After spotting the girl in the photo holding sambusa like it was a diamond ring, Samire knew: “This is her. The future mother of my children. Or at least, the future reason my mom stops yelling.”
Her name was Hodan.
She was smart, calm, and—most importantly—didn’t laugh at Samire, but with him. A rare talent.
They met for the first time at her auntie’s house. Samire wore his cousin’s best suit (two sizes too big), sprayed half a bottle of perfume, and walked in like a prince… who forgot his script.
He sat down, smiled nervously, and said:
“So, Hodan… do you like… tea?”
She blinked. “Tea?”
“Yes,” he said, sweating. “Because life with me will be very chai-llenging… get it? Chai? Challenging?”
Silence.
Even the clock stopped ticking out of embarrassment.
But then, she laughed. A real laugh! That was the moment Samire fell in love. Right there, next to a bowl of dates and a disappointed auntie.
Fast forward three weeks, and the families were planning the wedding.
But there was a problem—Samire had promised everyone he had money.
He didn’t.
His bank account was emptier than his fridge.
His best man, Abdi, said, “Don’t worry. Just do a simple wedding. No one will notice.”
Wrong.
In Somali culture, a “simple” wedding still involves 300 people, 9 dresses, a goat, and at least one uncle with a microphone yelling “WHERE’S THE FOOD?!”
So Samire went full survival mode.
- Borrowed chairs from three different mosques.
- Printed wedding invites at an internet café using a printer that screamed in pain.
- Even offered to DJ himself. (“Why hire a DJ when I’ve got a YouTube playlist and vibes?”)
The big day came. Samire wore white. Hodan looked like royalty. Everything was perfect…
Until the generator died mid-ceremony.
No lights.
No music.
No microphone.
But then, someone pulled out a phone flashlight, another person started singing, and before long, the whole wedding turned into an old-school Somali dance party.
People laughed. They clapped. One auntie ululated so hard she passed out for three minutes.
And Samire? He looked at Hodan and whispered, “Even when things fall apart, you still glow.”
She smiled and replied, “Good. Because our honeymoon is going to be in your mom’s guest room.”
Moral of the story:
Love isn’t about money. It’s about surviving your wedding with humor, power cuts, and borrowed chairs.
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