Whispers of Betrayal: The Tale of Ugas Nour
Ayrotv.com-Saylac- In the rugged heart of the Meder Plateau, where the winds carried the scent of the Red Sea and the towering Ethiopian Highlands loomed like ancient Pyramids , power was not just measured by sword or wealth—it was measured by honor, loyalty, and fate’s cruel hand.
There, at the foothills of the Gurays Range, Ugas Nour ruled with wisdom sharpened by hardship and a heart as vast as the land he governed. His people revered him—not out of fear, but from respect earned through justice and kindness. The lands under his watchful eye flourished with peace, and the clans lived in a fragile harmony under his banner.
But peace is a delicate glass—one crack, and it shatters.
Far to the south, in the sun-scorched lands where shadows stretched long and ambitions ran deep, lived the Bar-tirre, a powerful and proud clan. Despite ties of blood—Ugas Nour’s sister was married into their tribe—resentment brewed like a slow poison in their hearts. The Bar-tirre chiefs, envious of Nour’s influence and bitter over old wounds left unspoken, plotted something unthinkable.
They decided to send her son—a young man of promise and sharp cunning—to kill the Ugas. It was a betrayal wrapped in blood, an act that defied every sacred code of kinship and honor shared between the Bar-tirre and the Reer Ugas. But ambition has its own law, and when hatred whispers loud enough, even family becomes expendable.
A Mother’s Secret Grief
The mother—sister of Ugas Nour—was no stranger to the pulse of her homeland, where words traveled on the wind and even the earth seemed to listen. One evening, as the sun bled into the horizon, she overheard whispers of treachery. Shadows of fear clutched her heart when she discovered the truth: her own son had been chosen as the dagger meant for her brother’s heart.
When her son prepared for the journey, cloaked in false duty and quiet determination, she stood in his path. Her voice, gentle and strained, broke the silence.
“Where are you going, my son?”
He hesitated—guilt flickering in his eyes—but forced a smile. “To visit my uncle. I bring him greetings from our people.”
The mother, with the weight of love and fear bearing down on her, handed him a small bundle of dry meat. Her eyes did not waver as she spoke the words that carried more meaning than her son could understand.
“Take this to my brother. Tell him not to send it back.”
The Silent Warning
When Ugas Nour received the gift, he immediately understood the message hidden in the simplicity of the gesture. In their culture, sharing food was sacred, and refusing it was a grave insult. But the mother’s instruction—not to send it back—carried a warning. It was a mother’s silent scream, a plea to protect both her brother and her misguided son.
That night, Ugas Nour sat under the wide sky and recited a poem that spoke to the storm gathering in his heart:
Allaha yoow nin ii daran maxaan, daafta hore seexshay
O Allah, why did I let an enemy so close, rest by my side?
Nin ii daaqsanaayana, maxaan daafida u kariyay
Why did I offer kindness to one who grazes in my fields as an enemy?
Jidhku nin anu doonayn, maxaan hadalka Deeqsiiyay
Why did I grant words of welcome to one whose heart meant me harm?
The verses flowed from his soul like a river of sorrow and strength—a realization that betrayal often comes not from strangers but from those we hold close.
The Fall of the Plot
When the young assassin arrived, Ugas Nour welcomed him with warmth and honor, concealing any trace of suspicion. Yet, the halls were watched, and every movement followed. That night, as the assassin crept toward his uncle’s chamber, blade hidden beneath his robes, he was met not by a sleeping ruler, but by guards ready for the betrayal.
His capture was swift, yet Ugas Nour did not condemn him. Instead, he looked into his nephew’s eyes—not with fury, but with profound sorrow.
“Your mother’s heart broke long before you lifted the blade. Go, and let this lesson be your punishment—betrayal will haunt you more than death ever could.”
The failed assassin was sent back to his clan, not in chains, but with the crushing weight of shame. The Bar-tirre plot had not just failed—it had exposed their dishonor to all the clans.
Legacy of Mercy and Wisdom
This incident, whispered through generations, marked the end of a dangerous rivalry. Ugas Nour’s choice of mercy over vengeance echoed across the highlands, securing his legacy not just as a wise leader, but as a man whose honor could not be shattered by betrayal.
The Meder Plateau remained peaceful, and the Reer Ugas remembered the story of a ruler who faced death from within his own blood—but chose to break the cycle of violence.
And in the quiet nights, when the wind howled through the foothills of Gurays, the land itself seemed to recite the poem of Ugas Nour, reminding all who listened that true strength lies not in the blade—but in forgiveness.
Reff: Prof Hassan Warfa
