Lovers' Quarrel: The Case of Binti Cumar Gacal and Cabdinuur Alaale
How One Woman's Heartbreak Anthem Sparked a Musical Gender War...?
Being a second-generation Somali who loves history but had little exposure to Somali heritage—I mean, besides speaking the language and attending weddings—I've always struggled to learn more about my people. Due to Somalia being a traditionally oral society, our histories aren't in libraries and museums. They are stored in our elders. Growing up as the eldest daughter, life was full of struggles to survive, making means out of little, and attempting to lay roots in a foreign land. Having downtime for stories is hard when your parents are too busy trying to survive.
So, I've been left to look to the internet to learn my heritage. Past the messiness of qabil (clanship), wedding discourse, and diaspora wars amongst Somalis, I found a few gems that go beyond the superficial conversations that most Somalis engage in. On TikTok, accounts like WaaberiPhone and gulufkawaqooyi, are dedicated to sharing Somali archives, movies, songs, poetry, and dance, alongside attaching translations and historical context to every post have helped a lot!
While those TikTok accounts focus on historic Somalia, it was SomaliNet that connected me to Somali pop culture. When I tell you the online forum, albeit messy as hell, has been my gateway to learning about cultural moments in Somali history, I'm not lying. Commentary on everything, from politics to entertainment, to religion, to history, and of course clanship. True to Somali nature, the people talk for days.
I've used this site to help me understand the context of my earlier post about Somali Gabays (oral poetry) and occasionally scroll on there to practice my reading skills. A few weeks ago, I came across an interesting forum discussion about one of my favourite songs by Binti Cumar Gacal.
In Somali musical tradition, there's a unique collaborative process at play: abwaans (poets) write lyrics, composers create the melody, and singers bring these elements together in performance. This three-part creative partnership is exemplified in "Anigoo Balad Xawoo Jooga." The lyrics were penned by poet Yusuf Alaa, while Tahlil Warsame composed the melody. However, it was Binti Cumar Gacal, a renowned Somali artist, who breathed life into the song with her powerful performance, transforming this tale of a deceptive lover into a cultural touchstone.
Binti Cumar Gacal Song Analysis:
"The young man I admired,
The boy who called to me with his gaze,
The one with whom I planted the seeds of love,
I followed his call."
Binti begins with an evocative description of a love that felt pure and mutual. She paints the young man as someone who captivates her attention, drawing her in with his charm. The imagery of “planting the seeds of love” symbolizes her hope and investment in this relationship, reflecting a deep emotional vulnerability.
"While I was in Balad Xaawo,
Why did his voice call me from afar?
When I reached Boosaaso,
Why did he sing to me from Burco?"
This stanza reveals her growing confusion and heartbreak. Binti maps out the geographic and emotional distances between them, underscoring the inconsistencies in his behaviour. The fact that he seems to call to her from different, distant places could symbolize emotional unavailability or deception. Her questions suggest a yearning for clarity and truth—a plea to understand his shifting presence in her life.
"While crossing the fertile fields,
If he boarded a boat on the sea,
Was he deceiving me with falsehoods?"
Here, Binti uses the natural imagery of “fertile fields” and “sea” to juxtapose her hopes for their love with the uncertainty of his actions. The question of deceit introduces a pivotal theme in the song: trust is shattered by betrayal. It reflects the vulnerability of giving one’s heart to someone who may not have been as committed.
"Oh, Lord, you are my witness!
Save me, rescue me!
If I heal and recover from this,
From how I leapt away from love,
I vow to grieve for love no more."
In this chorus, Binti turns to God, a deeply spiritual moment that resonates with her community. By calling on divine witness and intervention, she seeks solace and strength to heal from her heartbreak. Her vow to “grieve for love no more” reflects a desire to protect herself from future pain—an emotional barricade against the vulnerability that love demands.
"If I cry for another man again,
If I flee and say goodbye,
Even blessings should not follow me."
These lines are striking in their intensity, as Binti curses herself should she ever fall into the same emotional trap. This self-directed anger hints at the internalized blame that many women in patriarchal societies experience when relationships fail, even when they’ve been deceived or wronged.
"I took his departure as the end of the affair,
Of the love from a bygone era."
This reflects her acceptance of the relationship’s end, but the phrase “love from a bygone era” carries a nostalgic tone. It suggests she still grapples with the emotional weight of their shared history, even as she tries to move forward.
"The promises he once called me with,
And the beauty with which I replied.
The boy who waited for me by the sea,
The one who stirred my heart deeply,
The one who caressed my soul gently,
Yet I failed to awaken to the truth."
Binti acknowledges the promises that initially bound them together and her own role in responding to his affection. Yet, her realization that she “failed to awaken to the truth” suggests a moment of self-awareness—a recognition that she may have ignored red flags or been blinded by love.
"Once he healed and realized,
If he drew me into a change of heart,
Was he digging a pit for me to fall into?"
This stanza questions whether his intentions were ever sincere. Binti contemplates the possibility that his actions were manipulative, casting doubt on his emotional integrity. Her imagery of a “pit” evokes a sense of betrayal and entrapment.
"Oh, Lord, you are my witness!
Save me, rescue me!
If I heal and recover from this,
From how I leapt away from love,
I vow to grieve for love no more."
The repetition of this chorus reinforces the cyclical nature of her pain and her reliance on faith to find closure. It also amplifies the emotional gravity of her experience, turning her heartbreak into a universal lament.
The song became an instant hit, establishing itself as a quintessential heartbreak anthem in the community, beloved by women of all ages. Several other singers recorded covers, including Nashteho Indho, whose version is particularly moving. However, the story behind the song is rarely discussed. From what I understand, the man Binti is singing about is Cabdinuur Allaale/Alaale, another well-known Somali singer.
While Binti's song maps an intimate journey of betrayal through Somalia's landscape, Cabdinuur's response transforms their private pain into a broader indictment of women's autonomy. Where she speaks of personal heartbreak and specific moments of deception, he chooses to weaponize cultural expectations and gender norms. His response reveals how quickly a woman's individual experience can be twisted into a referendum on female behaviour in Somali society.
Cabdinuur Alaale’s Response:
Cabdinuur responded to Binti's song shortly after, addressing her portrayal of him as a deceptive lover. His response song (known on YouTube as "Bixiso Kaban") turns her accusations around, claiming her unreasonable demands ruined their love:
"The love we once shared has now shattered,
When you turned your needs into demands."
Cabdinuur sets the tone by placing the blame squarely on Binti. The framing of her “needs” as “demands” is troubling—it dismisses her agency and portrays her as unreasonable, perpetuating the stereotype of women as overbearing when they assert their desires in relationships.
"Oh Bilaneey, dear Baxsaneey,
You were the ones who strayed from the path."
Here, the language takes a moralizing tone, accusing Binti of “straying” and implying she bears sole responsibility for the breakdown of the relationship. This reflects a cultural double standard where women are often burdened with the blame for failed relationships, regardless of context.
"Your family didn’t offer you to me,
Nor did they grant us the chance to unite."
This line is particularly revealing. The notion that her family “didn’t offer” her to him underscores a cultural practice deeply embedded in Somali society: the idea that a woman’s value and choices are tied to her family’s honour. It’s worth noting that in many Somali relationships, the man approaches the woman’s family to signify his seriousness. By focusing on what her family didn’t do, Cabdinuur conveniently avoids accountability for his role in the situation.
"Our Lord (and culture) never allowed such liberty."
This line reinforces systemic misogyny. It subtly frames the lack of freedom in their relationship as an external, divinely or culturally imposed constraint. Yet, it’s also a deflection—by blaming religion and culture, Cabdinuur avoids reflecting on his failures or choices within their relationship.
"Be strong, for you chose this path yourself."
This shifts the blame entirely onto Binti, ignoring the complex dynamics of relationships and the shared responsibility they require. By suggesting she “chose” her pain, he erases his role in creating it.
"If you women have found healing,
Men now roam in search of what was lost."
This statement juxtaposes men as victims and women as destroyers. It perpetuates a harmful narrative of men’s suffering as a consequence of women’s actions, without acknowledging the systemic and interpersonal factors that might have contributed to the situation.
"The heroes you rejected and struck down,
The ones you wounded and discarded—
Bintiyeey, have you already forgotten?"
Referring to men as “heroes” positions them as inherently noble, even when their actions are questionable. This narrative perpetuates the idea that women are at fault for men’s struggles, again minimizing men’s responsibility in relationships.
"Yet while I was in Berbera,
What led you to Bur Saciid?"
The geographic imagery here serves as a veiled accusation of infidelity or betrayal, further portraying Binti as the one who destabilized their relationship. However, there’s no indication of what Binti’s perspective is in this moment.
"The love we built, you destroyed,
And the solace I offered, you scorned."
By framing himself as the provider of “solace,” Cabdinuur paints himself as magnanimous and Binti as ungrateful. It’s a common trope in misogynistic rhetoric: positioning men as saviours whose efforts go unappreciated.
"Even calling the police on them—
Sister, have you already forgotten?"
This mention of law enforcement is significant. If this is set in Somalia, it’s worth questioning the validity of his claim. Domestic violence isn’t often taken seriously in Somalia, which makes his complaint feel exaggerated or misplaced. If this refers to the diaspora, it highlights a double standard where women accessing legal protections are vilified for defending themselves.
Cabdinuur’s response evades responsibility, using cultural norms and systemic issues to deflect blame. His words are less about introspection and more about justifying his actions by scapegoating Binti. The song reflects larger societal patterns where women’s agency is diminished, and cultural expectations are weaponized against them. Ultimately, it takes two to be in a relationship—and two to take accountability when it falters.
Any Winners in this Situation?
There’s so much to say about Cabdinuur’s song, but every time I begin writing, I get angry. Before hearing his response, I assumed this was just a petty lovers’ quarrel between him and Binti. But true to my feminist killjoy nature, I couldn’t find anything humorous in his words.
While his song touches on the deep-rooted misogyny in Somali culture—a topic I could analyze for days—I fear this post might become too long if I dive into it all here.
The drama doesn’t end here, though! In Part Two, I’ll unpack the public’s reaction to this lovers’ quarrel. Another Somali singer, Sado Cali, stepped into the fray with her response, “Gartaadii Waxay Bashiishay” (Your Case Has Been Exposed).
For now, I’ll say this: having heard Binti’s song before knowing the full drama, I’d argue hers was the bigger hit. It spawned countless covers, is still sung by mothers in the community, and has become the quintessential heartbreak anthem. In stan culture terms, Binti’s song was a smash hit, while Cabdinuur’s response… flopped.