, being the insipid creatures that they are, walk with some trepidation and uncertainty towards the direction taken by the goats, blindly following them. Sheep are rather shallow and slightly slow on the uptake, thereby taking years to respond to little matters requiring little or no brain activity at all. The humdrums of daily existence mean little to the sheep who, in blithe disregard for any perils that lie ahead, graze in the thickest of the forest, unconscious of the darkness that looms and the jeopardy that seeps from within.

By evening when the sun starts its graceful exit from the earth and it’s time to bring the herd home, the sheep walk fatigued as if in a state of infirmity and on a strenuous journey, nibbling away whatever grass they manage to scrounge around. Though in the hindsight they are aware that they would be returning home, their feeble mind convinces them of the possibility of grazing for ever…little do they realise that the cunning fox lurks in the corner burrow and the hyena is dreaming of a succulent meat tonight; even worse, little do they realise that the sun is setting on them and soon darkness will engulf them…

When it rains, the sheep are unruffled by the thunder. They are competent swimmers and will swim through any flood, come what may, despite several losses and injuries. Locking their heads together, they form a ring of black heads in the enclosure around their young one and withstand the pellets of rain. If they find themselves being swept away in a flood, the sheep wriggle their plump bottoms about in the water with their head always above the water – except when overcome by an enormous surge. They somehow manage to swim out of the tide that carries them.

The goats, on the other hand, are expert whiners and their Qalaad could be heard a distance away. Little floods could cause serious inconveniences to their health and a flash of lighting would agitate their nerves. If swept away they have little chance of survival and, as a habit, dip headfirst into the water. They are often heard making a racket of noises as they are seized by the surge.

The ones that perish in the floods, of Sheep and Goats, are never mourned for and the survivors never look back. That the floods could rise once again and swallow them is inconceivable to their brains. Death means nothing to both the Sheep and Goats. One lost Sheep or Goat does not render the average herd from pausing in their graze and reflecting upon the future that awaits them – even if that death occurs right in front of their eyes and a fox devours a young delectable Sabeen!

The Somali population’s mentality differs not much from that of the animals they rear. The general populace, with their Sheep Logic, are desperate to be led, having no capacity within them to do so. They largely follow their whims and desires and though they perceive the goings-on in their surroundings and the chaos that envelops them from within, they are too blasé about them do not comprehend all that they perceive. Their limited mental vision and the grass they graze on obstructs their view from the perils that lie ahead. Living off the handouts of other countries plotting bigger schemes on their country, the Somalis live in a state of almost total unconsciousness.

The elders of that population have passed down years and years of traditions and practices. The chain of Goat Logic is passed down through an uninterrupted chain until it reaches the Waxar. The young ones born either in or outside Somalia, with a developing sense of Waxar Logic, aspire to become just like their parents and are often seen regurgitating their ideas and behaviours. The dwelling of the young ones or their birth place, even if outsie Somalia, does little to change the inherent susceptibility to Sheep Logic which is passed down by the elders. Neither does the Waxar Logic differ much from the Goat (Ri) Logic, nor the Nayl Logic from the Sheep (Lax) Logic. From a young age, the progeny of this type of logic is infested with the endemic Qabiil Syndrome that takes root and eventually turns them into either whiners like their seniors or leaves them in a state of complete insensitivity. The middle aged ones, with a half-lived life and the logic of the Sabeen or Ceesaan, are in no position to change things and inflict the lashing of Qabiil on the growing young ones.

And just like the Goats and Sheep they rear, death is of little significance for they grasp it not. It does not engender a feeling of loss to say the least. The loss of hundreds or perhaps thousands is of no value and moves them not even in the slightest sense. This sense of insensitivity is shared by all and sundry.

The primitive admiration of inherited Goat/Sheep Logic supersedes any new rebellious, counterculture Waxar or Nayl willing to change the long-established and unequivocally revered perceptions of the elders – perceptions which any Ceesaan or Sabeen with a bit of nous would easily rubbish.

Those who rule, with their Goat Logic, are very much short sighted and scatter at the slightest hint of a commotion. They are an impetuous lot and carry huge, impenetrable solid heads above their scraggy shoulders – a weight too much for them to bear and as a result of which they disappear after a short time. With an imprudent penchant for control, they lead their susceptible flock astray into parched fields and dehydrated pastures where the Jiilaal winds have swept away the very remnants of life from the surface.

All in all, Waxar Logic = Ceesaan Logic = Ri Logic and similarly Nayl Logic = Sabeen Logic = Lax Logic.

There is no change in sight…We are all of the same Goat/Sheep