" 'A man, weak from thirst, lay under a tree. He heard a guuguule bird singing, "I'm hungry. I'm very hungry." "You guuguule bird, if you are crying for the lack of the spring rains, if you think you are the only one suffering under this harsh drought, you are mistaken. This dry season has injured every human on this earthly spot. Such hunger prevails that people are even hunting after you, little meatless guuguule bird, just to survive. So my advice is to stop crying so that your noise doesn't end your life." ' "
It is a poem to kindness and flint, and it seems a fair basis on which to comprehend Bile and his country. This miler is not a small vessel who will be unable to hold all his good fortune. Rather he seems the water the land has thirsted for, the one who brought a Somali essence to its fullest and won. Now those he lifts are sure to claim their birthright. Somalia, as ever, is on the move.