Trouble on the Homefront (Part 1): Somali Stories

This is part 1 of a five-part series about Somali families in the diaspora. While many Somali men are consumed with endless political chatter, their homes are wracked by dysfunction and neglect. The names and locations of these individuals have been changed for privacy reasons.  

***

A Serial Deserter

It started with a simple phone call in the wee hours of the morning.

“Your daughter is in the hospital, Liban,” said the caller.

My ex-wife was calling to inform me that our daughter, 22, had had a nervous breakdown. Shocked and dazed, I immediately bought a ticket to Atlanta. My daughter was an “A” student: diligent, studious, and self-sufficient. She had a job, an apartment, and a car. Apparently, she has stopped taking her medication. She also stopped eating, showering, attending classes and visiting family members.

I visited her in the hospital, and she barely recognized me because she was so heavily medicated. Several days later, she felt better and was finally released to her mom’s care.

In this difficult time, I stayed in my ex’s house, which she shared with her mother and a son from a previous marriage. Suddenly, I became a caring father to a daughter I had abandoned when she was barely nine years old. Sadly, many men have a tendency to discard their children once they are divorced. 

As weeks passed, I realized my stay with my ex was a colossal mistake. We grew closer. She was attractive, fun, exuberant, and enthused. She also seemed happy to see me, even though I was married with children in Michigan. In a short time, we managed to put our acrimonious divorce on the back burner. My former mother-in-law was elated that we all were on good terms. Of course, no mother wants her daughter to remain single. I found myself slowly but surely being drawn toward my ex and conveniently became oblivious to what led to our divorce in the first place: Lack of trust, possessiveness, and constant fights.

 

I do not know what made our interaction this time more amicable and harmonious. Perhaps, we were too young, at age 23, when we married in a refugee camp in Kenya. Our union had been rocky, stressful, and lasted a decade. She had three miscarriages, which weighed on her emotionally. Our relationship did not withstand the test of time and we divorced immediately after we arrived in America.  Subsequently, I met another woman and married. That marriage, in its eighth year, had been going well until that fateful phone call. 

Fast forward: I am now in Atlanta with my ex, a move that turned heads. Frankly, it was a devastating decision to my wife back in Michigan and to our four children. None of them expected such a rapid and earth-shaking development. My seven-year-old son dropped a stinking rebuke about me. “Dad, how can you say you love us when you just left us?” he lamented. His mother sank into a state of despondency. She cursed and scowled at me and understandably filed for divorce on the grounds of abandonment. For me, I have not felt such happiness and contentment in my life. I was itching for change and wanted to get out of the doldrums of Michigan. However, leaving my family was not in the playbook. Now, I am a pariah even among my relatives. I have been called “selfish” and “irresponsible.” You can’t please all the people.

Emotionally and financially fleeced

At age 25, I met a Somali refugee in Kenya whom I thought would be my soulmate. He was 27, a solidly-built man, gregarious, and dashingly handsome. He seemed to radiate calm. He mesmerized me and I felt it was love at first sight. We started meeting in public places and after a few months decided to get married. Unfortunately, neither of us had his or her place. I was getting ready to emigrate to the U.S. and my goal was to sponsor him later to come to the U.S.

When I arrived at America, I embarked on securing a full-time job so I could help my husband and pave the way for our eventual reunion. I was fortunate I spoke English fluently and had a college degree. In several months, I had a well-paying job and started sending $500 every month to my husband. Like many Somali refugees in Nairobi, he was living in a hotel and was financially dependent on me.

My husband and I called each other constantly to strengthen our bond. He seemed someone who truly missed me, always peppering his conversations with romantic banter. At times, it looked surreal like a Bollywood movie. Two years later, I went back to Kenya to visit him for a month.

I saved $7,000 in a short period and sent it to my uncle in Portland, Maine, an employee of a money wire company. I lived and worked in a small town in Kansas which lacked Somali stores and wiring services. I specifically told my uncle to send the money to my husband in three installments because he was completing his immigration screening process to join me. At any rate, my husband received the $7,000 in full and obviously was shocked. I immediately called him not to use the money except $2,000 because I had to buy furniture for our apartment. He promised to wire back the remaining $5,000 within a week.

One week passed, then two and three without getting the money. I called my husband repeatedly but he was not answering. Then, his line was disconnected. Numerous calls to mutual friends and relatives brought no satisfying answer. It was clear my husband was disengaging from me. My main concern was his welfare. Was he OK? Was he arrested by Kenyan police? My mind was racing with scary thoughts. Frankly, little did I care about the missing funds?

I was planning to take time off and go to Kenya when I got the bad news: My husband is married with four children. How did that happen? I wondered. “This is preposterous,” I told my cousin who told me the news.

I double-checked the story and was able to verify it. I was devastated and became under extreme emotional duress. The time off I had requested from my employer came in handy as I was unable to focus. I became like zombie; the living dead. I contacted the American immigration agency and reported the egregious fraud on my husband’s part, canceled the application, and voided our marriage.

Now, a year has passed and I am barely recovering from this tragedy. The traumatic experience brought me lasting bitterness and regret. Needless to say—as unfair as I may sound—I became distrustful of Somali men. My former husband belonged to a distinct criminal class: Somali Men in East Africa who prey on women in the diaspora.

Relationships in Flux (Part 5): Somali Stories

This is part 5 of a series about true stories of Somalis living in the U.S. and their relationships. The series is part of “Courtship and Marriage: The Somali Experience in America,” a book currently being written. The author has interviewed three dozen people whose names and locations have been changed for privacy reasons. I will let each tell his or her own story.

***

Milestone

After my college graduation, I found myself married. Fortunately, my wife and I had professional jobs, but the biggest challenge we faced was maintaining our marriage. We constantly argued. Our mutual love was still strong, but getting along under one roof was very challenging. No one had prepared us for the notion that love alone is not sufficient for maintaining a happy marriage. The adage, “You do not know someone until you live with him/her,” proved correct. I was angry, frustrated, and fearful of what the future held for our nascent union. We created controversy out of thin air. Most of our conflicts centered on household chores and money management. I read many books, women’s magazines, and even talked to older friends about how to fix our marriage. I couldn’t consult with my parents because they were never enthusiastic of my “hasty decision” to marry. However, life always has twists and turns.

When I became a naturalized American citizen, I decided to do something for my adopted country—a civic act. I volunteered to be an election worker on Election Day. It was a long day that started at 6 in the morning and lasted until the polls closed at 8 PM. I served as an assistant to an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Hoffmann. They were in their early seventies, amiable, funny, encouraging, generous, and very helpful. What struck me the most was their interaction, which was based on love, kindness, caring, and respect. They listened to each other attentively with minimum interruption. 

During a break, I asked Mr. Hoffmann on what made their 50 -year marriage endure. He took me aside and made an audacious claim: “There is nothing special about our marriage.”  He continued, “I am no marriage guru and I only know what I do as a husband: Engage in gentle communication.”

“Communication is the key. You have to talk to your wife calmly and gently and never accuse her of anything,” he said. “Always use ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ when discussing contentious matters. In other words, do not be accusatory.”

I left the polling place that night excited about my civic experience, but a bit skeptical of Hoffmann’s marital advice. My marriage continued to be tense and contentious. However, one night I decided to give Hoffmann’s idea a chance. I stopped arguing with my wife and, being the ever inveterate complainer, I tempered my tone and became more positive and supportive. My wife was perplexed. “I am an intuitive: I know something is up,” she said.  She suspected I had given up on the marriage and was doing something nefarious. Initially, it was tough for me to maintain the new positive, kinder, and gentler approach to our union, and occasionally I would lapse into my old habit of nitpicking.

Through trial and error, however, my wife and I improved our marriage. I listen to her and rarely argue with her. We solve our problems in a way that is based on respect and understanding. We have agreed not to employ the “silent treatment” in resolving conflicts. Yes, we can be angry with each other, but we have vowed to keep our lines of communication open. “Marriage,” as Hoffmann used to say, “involves hard work and constant maintenance.”

***

When the past is still present

Getting out of my first marriage was a daunting task. Indeed, it was a vexatious period; an agonizing eight years. The union was punctuated by a rare blend of contradictions: Indifference vs. occasional tenderness; high tension vs. periods of calmness; exciting travels vs. self-imposed home stays; and intense romantic moments vs. times of indifference and loathing.  

The marriage produced two children. In reality, the children were our marital glue.

Even though we were separated so many times I lost count, it was always a fluid separation marked by frequent visits from my ex, weekend stay overs, and occasionally attending social functions, such as weddings, as a couple. We gave “separation” a bad name.  My ex and I depended on each other exclusively and completely, even when we were separated. Vulnerable people usually return to their comfort zone. It was a tumultuous on-again, off-again relationship.   

My ex was my first big heart-throb. After we divorced, he married a woman 12 years his junior. Perhaps I have difficulty accepting my former husband being with another woman.

Okay then, why am I talking about my ex?

Unfortunately, it is because he is still part of my life.

Four years after my divorce, I met a man who was the opposite of my ex, a kinder, caring man. After several months of courtship, we married. Then we had a major problem: He decided to relocate the family to Minnesota, and I utterly opposed it. If I had moved from the state of Washington, where I reside, my boys would have been exclusively raised by my ex because he had — and still have— partial custody of them. My ex was a lousy husband—selfish, volatile, temperamental, and emotionally unavailable—but, in fairness, he has always been a good father. The boys, 13 and 15, love him. My new husband wanted to move us out of the state because he had a job offer from Minnesota. He already had a professional job in Seattle but had an ulterior motive: He couldn’t stand my ex, a prominent member of our community. We all attended the same mosque, shopped at the same mall, and frequently ran into each other at local parks and restaurants. Most of all, my ex would come to our house every Friday evening, pick up the boys, and then drop them off on Sunday.

What is wrong with our Somali men that they do not take us women seriously? For instance, I had told my husband during our courtship about the vexing issue of the boys’ custody and the fact that I was not allowed, by an order of court, to remove them from Washington. At the time, he seemed understanding and agreeable. Perhaps it was not an issue for him then because he was pursuing me intensely. A year after we married, he started talking about moving to Minnesota. My parents encouraged me to go with him. “The boys will be fine with their father,” my mother would say. “You need to look after yourself.” I couldn’t do it because the children needed their mother as much as they needed their father. My ex had even threatened to take me to Family Court if I moved.

Initially, I was confused and didn’t know what to do. However, after much deliberation, I decided to stay in Seattle.  I couldn’t see myself abandoning the boys for a man, any man. They meant the world to me. In a nutshell, I chose my children over love.

My husband moved to Minnesota afterwards, angry and bitter because I had “disobeyed” him. “Follow your husband,” a local imam had admonished me. “You owe it to him.” Of course, we divorced.

Now, after two years, I have curiously asked myself where my former husband is and what he has been doing. Most of all, was he able to leave the past behind without allowing it to define or shackle him in his current life?

The past still haunts me. I am still in Seattle; single yes, but not dead. I may be hopelessly romantic, but I am lucky I still have two beautiful men in my life, my sons. Being single though is hard, but raising boys in America is even harder. Love, after all, can wait.

(Reprinted with permission from Sahan Journal, December 12, 2015).

Relationships in Flux (Part 4): Somali Stories

This is part four of a series about true stories of Somalis living in the U.S. and their relationships. The series is part of “Courtship and Marriage: The Somali Experience in America,” a book currently being written. The author has interviewed three dozen people whose names and locations have been changed for privacy reasons. I will let each tell his or her own story.

***

A forsaken marriage

Ours is a marriage replete with dysfunction and frustration. We are in our forties, have been married for a decade with no kids, and are gainfully employed. By all measures, our union has run out of steam and we live a humdrum existence.

We come home from work, eat, clean the dishes, relax, and play with our toys—our smart phones and laptops. We can spend hours and hours in the living room surfing the Internet without exchanging a word. Close to midnight, we go to bed, tired and exhausted. Oddly, we do not even say “goodnight” to each other anymore. 

Intimacy has been absent for over a year — snuggling is very rare, and sharing an activity is an oddity. Simply put, we stopped communicating as a couple some time ago. I have pleaded with my wife that we resolve our issues and seek professional help, but to no avail. She scoffs at me for being “naïve” and a “dreamer.” “What will an imam or a therapist do for you that you can’t do yourself?” she sneers. 

One day, I decided to go to Kenya to visit my relatives. I renewed my passport and purchased a ticket. Then a calamity befell me. Two days before my trip, I was arrested for an alleged instance of domestic violence. Before my arrest, my wife confronted me: “You are going abroad to marry a young woman in Nairobi. I know you, loser!” Then she snatched my travel documents and shredded them. Subsequently, she contacted the authorities. Poised and sounding rehearsed, she told the police her story: “my husband hit me and shoved me.”

I spent 21 days in jail waiting for my case to be heard. It was a traumatizing, soul-crushing experience. When my case finally came to trial, my wife suddenly had a change of heart—she told the court that she had lied about the whole thing. “I was jealous and afraid my husband would marry in Africa, like many Somali men do,” she explained. She cried profusely and asked for forgiveness. “My husband never hit me,” she added. I was exonerated, but at a huge price. I lost my job, was humiliated, and my reputation in the community was blemished. Most of all, I became resentful toward my wife because she had driven a wedge dangerously deep.

What used to be a dysfunctional home suddenly became full of hostility. Now I always have one eye on the door. In my mind, my wife has become the personification of all that has gone wrong in our marriage: a vapid lifestyle, vengefulness, and viciousness. But I am equally responsible for the failure of our marriage because I have become uninterested in the union. My wife accuses me of being involved in “qutbi-sireed” (a secret marriage). When your needs are not met, you do what you have to do. You can call me a cheater and fraud, and I can live with that. However, I have ruled out any reconciliation between us; my departure is our only salvation.

(Reprinted with permission from Sahan Journal, November 25, 2015).

Relationships in Flux (Part 3): Somali Stories

Relationships in Flux (Part 3): Somali Stories

This is part three of a series about true stories of Somalis in the U.S. and their relationships. The series is part of “Courtship and Marriage: The Somali Experience in America,” a book project the author is finishing. The author has interviewed three dozen people whose names and locations have been changed for privacy reasons. I will let each protagonist tell his or her own story.

***

Romance ruined by a clash of clans

Six years ago, I was checking a Somali dating site and stumbled on an interesting profile of a Somali woman. I immediately contacted her. Her reply was swift and stern: “How did you get my contact information?” she demanded.  Apparently, she thought she had deleted her account with the website. Confused, I introduced myself briefly and she did the same. We realized we lived in the same city, Nashville, and agreed to meet at a café. When I saw her, I was stunned by her extraordinary beauty and amiable personality. We talked for an hour, and eventually the conversation turned to the slippery subject of clan affiliation.  The woman — I’ll call her “Hufan” — wanted to know my clan. She told me, in the manner of a teacher explaining an elementary concept to a new student, that life was already complicated, and she did not want to add a new wrinkle to it. “Just tell me your clan before things get out of hand,” she commanded.

“Tunni,” I said.

“What? Tuna. What did you say? I never heard that name,” she muttered.

Hufan was from a region hundreds of miles north of Mogadishu and belonged to a bigger tribe than mine. She paused thoughtfully, then continued: “I am sorry, but I can’t date someone from an obscure clan.”  I felt a knot in my stomach and had difficulty understanding why a Somali woman would disqualify me from a potential courtship just because I belonged to a clan which she derisively called it “obscure.”  “Let me say this,” I told her, “people from the south care less about one’s clan. Besides, many people know who the Tunni are.” Moreover, I asked her why my clan had to define me as a man.

Eventually, Hufan and I went our separate ways. I got married and had a child. Over the years, our brief encounter became a distant memory. Then, one day, we ran into each other at an ethnic grocery shop. My daughter, 3, was with me. Hufan was gracious; she greeted us warmly and talked to my daughter teasingly. She seemed to be in an ebullient mood.

“So, you got married?”

“Yes, to a Somali woman from Galkacayo.”

“Congratulations,” Hufan smiled.

“Thank you.”

“From your people?”

“My people are not from Galkacayo.”

I then asked her whether she had married.

“Actually, I am getting married this spring to a man from Ghana.”

“What is his clan?”

“Hello! What is wrong with you? He is not from Somalia.”

“Ok, but don’t they have tribes in Ghana?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.”

“Really?”

“Any way, you are invited to my wedding.”

I did not know whether to be vindictive or supportive. On the one hand, I was glad Hufan was finally getting married. On the other hand, I was seething with resentment. I was acting like a jilted Somali man dumped in favor of a Ghanaian. If Hufan had married a Somali man from one of the so-called “big” clans, my reaction would have been muted; in fact, I would have given her credit for at least being consistent in her twisted belief and deeds. However, matters of the heart are difficult to gauge; when you fall in love you fall in love.

I have decided not to go to Hufan’s wedding. I am taking a stand, not because she once humiliated me, but because I am boycotting her clannish worldview. Her bias against me reflected the paralysis that has settled over the issue of clans in our communities. The core paradox of a clannish person is: There is one standard for Somalis and another for the rest of mankind.

 (Reprinted from Sahan Journal, November 06, 2015).

The Naming and Shaming of Ambassador Ali Americo

The United Nations Monitoring Group Report on Somalia and Eritrea, which was released this week, offers a scathing attack on former Somali ambassador to Kenya, Mohamed Ali Nur “Americo” for engaging in a widespread graft and misappropriation of state funds. Americo, who was stationed in Nairobi for a decade, has yet to respond to the allegations.

Many loved the popular ambassador for his accessibility, humbleness, and activism. In April of this year, three weeks after he was recalled to Mogadishu, he told Abdi Latif Dahir of Sahan Journal that he was honored to be liked by many people. “I was doing my job, and it is really nice when you are liked for what you did,” he humbly said. “God forbid the other way around,” he added. As if to punctuate his message and legacy, he said “I am leaving on a high note.”

Not so fast.

Per the UN Report, Americo ran the Embassy like his own fiefdom. He controlled embassy funds, personally paid the staff, paid all expenses, and, on rare occasions, even personally transferred money to Somalia. In one case, he opened an account in the name of the Embassy that was different from the official account and had a friend outside the Embassy to run the bank accounts. Mohamed Ahmed Anwar, a friend of Ambassador Americo, told the UN Monitoring Group that he was never an employee of the Embassy, but nevertheless he acted as the envoy’s private accountant. Here is an account of how much money Anwar, the “private accountant,” handled for a major Somali Embassy under Americo:

1.      From June 2014 to April 2015, the Embassy collected USD $960,836 in fees for issuing 7,500 Somali passports and countless emergency travel documents. In that same period, only $486,258 was remitted to the Central Bank in Mogadishu, leaving about $474,578 unaccounted for.

2.      The Chinese Government donated $1 million to Somalia through the Embassy in Nairobi. Only $479,314 was deposited in the Central Bank and the remaining $517,686 was allegedly paid to a law firm (Ibrahim, Issack & Company) that provided services for a case that involved the illegal sale of the Somali Embassy property many years earlier. According to the UN Report, the invoice from the law firm was different from the actual amount allegedly paid. Fowzia Adam, then the Somali Foreign Minister, corroborated the irregularity of the way the Chinese donation was handled. When Mohamed Farmajo was prime minister, he had authorized the release about $112,000 specifically to the Embassy for the legal fees. However, Americo said he had no knowledge of that fund.

3.      The Somali Foreign Ministry allocates $49,200 to the Embassy every quarter ($196,000 annually) for operational costs and the Somali Federal Government an additional $246,000 every year. With the fees the Embassy collects for issuing passports and travel documents, the total yearly revenue for the Embassy is about $720,578. This rivals the annual budgets of three important federal ministries such as the Ministry of Health ($793,032), the Ministry of Labor ($760, 116) and the Ministry of Youth and Sports ($572, 220). 

Ten days before Ambassador Americo was to return to Mogadishu, he brought a team of information technology specialists to the Embassy to delete all sensitive files in the Embassy’s computers and furthermore “hard copies of documents” were “systematically destroyed,” according to the report. When the Embassy was handed to the new ambassador, per the UN report, only about $4,000 was left in the Embassy’s bank account. Moreover, Ambassador Americo had not paid the rent ($6,000 monthly) for the Embassy for months.

The UN Monitoring Group observers contacted Ambassador Americo about these allegations of misappropriating of funds. He was adamant he had done nothing wrong. In his words, he said that the missing funds had been used for the “assistance of refugees in Dadaab and Kakuma camps, rent of vehicles for dignitaries, assistance to Somalis accused of piracy in Mombasa, assistance of needy Somalis in Kenya, i.e. tickets, school fees, and hospital fees. Function for the Embassy. Assist Somalis throughout Kenya who needed assistance. Paid for school fees for students who got good grades for encouragement. Held seminars for the youth in Eastleigh, Mombasa and other cities. Paid hospital fees for the mothers, elders and other Somalis who could not pay their hospital fees.”

When Ambassador Americo was asked if he had any documentation for those services, he couldn’t furnish any.  No documents were found in the Embassy either.

The UN Monitoring Group Report raises legitimate questions about the way the Somali Federal Government and its officials handle public funds. The case of Ambassador Americo is one of many examples that need to be examined and, of course, the ambassador has every right to due process. Abdi Hosh, a Somali parliamentarian, has recently proposed in the social media that the Somali Attorney General “initiate prosecution proceedings against the individuals named, their properties put on a temporary lien and their passports confiscated.” Hosh added, “It would be courageous of the government to indict everyone who is mentioned in this [UN] report for misappropriation of money and recover all these monies.” This is the right course of action to leave the endless loop of recriminations and shenanigans on the side and to find the truth.

For Ambassador Americo, all the hoopla and the informal talk about possible 2016 presidential run might be prudent to be put on hold until he answers to these serious allegations .

Relationships in Flux (Part 2): Somali Stories

This is the last installment of a two-part series of true stories of Somalis in the U.S. and their relationships. The series is part of “Courtship and Marriage: The Somali Experience in America,” a book project that the author is finishing. The names and locations of these individuals have been changed for privacy reasons. I will let each protagonist tell his or her story.

***

Family Meddling

I am going crazy because I can’t stand my wife’s family.

In reality, my wife and I come from two different regions: I from central Somalia, and she from the south. Her family tradition is for relatives to live together or close by. Her grown-up siblings and their families all live either in the same building or a block away from their parents. When I married my wife, her father asked me to live with them but I politely declined. Apparently, he has not forgotten this snub and has carried a hateful resentment toward me ever since. In fact, he has declared war on me. Quite simply, this man hates me.

My father-in-law tells my wife what to do, how to spend her own money, and how much money to give him. Once, my father-in-law collected a sizable amount of jewelry from all his adult daughters and paid off a debt totaling $30,000. He also stockpiled obscene amounts of money from a dozen community members for a failed business venture. My father-in-law’s daily drill includes calling his adult children and inquiring about their circumstances, grilling them to tell him if anything is new in their lives. At times, he talks to his grandchildren, like my daughter, 11, and reprimands them for some infraction here and there. To him, I am merely a figurehead, not the head of my household. Two of my sisters-in-law went through a divorce because of their father’s interference in their marital relationships. I have talked to my father-in-law about all his meddling, but to no avail. My wife, on the hand, is too accommodating to him and fearful of him for a legitimate reason: He is known for his temper and confrontational behavior.

I tolerated my father-in-law for a long time and, in fact, I was resilient in the face of derision. However, I finally snapped.

One day, I went to a city 300 kilometers away from home for work and ended up staying there longer than I anticipated. I sent an airline ticket to my wife to visit me over the weekend. On her arrival day, I went to the airport and eagerly waited for her. Unfortunately, she was a no-show. Concerned, I called home and, surprisingly, she answered the phone.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I decided to stay home.”

“Why?”

“My father said so.”

“What?”

“It is not safe for me to travel, he advised.”

“Who is your husband? Me or him?”

“You are, but I have to listen to my dad, too.”

I was burning with fury and started unleashing a litany of vile Somali curses on her and her dad.

“I am done with you,” I screamed.  “I have had enough of you and your father.”

All hell broke loose after my split from my wife. My father-in-law was elated because he had finally dispatched his old nemesis with ruthless efficiency. However, my children and their mother were heartbroken. Subsequently, my ex started to challenge her father for the first time and, according to my children, became more assertive and rebellious toward his demands. It was indeed a new imbalance of power dynamics: A father who once was a stern presence in his large family’s life suddenly becoming a man with a diminished role. For me, it was a painful two-year period in which I was single and miserable. I missed my family and had allowed one man to ruin my marriage.

Long story short, I am now back with my family but things have changed drastically. My wife is a changed person and tells her family that she will not allow anyone to come between her and her husband. My father-in-law is not involved in our life, and everyone in my immediate family is ecstatic with the change. Mark Twain once said: “Adam was the luckiest man on earth because he had no mother-in-law.” In my case, it was my father-in-law who was a thorn in my flesh. At least, for a while.

The Unforgettable One

I have been married three times.

My current husband is kind and generous, a great provider. He is good to my children, who are both from a previous marriage.

Husband number two was a hard-working man whose loyalty was unmatched.

My first husband is the one I still remember today. In fact, I have developed an ongoing habit of comparing all men to him. He was my first love. I was barely 19, and he was 27. The age difference was a blessing for me because he was mature, responsible, and attentive, and he spoiled me rotten. We joked around, laughed, and cherished each other a great deal. I grew up in a small village in southern Somalia and he came from Kismayo, the third largest city in the country. We lived in Portland, Maine, in a sizable Somali community. We were true partners with a strong love for each other and a stable marriage. I still shed tears when I recall all those good memories. What is painful is that our union came to an end four years later.

My husband wanted children but we couldn’t conceive. We went to numerous doctors and clinics, but no problem was ever detected. I also wanted children, but I was more flexible than he was. I believed we had a unique marriage full of compassion, passion, respect, and love—a marriage that could grow without children. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. My husband and I talked about the problem of conception, and he decided that we had to split.

After the divorce, my life spiraled into depression. I quit my part-time job, went to live with my parents, and isolated myself from all my friends. I was a total wreck. My husband left Portland and moved to Columbus, Ohio. He found a nice job, and, after a year, got married again. I also moved on after two years and married my second husband. Then, three years later, I got divorced again and married my current husband.

Something interesting has happened, however.

Both my first husband and I are now parents, separately: He has three children and I have two.

Many intense memories came back to me when my first husband and his family came to visit us in Maine. My current husband and my first husband were schoolmates in high school in Somalia. They had stayed in contact and, of course, my current husband knew about my earlier marriage to his friend. What a small world! It was a most awkward moment, seeing my first husband so many years after our divorce. At dinner, I found myself going out of my way to give more food to him. “Do you need anything else?” I kept asking. In a way, my question brought back the memory of how I used to overfeed him. His wife and my husband definitely noticed how I was catering to my ex much more than to anyone else.

After our guests left, I was depressed. I was obsessed with thinking about my ex-husband and the life we could have had. I know it was not meant to be. Most likely, he is happy with his new family, but now I am no longer happy with my life. I am miserable. I feel that another woman has taken from me what was rightfully mine.

Suddenly, I view myself as unhappy. My current husband does not know what is bothering me. I keep telling him that I’m not feeling well, but I don’t want to get professional help. He is patient, but deep down I know he is frustrated with me. I have a feeling that one day my husband will leave me. Maybe I should get divorced and try to win back my ex-husband.

Do you think I’m crazy?

I think so.

My Best Friend

Okay, online dating has been getting a bad rap, but I can’t complain. I met my best friend, Anab, through online dating several years ago.  

Anab lived in Europe and I in New York. That, of course, made our relationship desperately hopeless. She told me upfront that she would not move to the States and I told her I would not move to Europe. She had a big family there and most of my family members and friends live here.

Thank God for the internet. Anab and I have exchanged emails for the last five years. I tell her what I do every week and she does the same. We have—and still do—exchanged pictures, gossip, and ideas. I constantly seek her input and she gives me her honest opinion. I look forward to her frequent emails because they are nourishing. I never had a female friend—or male friend for that matter— with whom I felt so comfortable. In a nutshell, Anab was the woman who got away, but instead ended up being my best friend.

Anab and I have never met; however, there is a new development in her life: She got married two years ago to a “wonderful’—that is her word—man. She is happy and I’m rooting for her to have a successful and lasting marriage. I’m not married yet because I’m a workaholic. I haven’t tried online dating since 2010. Anab is always encouraging me to settle down, to which my usual answer is: “Insha’Allah” (God willing). What else am I going to say?

I was looking for love and matrimony on the internet; instead, I got a best friend. I got a jewel from the bedlam of the internet. Not everything about online dating is bad. That is my personal view.

 (This article originally appeared at Sahan Journal on October 19, 2015 and is reprinted with permission).

Relationships in Flux (Part 1): Somali Stories

Background: The following is a two part series of true stories of some Somalis in America and their relationships. The series is part of a book the writer is finishing titled, Courtship and Marriage: The Somali Experience in America. The names of these individuals and their locations have been changed for privacy reasons.
                                                                                      ***
Bad Apple

I was 20 when I met Ali, a young man whom I thought would be my future husband. He was a year older than I, smart, charismatic, friendly, and charming.  My parents and his parents were fully aware of our courtship and blessed it. We agreed to get married after I finished my university degree. Ali wasn’t cut out for school; he had dropped out of high school and was working as a cabbie, but I was in love with him and he did not mind my pursuit of higher education. I have never met a man who was as smooth a talker as Ali; he gave the phrase “used car salesman” a whole new meaning. If I were angry with him, he always managed to make me forget about my anger. He had a way of reassuring me and calming me down.

Unfortunately, after three years of courtship, Ali became what young Somalis refer to as someone whom “a dog has eaten.”(“Eey baa cunay”). It means, he is out of my life and, hence, the relationship has come to a screeching halt. I have strong views about marriage being noble and honorable.  I do not believe in pre-marital relations, but Ali did. He got tired of me and as a result he ended up meeting another young lady.

One day, my father met me in the parking lot as I was coming home from the university. He seemed anxious and worried, and my immediate thought was that someone in my family had passed away. My father held my right hand and said: “There are more than 20 people in our house now because your mother invited them.” I asked him the reason for their presence. “Your mother and Ali’s mother invited them because you are going to have a marriage ceremony,” he explained. In our culture, a marriage ceremony is a small gathering in which marriage contracts are conducted. This ceremony is usually followed by a wedding, which can be performed at a later date, or sometimes the same day.

I felt like I had been hit on the head with a sledgehammer. No one had told me about the event. I entered the house to find all eyes on me. After I greeted the guests, I went straight to my room and called Ali. “Do you know anything about this so-called ‘marriage event’?” I asked. His answer was unconcerned and more problematic than I expected: “I have nothing to do with this matter,” he said. “It’s an arrangement by our mothers.” I was upset by his nonchalant attitude and his failure to warn me in advance. “If that’s the case,” I said in annoyance, “let our mothers get married to each other.” I slammed down the phone.

My father came to my rescue. Initially, he made only covert allusions, telling me that Ali was a troubled young man who lacked good values. “You are a fine young woman and well-behaved,” my father added. Then, he dropped a thunderbolt: “Do you know that Ali has impregnated a teen?” I was shocked and felt faint. I knew Ali had a wandering eye and was a bit flirtatious with other women, but I knew nothing about this important detail of his amorous life. The fact that he not only had cheated on me but also had gotten another woman pregnant was too much to bear.

I called him again and, surprisingly, he did not deny the affair or the pregnancy. His justification was indeed scandalous. “I did it,” he shamelessly said, “because you did not want to sleep with me.”

That was several years ago.

Ali has been married for the last five years and has three children. I married a man from another nationality and I am very content. Ali approached me a few times when I ran into him and had the nerve to ask me to have an affair with him. “I have an apartment downtown and we could meet there,” he told me. I reprimanded him, but this man never gives up. My husband knows about Ali and has threatened to confront him and teach him a lesson.

I think I am a blessed and fortunate woman that I did not marry Ali. I found out that he is involved in illicit activities and is no stranger to the law. Somehow, I feel God was protecting me from a toxic relationship. I am also grateful to my father for saving the day.

One bad result of my break-up with Ali was that my parents, after 25 years of marriage, divorced on that memorable day when the plan for the marriage ceremony collapsed. My mother and I are still close, but she never forgave me for not marrying Ali. She naively believes that Ali, the bad boy, would have changed if he had married me. “Look at him now,” I tell her, “he’s married but he’s cheating on his wife and seems hell-bent on self-destruction.”

The Bachelorette

My wife acts as if she is single. She is pretty, six feet tall, and athletic. Needless to say, she is a fitness fanatic and jogs five times a week. I know many Somalis are already spewing curses at me for saying that, as our women simply do not go out jogging. Right?  I, on the other hand, have a deep-seated aversion to most forms of exercise. However, I am slight as a sparrow and healthy. We have been married for four years and we have no children.

There is one thing that bothers me about my wife. Men constantly hit on her, but she never tells them that she is married. She hates wearing a ring. When men approach her to get her number, she does not mention her marital status, but she never fails to inform me about all the attention she gets. I give her a lot of credit for not hiding these things from me; however, I am upset that she does not have the guts to announce to her pursuers that she is married. She merely brushes these men off and never gives out her telephone number.

I think my wife likes all the attention she gets from men. It gives her a sense of power to reject them. Power, after all, is an elixir.

I am beginning to resent my wife’s double standard. I have always been faithful, and everyone who knows me is aware of my strong commitment to my marriage. I wish my wife would show the same commitment.

Other than this minor nuisance of not divulging her status, I have a happy and fulfilling marriage. However, I can’t wait until my wife becomes a mother. I wonder what she will tell her pursuers then.

(Reprinted with permission from Sahan Journal, October 5, 2015).

Six Major Mariage Killers

Every marriage goes through rough patches, but some are so toxic and unhealthy that the faster you extricate yourself, the better. All is not well if any of these signs exists in your marriage; it could mean your union is in serious danger.

You live with a control freak

Your husband may be telling you what to do, how much time you should spend with your family and friends, and what to wear. He may censor what you say, ridicule your views, and constantly track you. He may act as he is always right and use the male privilege to order you around, and demand (not politely request) things from you. You may find yourself wanting to change who you are to make him happy. You may start to repress your true feelings for fear you may disappoint him. You may be walking on eggshells all the time and be worried about getting on his bad side. You may choose to appease him rather than risk the wrath of his noxious temper. You may be more self-conscious than ever before. In other words, you may feel dominated. Your family and friends may be telling you that you have become a shadow of your former self.  If this describes your relationship, it is time to run away from this dominant partner because things are not likely to get better.

Your spouse is abusive

Abuse comes in different forms. It can be emotional, verbal, or physical. For instance, your spouse may throw temper tantrums, cuss you, insult you, call you names, scream at you in front of the children, and always nitpick and contemptuously criticize you. Or your husband may hit you, shove you, kick doors, throw things, and display weapons and threaten you with violence. Or your spouse may be the passive-aggressive type; he may demean you, ignore you, and make hurtful remarks in jest to hide his anger and resentment. In all of these situations, you are likely living in a state of fear that you will be physically harmed or verbally humiliated. You may be afraid—or embarrassed—to tell your parents and friends about your spouse’s abusive tendencies. Research has shown that if a husband hits his wife even once, he is likely to repeat the pattern. A violent husband is simply a narcissist, sociopath who must be avoided and not given any chance of reconciliation. A verbally abusive wife has no respect for her husband and does not mind humiliating him. Violent, emotional and verbally abusive spouses use their hot temper as an excuse to humiliate their life partners.

Your ex is still a factor in your life

Instead of an ex being a past mistake, he is still a present nuisance. If a wife constantly talks about her ex, viciously attacks him in her rants on a daily basis, keeps memorabilia of him (such as photos) for frequent viewing and reliving nostalgic memories, talks to him regularly behind her husband’s back, always inquires about him through mutual friends and savors the information, sends subtle messages and pictures through social media designed either to impress him or annoy him, it means there is definitely a past unresolved with this spouse and she may not be ready to let it go. In other words, she hasn’t purged her ex from her life. Anger toward an ex is fine as long as it is a phase. This spouse may be nostalgic for what her former husband once was when things were good between them but is naively oblivious to the reasons why they divorced in the first place.

Sex is either too much or too little

Too much sex means there is undue emphasis on the physical in the relationship. It means one spouse has made intimacy the only cornerstone of their marriage. He may be neglecting other aspects of the marriage that are crucial for strengthening the union. A marital relationship, like any thing in life, must be balanced. If one spouse is addicted to sex, it creates imbalance and probably resentment on the part of the other spouse. On the other hand, too little sex may also create conflict. One (or both) spouses may be suffering because his or her needs are not met. Communication, of course, is the key to address the frequency of intimacy. Every healthy marriage requires a sexual connection plus nonsexual touching, kissing, hugging, and snuggling.

You do not follow your heart

Your gut feeling is that this marriage is making you miserable. You may feel depressed, unhappy, insecure, and unloved. Your spouse may be making you feel bad about yourself. You may feel lonely even when you are with him. You may find yourself arguing constantly, even about the smallest things. You may be taking each other for granted. You may feel your relationship lurches from crisis to crisis. Family and friends who observe you and your spouse may often tell you how bad the relationship is for you. If all these things are true, you may be in trouble. It is time to seek professional help or trust your gut feeling and leave the marriage.

Your spouse is cheating

You may suspect your spouse is constantly lying to you. He does not tell you where he travels, does not contact you when he is on the road, always takes calls in private, and gets many messages from individuals he does not tell you about. He may become more secretive than he was before. He may always be tired when it is time for intimacy. He may frequently come home late, and spend unusual hours at the office. These are signs that a spouse is not being honest and may be cheating. It is best to confront him and seek a couple’s counseling.                                                                                   ***

In a nutshell, these are some of the signs of relationships marred by toxic traits. Any relationship that features controlling, abuse, obsession with a former spouse, lack of emotional and physical intimacy, and cheating is a union that is dysfunctional and hazardous to your health.  

Do Not Impeach the President

On Wednesday, August 12, 2015, about 93 Somali legislators submitted a motion to impeach President Hassan Sheikh Mohamoud for a series of constitutional violations, corruption, impeding the formation of some regional states and later undermining them, and for not consulting with parliament. While all these accusations may be justified, the idea of impeaching the president now is not wise for the following reasons:

1.      The president has a year left of his term, which he should finish. Afterwards, he should never come back to the political scene because of his embarrassing record of authoritarianism and corruption. Removing the president now before his term is up is not going to solve any problems. In fact, impeaching him is likely to create more problems than solutions. The removal of Mohamed Morsi after the Egyptians had elected him president, was unconstitutional and counterproductive. It created havoc in Egypt and led to political turmoil that will take many years to unravel. General Abdifatah Al-Sisi, who toppled and replaced Morsi, turned out to be a dictator worse than Mubarak and Sadat. Even Morsi, who made egregious mistakes in his short tenure by acting in an imperial fashion, seems today to have been a better ruler than Al-Sisi. If Morsi had been left to finish his term, it is highly unlikely the Egyptians would have re-elected him. These precedents should set off warning bells for Somalia, which simply cannot afford to experience the havoc we have seen in Egypt, and which will likely ensue if the Somali president is impeached now. An interim administration would not be able to prepare the country for change in 2016.  

2.      The legislators who submitted the impeachment are equally to blame for the very transgressions they are accusing the president of perpetrating. In 2012, members of this body admitted publicly that they allowed themselves to be bribed to elect the current president, a man unknown to many Somalis, who, nevertheless miraculously trounced the incumbent president. Moreover, on several occasions, many of the parliamentarians were in cahoots with the president himself when he was violating the constitution and usurping power from his three prime ministers. Yes, President Mohamoud has had three prime ministers in the past three years, and this parliament sacked two of them. The third has only been in office for months. The MPs did not even give former Prime Minister Abdi Shirdon a chance to present his case before his dismissal. Now the legislators are crying foul. If the president has to go, so must the legislators.

3.      Two weeks ago, when President Mohamoud announced there would not be a one-man, one-vote election in 2016 for security reasons, the MPs did not ask him to come before them. There were no protests and no hearings. When was the last time this parliament held hearings to inquire about all of the president’s constitutional violations? There were no hearings. Did parliament discuss the status of reviewing the provincial constitution, the issue of graft in the executive branch, not paying the salaries of members of the armed forces for months, the assassination of some legislators, and the conflict with Kenya regarding sea boundaries? No.

The Somali parliament needs to do its job first before it shifts blame onto the president. How many laws has parliament passed since it convened after the elections in the fall of 2012? None. It will be in the country’s interest if both the president and the parliament simply own up for their failures. Thus far, no one has been honest with the Somali people. The president has yet to tell the nation he failed to prepare the country for a popular vote. There is a security problem in certain parts of the country, but the president does not mention what was in his power that he failed to accomplish. In a way, parliament enabled him to violate the constitution for three years.

Standing on the Ashes: The Somali South-West State

Sharif Hassan Sheikh Aden, the President of the Interim South-West Administration (ISWA) in Somalia, is deliberately stemming the natural growth of the nascent federated state by employing “qaraabaysi” (nepotism), patronage, and misuse of public funds. After two decades of civil war, followed by years of Al-Shabaab domination, the region is still in financial and political ruins.

The administration of the South-West (SW) is in the hands of Sharif Hassan and his family. Through his imperial actions, the SW is a one-man show—he is the president, the vice president, the legislature, and the judiciary. Sharif Hassan is assisted by his brother, Madeer, who coordinates all international contacts from Nairobi, and Mohamed Abdullahi Mursal, his nephew, who does the day-to-day management of the region. With the blessing of his uncle, Mursal has named himself a prime minister and hence presides over the cabinet meetings. He has even set up fake email addresses in the name of his uncle and cabinet ministers soliciting aid from the international community. The appointed ministers, who lack education and government experience, have titles but no function.  A UN official recently wrote a scathing letter to his superiors complaining about the lack of a qualified cadre for capacity building in the SW and pleaded to be transferred elsewhere.

Baidoa, the capital of the SW, is a city riven with violence and targeted assassinations. In just the last few months, prominent imams, traditional leaders, and women have been killed. These acts of violence, though generally suspected to have been carried out by Al-Shabaab, cannot all be attributed to the terror group. Some killings are politically motivated. Clan elders, according to two community activists in the SW, live in an atmosphere of fear and intimidation because they are frequently harassed by Sharif Hassan and his cronies. “We dare not to challenge Sharif Hassan,” one elder, who wants to remain anonymous, lamented.  Sharif Hassan has not established security services to protect citizens. In fact, no budget has been drawn up for the security sector. It is unfortunate that Sharif Hassan himself spends most of his time either staying in Mogadishu, the capital of Somalia, or doing frivolous travel. Occasionally, he stays in a house in Afgooye, which is owned by the conglomerate Hormuud Telecom. Many of his ministers are also staying in hotels in Mogadishu like sitting ducks, idle, and without the faintest clue of what is going on.

Sharif Hassan has been dragging his feet on two major issues: appointing a vice president and spearheading the formation of a parliament.  By showing little interest in having a vice president, he is exhibiting Hosni Mubarak syndrome, (the former Egyptian dictator ruled his country over 30 years without a designated vice president). The region also has yet to have a functioning parliament. Per the provisional constitution, a parliament must be established between 45 and 60 days after a regional state is established. This lackadaisical approach to the rule of law is disturbing. There are some sputtering attempts to form a parliament in the region. Even Sharif Hassan himself has become involved and has asked clan elders to give him a minimum of three parliament spots from each of the three regions that make up the SW so he can nominate legislators of his own choice. Recently, he met some of the elders of the Digil and Mirifle clan in Baidoa and grilled them on why they have been resisting his request. “Am I not the same person you elected as president a few months ago?” Sharif Hassan sarcastically asked. “Where does this lack of trust come from?” There is a fear among the elders that Sharif Hassan will give his requested parliamentary seats to entities that have business partnerships with him or manned armed militias. If his current cabinet is any indication, he just wants legislators who will answer to no one but himself.

Another issue is Sharif Hassan’s plan to sell the land of the Lower Shebelle. Recently, a group of Indian experts from the United Arab Emirates visited Baraawe in the Lower Shebelle to check the port for future development and to explore whether there is oil in the region. Another privately owned company, Somali Fruits, is sponsoring a trip for Sharif Hassan to go to Germany in an attempt to export Somali bananas from the SW. While encouraging investment in the region is a noble idea and badly needed, there is no mechanism to investigate the validity and effectiveness of these projects. Numerous calls by concerned SW residents to Sharif Hassan to establish “Xafiiska Hanti Dhawrka” (Bureau of Safeguarding National Resources) have gone unanswered.

A major concern for some SW residents is the fear that Sharif Hassan is indirectly facilitating the introduction of Shiism in the region. Sharif Hassan has received 200 scholarships from Iran for Somali youths to study there. Most of these scholarships have already been granted to Sharif Hassan’s relatives and members of his clan, the Asharaf. While the Asharaf in Somalia are Sunnis, the group has historically claimed to be descendants of the family of Prophet Mohamed. One similarity between the Shiites and the Asharaf is their unbridled devotion to “Ah-lul Bayt” ([Mohamed]’s family).  Some Somali religious scholars have been vociferously lashing out at Iranian charities in Somalia because they fear the spread of Shiism in an overwhelming Sunni country. Recently, Somali clerics noticed the emergence of a small number of Somali Shiites in the nation.  

An issue that angered many residents of the SW is the presence of the abhorred checkpoints in the region. These checkpoints, still run by armed militias, collect exorbitant taxes from residents and extort bribes from motorists. Unfortunately, instead of getting rid of these roadblocks, Sharif Hassan’s administration has introduced an additional 40 checkpoints in the region. Two of these checkpoints are near Afgooye and are controlled by Mursal, Sharif Hassan’s nephew, through his representative, a man named Daahir Sharif. According to several ministers, two of these checkpoints are falsely run in the name of “Iskaashatada Gaadiidka” (The Transportation Co-op). There is no group in the SW by the name of “Iskaashatada Gaadiidka.” The net daily income from these two roadblocks is 35 million Somali shillings ($1590 USD) and is directly deposited in Mursal’s personal account.  

The absence of police force and security services, coupled with the presence of a sizable fighters of Al-Shabaab, has exacerbated the lack of safety in the state. There are still territories in the region that are controlled by Al-Shabaab. The terror group has historically flourished in areas such as the SW where injustice, marginalization, and bad governing are prevalent.

 

Now that the Somali president has cancelled the one-man, one-vote election in 2016, Sharif Hassan is likely to amass more wealth as a war chest to be a contender for the federal presidency or to act as a power broker. Next year, instead of people electing candidates directly, the regional state representatives will probably do the selection, a process conducive to bribery and corruption. Sharif Hassan is presiding over a region which has a lot of potential but he is not interested in providing an effective and productive leadership. In a way, he is standing on the ashes, however, the saga of the SW and its leader will continue.

 

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Professor Scorned

In a famous true story, a young Italian musician did the unthinkable: He challenged his mentor, the great maestro Arturo Toscanini, with an unexpected fusillade. "With regard to Toscanini, the maestro," said the young man, "I bow my head in respect. However,” he continued, "with regard to Toscanini, the man…" The young man then proceeded to take off his shoe and started assaulting the maestro.
 
Recently, there was a public debate about the case of Somaliland. Professor Ahmed Ismael Samatar, of Macalester College, was one of four speakers participating in the debate. Each invited speaker was allotted 15 minutes to speak. Samatar went over his time, and when the organizer politely told him his time was up, the good professor was furious and mumbled that he had yet to present the gist of his speech. What happened next was beyond comprehension. Samatar sat down in disgust and refused to participate. A gentleman implored the professor to participate in the discussion, but Samatar was indignant about the way he had been treated. "They [the organizers] invited us," the professor protested, "and they do not know how to run the debate." The audience was still reeling from shock when the question-and-answer session commenced. Some of the audience took clear shots at Samatar for his support of Somaliland after many years of lambasting the secessionist region. Not long ago, Samatar, who hails from the north, was a prominent unionist who had worked hard for the unity of Somalia.
 
Samatar’s career has been consistent and strongly nationalistic.  As a young broadcaster for the BBC’s Somali Services in the 1960s, Samatar would conclude the half-hour broadcast with the proclamation, "Soomaaliya ha noolato," (Long live Somalia), thereby breaking the journalistic code of neutrality and objectivity. However, Samatar today is singing a new tune, one of secession and the disintegration of Somalia’s territorial integrity. The professor’s firm belief in the unity of Somalia, a belief that spanned five decades, has gone with the wind. Now, many Somalis are asking themselves how someone who stood so strongly for Somali unity has suddenly converted to secessionism.
 
What many people forget is there are two sides of Samatar: Samatar the intellectual and Samatar the politician. Unfortunately, these two sides have been unable to reconcile, and hence have led to his undoing. Political scientists do not make good politicians, just as medical doctors do not make good patients. Samatar has been teaching politics for more than three decades, yet this extensive teaching experience did not necessarily mean the learned professor possesses effective political skills. He made a faux pas of misreading the intention of Somali legislators who were selecting the president in 2012. Before Samatar’s candidacy for office, he and his colleagues formed a political party, “Hiil Qaran." He then ran for the Somali presidency but failed miserably to even make it to the second round of the election. Samatar once again misread the political situation, which he knew was based on an unfair political power arrangement that favored the two biggest clans in Somalia. Moreover, the eventual winner of the presidency, Hassan S. Mohamoud, had made a secret deal with Samatar: whoever wins the presidency would make the other his prime minister. Mohamoud, it turned out, had made similar promises to other candidates and instead chose an inexperienced premier like him.
 
I was one of the first commentators to ask President Mohamoud to appoint Samatar as his premier or appoint him the foreign minister. Samatar did not get either position. He left Mogadishu sullen and bitter. To him, the political system had betrayed him. His position as an intellectual and an avowed northern nationalist became a liability in a political environment that favored one's clan affiliation, rather than what one could do for the country. Samatar struck a defiant note, condemning informal power sharing, and used his position as a parliamentarian to rail against injustice and corruption.
 
Then, Samatar shocked many Somalis when he resigned from parliament and started endorsing Somaliland’s quest for statehood. The secessionists glowed with pride and welcomed Samatar like a prodigal son, who had finally come home. Other Somalis were incessantly critical of his betrayal and self-serving political position. Some wondered if Samatar, who couldn't get elected as president in Mogadishu, naively thought he would have better luck in Hargeisa. Samatar's lame excuse for changing his stance was what he called “the prevalence of political corruption” and unfair power sharing in Mogadishu. Not surprisingly, Samatar drew exceptional mockery from many unionists. The man whom Somalis always welcomed in political debates and on the lecture circuit, suddenly found himself unwanted and without luster.
 
Against this backdrop, the political debate held in Minneapolis two weeks ago coincided with Samatar’s growing irrelevance and the expression of public indignation at his support for secessionist Somaliland. Samatar's treatment in the debate was a not-so-subtle repudiation of him and his politics. The organizers of the debate and the audience seemed elated when the good professor further embarrassed himself, pouted, and acted like little Oliver Twist asking for more food; in this instance, more time. His petulant actions at the event accelerated his slide from political stature to political ignominy.  Samatar had a hard time understanding why nobody cared what he had to say. The once- exceptional public speaker sat silently at the podium with the other speakers, refusing to answer questions directed at him until finally he couldn't take it anymore and left. It was like watching a train wreck. Surprisingly, his departure was greeted with indifference. A young man from the Awdal region lamented how Samatar "his uncle" had a penchant for leaving debates once he had lost an argument. The young man was wrong: Samatar had lost long before the debate had even started. The audience had already tuned out what he had to say. They had heard his explanations for leaving Somalia’s cause in favor of Somaliland. And they had heard enough.
 
Samatar is an intellectual among Somalis, and no one -- unionist or secessionist -- can take that away from him. But Samatar, the politician, now stands on his own without a pedestal, unseen, unheard, and increasingly irrelevant.