This is the last part of a series of true stories of Somalis
living in the U.S. and their relationships. The series is part of the author’s forthcoming
book, “Courtship and Marriage: The Somali
Experience in America.” I have interviewed three dozen people, whose names
and locations have been changed for privacy reasons. I will let each tell his
or her own story.
Honey: I am done
My dear husband,
Our eight-year marriage has been what Somalis call, “macaan iyo qaraar” (sweet and sour). We have
had love, memorable friendship and companionship. We joked a lot, teased each
other, and participated in fun gatherings with relatives. Our love for each
other was mostly on display for many to see.
Unfortunately, we have also had our moments of sadness and
discord. We fought many times constantly, even in front of the children. We slept
in separate rooms, and intentionally undermined each other. At times, we
ignored each other through emails, phone calls, and text messages. Out of
arrogance — and perhaps stupidity, too — we failed to seek counseling because
you viewed it as a futile exercise.
Recently, we reached a point at which we stopped spending time together.
You spend more time with your friends at Starbucks wasting time on political
chatter. Oddly, it has been a long time since we went out for coffee or dinner
together. When I ask you to come with me, your usual response is, “No, I do not
want to go, but bring me some food.”
The crux of this letter is that I am leaving you effective
immediately. I have had enough of you and your antics and I believe you feel
the same. Simply put, I do not want to spend the rest of my life in a
relationship where I have to constantly beg for love, attention, and
friendship. I do not even consider you as my best friend anymore. I want a husband
who is willing to work with me to improve our relationship and make it stronger
and better. I want someone who is not opposed to seeking professional help when
there is a need, and who is committed to making his spouse a top priority. I
want a man who is motivated (alas, you don’t even have a job) and takes care of
his weight, health, and well-being. I expect from him what he expects from me:
Being a loving, engaging, supportive, and loyal spouse. In essence, marriage
should be a two-way street. Frankly, I am not going to miss your “low energy”,
lack of family involvement, and your tendency to always act as the wronged one.
You expect me to respect you when you do not even respect yourself. Look at
yourself: you’ve become “wax ma tare”
(a loser). Act like a man and be a provider. The government is supporting your
family!
I have realized, after much deliberation that you and I are not
a match for each other. In fact, I have married a man in turmoil, who has
abdicated his family responsibilities and constantly talks about becoming a
politician in Mogadishu. I have become a mother and a father for our children.
Please go to Somalia and build your political career there while I raise our
children here. In other words, you’re no use to us. Let us gracefully go our
separate ways. I am sure I do not want to see you again. As Taylor Swift once
sang, “We are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together.” I would rather be
single than sorrowful.
(Reprinted with permission from Sahan Journal, 02-14-2016).
(Reprinted with permission from Sahan Journal, 02-14-2016).
