hooyo macaan

sweet mother

in somali, the word for mother is hooyo. the root word hoy means home, and it can also mean womb. so when i call for my mother, i am calling for the comfort of that quiet beginning we all emerged from. i am calling for home.

hooyo is not only the cultivator of life but the sanctuary where love is nourished and dreams take root. the heartbeat of any home, a steady rhythm that offers both comfort and stability. in her embrace, i find solace and serenity, like the gentle warmth of a womb nurturing new life.

hooyo macaan, don’t you know your body is made of stars and galaxies? in your face, i see the craters of the moon. the oceans flow through your veins, and the pull of the waves echoes the beat of your heart. the beauty marks on your face form constellations, the coordinates that guide me home. in my infanthood, you were my north star long before i had the strength to gaze at the night sky. and even when i first did, all i could think of was how the stars pale in comparison to you.

i often reflect on how well you carry the weight of generations, weaving the stories of those before us into the fabric of my life. with each piece of wisdom you share—whether spoken or silent—i am forever changed. to know you is to know warmth and light.

the first gift your body gave mine was a heartbeat, long before i had a mind to call my own. in that way, i like to think that i was created to love you. 

how fortunate am i to call you mine, hooyo. always by my side, quietly waiting for my stories to unfold, my laughter to break the silence. ever so patient, anticipating the unguarded moments when the depths of your emotions slip across your face like the opening of a long-hidden pandora’s box. and when you gift me that knowing smile (and a laugh!), the durbaan of my heart beats wildly, soaring to the rhythm of your love, a melody that fills my soul.

hooyo macaan, sweet mother, paradise truly lies beneath your feet.

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durbaan - drum

hooyo macaan - sweet mother