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.

The Lobby: A Fathia Absie Film

Title: The Lobby

Running Time: 56.59 minutes
Status: Limited Release
Country: United States
Directed, written and produced by Fathia Absie
Cast: Doug Sydney and Fathia Absie
***

Several years ago, Fathia Absie made a compelling documentary, Broken Dreams, about the Somali youths missing in Minnesota. It was a bold film project that stirred debate within the Somali community about the reasons why two dozen young Somalis in the Twin Cities left the U.S. and joined Al-Shabaab. In her new film, The Lobby, Fathia departs from the well-documented, hard-hitting issue of terrorism and focuses instead on a close encounter of two people from different cultures, an American man from northern Minnesota and a Somali immigrant woman.

John (Doug Sydney) and Yasmin (Fathia Absie) live as neighbors in the same apartment complex in Minneapolis. They exchange glances occasionally but never talk to each other. John sees Yasmin mostly sitting in the lobby, pondering and taking some notes. He is curious about this strange-looking woman with Islamic attire and wonders why she always hangs out at the lobby. Yasmin, on her part, is curious about John. Then, one day John musters the courage to approach Yasmin and introduces himself. What follows is a minefield of small talk, laced with curiosity, apprehension, nervousness, and cultural sensitivity. John is aware of who he is: a white man who has a simple background and, in his words, “has lived a life of ease and privilege.”  Yasmin, on the other hand, is the product of a tough upbringing, having been raised in Somalia, a country that has witnessed civil war, displacement, and poverty. Most of all, she has lost loved ones back home to undue violence. In spite of her past ordeals, Yasmin comes across as a strong woman who has weathered extraordinary hardships but still possesses amazing self-confidence and a sense of humor. She is as smart as she is pretty and does not hesitate to take the lead in her conversations with John. She seeks neither sympathy nor acceptance from John. She welcomes any personal questions and tells John, “I am not fragile.” As the pair come to know each other better, they develop a certain comfort level and mutual attraction to each other. They start longing for these meetings in the lobby but discover that life is full of twists and turns.

The Lobby is a metaphor for something bigger and deeper than the simple meeting of two people. It is a portrait of how two members of different cultures, who had coexisted and cohabited in the same place without knowing anything about each other, can tear down the barrier between them and start relating to each other. Physical proximity to one another means nothing if there is no communication or understanding of each other. It has always been one of the main themes of Fathia Absie’s work: Communication is the way for people of all cultures to relate to each other. Fathia is a die-hard humanist and an idealist to the marrow. She envisions a world in which all kinds of people can live happily together, regardless of the artificial barriers they have erected between each other.  Fathia believes all people share one noble attribute: their common humanity. Some skeptics see Fathia’s enthusiastic idealism as naïve and impractical, a clear reflection that some sectors of the society can be unkind and unforgiving. Others will shudder at the exchange of banter between a Muslim woman and a man not related to her. 

This film, produced on an extremely low budget, is artfully crafted—a testimony to Fathia’s artistic maturation. The acting is great and the dialogue uniquely enriching and entertaining. Fathia is as good at acting as she is at directing. No other actress can better portray Yasmin than Fathia. She can say a lot without uttering a word. She is polite, sensitive, and has an upbeat personality. Her colleague, Doug, is equally impressive and does a good job playing the role of a privileged man who comes around to be appreciative and understanding of other people’s cultures. Like Fathia’s first documentary, this film will generate lively discussions among many Somalis and Minnesotans, something Fathia thrives on.

Have You Hugged Your 'Ayeeyo' Lately?

Amina Mohamed is 77, the mother of seven, the “Ayeeyo” (grandmother) of 42, and the great grandmother of seven.

“In reality, I had 10 children but three died,” she said. “My youngest daughter was killed in Hargeisa during the civil war,” she said. She was standing in front of the family house when she was struck on the heart by a wayward bullet. “No one knows the perpetrator,” Amina said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Amina was born in Hargeisa and her mother came from Jigjiga, a city in the Somali region in Ethiopia. Her father came from the Awdal region in northern Somalia. Amina and her husband spent most of their lives in eastern Ethiopia, where all her children were born. However, she speaks only a smattering of Amharic, the official language of Ethiopia.

Amina has fond memories of the Somali region in Ethiopia and talks about it nostalgically. “Somalis there are cohesive because they live in a multicultural environment,” she explained. “What defines you there is your ethnicity, not your clan.”

Amina witnessed firsthand what Somali clans did to each other during the civil war, in the north and south. She saw innocent people killed and even elderly woman molested. “I saw a woman in her sixties raped,” she said, with tears in her eyes, “just because she belonged to the wrong clan.”

Amina was fortunate to have escaped harm in Mogadishu because she told the armed militias that she was from Hargeisa.

During the 1977-1978 Somali-Ethiopian War, Amina and her family fled Harar to Somalia. In the ensuing panic and chaos, her children scattered and for a while, their whereabouts were unknown. She, one of her sons, and two grandchildren escaped to the bush and trekked for 18 days toward Somalia to avoid the Ethiopian army.

“It was the most dangerous and emotionally draining trip I have ever taken,” she explained. “I was worried about the well-being of my two grandchildren than my own.” She experienced starvation, constant fear of wild animals, and — after a snake bite — a week-long sickness. The group saw hyenas near Harar eating corpses. After 18 days of walking, Amina came upon an encampment of the Somali army inside Ethiopia. The family was placed in an open truck and taken to Hargeisa. “I was told my husband and children had perished,” she recounted. Fortunately, and to her great joy, she later discovered all her children had resurfaced in Somalia and her husband was safe in Harar.

Starting from scratch, Amina began working to support her big family in Hargeisa. “I traveled throughout Somalia as a businesswoman,” she said. She was relentless in ensuring her children received an education. Four have graduated from university and two have even earned advanced degrees.

Amina appears cheerful and affable. “I sacrificed a lot for my children and some of my grandchildren,” she said. Unfortunately, she rarely sees most of her grandchildren even though many, like her, live on the West Coast of America. “Today, many of the younger people are focused on their daily lives and have no interest in connecting with their elders,” she said. “Who has time for a grandmother?” she added, laughing heartily.

Amina is a walking encyclopedia of Somali culture and experiences. She has personally known several former high-ranking Somali government officials and a handful of famous singers and poets. Her conversation is littered with anecdotes and proverbs. “I do not have an education,” she admitted, “but I have a vast reservoir of personal experience.”

Amina is well versed in the current political situation in Somalia. She listens to the BBC World News Service every day and has little patience with today’s leaders, whom she says are more interested in personal enrichment than serving the nation. Referring to the Barre regime, she lamented, “Once upon a time, we had a functioning government, but we intentionally and deliberately destroyed it.” Amina said she would rather have a bad government than anarchy and what she calls “Dullinimo” (humiliation).

Although Amina cannot speak English, she has many friends, including neighborhood children. One five-year-old Asian girl calls her “my friend.” Another child, whom she met at the Social Security Administration, connected with her instantly and asked her mother if she could go with Amina. “I pay close attention to children,” Amina said, smiling.  

For the younger generation, Amina has a few words of advice: “Invest in family relations today before your loved ones are gone tomorrow.” She added, “After God, your family is the most important thing you have.”

(Reprinted with permission from Sahan Journal, June 7, 2015).