Modern Somali Mythology Ch. 10

Islam has been in Somalia for a long time, indeed, the faith entered the nation of Somalia during the time of the Prophet himself. The first mosque was built in the City of Zeila, in the Awdal region of Somalia. Islam entered the Kingdom of Somalia by means of trade, and proselytizing, rather than by the sword. This doesn't mean that relationships between Arabs and Somalis have always been good. It must be said that, long before European colonials began the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, the Arabs were the first to enslave Africans.

For the most part, they took African women as sex slaves, and sometimes gave freedom to the mixed-race offspring they generated with them, thus leading to the proliferation of Afro-Arabian peoples, found in places like Morocco, Mauritania, and yes, parts of Somalia and Yemen. Across the ages, it became common for Arab men to take African women as concubines, but African men, even those who were Muslim, were forbidden from having Arabian wives. Another aspect of Islamic history and relations which is seldom discussed...

In those days, the Arab view of most Africans was a grim and cruel one. African women were sold into slavery, and used to produce Afro-Arabian offspring whom the Arab conquerors found more pleasing to the eye than purebred Africans. As for African men, those whom the Arabs took as slaves were usually seen as brutes and used as manual labor. To protect their women and their pristine Arabian bloodlines, the Arab slave owners often turned the captive African men into eunuchs, thus negating them for all time.

The cruelties which Arabs visited upon the Africans over the course of the centuries number greater than the stars. Of course, it is not politically correct to bring up the Arab enslavement of Africans, or the one-sided nature of interracial relationships between African women and Arab men, even in modern times. Slavery in Africa is thought to be something the European colonial is solely responsible for. Many centuries before the English, the Dutch and others came to Africa as conquerors, the Arabs treated the Africans as beasts of burden. This is the story of one African woman who resisted...

Abdus Shakur was an Arab slave trader from around 800 A.D. and for the most part, he and his fellows went into Sub-Saharan Africa to acquire slaves which they would then sell to the Arab kingdoms. One day, while navigating the coast of Aden on a fleet of vessels, Abdus saw Somali women for the first time and became enamored of them. Abdus found them Somali ladies much more attractive than African women from other places, and decided to take some of them as slaves.

"Captain Abdus, the Somali people are our fellow Muslims, we must not take any of them as slaves, it goes against our holy texts," said Ibn Hamad, the Captain's second-in-command. Captain Abdus Shakur, a stubborn man, looked at his second, a tall, slender Arab with dark hair and bronze skin, whom he'd met in Damascus, and who had been among his crew ever since. For the most part, Ibn Hamad was a smart and thoughtful man, a master of the sea whom Abdus Shakur was usually glad to have in his employ. Sometimes, though, the man irked him...

"No African can ever be a true Muslim, my friend, I will do to those savages what I will," Captain Abdus Shakur said haughtily. With that, he went to the beach, with a contingent of armed men, experts in the nefarious art of abducting Africans to sell them as slaves. There was a group of Somali women on the beach, and they were doing laundry. The slave traders set upon them and captured two dozens of them. Captain Abdus Shakur felt these lovely Somali ladies would fetch a good price in places like Damascus, or perhaps Marrakesh.

Across the Arab world, lots of wealthy Arab men have a huge appetite for attractive African women, whom they found wilder in bed than their refined Arab ladies. The Somali ladies were abducted, and taken in the boats. As they wailed in fear and pain, clamoring for Somali men to come to their aid, it was to no avail. The Arab men beat them into submission, though while taking care not to mark them or damage them permanently. A good salesman knows not to damage his merchandise, regardless of what century he hails from...

Among the Somali women taken as captives was a young lady named Faduma, and she was a great-great-granddaughter of the legendary Birir Ina Barqo, the first King of Somalia. Faduma was six feet two inches tall and curvy, with dark brown skin and long black hair. Like most males and females descended from King Birir Ina Barqo, she was taller than most, for her ancestor was a genuine giant. Faduma had a defiant streak and vowed not only to slay her Arabian captors, but also to return to Somalia to warn her people about the cruelty of the Arabian devils...

"This one is feisty, I shall have her," Captain Abdus Shakur said, looking at Faduma. The tall young Somali woman looked at him defiantly, and whenever he came near, she spat in his direction. Captain Abdus has been known to avail himself of a female captive's body for his entertainment. He was tempted to do the same thing to Faduma, to break her spirit while enjoying her body against her will. Of course, Ibn Hamad, the eternal killjoy, had to be the damned voice of reason...

"Captain, think about this, this feisty Somali female will fetch a good price at the slave markets of Damascus, or Marrakesh, you would do yourself a disservice by defiling her," Ibn Hamad said, and Captain Abdus Shakur sighed and nodded. Intact African female slaves did have higher financial value than those who had been beaten or raped. Their future masters insisted on being the ones who broke them in. They wouldn't pay to have another man's sloppy seconds. It simply wasn't their way...

"You are wise, my friend," Captain Abdus Shakur said, and after a lustful glance at the tall, curvaceous and big-bottomed Faduma, he walked away and resumed his duties leading the ship. Ibn Hamad smiled and walked away. The Captain is a brute, yes, but with an adviser like Ibn Hamad, he often kept out of danger and turned up huge profits. Faduma looked at both men with equal hatred and contempt. She did not see one as better than the other. If the Captain was a bloodthirsty leopard, then his slick second in command was a vile hyena, and nothing more...

"I swear by the name of my ancestor King Birir Ina Barqo that I will end these men's lives," Faduma said to herself. Below deck, in shackles, Faduma tried to maintain her strength on the meager food and drink she and the other captives was given. After her near-miss with Captain Abdus Shakur, Faduma was incensed, but the vengeful young woman would bide her time. She flashed a brave smile at Jawahir, a lovely young woman who looked especially scared of her dark surroundings.

"I will never see Somalia or my family again," Jawahir said, weeping openly, and while the other captive women urged her to shut up, Faduma took pity on her. Faduma gently touched Jawahir's face, and looked into her eyes. Jawahir was a lovely woman, standing around five-foot-eight, a bit chubby, with golden brown skin and long dark hair. Although her dress was soiled and her hijab hung on tatters, Jawahir carried herself with some dignity...

"We will beat these Arabian devils and escape," Faduma assured Jawahir, who flashed her a wan smile, the kind one gives to those given to wishful thinking. Faduma waited until nightfall, when the ship grew silent. Above deck, the crewmen slept, except for one or two on sentry duty. Below deck, the captive women slept, their slumber granting them a temporary respite from their torment. Faduma stood up, and began to speak in low tones, uttering an incantation passed down from generation to generation...

"Great Darod, good spirit of the Ayaanle, father of Birir Ina Barqo, first King of Somalia, I am your blood, and beseech thy aid," Faduma said, remembering her father Prince Maxamad's words. The young Somali woman spoke the sacred words, and waited. Nothing happened. Wracked with deep despair and anger, Faduma felt like kicking the damn floor. Why did she put faith in such superstition anyways? With the advent of Islam in Somalia, most people had turned their backs on the old ways. No one prayed to Waaq, the Cushitic Sky God, or his messengers, the good spirits known as the Ayaanle...

"I am here, daughter of my blood," came a masculine voice, and Faduma blinked as a tall, dark-skinned man suddenly materialized in front of her. The man's eyes glowed with a kind of light, and Faduma gasped upon noticing the huge, bat-like wings sprang from his back. At once, Faduma knew that this was Darod, the leading spirit of the Ayaanle, the same one who sired the legendary twins Birir Ina Barqo and Haddad Ina Kamas upon her ancestor, the legendary matriarch Sagal...

"Darod, my guardian spirit, I am Faduma, your descendant, please aid me in my time of need, Arabian slave traders have violated the rules of their own religion by taking me and some believing women as slaves," Faduma said softly. Darod looked at her thoughtfully. In recent years, Darod had become a leader among the Ayaanle, the good spirits that watched over the people of the Horn of Africa. Once, the Somalis offered prayers and sacrifices to Waaq, the Cushitic Sky God, and Darod's immediate superior. Not anymore...

"Faduma, why should I aid you? You and most Somalis have turned your back on Waaq and on us Ayaanle, and follow the religion of the Arabian devil, the same one who makes sex slaves of African women, and castrates African men," Darod said angrily. The spirit splayed his dark, magnificent wings in a display of power and anger. Faduma fell to her face, and prayed, pleading to Darod, the supposedly benevolent spirit in front of her, and to Waaq, the ancient Cushitic Sky God whom he served.

"Please, Darod, my ancestor and progenitor of my line, if you save me, I shall give up the Arab religion, and my descendants will only pray to Waaq, whom you serve," Faduma swore. Darod looked at Faduma, who reminded him of Sagal, the tall, beautiful and spirited Somali tribeswoman whom he loved, many centuries ago. The Somali people had abandoned their native deity and local spirits to follow the religion of the Arabs, who despised them more than mongooses despise snakes. Still, Darod is a benevolent spirit, so he decided to aid his wayward female descendant...

"I will give you one chance, Faduma," Darod said, and with that, the leader of the good spirits known as the Ayaanle seized the young woman, and crimson energies flowed out of his mouth, and into hers. Faduma fell to the floor, and cried out, writhing in agony. It felt as though liquid fire had shot out of Darod's mouth and into hers. When Faduma finally got back to her feet, Darod was gone. If it weren't for the liquid fire coursing through her, Faduma would have thought she imagined the whole thing...

Faduma looked at the chains on her hands and feet, and sighed. Much to her surprise, by merely flexing, she was able to break them. Emboldened, Faduma woke up her fellow captives, starting with Jawahir. The lovely young woman woke up, and gasped upon realizing that Faduma had freed herself. Faduma smiled at Jawahir, and then seized her chains and broke them as easily as one rips through paper.

"Faduma, how do you do this? What magic is this?" Jawahir asked, watching as Faduma effortlessly freed the other women, including her cousin Zainab, her good friend Leila, her neighbor Nagla, her former rival Wafa, who once beat her at a beauty contest, and so many others. The young Somali women gathered around Faduma, and looked at her with a mixture of pride and shock. They didn't know what to make of their savior...

"My Somali sisters, I have the power to free us, but only if you agree to fight with me, we are Somalis, we were Somalis before the Arabs came with their religion, and we drew strength from our own beliefs, we abandoned Waaq the Cushitic Sky God and the Ayaanle, his messenger spirits, but they haven't abandoned us," Faduma said proudly. She looked at the Somali women gathered around her, trying to gauge their reaction.

Like almost every Somali person since the seventh century A.D. Faduma had been raised a Muslim. Only a few Somalis still adhered to the worship of Waaq the Cushitic Sky God, and still believed that the Ayaanle were spirits of protection. The young Somali female captives looked at Faduma, and one by one, they removed their hijabs, symbols of the faith of the cruel Arabian men who enslaved and raped them, and began to look for weapons. Planks were splintered into sharp pieces of wood, loose rocks were gathered in firm hands, and just like that, Faduma had herself an army...

Darod, the leader of the benevolent spirits of the Ayaanle, which protected the ancestors of Somalia's people long before the Arabs came, smiled to himself. The Arabs on the ship never knew what hit them. Conventional wisdom tells one that slaves always outnumber their masters in most settings, and this was true of Captain Abdus Shakur's slave ship. The Somali women fell upon their captors with a fury that astonished them. As the Somali women killed their Arab captors, they armed themselves with their swords and knives, and continued to slaughter their enemy.

"You are mine," Faduma said as she cornered Captain Abdus Shakur, and the vile cur smirked, and brandished his scimitar. Captain Abdus Shakur grew up in a world where women were subservient to men, and Africans were supposed to be subservient to Arabians. Faduma upset the order of things, and he intend to slaughter the tall, defiant Somali woman. This bitch was behind the slave uprising that left so many of his men dead...

"I should have raped and killed you when I captured you," Captain Abdus Shakur said as he launched himself at Faduma. The tall young Somali woman was armed only with a long knife, and she was no swordswoman. With a few wicked but determined moves, Captain Abdus Shakur disarmed Faduma. The young Somali woman began to retreat, and her opponent grew cocky. To the Captain, it felt righteous that a woman should retreat before a man's might, especially an African woman facing a strong Arabian man...

"Don't wound what you can't kill, fool," Faduma said, and she felt like liquid fire was bubbling in her veins as Captain Abdus Shakur drew forth. He drew back his sword for a killing blow, and that's when Faduma launched herself at him, moving with a preternatural speed that he did not believe was possible for a human. Faduma grabbed the Captain's arm and twisted it, causing him to drop his sword. Catching the weapon before it landed on the deck, Faduma thrust it into the Captain's chest, killing him instantly.

"How did you do that?" Captain Abdus Shakur said, as he fell to his knees, slain by his own sword. Fatuma pulled the sword out of her foe's chest and stood over him as he lay dying on the deck. When the other Somali women, victorious over the Arabian slavers crew, finally found their leader, Faduma brandished the Captain's head high in the air. A fierce chant of victory went up among the Somali women, and they praised their heroine...

"You will drive this boat back to the shores of Somalia, and if you try to trick us, I will castrate you and feed your body to the sharks," Faduma told Ibn Hamad, the only Arabian crewman she'd spared. Ibn Hamad nodded, having always been a smart man who knew where his interests lay. Captain Abdus Shakur was dead, and so were the other Arabian crewmen. Ibn Hamad did as he was told, and set a course for the coast of Somalia...

"You are amazing," Jawahir said to Faduma, as the two of them stood on the deck, looking at the calm waters of the Gulf of Aden. They were getting close to Somalia, and their journey was about to end. Or was it? Faduma looked at Jawahir, this beautiful young Somali woman whom she'd barely known at the start of their harrowing journey, but with whom she'd started a successful rebellion. All of her life, Faduma found herself attracted to both men and women, but repressed her bisexual feelings because the Muslim preachers said they were haram...

"So are you," Faduma said, and impulsively, she grabbed Jawahir and kissed her on the lips. Jawahir was surprised by Faduma's kiss, but she nevertheless kissed her back passionately. Like Faduma, Jawahir always felt drawn to other women, emotionally and sexually, but she kept those feelings to herself because she was told they were wrong. Well, on this ship, where women make the rules, who is to say what is right and what is wrong? When they came up for air, Jawahir and Faduma exchanged a smile. Kindred spirits always recognize each other and usually stick together...

Discretely, Jawahir and Faduma went below deck, and once there, away from prying eyes, the two young Somali women explored one another. Faduma undressed, revealing her tall, curvaceous body. Jawahir smiled as she beheld Faduma's naked body. The other woman was so tall and curvy, with big breasts, wide hips and a big round butt. Even the few scars Faduma had sustained during the battle only enhanced her beauty in Jawahir's eyes, rather than diminish it...

"Come to me, beautiful," Jawahir said, and the shorter gal welcomed her Somali Amazon into her loving arms. This time, Jawahir kissed Faduma, and caressed that fine, fine body of hers. Faduma grinned as Jawahir kissed her throat and fondled her breasts, before playfully smacking her big round butt. Jawahir drew Faduma to the floor, and they made love like this, right next to the corpse of a slain Arabian slave trader, whom they ignored. Caught in the throes of passion, the two Somali women were very much in a world of their own...

"You're so beautiful," Faduma told Jawahir as the shorter woman undressed, exposing her curvy, oh-so desirable body. Tentatively, Faduma caressed Jawahir's breasts, and then, with her encouragement, suckled on them. Jawahir sighed happily as Faduma sucked on her breasts, and then lay there as her lover proceeded to kiss and lick every inch of her curvy, beautiful body. When Faduma buried her face between Jawahir's thighs, the shorter woman let out a happy sigh and closed her eyes. Let the fun really begin...

Faduma ate Jawahir's pussy eagerly, welcoming the other woman's smell and taste. Jawahir moaned in pleasure as Faduma sucked on her clit and fingered her pussy. Faduma had been with both women and men before, discreet encounters which the bisexual Somali princess enjoyed but seldom discussed with anyone, for fear of being found out. Jawahir tasted wonderful, and Faduma couldn't get enough of her. The two women made passionate love, and soon melted into one another...

"Let me pleasure you," Jawahir told Faduma, after the tall, sexy Somali gal coaxed a wicked orgasm out of her. After shrieking in sheer pleasure, Jawahir slowly came down from cloud nine, and felt hornier than ever. Jawahir laid Faduma on the floor, and admired the tall, curvaceous Amazon's downright divine body. Jawahir kissed Faduma's throat and breasts, and then made her way to her inner thighs. Jawahir's hungry mouth found Faduma's pussy, and she began eating her out at once.

"Oh yes, don't stop," Faduma cried out as Jawahir ate her out, pleasuring her like only a woman can pleasure another woman. Above deck, the other Somali women and Ibn Hamad had a clear idea of what was going on, but none dared disturb the heroine and her chosen woman. Faduma and Jawahir made passionate love, not caring who heard them, or what anyone thought of them. Hours later, they emerged from below deck and joined the others above. The two young Somali women walked hand in hand, with big smiles on their faces...

When Faduma and Jawahir returned to Somalia, she went straight to her father Prince Maxamad's villa, and shared the harrowing tale of their capture and escape. Prince Maxamad welcomed the former captives in his home, and they were provided with food and drink. Healers tended to their wounds, while messengers were immediately dispatched to their families, which lived in the coastal villages. Prince Maxamad also gathered an army of Somali warriors, and deployed them across the land, to fight foreign slavers and protect the Somali people...