If there’s one thing that I found especially satisfying about working for cash in Scotland, it’s the beautifully coloured bank notes. Well, the newer Bank of Scotland and some of the Clydesdale bank ones certainly are. The phrase “Gimme some green” still works here, but as green is the colour of £50 notes and the scarcely seen £1 notes, we don’t see them all that often. What we usually gather during a shift are a bunch of blue fives, goldeny-brown tens and bright purple twenties. Since twenty is the highest denomination, it is especially satisfying to take home a wad of purple at the end of the night. Purple has long been my favourite colour (well, indigo is but purple is a close second) and this has only made it more so.
This is the particular note that we see often that I love. I feel that even without its colour, it would still be beautiful. Honestly, if I ever came across a scarf printed version of it similar to these US dollar style ones, I probably wouldn’t be able to resist getting it.
We see this one a lot too, but less frequently. It’s also worth £20 and very purple, but I find it less ascetically pleasing for some reason. It’s no wonder that the English are often suspicious of Scottish bank notes considering each bank makes it’s own notes and doesn’t change them infrequently either. Still, it makes handling Scottish notes a fair bit more interesting.
Also, English £20 notes seem to have a good old touch of purple as well. It seems the number twenty just seems to equate to “purple” on this island.
It’s been a while since I last visited Somalia. Despite it’s flaws in the eyes of the world (I mean, what country’s reputation improves after two decades of civil war, right?), there are many reasons why I wish I could be there in an instant. I really miss being there. The entire paternal side of my family is from there, the North in particular, and so I always feel welcome and at home whenever I do manage to visit. Every now and again I am reminded of some odd thing that makes me miss it more than usual. Today, it was some frankincense scented incense. Of course, anything frankincense scented feels simply disappointing once you’ve smelt the real deal.
The food is so fresh. The fruits here in the UK, whilst still delicious, just can’t compare to the mangos and bananas you can buy in the local markets in Hargeisa and Berbera. Meat is also much fresher, even though I don’t eat that much. Chickens, goats, ans other animals are usually killed and cooked shortly before the meal, unlike readily killed and butchered animal parts you buy in the West. The are certainly fewer ingredients available, but the overall freshness makes the ingredients you have pack a punch as it is. I also miss traditional Somali foods like angello, sambusas and xalwo.
I feel so at home there. I’ve spent the vast majority of my life so far here in the UK and feel very British overall, yet somehow whenever I go back I feel at home in a different way. I suppose it has everything to do with having so much family living there. I’m always discovering new family members, distant aunts, uncles and cousins, that I had never known about before whenever I go back. Something funny about Somali society is that everyone who is Somali has a place in it, depending on who you are related to and their Clan. No matter where you grew up or even if you have ever been to Somalia itself, there will always be a place for you. It gives you a certain sense of belonging. Also, everyone looks like you (in a way). I love the diversity here in the UK, especially in London. People from all over the world can belong here, no matter what their background. But there’s a certain different type of belonging you feel when everyone around you is somewhat like you. In a similar way to feeling you belong in a pack of students wandering around a university where you are all usually the same age and at the same point in life. In Somalia, we all speak our own language (which I should get to better grips with myself), we are all Muslim (that I know of), dress in a similar way and the fact that we all have Somali features. I still consider myself to be predominantly British and English at that, but it feels wonderful to fit so well somewhere else.
Somali is spoken everywhere. It’s one of the few places in the world where you can truly immerse yourself in the language. If you ever want to properly get to grips with a language, having it being spoken around you and to you constantly is a huge help, if not a necessity. My Somali speaking skills always fade after I’ve been away for a while, although speaking to family at get togethers helps. Somali is such a poetic language and hearing people who have used it their whole lives gives you a new appreciation for it.
The weather is nice and hot. Sometimes it’s far too hot for comfort, but all hot weather sounds a treat when another Scottish winter is approaching. The ocean is wonderful too. A rich, sparkling blue and warm to the touch. I’ve heard it’s good water to go diving in if you have the equipment, with colourful fish and coral reefs.
The clothes. I often wish I could wear my Somali clothes often while wandering outside in the UK, because they are just so comfortable. They are light and cool to wear and full of colour. They also make choosing an outfit nice and simple, you shove on a baati and headscarf and you’re good to go! Having said that, I do love the way we dress in the UK, especially in London. It feels great to put together a sleek and stylish outfit with a variety of clothing styles. Not that you can’t look sleek and stylish in a Somali dress! It is definitely harder to find modest clothing though.
Disclaimer: none of the images above where created by me, but I feel they accurately illustrate the things I try to describe.
Thank you for reading this far and have a wonderful day.