“In 2001, my mother gave birth to a triplet in Burao. Only one survived after the birth. We found comfort in the fact that at least one of them survived but the comfort didn’t last that long. Once he turned one, he contracted meningitis. There was lack of solid medical facilities and no proper medications to treat him. I was very much attached to him and was at his side for most of the time. My mother kept bringing him to this small medical facility, thinking they would fix him. One day she returned alone. I figured they hospitalised him, and he was getting better, but she told me that he didn’t make it and died in the hospital. I cried myself to sleep that day. The following day, I delicately washed his body, and we buried him. It was there and then that I decided I wanted to become a doctor. Once I finished my medical course, inexperienced but full of energy, I moved to Erigabo where I heard that there is not a single doctor there. It was a risky endeavour, but I was determined. My first patient was a poor Somali mother. She was wearing rags and was in active labour. She told me that she didn’t have much and didn’t know where to go. Her husband wanders day and night to bring whatever food he can find to the table, and she was afraid to deliver her unborn child in the cold streets.  I quickly ordered proper medications, fed her and delivered the baby via caesarean section. She left after a couple days, happy that she was alive, and her child was healthy. A year later, a child with a bad case of diarrhoea was brought to me. I asked for his name and found out that he had the exact same name as me. Bear in mind that I have a unique name. I jokingly said that he stole my name. The child’s mother looked at me, laughingly asked me whether I remember her. She said I was the poor lady that you helped a year ago, and I named my son after you.”

(Erigabo)

“Sanadkii 2001, hooyaday waxay Burco ku dhashay saddex mataano. Saddexdii mataanaha, inan baa ka so hadhay. Alxamdulillah, inu ugu yaraan mid badbaaday, Ilaahay u mahadnaqay. Inankii sanad marku jiray, waxaa ku dhacay xanuunka la yidhaahdo meningitis ama qoorgooye. Burco waxaanan ka jirin xarumo caafimaad oo tayo leh. Runti, inanka aad baan u jeclaa oo markasta waan ka welweli jiray. Dareen aad u balaadhan ii galiyey, tolow suu noqonaya. Hooyadayna, isbuuc kasta ayee u ka lihi jirtay isbitaalka sidee inanka wax looga qabto. Maalin maalmaha ka mid ah, waxaan arkaya ayadoo soo noqotay oo inanka la socon. Waxay ii sheegtay inu geeriyooday, qadarta Alle ay tahay. Maalintaas oohin baan la seexan waayey. Subaxii marku waagu beryay, inankii waan meedhay waana aasnay. Ciidi markaan ku rogay baan go’aan ku gaadhay inaan dhakhtar noqdo. Markaan dhameeyey koorsadii caafimaad, oo aan lahayn tabar buuxda, waxaan maqlay in Ceerigaabo aysan lahayn dhakhatar ka hawlgala. Dabadeedna waxaan go’aansaday inaan Ceerigaabo u guuro. Qofka kowaad ii imaado waxay ahayd hooyo Soomaaliyeed oo danyar ah. Dirac yar oo shiid xidhneed iyo dacas. Waxay ahayd hooyo uur leh, sagaalkii bilood ku jirta, teeda labaadna fool ku haysa. Hooyadana deetana waxay igu tidhi, inaysan aduun haysan oo meel ay aado la’dahay. Xaajigeedana inu maalin iyo habeen warwareego, su cunto u raadiyo, ayna aad ka baqayso iney ilmaheeda uurka ku jira banaanka ku dhasho. Waxaan u dalbaday dawadii u baahneed, cunto siiyey, dabadeedna qaliin baan ku sameeyey. Sidee ku caafimaadee, sideedi ku baxday. Sanad kadib, waxaa la ii keenay ilma yar oo shubmaya. Magaciisa la ii sheegay, oo isku magac baanu noqonay. Kaftan ahaan, waxaan idhi, ninkaan magacayga igu qaatay. Deetana hooyadii inanka way qososhay, waxay tidhi, ‘ma ii garanee’. Waxay ii sheegtay inay gabadhii maalinta ahayd, inankaygana adiga kugu magacdaray.”

(Ceerigaabo)

You know, in all those “humans are the creepy/fucked up alien species” posts I can’t believe we haven’t touched on organ donation yet. 

 When they heard that the human general had fallen ill to a disease of the organ known as the liver the troops began to hope that it might turn the tide of the war. Research indicated that such diseases could be fatal after all. The organ did something similar to the flagulaxin in that it filtered out toxins so when it stopped functioning the human would slowly be poisoned to death by his own body. Or so they believed.

But then he came back.

A foot soldier was captured and answers demanded. Was it a medication? Had the sickeness been a ruse to fool them?

“Nah, man. This kid on a motorcycle wiped out on the I9 freeway so they gave the general his liver since they were a match.”

“They…what?”

“They gave him his liver. The kid was dead, and he was an organ donor. And he was a genetic match to the general.”

“They…cut the liver out of one of your young and placed it in an elder and it…worked?”

“I mean, he wasn’t that young. Mid twenties or something. But yeah, that’s essentially it.”

The interrogator and his assistant both regurgitated their most recent meal and ran from the room. Living in places like the “Australia” were one thing, but taking the organs of dead bodies and placing them in the living? What was WRONG with this species?

7

The luminous haze that obscures our view of the constellations - light pollution -is one of the most prevalent forms of environmental alteration. Its impact is felt across a swath of life from the migration of sea turtles to the circadian rhythm of humans. 

A new atlas of light pollution created by an international team of scientists reveals just how pervasive this artificial glow is. The atlas shows that more than 80% of the world and more than 99% of the U.S. and European populations live under light-polluted skies. The Milky Way is hidden from more than one-third of humanity, including 60% of Europeans and nearly 80% of North Americans.

Check out this interactive map and read more here.

I’ve noticed something about people who make a difference in the world: They hold the unshakable conviction that individuals are extremely important, that every life matters. They get excited over one smile. They are willing to feed one stomach, educate one mind, and treat one wound. They aren’t determined to revolutionize the world all at once; they’re satisfied with small changes. Over time, though, the small changes add up. Sometimes they even transform cities and nations, and yes, the world.
—  Beth Clark
7

I haven’t looked at the Moon the same way since every image the astronauts took during NASA’s Apollo Missions got published. Here, I’ve picked out some photos of the lunar surface. I especially like the last one because of the hand reflection.
It will soon be 50 years since the first manned landing, but the true space age is yet to come.

You can see the Project Apollo Archive’s collection of more than 10,000 high-resolution images on Flickr.

We often have to explain to young people why study is useful. It’s pointless telling them that it’s for the sake of knowledge, if they don’t care about knowledge. Nor is there any point in telling them that an educated person gets through life better than an ignoramus, because they can always point to some genius who, from their standpoint, leads a wretched life. And so the only answer is that the exercise of knowledge creates relationships, continuity, and emotional attachments. It introduces us to parents other than our biological ones. It allows us to live longer, because we don’t just remember our own life but also those of others. It creates an unbroken thread that runs from our adolescence (and sometimes from infancy) to the present day. And all this is very beautiful.