The stories below, of a husband who suddenly abandoned his
family, another whose marriage came to an end because he run out of stories,
and a woman who decided not to tell the man she was seeing of her impending
marriage to another man, are few examples of how prevalent aborted or short
term marriages are in the Somali communities in the U.S.
The common denominator in these odd and short-lived marriage
stories is that greed, infidelity, self-absorption and mistrust do not mix with
a healthy marriage
The $20,000 Dowry
that Never Was
“Guled” is one of many elderly people who are still mystified
by the Americanized young Somalis. He laughed when he said that back home,
marriage ceremonies were simple and less complicated. Here in the States, he
has heard of some newly-weds even renting helicopters. “Where are they flying
to?” he mused. Furthermore, there are raucous festivities, showers for the
bride, and endless fun gatherings associated with these weddings.
Guled was once a
witness to the marriage ceremony of a young couple. The cleric asked the groom
if the $20,000 proposed dowry was acceptable. The groom was unfazed and nodded
his head in approval. However the cleric and the father of the bride were
alarmed at the astronomical sum.
“This is not
good,” the cleric declared timidly.
“I agree
with you,” replied the father, with implacable honesty.
The father of the bride talked to his daughter and begged her
to lower her dowry amount, but she refused. The cleric warned about the
futility of putting an undue financial burden on the groom. Then, said Guled,
to the chagrin of some of those present, the bride reminded her father about a
young lady who had gotten married a week earlier.
“What does
that marriage have to do with yours? The father asked in annoyance.
“Well, if
that girl’s dowry was $15,000, then mine has to be $20, 000,” said the bride.
“She is no better than I am.”
Guled was perplexed by what was transpiring before his eyes.
“The good thing about that marriage ceremony,” he stated, “it was completed
successfully, albeit with a price tag of $20,000.”
That, however, was just a warm-up for what came next.
After three years of what Guled termed a ‘happy’ marriage,
the couple separated. Divorce papers were officially filed.
Did the husband pay the dowry?
“A young man once told me that the majority of those getting
married never bother to pay their dowries,” opined Guled. “Many times, it is
just for show.”
The $20,000 groom was not the exception. But then, this is the type of unpaid bill
that never goes to a collection agency or ruins your credit worthiness in this
world. However, in the Hereafter, as Guled cautioned, it is a different story.
Mary Me Pronto or
Adios!
“Salaad” is an
educated man in his early forties. He
was once married to a non-Somali woman who obsessed with Googling him.
“I would go home and my wife would say, ‘So, you gave a
speech at the [so-and-so] company function’.” He shared with her many things
about his job, news of his relatives, and his friends. Of course, occasionally,
he would forget—not out of malice—to tell her other things. When that happened,
she got upset and accused him of hiding part of his life from her. Today, many
corporations put their activities online. Salaad’s ex feasted on that pool of
information, he complained, and used it negatively. At any rate, the couple
ended up getting divorced.
Four months after the divorce, Salaad met a Somali woman. She
was smart, funny, vivacious, and a dazzling beauty with an exceptional work
ethic. For a month, that wonderful woman brought dinner to his office every day.
“I shoveled down more fish in that short period,” he joked,
“than a seal can consume in an entire month.” She made Salaad appreciate fish,
chicken, and vegetables to the point that his friends teased him, saying he was
a traitor to that carnivorous species called Somali men.
Two problems appeared, however, in their relationship. She
wanted to get married within a month of their meeting. No, that couldn’t
happen, he thought. He was practically on the rebound. It was too soon for him. She said he was just
Americanized. The other problem was that she would constantly call him, like
twice every hour, simply to check on him. She wanted to know where he was and
who he was meeting. If another woman asked him a question, she was irritated.
“That woman is interested in you,” she would say to him. “Look at the way she
is staring at you. You are naïve.”
One Tuesday night, she called Salaad and they talked like any
couple engaged in “shukaansi”
(flirtation). Four days later, he went to the store where her brother worked.
Of course, the brother did not know Salaad was talking to his only sister. The
brother seemed jovial and chatty, so Salaad asked him what was new.
“My sister
is getting married today!” He beamed a big smile.
“Your sister
is getting married?” Salaad inquired, hoping this news was some kind of joke.
“Yes, she
is.”
Salaad was
dumbfounded. Was her brother serious?
“Am I the
first Somali man who was getting married and not even invited to his own
wedding?” Salaad asked himself.
Salaad was
speechless. Then, he composed himself and sheepishly asked who the lucky man
was.
“It is Omar
Shiino,” said the brother. “They have known each other for two years.”
Salaad was still in a state of shock, but now he was also
incensed about his friend’s elaborate and duplicitous actions. How come she never told him about her other
man? Then, Salaad became petty and also
jealous. This Omar Shiino guy was a truck driver and Salaad was a nurse. “This
shouldn’t happen,” he thought.
Of course,
Salaad’s friend got married that night, exactly four nights after their
memorable banter. “It was the biggest
Somali wedding in the history of Nashville or maybe even in the state of
Tennessee,” lamented Salaad.
Two years
later, Salaad saw his friend in a cafe. He curiously asked her why she had done
what she did to him.
“You were my
first choice to marry,” she said, “but you were not ready.” A year later, her marriage came to an end.
The Husband Who Mysteriously
Disappeared
“Anab” was once married to a man who was a
great father but a lousy husband. She
tolerated him because he doted on their seven children. One day, Anab and her
children woke up and found her husband and their father inexplicably gone. He
had abandoned them. Her father-in-law called and told her that her husband had
gone to Nairobi, Kenya. “He got tired of you,” he added.
Anab was hurt and became bitter. What
kind of prudent man, she wondered, would abandon his own family? Her husband had no relatives in Kenya. In
Nairobi, he stayed in a hotel, ate, prayed, slept, and consumed large
quantities of khat, a mild stimulant
plant which is legal in some countries but illegal in others like the U.S. His large family in America sent him several
hundred dollars every month, but they did not support Anab and her children.
“My husband led an idyllic life,” she
said. “He did not work, support us, or even check on us.” Anab knew her husband
had an appetite for the finer things in life, but she never thought he would be
so callous and irresponsible.
“I believe his emotional development
was arrested at a young age because, at times, he acted like a nine-year-old
boy, not a grown man,” she remarked.
She waited for him to return or
contact her but nothing happened. After three years, she decided to move on and
annulled their marriage on the grounds of neglect, abandonment and a lack of
financial support.
Several months later, Anab met
another Somali man. Her parents were not happy that she was getting married
again so soon. They pleaded with her to wait another year. “It is not good for
the children to have in their midst a man who has never married before,” her
mother warned her, but she got married anyway.
Her new husband was madly in love
with her, and she felt the same way toward him. Everything seemed to be falling
into place. She felt happy and her children began to adjust to their
stepfather.
However, trouble always begins when
things are unusually calm.
Guess who came out of the woods when
he heard that Anab had married again? Of course, it was her ex. He had
immediately returned to the U.S. and launched into a threatening tirade. “How
dare you bring another man to my house?” he screamed at her. His family also
threw gasoline on the fire. They heaped indignities on Anab and called her
every name in the book. No one asked her ex what he had been doing in Kenya for
three years. What had he done for his family during that period? Anab was
painted as an irresponsible spouse, a loose woman who couldn’t even wait for
her husband.
Her ex went into battle and waged an
all-out campaign to ruin her new marriage. He used their children and instilled
in them hatred toward their step-father. The campaign was successful. Her new
husband left her. The poor man couldn’t take it anymore.
“In essence, I went through two
divorces in a span of six months,” she said.
That was many years ago.
“Did I tell you that I am back with my first husband?” she
said as though she were a broadcaster delivering breaking news. Her parents
pressured her to take him back. This time, she listened to them and remarried
him.
“We have been happily married ever since,” declared Anab
triumphantly.
Then, she was quiet a moment and then said reluctantly,
“Strike that last sentence. We are still married.”
The Man Who Ran Out
of Stories
When “Abdiqani” was courting his
ex-wife, he was full of life. He remembered talking to her over the phone for
hour after hour. One Saturday, the two broke the record and talked for nine
straight hours. They got married and had two children.
Then, Abdiqani ran out of conversation.
“I would come home from work, eat,
and relax in the living room. I found myself never talking to her,” he said.
Before, he was the one who initiated most of their talks, and she was the great
listener. He asked her why they were not talking like they had before. His wife
had a terse reply for him. “You are a
man incapable of self-insight,” she told Abdiqani. She also accused him of
being self-absorbed and very high maintenance.
In a nutshell, their searing family
drama came to an end. The couple got divorced.
But Abdiqani believes he made a big
mistake. Suddenly, he became a single man, a status the loquacious man was not
used to. “Now, I am lonely, as I do not have anyone to talk to anymore,” he
said sadly.
Like a student who did not learn from
his past mistakes, Abdiqani asked rhetorically, “Am I egotistical?” Then he
floated an odd idea that, perhaps, he should check the Guinness Book of Records. “I think I am, maybe, the first man who
was divorced because he ran out of conversation,” he declared.
Hassan M. Abukar is a writer and political analyst.
(Reprinted with permission from Sahan Journal, August 3, 2013)
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