For many Somalis, crying publicly is taboo, and for men, it
is especially frowned upon. But recently, three separate incidents in Somalia
raised eyebrows and lent credibility to the idea that the rigid knots of this
cultural taboo are loosening. A Somali cleric, a female parliamentarian, and a
groom at his wedding all cried publicly — and this spontaneous expression of
emotion had such a profound effect on those who saw it that it went viral on
social media. The tearful trio, each of whom is totally different from the
other, and whose motivations for crying are also quite different, generated
criticism from Somalis, unearthing the deeply entrenched views many of them
hold about the appropriate way people should display emotions. Videos of the
trio also led to the exposure of long-held perceptions of femininity and
masculinity, and whether emotions should be expressed or suppressed.
Kenyawi’s Crying
The popular Somali-Kenyan cleric, Sheikh Mohamed Ibrahim
Kenyawi, recently visited Mogadishu, where he gave a series of sermons calling for
forgiveness among Somalis. During his tour, he met Prime Minister Hassan Kheyre.
It was an innocuous meeting, although some critics said it was a cleverly
planned PR stunt by both men, a suggestion on which the opposition groups
capitalized. Kenyawi was portrayed by these critics as a pathetic object of
scorn without a smidgen of dignity, hobnobbing with federal government leaders instead of staying
neutral on political matters.
The cleric was blindsided by the virulent criticism and
responded by issuing a video on social media in which he emphasized his lack of
interest in politics. Then, something strange happened: The cleric broke down
and wept. Occasionally, the cleric would cry during sermons, but his public display
of emotion on something not spiritual was odd to many. Supporters of the
government lauded him for his “courage” and “sincerity,” whereas his critics
lampooned him for acting in an unmanly fashion.
Muna Kay’s Plea
In January 2019, the Somali Federal Parliament voted on a
controversial proposed amendment of the constitution to allow a non-Somali to
head the Central Bank. That is what the country’s national leaders wanted, and
parliament acquiesced. About 157 members voted in favor of the bill and 17, like
Muna Khalif “Muna Kay,” opposed it. During voting, an altercation broke out between
Muna and MP Luul Abdi Adan. When the two left the chamber, Muna Kay’s sister
attacked MP Luul in the parking lot, injuring her face. Muna Kay’s sister was
arrested and booked for assault and battery. Muna Kay bailed her sister out of
jail, and then the next day the two went to Mogadishu Airport to board a flight
to Baidoa in an attempt, according to police, to be smuggled out of Mogadishu.
Muna Kay was stopped and released because she has parliamentary immunity, but
her sister was arrested and jailed for absconding bail. Muna Kay was furious
and taped a video on Snapchat crying and accusing the Somali police and PM
Kheyre for keeping her sister in detention.
Muna Kay, a former model, fashion designer, and businesswoman,
made history for being the first Somali parliamentarian to air grievances on
social media, crying and pleading for her life. “If I die today, you know why,”
she said, alluding to a perceived government plot—real or imagined—to silence
her and even liquidate her.
Muna Kay, a longtime supporter of President Mohamed Farmajo
and his administration, was fearful of her own government. Her tearful plea and
language—mostly peppered in American English—alternated between tragic and
profound. Her video went viral; some dismissed her concerns; some defended her
as bold and courageous; and others simply wanted to burst her bubble—her name,
aura, stature, and media savviness. A small number of people called Muna a
self-entitled social brat impelled by an oversized ego. There were other
critics who viciously attacked Muna Kay for blaming PM Kheyre for her sister’s criminal
conduct. What was odd was the sizable number of women who went after Muna for
shedding what they termed “crocodile tears.” In other words, she was portrayed
as fake. In a way, these critics were saying to Muna Kay, “How dare you come on
Snapchat, after aiding and abetting your sister’s attempt to flee justice, and
then you cry foul and plead for help?”
A Groom in Tears
Enough talk about politics. Let’s give another example of
someone caught up in the controversial crying game.
A Somali man in Galkacayo did the unthinkable: He cried
during his wedding. Once again, the video of his emotional public expression
generated a chorus of voices, both critical and laudable. What was a natural
emotional expression of joy during a marriage ceremony suddenly became
controversial among Somalis.
In the video, you can hear voices of some of the guests in a
state of shock. “My God,” one of them said, giggling, “perhaps he is crying out
of joy.” Others cheered or jeered. The video shows the young bride comforting her
man in a natural expression of care and affection. However, within Somali
society, such affection is deemed an act of defiance against Somali cultural
norms, which teach young girls early in life never to display their affection
in public. The incident of the groom crying was ostensibly the first time in
the country a man cried publicly in an expression of joy. At least, I have
never heard of a groom in tears at a wedding. I have seen some grooms grumbling
about the high cost of their weddings, but crying?
This brings us to the question of why many Somali men refrain
from crying in public. Somali boys are taught early in life to act like men and
conceal any public display of their emotions, such as crying. When boys show
emotions, some parents scold them, “Why do you cry like a woman?” The message
is clear: A boy should never appear “weak,” “vulnerable,” or “feminine.”
In popular culture, on rare occasions, you may hear such classic
melodies as “Hakaba,” in which a male
lover laments the falsity of the notion that a man never cries. Not true, it
says, because this lover’s “tears pour so profusely that they mix with running
water.” Somali men are no different than other men in the world when it comes
to preserving what they may perceive as their masculinity.
For Somali women, displaying
their emotions is a no-no. During the British colonial occupation of Somalia, the
famous Canadian author, Margaret Laurence, then a young woman living in the
north with her English husband in the 1950s, noticed the stoic nature of Somali
women when it came to showing emotions in public. In her memoir, New Wind in a Dry Land: An Account of a
Sojourn among the Nomads of Somaliland (1964), Laurence chronicled an
absorbing account of Somali nomads fleeing from drought. Among them was a woman
who had lost several children due to famine, but she was neither crying nor
wailing for her loss. When asked why she appeared stone-faced, exhibiting no
emotions, she said it was because God, who had given her the children, had taken
them away.
Abdullahi M. Adan “Cawsey” is a young, perceptive Somali graduate student studying mental health at the
University of Toronto. He has made an interesting observation on social media about
the difference between Somalis’ traditional approach to the public expression
of emotion in contrast to, for example, the Arab approach, which has no taboos
with regard to the expression of emotions such as crying in public. “When a terrorist bombing strikes,” Cawsey
said, “unlike others, Somalis are never
seen crying and wailing.” He added that when a Somali cries, which is rare, it
is usually for something that happened in the past. In a way, even the expression
of emotion by Somalis might not be linked to their present suffering of pain or
stress.
Perhaps, Somalis have a surplus of internalized emotions.
Senator Adlai Stevenson, the former Democratic presidential
candidate against Dwight Eisenhower, once recounted an interesting anecdote during
his concession speech several decades ago. Stevenson narrated the story of an
Illinois farmer who had asked Abraham Lincoln how it felt losing an election. Lincoln
is said to have responded, “It felt like a little boy who had stubbed his toe
in the dark. That he was too old to cry, but it hurt too much to laugh.”
I guess the social media phenomenon is slowly transforming
some aspects of Somali culture, such as the public display of emotions. It is
the youth who are more likely to transform the way public expression of
emotions is displayed. After all, emotional expression is another form of communication—whether
it is joy, anger, stress, or helplessness. Repressed emotions must be released
and negative emotions transformed into positive emotions. Otherwise, don’t cry
for Somalia.
