Abdirahman Jama Barre: An Obituary

Abdirahman Jama Barre, former Somali minister of foreign affairs, died on Tuesday in San Diego, California. He was 83 years old.

Abdirahman was born in Luuq in 1934 and came to Mogadishu as a child under the care of his older brother, Mohamed Siad Barre, who was working as a police officer. Abdirahman fondly recalled his early days in the capital.

On one occasion, he came home to request money to buy a snack, and his brother gave him a half-shillings. It was good money for a child growing of the 1940s, but to Abdirahman, the money was a symbol of the love and care his brother had for him as an orphan. Abdirahman saw Siad Barre not only as his brother, but also as a father figure and mentor. This enduring relationship would last six decades.

Abdirahman received his early education during the Colonial period. Later, he became a teacher and taught in places like Buur Hakaba in the Bay region during the 1950s. In 1960, he was one of the first employees ever hired by Somalia’s then-nascent Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

He won a scholarship to Italy, where he studied political economy. In light of the scarcity of university graduates in Somalia in the early 1960s, Abdirahman became an administrator in the foreign ministry after his return from Italy. In 1969, Abdirahman’s brother, Siad, staged a military coup and became the supreme leader of the country.

The turning point for Abdirahman was on July 27, 1977, when his brother named him Foreign Minister. It was an appointment that raised eyebrows among critics of the regime. Some saw the assignment as a classic example of nepotism. Abdirahman, however, believed he had paid his dues, given his undisputed seniority in that ministry. His first challenge arose from the fact that he had replaced Omar Arte Ghalib, an articulate, charismatic, and multilingual politician. Abdirahman had big shoes to fill. What he lacked in charisma, however, he made up for with his work ethic and sheer determination.

He was known for his relentless, singular focus. Abdirahman was the ultimate bureaucrat in a job that required exceptional strides in public relations. President Siad rarely traveled abroad and instead delegated to Abdirahman the responsibility of representing the country at the international conferences.   

Abdirahman was the longest-serving Somali foreign minister (10 years). In 1987, he became a finance minister and deputy prime minister. After the civil war began in 1991, he briefly became involved in politics again. He and his family came to the United States in 1993 and settled in the outskirts of San Diego. In his spare time, he started writing his political memoir, which was never completed. When I asked him why he had stopped writing the book, Abdirahman offered a mischievous grin. “My own people [clan] will not be happy with its publication,” he said. He was frank in his political views to the point of bluntness, and even criticized the way Somalia was run in the 1980s.

When President Siad Barre had a car accident in 1986, which compromised his abilities and vitality, a power struggle ensued. On the one hand, Siad Barre’s powerful wife, Khadija Moalim, became a power broker and waged a campaign to groom her oldest son, Maslah, as heir apparent. There was a second faction that portrayed itself as the “constitutionalists,” led by Ahmed Suleiman Dafle, who was the president’s son-in-law and a high-ranking official. This group called for the vice president, Mohamed Ali Samatar, to replace Siad in the case of his death or incapacitation. A third faction included Abdirahman and his friend General Adan Gabiyow, a former defense minister.

The power struggle was so intense that the president—or someone representing him— orchestrated Abdirahman’s demotion as a cabinet minister. It was, perhaps, the lowest point in the brotherly relationship. However, it was short duration, and the two were able to mend their fractured relationship. Many years later, Abdirahman lamented the missed opportunity in that juncture of the country’s history. He thought that a peaceful transfer of power would have prevented the civil war that occurred four years later and lasted 20 years.

In 2004, Abdirahman briefly came out of retirement and ran against Colonel Abdullahi Yusuf for the presidency. He lost and immediately returned to San Diego.

Abdirahman had three distinct qualities for which he was widely known by his friends and associates.

Firstly, he was a devout father who doted on his children. The once globetrotting diplomat became a suburban father in San Diego. He embraced his new role with verve, regularly taking his children to school, games, and practices, and attending parent teacher conferences.

Secondly, Abdirahman was a good conversationalist who regaled people with exotic stories about encounters with famous world leaders, including meeting six American presidents, from Kennedy to George H. W. Bush. He met nearly all African and Arab leaders and even developed personal relationships with some, such as the current emir of Kuwait, who was once a foreign minister of his country. Abdirahman also loved telling stories about Sayyid Mohamed Abdillahi Hassan, the father of Somali nationalism. Abdirahman was also known for his wry sense of humor. He had a habit of giving nicknames to people, especially the parents of his children’s schoolmates.

Finally, Abdirahman was an ardent nationalist and a believer of Somali unity. For fifty years, he constantly warned others about the grand designs that neighboring countries—especially Ethiopia—had for Somalia. Today, both Ethiopia and Kenya have troops inside Somalia.

Abdirahman will best be remembered for his dedication to his children, his strong commitment to protecting the sovereignty of Somalia, and his story-telling abilities. In addition to his wife, Lul Mohamed Nur, he is survived by 17 children and countless grandchildren. His marriage to his first wife, Zahra Hussein, and the mother of his eight children, ended in divorce. May God bless his soul and reward him bountifully.

Mama Malyun Names and Shames

The arrival of social media in conservative Somalia has prompted the rise of smart, educated, activists who have become champions for the voiceless. However, the medium has also led to the emergence of a different class of people: extremists of all classes—religious fanatics and clannish hatemongers, misfits, charlatans, and sociopaths. Not a week goes by without someone going viral. The recent sensation is Malyun Ali Feer, who refers to herself simply as M. M. S (Mama Malyun Suuban). She pronounces her nickname like a rapper promoting her album and then adds, “BAM!”

The phenomenon of Mama Malyun on social media is unique and interesting. She is articulate, funny, mentally agile, and outspoken. She is pretty, gregarious, and radiant. That is not only my opinion—it’s hers, too. She looks good on screen, is in good shape, and does not shy away rubbing a cream on her face and hands as she tapes her videos.  In fact, she has a side business selling that very brand of cream, and she uses her videos to promote it.

For Somali men who constantly approach her, she has a penchant for blocking them from her Facebook and deriding them for being nuisance. “Waryaa (hey, you), you are not my type,” she bellows. She does not conceal her age. ‘I am 52, single, and not interested in a relationship,” she said.  She explains she has had enough relationships to last a lifetime. Mama Malyun knows what kind of man she wants. “I will test him,” she says, “and ask him about his credit score, honesty, hygiene, health, education, and whether or not he is clannish.” If you have a bankruptcy on your record, that is a major red flag to her and you need not to apply.

Mama Malyun’s videos are full of humor, sarcasm, songs, and a bit of self-promotion. She does little to hide her disdain of men who are irresponsible deadbeats. She advises women to exit humdrum marriages. Her first video, (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7b_lPnSlBM) which put her on the map, drew howls of outrage because she said she had been married 13 times. “No, wait a minute,” she suddenly paused as though her memory was failing. ”It is actually 15 husbands. I forgot two guys.” Then, she turned to the camera and scolded her audience to learn math.

Now, how many men or women would go publicly and declare the dozens of spouses that they had in their lifetime? Not many, I suppose. Mama Malyun has no qualms about marrying many men. Apparently, she does not crumble at night in self-pity and despair. She talks openly about her marriages and admits she had a dizzying ride of ups and downs. Some of her marriages started with a sizzle and ended with a fizzle. She gushes about the ones who were good to her, while chronicling those who owe her dowry money, and the ones who took her money and vanished. Some ex-husbands, of course, left traces in her heart—not all her husbands were bad.

What is unique about Mama Malyun is that she has listed the clans of the men she married. The majority of them are her clan, Darod, and 10 are Majertein, her sub-clan. The other two were Hawiye and Isaaq respectively. She jokes that her marriage to the Hawiye (Murursade) guy means that she is the sister-in-law of Prime Minister Hassan Kheyre, and she laments that she had not married a Marehan, the president’s clan. The Isaaq man is the father of her son and she proudly announces that she is, in essence, a Somalilander. There goes the 4.5 clan power structure in Somalia! Her ex-husbands only cover three of the five clan groupings. Missing, of course, are the Digil/Mirifle and Beesha Shanaad. It is their misfortune that they did not make it on the vaunted list. Or perhaps, they dodged a bullet. Who knows how Mama Malyun would have castigated them?

Mama Malyun did something that gave many Somali men a bit of whiplash: She named several ex-husbands, and posted their pictures, mentioned their clans, places of employment, and residences. One is a famous former reporter of the Voice of America (VOA). These men had allegedly crossed her and she is adamant to expose them. To her admirers, she is a ruthless, single-minded, woman who is exposing injustice and abuse. To her critics, she is a tornado wreaking havoc. “I don’t care what people say,” Mama Malyun quips.

Mama Malyun’s constant message is to expose bad husbands. In her recent videos, she has adopted a campaign of a gender equality.  On her Facebook page, she says she is an advocate for Somali families and the rights of women and children. Her message is clear: Men have to stop marrying women and then leaving them for no reason. “Any man who divorces a woman,” she declares, “is nothing but the butt of a burned cigarette.” She is troubled by the large number of single mothers in the diaspora. “Where are their men?” she roars. Women need help in raising their children, she says, because they can’t do it by themselves. She is quick to note that she is a single mom, her daughter is a single mom, and her late mother was a single mom. “That’s wrong,” she explains.

Women have to speak up even if Somali men abhor it, she pleads. She wants women to stop hiding men’s egregious abandonment, neglect, and abuse. Communication is the key to a successful relationship, she preaches. She wants women to ask themselves if the men in their lives are smart or liars, or are they good providers or deadbeats? The ones who are awful, she reiterates, must be exposed.

 

When Sheikh Mohamoud Shibli, a leading cleric based in Kenya, advised men to engage in polygamy and not to heed the pleas of women who oppose the practice, Mama Malyun was so piqued she nearly exploded in fury. Shibli had the audacity to advise men to hide the passwords of their cellphones and computers from women. “That is wrong,” Mama Malyun said. Then, she dissolved into tears and made the necessary parameters of the spousal relationship clear: Love, care, fairness, and gentleness, are paramount.

 

Although Mama Malyun talks about the clans of the men she married, she is quick to denounce clannism. She urges her listeners to expunge tribalism from their hearts and lives. She claims she is the perfect example as she had married many men from three different clans when most women only marry within their own clan.

In a nutshell, Mama Malyun is a compelling personality who wants to be heard loud and clear. Her message is a blend of feminism—broadly conceived—and an indictment of men who fail women. She wants to exercise her free speech, educate women, and advocate on their behalf. Her reception on social media has been mixed: There was an explosion of joy on one side and recrimination on the other. In other words, many have rallied around her, while others have vilified her. However, she will not be dissuaded. The more women speak up, says Mama Malyun, the better it is for them and their children. Then, in an Obama-like exuberance, she chants, “Yes, we can.” BAM!