Somali Parliament: The Dysfunction Continues

Somali parliament has set a new record: four brawls in one month.

The legislators hurled chairs, punched each other, and even used pens to stab their opponents. All in the name of who would be the Speaker of the parliament.

These confrontations, apparently, seem to gain momentum every time the MPs set foot in the chamber. It is odd that an appointed parliament that has not been meeting rergularly in the first place, and hence lacked a sense of purpose, managed to gather four times in the last 30 days only to engage in scuffles. The cause of this melee is the removal of the Speaker of the parliament, Sharif Hasan Sh. Adan. One faction supported the Speaker and the other opposed him vigorously, and they succeeded in replacing him with MP Madobe Nunow.

Somali President Shaikh Sharif called for an urgent security meeting, and then later condemned the action of the parliament to remove the Speaker as “null,” and “void.” Moreover, the President lamented about the destruction of parliament furniture and equipments, and described the episode as an unfortunate event. The brawls are now under government investigation.

The fighting, according to Somalia expert Professor Afyare Abdi Elmi, is “uncalled for.” In an interview with the Toronto Star (01/05/2012), Professor Elmi pointed out the underlying issue of these brawls as being power struggle. “This is a conflict of political survival of one group against the other,” he said.

Even former Prime Minister, Mohamed Abdullahi “Farmajo,” an old nemisis of the Speaker, opined from his cubicle in the state Transportation Department in Buffalo, New York, calling the parliament’s move constitutionally sound.

But the outbreak of violence isn’t only a Somali problem. From Ukranie to Great Britain, politics can be hazardous to your health.

Dirty Rotten Eggs!

The Ukrainian parliament has seen it all: fistfights among MPs, choking, and chairs hurled. In a debate about extending the Russian navy’s lease in the Crimean port for the Black Sea Fleet-in exchange for cheaper oil- MPs got into fights which resulted in one deputy being taken away from the chamber on a stretcher with a serious head injury. One deputy had a wrist injury. Politicians had to cover their mouths due to smoke bombs in the chamber. The Speaker of the parliament had to be shielded by two of his aides, with an umbrella, to conduct business after some rotten eggs and tomatoes were thrown at him. But one deputy who is a supporter of the government denied if there was even a brawl. “The opposition hit their own heads themselves,” said the deputy.

Finally, the motion passed with 236 out of 450 votes. Russia must have felt relieved.

Bring on the Hardware!
South Korean National Assembly has a long history of skirmishes. There is a brawl there, at least, once every nine months.

Simply stated, it is a hostile working environment.

In a debate aimed at lifting restrictions on ownership of TV stations, the MPs from the opposition did what they had to do to guarantee that the proposed bill did not pass. They feared that the new bill would lead to sympathetic media coverage for the South Korean President. The opposition members physically prevented ruling party members from entering the chamber by stacking up furniture against the doors. Government supporters responded by introducing chainsaws and ‘makeshift battering rams’ to break down blocked doors. Lawmakers bellowed at each other and pummeled one other. Female lawmakers got into the scuffle and started grabbing each other by the neck.

On one occasion, opposition members used sledgehammers to pound on the doors of a committee room that was discussing a bill to ratify a trade pact with the USA. One MP used tear gas in the hall of the National Assembly. The Economist aptly called it, “South Korea: Don’t Shed a Tear.”

Don’t You Dare Use that Word
Kuwait is a small wealthy Arab emirate that has a history of stability. Though most Kuwaitis are Sunnis, there is a Shiite population in the country.

Even tiny Kuwait is represented in the Guantanamo Bay detention facility by two of its nationals. Their detention has been a major concern for Kuwaiti officials. Last year, according to Wikileaks, Kuwait’s interior minister was quoted as saying that he hoped the detainees never return to their country. But publicly, Kuwait’s foreign minister, according to AFP, had declared that his country would never abandon “its sons,” who are held in Guantanamo “without trial.”

In a parliament session in May, 2011, discussing the case of the detainees, a Shiite lawmaker, Hussein al-Qallaf, committed a faux pas when he referred the two detainees as “terrorists,” and al-Qaida radicals.

Using the loathsome expression of the “T” word was tantamount to blasphemy.

Retribution was swift.

The Sunni lawmakers responded with venom, attacked Al-Qallaf and “floored” him. The Speaker of the parliament announced a raft of sanctions, among them suspending the parliament for one month.

Violence In Italian
The Italian legislature was not the ideal place to serve in ancient Rome. After all, it was where Julius Caesar was assassinated by fellow senators led by Cassius and Brutus in 44 B.C. Caesar’s killing led to a civil war.

These days, the Italian legislators are kinder and gentler souls, compared to ancient times. Yes, they fight, from time to time, but the violence is manageable. Not long ago, the MPs used to hurl chairs at each other regularly. But today, the chairs are tightly screwed to the floors.

Several months ago, the Italian Speaker, Gianfranco Fini, 59, caused a controversy when he gave a TV interview in which he directed much of his woofing against the leader of the opposition, Umberto Bossi. At the time, parliament was debating a controversial retirement reform plan that would have increased retirement age by two years to 67. Fini, in the interview, said, “Everyone knows his wife [Bossi’s] retired at 39.”

One thing you do not do in politics is talk about your opponent’s wife, and, definitely, not her age.

There is an anecdote about two politicians who were engaged in a heated debate. One of them screamed at the other and said, “What about the powerful interest that controls you?” The other politician yelled back, “You leave my wife out of this!”

The parliament session that followed the interview was, by all measures, “molto confrontional.” Supporters of Bossi went after supporters of Fini with vengeance. They exchanged insults and punches. According to Reuters, two legislators were seen going right for the jugular by grabbing each other’s neck.

Sadly, the brawl was particularly ill-timed. There were school-children in the chamber who were brought there specifically to teach them how MPs worked.

Lesson learned.

No Shoes, Please!
When an Iraqi journalist threw his shoes at visiting American President, George Bush, in a news conference in Baghdad, the incident was seen by many as the epitome of degradation. To many, the act was the defilement of everything sacred to Arab culture. Traditionally, you don’t throw your shoes at anyone, no matter how negatively the person is viewed.

But it happened.

Bush was never in danger as the Secret Service agents were close by, but, for the dramatics, he ducked the shoes and made a joke of the incident.

Well, the tradition of throwing shoes came alive again in the Afghan parliament.

In July, 2011, the parliament was debating about rocket and artillery attacks being fired from Pakistan when a female legislator, Hamida Ahmadzai, demanded that two of the country’s vice presidents be summoned. That request did not bode well with a former army general in the parliament.

That’s another female lawmaker named Nazifa Zaki.

Yes, even in Afghanistan, there are women army officers.

Zaki did not like what Ahmadzai was proposing and considered her request hostile in tone and content. She became a volcano that erupted.

Zaki stood up and threw her shoe at Ahmadzai.

But that was not enough for the army general.

She started walking in the direction of her colleague to teach her a lesson or two about “good manners.”

Ahmadzai, in fairness, did not scrimp or hide. Nor did she waft away gracefully. She threw a water bottle in the direction of Zaki. According to CNN, Zaki punched Ahmadzai once or twice in the face, and the two began to tussle.

Whereas some male legislators managed to separate the two female lawmakers, but there were others who found the incident amusing.

The episode shattered the conventional wisdom that female lawmakers do not throw punches. Indeed, they can do whatever male lawmakers can, or better.

Who said politics is boring, even in Afghanistan?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=uGtXyL_22fc

Crossing the Line
It was the famous English parliamentarian, John Bright, who said in 1865 that “England is the mother of Parliaments.” Many legislatures across the globe tried to model after the British model but, unfortunately, few have succeeded in doing so.

Members of the government party sit on one side and the opposition across them. The two factions are separated by lines and the lawmakers are required not to cross these demarcations during debates for fear they may attack each other.

For you faint-hearted, there is a reason for this division. In the founding period of the parliament, members were allowed to carry weapons into the House of Commons.

The Speaker has, through the years, admonished members of the House not to use words such as “coward,” “hooligan,” “rat,” “swine,” and “traitor.”

And the Winner is…
The Taiwanese parliamentarians are known to engage in fistfights when things go sour. It appears to be a political culture that has no space for compromise. There are some politicians who are programmed by rage.

Strike that.

Some lawmakers are prone to rages. They are passionate about their positions and are willing to demonstrate that in action.

According to Foreign Policy, these lawmakers “don’t just oppose one another, they despise each other. Indeed, they have a greater tradition in fistfights in the halls of government than cooperating on policy.” In other words, it is a world of, “an utter and acrimonious political stalemate.”

There are, of course, some cynics who think that these brawls are staged “publicity stunts.”

But that is not the whole picture. The Taiwanese parliament, better known as, the Legislative Yuan, must be doing something positive. At least, it won the Ig Nobel Peace Awards.

Ig Nobel Peace Prize is an annual award that is given for the purpose of making “first people laugh and then make them think.” It is the anti-Nobel Peace Prize.

The Legislative Yuan was presented the prize for “demonstrating that politicians gain more by punching, kicking, and gouging each other than by waging war against other nations.”
***
Back to Somalia, the brawls among Somali legislators aren’t all bad. The good news is nobody has been killed.

Years ago, Somali politicians would have murdered each other rather than disagree on a political position. But today, they can only hurt each other with the pens they hold in their hands.

Dr. Ahmed Haji Abdirahman: An Obituary

“He was sweet, gentle, and meticulous.” ___An Arab journalist eulogizing his fallen colleague.
***
On December 5, 2011, two masked assailants killed Dr. Ahmed Haji Abdirahman, an educator and well-known religious scholar, in Bossaso, Somalia. The assassins shot him seven times.

Ahmed Haji Abdirahman was born in Galkacayo in 1958. His father, a successful businessman, was a member of Somalia’s first parliament after independence.

I knew Dr. Ahmed when we were both teenagers in Mogadishu during the 1970s. He was attending an all-Arabic high school run by the Egyptian government, Jamal Abdinassir, and I was attending Benadir Secondary School, where English was the language of instruction. Ahmed and I were both bookish and we had one thing in common: our love of the Arabic language. We shared books and discussed the writings of literary figures such as Dr. Taha Hussein. I still remember Ahmed reciting the first paragraph of Taha Hussein’s seminal autobiography, al-Ayyam (The Days) by heart while walking in the streets of Shingani. We would tease each other by speaking in Egyptian dialect. Of course, Ahmed spoke better Arabic than me, but that did not dissuade him from treating me as his equal. During the summer when schools were closed, Ahmed would visit his relatives in Galkacayo and its rural areas, and would share his exotic experiences with me, upon his return to Mogadishu. His stories provided me the greatest diversion, especially since, as a Mogadishu resident, I had nowhere else to go when the school was out.

During the turbulent period of the 1970s, Ahmed and I served on the executive committee of the al-Ahl Student movement. He was 18 years old, two years my senior, when we were entrusted with that responsibility. Ahmed was in that position, not because his brother-in-law (Abdulkhadir Sh. Mohamoud) was the group’s leader, but because he possessed strong leadership and intellect. Moreover, he enjoyed the respect and admiration of most of the members of the committee.

Ahmed read widely and, when he spoke, he would salt his conversations with jokes and lively anecdotes. He was friendly and energetic, a perfect combination of calmness and humility. He had the pedigree of activism. Ahmed’s older sister, Maryan Haji, was a perennial student leader, and their home, near Via Roma, was a warm and welcoming place for student leaders. Ahmed’s father- before he passed away in early 1970s- was a longtime close friend of the late Sheikh Mohamed Moalim Hassan. The latter was a regular visitor of Ahmed’s family home.

During the late 1970s, Ahmed and a group of activists joined the military in order to serve as officers. Initially, the recruits received their training at Jaalle Siyad Military Academy before some of the top recruiters were sent to the Soviet Union, Italy, Egypt, Iraq, and Sudan respectively. The first few weeks of boot camp were challenging for many of the young recruits, but Ahmed finished at the head of his class. I can still recall Ahmed’s face, wearing his thick glasses, gesturing with both hands, and relishing the chance to share with me and others the comic side of his boot camp experience. The recruits, Ahmed would say, were constantly taunted by a sergeant, whom they had nick-named “Ha-Liqin,” (Swallow not) who would interrupt and taunt them during meal times as they were gobbling down greasy rice or spaghetti. Ahmed was later sent to Iraq, for further military training. He and a mutual friend, Ali Yusuf Nur, stopped by in Cairo, when I was there, and on their way to Iraq. Both Ahmed and Ali left me a picture for remembrance of their visit. Ahmed returned to Somalia in 1980 after completing his training. After a year, he resigned from the armed forces and went to Saudi Arabia for religious training. I last saw Ahmed in December 1981 (30 years ago) in Makkah, Saudi Arabia, when I was there for a brief visit. We met at the house of his brother-in-law, Abdulkhadir, who, like Ahmed, was enrolled at Umul Quraa University. Ahmed stayed in Saudi Arabia to obtain his B.A, M.A and doctorate in Islamic studies. In 1999, Ahmed returned to Somalia and became the Vice Chair of the University of Horn of Africa in Bossasso.

During the 1990s, Ahmed was one of few scholars who were emphatically opposed to the armed skirmishes between Colonel Abdullahi Yusuf and a group of Islamists in Puntland. Ahmed saw the formation of an armed Islamic militia group, in a country going through civil war and unrest, as unwise and counter-productive. He was part of the Somali Ulama Council, led by Sh. Bashir Ahmed Salad Warsame, who declared last year that there was no “Jihad,” in Somalia. The ruling of the council infuriated the Al-Shabab militants who had always maintained that they were waging a legitimate and just war, and hence the “Jihad,” against the Transitional Federal Government (TFG) and the African troops stationed in Mogadishu. Ahmed’s moderate views brought him to daggers with the Al-Shabab. Ahmed and his colleagues were portrayed by the militant group as “sell-outs,” “CIA agents,” and “heretics.” To Ahmed, Somalia needed peaceful measures to restore order instead of spreading it through murder and mayhem.

The assassination of Dr. Ahmed was neither the works of the Ethiopian government nor that of Puntland Security Intelligence (PSI). These two entities could have harmed Ahmed long ago as he had lived peacefully in Puntland for many years and was working there as a professor. On many occasions, Dr. Ahmed had received death threats from anonymous callers who would ask him to disassociate himself from both the TFG and Puntland government. The Al-Shabab group’s Amniyaat (a very secretive branch under the command of Ahmed Godane and in charge of intelligence and assassinations) was, indeed, behind the killing of Dr. Ahmed H. Abdirahman. Dr. Ahmed represented everything that was anathema to the militant group- moderation, tolerance, and accentuating change through education. The Al-Shabab is a group where a culture of violence is rooted in its milieu. The terrorist group has been wreaking havoc in Somalia. They knew they could not engage in a debate with Dr. Ahmed Haji in an open forum. Instead, they chose to silence him forever with an AK-47. Fortunately, Dr. Ahmed has left behind a legacy, as many still listen to his taped-lectures, and his collection of educational videos is widely watched. His killers, on the other hand, have shown their atrocity by leaving a trail of destruction. Not long ago, the Al-Shabab militants killed Dr. Abdullahi Addow, a well-known educator and former Minister of Education, along with many students, during a graduation ceremony in Mogadishu. Dr. Ahmed is the latest victim of Al-Shabab’s secret and dark policy of “Is-Qaadi al-Rumuuz wa Qadci al- Ru’uus.” (Downing [prominent] symbols and cutting off heads.” May God bless the soul of D. Ahmed Haji Abdirahman.

Spouses in Crisis: Are You Serious?

When two people get married, they do so thinking that they will stay toghether for a long time. But since humans are not perfect, things happen that could lead to discord and, in many times, bitter divorce. The following are cases that appear to be funny and tragic at the same time.

Say What!
There is a popular anecdote among Somalis in the US about a woman, with limited English, who had tried desperately to dissolve her marriage. She went to the court and told a judge, “I want to open my husband.” The judge was perplexed and asked the lady to repeat what she had said. “Well, I want to open my husband,” she repeated. When asked why she wanted to open her husband, she replied, “because he cut off my leg.” The judge, who was already confused about “opening” the husband (how do you open a husband anyway?) became concerned about the allegations of “cutting off a leg.”’ What seemed a civil matter was beginning to morph into a criminal case. Someone did explain to the judge that the woman wanted to divorce her husband because he had caused her so much trouble. The word “Fur” in Somali means either “open” or “divorce”. Moreover, “lugooyo” literally means “to cut off a leg” but it also is an idiomatic expression for causing mischief.

Take My Wife…Please
Criminals rob banks because that is where the money is. Right? Not so to an American man in Ephrata, Pennsylvania, who apparently had a secret agenda. The man robbed a bank with BB gun, demanded money, and then asked the teller to call the authorities. Bank employees were baffled by the man’s odd behavior. He remained in the bank, instead of fleeing with the cash, and he kept inquiring about the police. “Are they coming soon?” he kept asking. He was, in essence, anxious to see the police get there and arrest him. They did. In court, the man admitted robbing the bank but said that he had an ulterior motive. He wanted to get away from his overbearing wife. The man claimed that his wife had threatened to commit suicide if he ever left her. He was looking for a place where he would have no contact with her. Well, he finally got his wish. The judge sentenced him three to six years. That guaranteed that the two would not see other for a long time. The wife, understanably, divorced him and, to his dismay, did not end her lfe. She must have thought that her husband’s story was a product of his fertile imagination. He was, indeed, a master of theatrical over-reaction.

The Tell-tale Sign of Deceit
Cheaters, by nature, are said to brag about their exploits to their friends. But a Chinese man in Chongqing was tightlipped about the fact that he had a thing for women who were not his wife. His undoing, though, was the parrot in his house. According to Xinmin Evening News, the man’s wife came back home after a month-long journey. Immediately, she sensed something was wrong with her husband. The husband did not display the normal acts of a cheater; meticulous and new excessive personal grooming, too much time on the phone, coming home late, etc. No, he was acting normal. It was, interestingly, the family bird that piqued her curiosity. The parrot started picking up new words during her absence. It kept repeating, “I love you,” “divorce,” and “be patient.” The wife knew her parrot well-enough to suspect that her husband had a mistress and, hence, was cheating on her. She immediately filed for divorce, thinking that the bird’s revelations would be sufficient grounds for dissolving the marriage. She was disappointed when she was informed that the bird’s testiomony would be inadmissable in a court of law.

Annals of Vindictiveness

Dr. Richard Batista, a surgeon, and his wife, Dawnelle, were living a lavish life in Long Island, New York. The couple had three children but their marriage became rocky after the wife developed a kidney ailment. Their relationship, once cordial and loving, suddenly became toxic. But then something happened that changed everything. Dr. Batista decided to donate his kidney to his ailing wife. How special! Dawnelle’s father and brother had previously donated their kidneys but her body rejected their organs. Amazingly, Dr. Batista’s kidney was perfect for her and she recovered. What seemed to be the most romantic gift a husband can give to his wife turned out to be a source of tension. Something went dreadfully wrong. About 18 to 24 months after the surgery, Downelle, according to court documents, started having an affair. Dr. Batista was devastated. How could she do that to him? Didn’t he give her part of himself. What an ingrate, Dr. Batista thought. He filed for divorce. Instead of asking for the milion-dollar home the couple shared, Dr. Batista --are you ready for this?-- demanded his kidney back. His kidney! “I want my kidney back,” Dr. Batista declared. The case had all the ingredients of a media circus. But can a transplanted kidney be removed from a woman just because her husband had a change of heart? After realizing that there was no chance of his wife giving his kidney back (Come on, Dr. Batista, you are a surgeon. You know better!), the good doctor, instead, asked for $1.5 million. Where did he get that figure? Well, according to the doctor’s lawyer, that’s the going-rate for a kidney in the black market. Oh, I see.

Honey, Where Are You?
The first divorce case related to the 9-11 tragedy was filed in New York in 2001 by a woman who accused her husband of infidelity. The husband, who had an office on the 103rd floor of the World Trade Center, was nowhere to be seen during that horrific day. Perhaps, he was a victim of the terrorist attack? No, that can’t be. Apparently, the man turned off his cell phone, spent the morning with his girlfriend, and -- to add insult to injury-- did not know about the terrorist attack because he did not watch the TV. At 11 AM, he finally turned on the phone and found his nervous-wreck wife on the line: “Are you OK? Where are you?” Annoyed, the man answered, “What do you mean? I am in my office, of course.”

All You Can Eat!
The legendary Halac Dheere, in Somali folklore, was best known for his ravenous appetite. His unconventional table manners, needless to say, would have made Emily Post, the renowned expert on etiquette, cringe with goose pumps. Halac would have had a strong following among proponents of the Atkins Diet (high protein and low carb) but he sure would have had difficulty getting along with a certain American woman. The woman in question filed for divorce because she said her husband was eating too much. What does that have to do with their marriage? By eating too much, the woman claimed, her husband was committing a crime. Actually, the woman went even further when she said that she did not want to be an accomplice to her husband’s commission of a crime. This is what happens when you only eat all the food you can SEE! Did I say ‘see’ or ‘sea’ food’? Whatever!

I am Bored
A German woman was anything but grateful. She felt trapped in what she called “an unhappy marriage,” because her husband --get this--worked for the family, cooked, and cleaned. “I have become irrelevant,” she told the judge. “There is nothing for me to do.” Perhaps, a class on time management would have helped her.

A Poet’s Dilemma
Qamaan Bulhan was a talented Somali poet who spoke on behalf of his people against the incendiary tirade of equally-talented poet- Ali Duuh, in the famous Guba series. Bulhan once had a domestic issue that troubled him immensely. According to Somali artist, Mahmoud Abdullahi “Sangub”, Qamaan Bulhan one day came back from a trip to an empty house. His wife, Barni Sh. Abdille, was long gone. When Bulhan inquired about her whereabouts, he was shocked to find that she had left him for good. She voided their marriage because Bulhan was not offering daily prayers. Initially, she had consulted with clerics who belonged to Shaikh Abbayoonis lineage. These clerics told Barni that they had no ground to nullify her marriage. Then, she went to other clerics who belonged to Reer Aw Nuuh (Abasguul) lineage, and they ruled the marriage null and void. Bulhan was informed about what had transpired during his absence, and became infuriated and distraught. After a short period, Barni and Bulhan reconciled. One day, Bulhan came to his house and saw a group of clerics meditating. They were his guests. He asked them about their lineage. The roving clerics, who normally were a collage of various clan members, refused to identify themselves other than calling themselves “Ikhwan” (brothers). Bulhan insisted on knowing their clans but they refused to heed to his demand. He did not want to relive the nightmare of losing his wife again simply because a cleric said so. He also did not want the clerics besmirching his reputation. Bulhan recited a poem in which he chronicled his mistrust and animosity to clerics who dispensed fatwas (religious edicts) with impunity. In one line of the poem, Bulhan said, “Abbayoonis mooyee, wadaad eegato nahaye.” (Except Abbayoonis, we are on the lookout for clerics).

A Friend’s Escape Clause
Speaking of prayers, a friend on the East Coast told me several years ago that she was getting divorced from her then-new husband. The couple had gotten married but was not yet living together. Her “blink-and-you-missed-it marriage”, as she mockingly called it, caused some tremors. “He wants me to dress modestly,” she angrily told me. Then, she went on and argued that the issue, in her humble opinion, was not about religion but, rather, about control. The husband, she believed, to put it plainly, wanted to control her and dictate to her how she looked and dressed. Then she dropped a bombshell. “This is the same man,” she said with sarcastic glee, “who wants me to dress modestly when he himself does not even offer one of the five pillars of Islam (prayers).” Ouch. That hurts!

Your Body Is Beautiful
A Somali imam from a well-known center in the Midwest was visiting Kansas when I met him over dinner in a friend’s home two years ago. I took the opportunity to ask him what kind of social problems Somalis were facing in his state. He told me about a woman who had come to see him complaining about her husband. The imam was used to hearing all kinds of stories but not the one this lady told him. She wanted to get divorced from her husband because he had the peculiar habit of shedding his clothes once he got home. Let me clarify; all his clothes. “I can’t live with a nudist,” the woman retorted.

The imam appealed to the husband to change his odious behavior but to no avail. The husband was not interested in the type of modesty the imam was preaching. The couple, who did not have children, finally got divorced. Then, two years later, the same woman came to the imam -- this time, though, she was complaining about her new husband. Apparently, the new husband was endowed with a great body (more like Arnold Schwarzenegger, I assume) but he had an annoying habit of covering himself up with long-sleeve shirts at home. Obviously, the man was shy. Is something wrong with that? Not to his wife. “I told him to wear short-sleeve shirts or tee-shirts because he has such a beautiful body,” the woman told the imam. “But he would not listen to me.” The imam sardonically described the wife as being, well, a person of extremes! Eventually, the couple got divorced but for reasons that had nothing to do with the science of the husband’s body.

Can He?
And finally, in a California court, a feeble 70-year old man was brought to court. He was charged with attempted sexual assault through the use of force, and attempted sexual conduct through use of force against his 65-year old wife. The charges prompted titters and gasps in the courtroom. The case either seemed sheer idiocy or perversion of the law. The poor elderly man appeared sick and had difficulty walking straight. Could he have inflicted sexual harm on his spouse? This must have been a mistake. Maybe the elderly man tried to hit his wife with his cane! Not so, according to the government. Someone, however, had crudely suggested to the prosecutor to amend the charges to --are you still with me? -- “assault with a DEAD weapon.” This must be a joke? Right!

Politics, Commerce, and Clans: The Somali Famine

The tragic famine in Somalia is igniting a wave of unprecedented activism among Somali youth in the diaspora and a flurry of foreign dignitaries flocking to visit Mogadishu to help the victims. Some countries sent high-profile representatives to Somalia to show their solidarity with the Somalis in their dire moment of need. But the Somali famine has also exposed the deep fissures in some of the scattered communities where mundane relief programs have proven to be divisive. In all fairness, there are many communities in the diaspora that have helped victims of the devastating drought. In one case, a group of Somali youth activists came face to face with the quintessential Somali epidemic in their efforts towards relief; clanism.

Upending the Youth

I have not seen an issue that has galvanized Somali youth in the diaspora more than the current famine engulfing Somalia. For the first time, I saw many young people, some in high schools and others in universities, organizing themselves and raising funds for their brethren back home. In one American city, San Diego, more than 70 young men and women, all from various backgrounds, came together and formed a group so they could make their community and their American neighbors aware of the plight of Somalis abroad. The youths held car washes, planned and sold tickets for a fundraising dinner, and engaged the local media. Overall, they raised about $30,000.

Yes, $30,000.

Unfortunately, however, there were several Somali leaders and community activists who waged a subtle, yet effective, campaign to dissuade these young people. First, the youths were accused of being “naïve” and “ignorant” of the situation in Somalia. There were condescending attempts to “educate” and “illuminate” them. Second, there were accusations that the young people were collecting money for “Ethiopians” instead of Somalis; a dubious and false charge meant to malign the youth. Some religious and community groups felt threatened by the ease in which the youths organized themselves and raised the funds without the benefit of clannish support. Apart from petty organizational jealousies, greed came into the equation. “What are they going to do with the money?” became the prevalent question among some community leaders. Then, the youths were deluged with requests to dispose of the money. Since the youth group did not have a legal status as an organization, they solicited applications from established relief agencies. They asked four agencies, which had shown interest in helping famine-stricken people, to present their legal papers and submit for grueling interviews. Some agencies responded to the challenge whereas others flinched because they did not have their papers in order.

The youth chose ARAHA (American Relief Agency for the Horn of Africa) which they thought had all the legal papers necessary to operate abroad and had a track record of providing services in Somalia and neighboring countries. The head of the selected organization, however, was not Somali. The choice infuriated some people, who started questioning the motive of the youth. To pacify the storm brewing against them, the youth group decided to send one of its leaders to Somalia who, in turn, made sure that food and medicine were delivered to the famine victims. In the midst of the controversy, the head of a clan-based community organization called his niece, a youth activist, and fumed at her for her involvement in a futile cause. The people dying in Somalia, her uncle wanted her to know, did not belong to their clan. The young lady was startled by the rancorous display from her uncle never expecting him, an educated man who himself came to the USA as a youngster, to utter such a diabolical statement. “Even if the drought victims were Jews,” she told her myopic uncle, “I would still help them.”

International Love Fest!

They all came to Mogadishu, the world’s most dangerous capital, to visit the starving people.

Foreign politicians and celebrities all showed up to pledge their support.

They all had photo opportunities with famine-stricken children, Somali government officials, and members of the press who were readily available.

Then, after several hours in Mogadishu, they all left. None stayed overnight.

Mogadishu, after all, has serious security issues. Moreover, the city does not have five-star hotels. Its beaches, though beautiful, are infested with sharks. The country’s government officials seem to be magnet for corruption.

For few weeks, it seemed that there was an intense competition, among some world leaders, to go to Somalia and help the victims of the famine.

It was obvious that Somalia had suddenly become a battle ground for competing countries. Regional rivals such as Turkey, Iran, and Saudi Arabia, for instance, each sent a delegation. It was a contest to show the world which country cared the most. Or so; it appeared!

Perhaps, one country has captured the hearts and minds of many Somalis.

Turkey!

Turkish Prime Minister, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, was, perhaps, the first high ranking world leader to have visited Somalia since Uganda’s Yoweri Museaveni made a cameo appearance in late 2010. Erdogan’s visit was brief but memorable. Not only did he come himself, but he also brought his family along. Mr. Erdogan was depicted by the media as a “caring Islamist” with a charitable heart who had upbraided the West for failing to help famine-stricken Somalia. “It’s impossible for us to be spectators to the human tragedy in Africa,” he declared. His visit to Mogadishu, during the month of Ramadan, drew wide acclamation from many Somalis who were harboring an increasingly dimmer view of the world for its abandonment of their country for the last two decades. Somalis, all of sudden, became infatuated with Turkey. The name “Istanbul” became the hottest name in Mogadishu for new-born baby girls. Somali commentators, interestingly, started drooling over and glorifying Turkey and its leader. The Turks, in turn, sent food, experts, and even awarded 700 scholarships to Somali students. Alas, even the leading opposition leader in Turkey, Kemal Kilicdaroglu, concerned about being out-shined by his political rival (Erdogan), came to Somalia and hugged a few mal-nutritioned children.

According to Huffington Post, Turkey donated about $300 million to Somalia far more than other countries—including $130 million from USA, $50 million from Saudi Arabia, $41 million from Kuwait, $40 million from United Arab Emirates, $1 million from South Africa, and the $50 million the African Union (AU) member- states raised for the Somali famine. The famous Senegalese artist, Youssou N’dour, lashed out at African leaders for not showing up at an AU- sponsored conference, held in Addis Ababa on Aug. 25, to discuss the Somali famine (20 of the 54 countries- sent representatives, with only several presidents in attendance) yet many African head of states went to Paris when the French president Nicolas Sarkozy called them to talk about the situation in Libya.

But Erdogan’s visit, despite the hyperbole by Somali pundits, is not bereft of politics. Not only is Erdogan the leader of Turkey, but he has been positioning himself to be the undisputed political leader of the Muslim world. Turkey oversees the day-to-day management of the Organization of the Islamic Cooperation (OIC), a league for the 57 Muslim states in the world. Moreover, Erdogan, until few weeks ago, was under heavy attack from the Turkish press for his lukewarm support of the Arab uprising. (He has since redeemed himself when he visited Egypt, Tunisia, and Libya last month.) A visit to Somalia was tantalizing and, perhaps, a diversion from the storm back home.

What does Turkey wants from Somalia?

The question might seem sacrilegious given the current state of Somalia as a failed state. In reality, Somalia has a lot to offer to countries like Turkey or Iran. Mogadishu still holds some cards. Somalia resembles the situation of the young woman who, unable to get a mate, unleashed her frustration on her girlfriend. The latter snapped, “Honey, relax; you are single. You are not dead.” Somalia, with all its tragic experiences of civil war, religious extremism, famine, and piracy, cannot be ruled as a nonentity, and, hence, dead. It is still a country with millions of people in its territory, and has membership in international bodies such as the United Nations, the African Union, the Arab League, and the OIC. Somalia still exports livestock and banana abroad even though it lacks an effective federal government. Turkey’s foreign policy, under Erdogan, is to project itself as an economic and regional powerhouse. Somalia can serve as a steppingstone for Turkey to showcase its diplomatic presence in Africa and exercise its strategic ambitions.

Unlike Somali media sites, the Turks view Ankara’s engagement with Somalia from purely diplomatic and economic interests, with less emphasis on humanitarian aid. Turkey is one of the fastest growing economies in the world, and it has commercial interests in Africa. One example, according to Sabah, a leading Turkish newspaper, Turkey exported $7.27 billion to Africa in 2010 and imported $6.4 billion from the African continent. Turkey gained crucial African votes when it got elected to the UN’s powerful body; the Security Council. That same newspaper summarized Turkey’s recent engagement with Somalia in a telling headline, “Turkey to Raise Africa’s Profile with Somalia Engagement.” After Erdogan’s visit to Mogadishu, Turkey’s Foreign Minister, Ahmet Davutoglu, immediately flew to South Africa and Ethiopia for official visits.

The Saudi delegation, incidentally, was led by Prince Alwaleed bin Talal, a nephew of King Abdullah and a well-known billionaire. Though he is not an official figure with the Saudi government, the prince was in Somalia as a representative of the royal family. He visited some of the victims of the famine, and met with Somali officials including President Sheikh Sharif Sh. Ahmed. The prince was the most forthcoming of all those foreign dignitaries who came to Somalia. He told the press that he had met with the Somali president and discussed “the current situation and also future business investments.”

Yes, indeed, future business interests!

The famous Egyptian comedian, Hamadah Sultan, used to tell a joke about a man whose father had died. The man buys a newspaper advertisement. First, he scribbles, “Abu-Qatadah bereaves for his father,” but found the sentence too short. Since he paid for the 10-word ad, Abu-Qatadah figured, he might as well take full advantage of the space and inject a personal commercial appeal. Therefore, he posted, “Abu-Qatadah bereaves for his father and, incidentally, he repairs watches.” Foreign leaders, of course, have lent a helping hand to starving Somalis. But let us not forget that, their benevolence has underlying self-interest. In other words, their overtures are dictated by state interests. Fortunately, the starving people in Somalia, while grateful to these foreign politicians, do not care where the next sack of rice comes from.

Teatime In Mogadishu: A Book Review

Teatime in Mogadishu: My Journey as a Peace Ambassador in the World of Islam, by Ahmed Ali Haile, as told to David W. Shenk. Harrisonburg, Virginia: Herald Press, 2011.

***
When Ahmed Ali Haile, an avowed Somali Christian and the author of Teatime in Mogadishu, died of cancer in April 26, 2011, Somali commentators from all walks of life eviscerated him as an apostate who had been a disappointment to his community. The Somali Christians, some missionaries, and a small number of Somali intellectuals described his death as a loss of a brother, a mentor, and a peacemaker. As a member of ‘Somali Intellectual Forum’, I was amazed by how some Somali educated elite reacted. Some were genuinely saddened by Haile’s passing and, in fact, prayed for him by using the phrase Muslims say when someone dies; “May Allah have mercy on [so and so].” One imam, who is also a U.S-trained attorney in Minneapolis, told the group that they could not pray for Haile because he was not Muslim. The reaction from some of the members of the forum was swift, and the imam was accused of nearsightedness, fanaticism, and haughtiness. Perhaps two or three individuals came to the imam’s defense, who was merely trying to clarify the Islamic position on praying for a non-Muslim. It was normal for Haile to provoke such a visceral reaction, even after his death.

In my life, I only met one Somali Christian, an acquaintance in California, and I knew of another man through a mutual friend. The first man was a political asylum seeker who claimed to be a Christian, and the latter was an ordained minister. The first came to my community office, sometime in 1999, consulting me about a letter he had received from an immigration officer. The letter ordered the man to leave the United States within 30 days because, as a Somali Christian, he was not part of a persecuted group. The Somali man was further advised that he could not appeal from the immigration examiner’s final decision. The man told me that he had regularly attended Mass in Kenya but that he still regarded himself as Muslim. In fact, he told him he had come from the mosque before he came to see me.

The other man was a Somali from Kenya named Mohamed Yaqub, who had an advanced degree from Princeton. According to my mutual friend, a woman who had once come close to marrying Mr. Yaqub, there were times he cried because he said he was confused about his religious beliefs, and he worried what his parents would think of him had he told them about his new faith. Other times, Yaqub reportedly repeated the same calumny and accusations that some critics of Islam make (i.e. the treatment of women and Prophet Mohamed’s marriages). But after some time, I heard that Yaqub became an ordained minister in Minnesota and was, in fact, a community activist providing ESL (English as a Second Language) classes to Somali refugees in Minneapolis. Then, sometime in 2009, I read that Yaqub had killed himself in November 2008.

Ahmed Ali Haile was never confused about who he was and his mission in life. He was not a man racked by doubts. Born in Bulo Burte (Dusty Village) in central Somalia in 1953, Mr. Haile grew up in a Muslim family. As a child, he memorized the Qur’an and enjoyed attending religious classes offered by a local imam. He had heard that Muslims believed in the “Scrolls of Abraham, the Torah of Moses, the Psalms of David, the Gospel of Jesus,” and, of course, the Qur’an. But Haile had not seen any of these other books. He was curious to see what these books had to say. By age 15, Haile contracted cerebral malaria and became bed-stricken. He was hospitalized in a small hospital run by a group of missionaries in his hometown named Sudan Interior Mission (SIM). As a patient, he had discretionary time, and he asked an Australian nurse to give him something to read so he could brush up his English. She gave him a narrative about Prophet Joseph from the Bible. Haile became enthralled with what he read. He started reading the Bible regularly but was still grappling with conflicting issues about his faith as Muslim and what he was learning from the Bible. After a short period, Haile and a friend visited Marc Erickson, a medical doctor at SIM and announced that they wanted to be Christians. . Erickson was not only treating patients, but he would invite some of the youth to play basketball with him and then read the Bible to them in his home. It was illegal to proselytize Christianity to Somalis. The doctor was stunned and told the two teenagers, “But you know you will be rejected by your people, persecuted, and maybe killed,” The rest is history. Haile became Christian and was baptized in Mogadishu at Secondo Lido beach.

Haile would later move to Kenya to study Christianity further and would come to the USA to attend Mennonite schools and Indiana State University, where he earned degrees in economics and peace studies. After brief stays in Somalia, Haile and his family moved to Nairobi where he became a full-time professor at Daystar University, a Christian institution. He specialized in working with Somali Muslims and spreading the Gospel. In 1992, Haile went to Somalia to mediate between warring factions, but Warlord Mohamed Farah Aidid was incensed with the Somali Christian from America, who was meddling in his backyard. According to Haile, Aidid’s militia launched a rocket-propelled grenade at the house where Haile and some elders were meeting. Haile was seriously wounded and had his leg amputated. Haile did not give up and kept going back to Somalia to mediate the warring factions. His approach, though, was unique. He wanted a Christ-centered approach to solve Somalia’s intractable problems.

Teatime in Mogadishu is a memoir of Haile and his attempts to sit with Somali elders, one cup of tea at a time, to bring peace to Somalia. He states in the book that he has deep appreciation of his Muslim heritage because it was that tradition that brought him to Christianity. “It is a story that bears witness that when I met Jesus and the church, I came home,” he says. “My Muslim heritage prepared me to believe in Jesus Christ…Whether I live or die doesn’t really matter, for my calling now and in eternity is to glorify Jesus Christ. That is what this memoir is about.”

Haile, in his own admission, had difficulty getting along with some Somali Christians and missionaries. He was expelled from the Somali church in Nairobi because he was seen as a polarizing figure. The Somali church installed him as a leader and then decided to remove him asking him to worship elsewhere. Haile had fractious relationship with senior missionary officials. Some of these leaders were outraged by his attempts to recruit poor Somali refugees to become Christians. The concern was that Haile was encouraging dependency among Somali refugees on the church. He was providing food and cash, according to an article in Aljazeerah.net (10/31/2010) to Somali women in return for them becoming Christians. A woman named Maimoun told Al-Jazeerah that Haile had given her $500 if she accepted Christianity as her religion. She did and urged other Somali families to do the same. But Haile later found out about Maimoun’s commitment to Islam and he cut off her assistance. The missionaries were wondering if some of these refugees were more interested in food than accepting Christ as their Savior. On another occasion, Haile felt slighted when he applied for a position as director of the SIM in Somalia. SIM International, which was re-opening its offices in Somalia, did not want its director in that country to be a Somali Christian. In essence, Haile was seen as a total liability. To avoid a public relations fiasco, SIM international decided not to open its offices in Somalia. Haile was devastated by the decision. He believed that he knew more about Somalia and Somali Christians than anyone else. He was a man fearlessly imbued with self-confidence. But Haile’s disappointment with Somali Christians’ decision to exclude him from their church was evident. “We Somalis can be divisive in our relations with one another,” he lamented. “We are individualists.”

Haile’s book raises some nettlesome issues. The idea of a 15-year old boy embracing Christianity in an overwhelmingly Muslim country resurrects the ingrained mistrust of missionaries by Somalis. This was based on the Somalis’ long-held views that the missionaries, though they were providing essential social, medical and educational services, were deeply engaging in converting Muslims. While no one can say a teenager cannot make a major decision such as switching faiths, children at that critical age are mostly impressionable. It is obvious that missionaries like Dr. Marc Erickson, was circumventing the law of the land and was actively engaged in concerted efforts to spread the Gospel among Muslims. Haile sees no problem with that approach. In the 1970s, the Somali government, under Siad Barre, expelled the missionaries from Somalia. But after few years, the government allowed them back.

Teatime Time in Mogadishu is a book that will be hailed by Somali Christians and missionaries. For many Somalis though, the book may be a nonfactor. Haile, in an interview, had promised that he “will never speak critically of Islam because Islam prepared [him] to believe in Jesus Christ.” But, in his memoir, he provides scalding critique of his former religion for its disregard of the cross, for its focus on retributive justice rather than forgiveness, and for its failing to comprehend the nature of salvation. Regardless of how people perceive Haile, he is already an integral part of modern Somali history. He was, after all, the most prominent Somali Christian in the last two decades.

Marriages Gone Awry

During the three decades that I lived in the Somali Diaspora community, I witnessed or heard a number of interesting stories about Somali immigrants getting married, or divorced, for an array of reasons that are not unique in any culture. But two cases intrigued me the most because they offer a rare window into the plight of individuals who have encountered partners with unsuspected dark sides. These two stories highlight family pressures to wed, showmanship and duplicity.
***
90 Days of Gloom

Selma and Abdi (not their real names) had known each other as part of the small but vibrant Somali community in a large American city. Abdi had a successful career as an administrator at a major corporation and Selma was a hardworking retail employee.

Selma came from a well-to-do background. Though born in Somalia, she had grown up abroad. Her father’s wealth allowed her to live what was, at best, an aimless existence. He was able to send Selma and her sister to an English-speaking country, but was mostly absent from their lives. Those who knew the family describe the father as a lazy, drunken, philandering wastrel. Selma rarely saw him while growing up. By the time she arrived as an immigrant in the United States, she was in her late twenties. Her family urged her to marry because she was a single woman in an alien country. She associated almost exclusively with other Somalis from her region, though she hung out with what was generally regarded as the wrong crowd. And she made it known that she would not go out with any man who did not meet her geographical criteria. Abdi was indeed from her region, but she expressed little interest in him, telling others that she found him unappealing. Besides, she had heard rumors from the community that he was gay. Abdi had himself heard the rumors about his alleged sexual orientation and categorically denied them. To those who would listen, Abdi offered a vehement rebuttal: “I am heterosexual.”
And then a funny thing happened. Community members woke up one day to find that Selma and Abdi were planning to wed!

Why in the world would these two people decide to get married? Many in the community were aware of Selma’s past indifference, even strong negative views, toward Abdi. Others wondered if there might be a secret pact between the couple. There were clearly pressures on Selma, 35, to marry. Some wondered if Abdi had ulterior motives of his own, such as proving that he was not gay. Yet the community’s doubts were set aside and people came out in droves to participate in the joyous occasion of Selma and Abdi’s wedding.

Three months later, Somali community members received yet another jolting piece of news from the couple. Selma and Abdi had decided to call it quits. The gossip began almost immediately. Speculations were rampant as to the possible reasons for the split. Had the marriage been a sham from day one? What had been the motives for the marriage? Was money exchanged between the two to show the world a union that was an elaborate facade?

After several weeks of silence, Abdi told his friends and relatives that the sudden dissolution of the couple’s marriage had come about because his wife had attempted to stab him with a knife. He also said that he was concerned about her drinking and had been trying to help by getting her into a rehab facility. In essence, Abdi accused his wife of being a recalcitrant alcoholic who had rebuffed his constant pleas to seek professional help.

Initially, Selma’s reaction was more muted. But after some time had passed she decided to tell her own side of the story. Her account was intriguing. She described her husband as a man with a roving eye for men and a short attention span for her. For community members who were already homophobic and, hence, believed that Abdi was gay, her accounting was all they needed for their final verdict. Their reaction was blistering. They accused him of flirting with men and making his wife feel extraneous. By this time, Abdi had succumbed to depression and fled the state.

But some community members could not decide which one to believe. They were both seen as dark and disturbed characters. Some people secretly thanked Selma for having caused Abdi to leave the region. Yet several months after the bitter divorce, Selma relocated to the same city as Abdi, though the couple was never again on speaking terms. Selma got married and was blessed with children. Abdi has been married for the last three years. His current wife had heard all the rumors about his past, but she seems unconcerned about them.
The jury is still out as to what happened between Selma and Abdi.
***
30 Days of Deception

At age 29, Anab (not her real name) was a single mother with three beautiful children. She had been married at age 18 to a tall, strong, handsome man 15 years her senior who was visually impaired. As a disabled person, he was unemployed and collecting government benefits. One thing he had, though, was boundless energy as a Casanova. Love-making, it seemed, was the only recreational activity he enjoyed the most. But he had a habit of disappearing every time his wife became pregnant. He would visit his relatives in another state and would often be gone for months. These absences, combined with his penchant for stinginess, bothered Anab and she decided to end the marriage. The couple split after an acrimonious divorce.

Five years later, Anab met a man from another state. The two were introduced to each other by a mutual friend. Yassin (also not his real name) had Prince Charming flamboyancy about him and he pursued Anab with a relentless tenacity. He called her several times a day over a courtship that lasted three months. He told her he was employed, healthy, and in love with her.
He was ready to get married, he said. He talked to her parents and officially asked for her hand.
Anab’s family, which had always badgered her to marry, was relieved.

On the wedding day, Yassin came to Anab’s city, stayed for a few hours, met his new in-laws, and bought tickets to bring his new family with him to his hometown that same evening. It was quite a hectic schedule for Yassin. Anab was puzzled why her new husband would not even stay for the night and rest.

When the family arrived at Yassin’s residence in the East Coast, Anab made the painful discovery that there was no new apartment of her own. Instead, she found herself living in an apartment that belonged to her new mother-in-law. The discoveries just kept coming. He was, for instance, unemployed—and had been for several months. His mother was supporting him. Her husband also was suffering from chronic diabetics and was on medication. Anab felt anguish, frustration and helplessness all rolled into one. She wondered what other lies she had been told by this husband, a man who had given her an almost completely false picture of his life, health and living arrangements. She soon learned that he had previously been married for two years and that his first wife had left him and married another man. Yassin’s lifelong pathology of deceit was emerging.

Perhaps most shocking to Anab was that her marriage was never consummated. In the first week, her husband told her that she must be tired after her cross-country trip. “What a kind and a considerate man,” she thought. But when nothing happened after one week, then two weeks, then three weeks, Anab summoned her husband and asked him if he was okay. “Yes, I am fine,” he answered in a defensive tone. She recommended seeing a doctor. Maybe he had a medical condition that caused impotence. Her husband screamed at her and told her that he was most certainly not sick.

After a month of feeling like a guest in their crowded housing arrangement, Anab decided to return to her old city and asked her husband to follow her. He assured her that he would be joining her soon.

Ten days after returning to her old city, Anab received a letter in the mail from her husband. He had divorced her because she had allegedly accused him of being gay. Anab was adamant that she had done no such thing. This new development left her devastated, an emotional wreck. What had happened? What had she done wrong?

Several weeks after the divorce, Yassin moved to Europe. He was tired of hearing talk about his short and failed marriage. He has been living in Europe for the last several years. For Anab, the experience was emotionally draining. At 35, she is not married but is hopeful that one day she will be. “My first marriage represented an extreme of abundance,” she told this writer. “And my second marriage was, oddly, an extreme of scarcity.”

Indeed, the second time around the man of her dreams had become a nightmare. The first three months of their courtship, Yassin was hot. Then their relationship became yet another cautionary tale.

Fathia Absie"s Broken Dreams: A Film Review

Writer/Producer/Director: Fathia Absie
Director of Photography: Tariq Tarey
Editor: Sharmarke Hassan
Total Running Time: 140 minutes
***
In 2008 and 2009, about 20 Somali youth began disappearing from the state of Minnesota. Burhan Hassan, 17, was the youngest and, perhaps, a bright young man, who had dreams of attending Harvard.

It was a typical day for Burhan Hassan. He woke up early in the morning, ate breakfast, and left for school. After several hours, he called his mother, Zainab Bihi, and told her a friend would pick him up from school.

It was the last time that Burhan’s mother ever saw him again. After a period of tumult and anxiety, she found out that her son, who was a toddler when the family left Somalia in early 1990s, was now back in their native country fighting alongside Al-Shabab militants.

Thus is the way “Broken Dreams”, a documentary about the exodus of Somali youth for jihad, gets underway.

To the parents of these youth, it was a painful and tortuous period that saw many sleepless nights, a great deal of introspection, and a collective outcry against what they regarded as the ‘recruitment and the misleading of their sons’ by adults who were hiding behind religious masks. To the Somali community in Minnesota and elsewhere around the country, the case brought unwanted attention to them from the U.S government. Following the disappearances, the FBI launched the largest US counterterrorism investigation since the 9-11 tragedy. Ralph S. Boelter, then the special agent in charge of the FBI’s Minneapolis office, which also was leading the investigation, told The New York Times (7/11/09), “This case is unlike anything we have encountered.” FBI Director Robert Mueller stated, after one of the Minnesota youths committed a suicide bombing in northern Somalia, that the young man “was radicalized in his hometown in Minnesota.” In January 2009, the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security issued a bulletin warning that Al-Shabab militants were planning to carry out an attack in America. The warning turned out to be false but fear of Al-Shabab attack was real.

In 2006, after 16 years of warlordism and banditry in southern Somalia, the Union of Islamic Courts came to power in Mogadishu. For six months, the Somali capital saw a precipitous decline of banditry and chaos. But the Islamic group was a collage of groups, some moderate and others much more extreme, as in the case of Al-Shabab. Ethiopia, with the help of the United States, invaded Somalia to crush the nascent Islamic group. It was during this time when former American president George W. Bush saw the world in the prism of terrorism. The Chairman of the Islamic Courts Union was none other than Sheikh Sharif Ahmed, now Somalia’s president. Sheikh Sharif called for jihad against the Ethiopian invaders, which caused him to flee –at least temporarily- Mogadishu. Many Somalis, from various backgrounds, were incensed with the foreign occupation of Somalia. Some young men in Minnesota apparently heard the call to jihad emanating from southern Somalia and went there to fight against the Ethiopians and their Somali allies. There was one problem; Al-Shabab, which was the only effective group fighting the Ethiopians, was on the State Department’s list of terrorist organizations. It is illegal in the USA to train, fight, and provide material support to a terrorist organization.

What happened to these youth? How did they end up in Somalia? Did someone recruit them to become jihadists? Did the youth recruit each other? How did the Somali community react to the disappearance of these youth?

These are the questions that Fathia Absie’s documentary explores.

Fathia Absie is well-known to many Somalis as a journalist and a writer. She once worked as a reporter for Voice of America’s (VOA) Somali Service. Fathia, to the surprise of many, also dabbles in poetry. She is, in her own words, “a complete romantic”. In one of her articles, Ms. Absie pronounced that “love is peace and prosperity. It’s why we need so much of it”. It is interesting to note here that Fathia once told a reporter for the Star Tribune (2/7/11) that she had ambitions to make a movie about Somali poet Elmi Boodheri who supposedly died of love. It is with this passion and intensity that Fathia tackles the case of the missing youth. She has interviewed scores of community activists, imams, youth, parents of the missing youth, FBI officials, and intellectuals. She has left no stone unturned.

The case of the missing youth was not an easy one to address because the law enforcement investigations created a deadly climate of fear. The FBI agents, while doing their job of protecting the USA from danger, were breathing heavily down the people’s necks. Somali youth were harassed at the campuses of the University of Minnesota, at their jobs, at the airport, and at immigration interviews. Some were threatened with deportations if they did not cooperate, while others were promised Green Cards if they cooperated. The imam of Abubakar as-Siddiq Mosque in Minneapolis and four of his colleagues were put on “No Fly” list. By the conclusion of the investigation, the United States had indicted 14 people for the case of the missing youth. Ironically, the second largest terrorism in the history of America also produced a stream of unwanted reports that had no value whatsoever to intelligence. As one Somali community activist in Minnesota told this writer, ‘Damn the three- letter people [a Somali euphemism of the FBI]. Now they know who is cheating on his wife, who is the polygamist cleric, who is the elderly lady who sends money to her grandchildren in Ceelasha Biyaha [a suburb of Mogadishu] and who is the ‘nice and friendly community leader whose career has been blighted by alcohol abuse”. Perhaps, it was good that the authorities discovered that the Somali community was not, after all, a den of terrorists. But the experience of going through such a vast investigation, as the film points out, and being under the microscope was nothing to be trifled with. There were two hearings about the case in the U.S Senate and House of Representatives respectively.

Like an X-ray, Broken Dreams exposes the Somali community to the core; stripped and not beautified. It shows how the civil war still defines the community; a conflict that is far from the streets of Minnesota and Seattle yet so close to the hearts of people that it shapes their daily life. It is the irony of shifting allegiances and moral confusion. What is wrong today is right tomorrow, and vice-versa. It tells of a community that produces children in rapid succession but lacks the time to educate, nurture and talk with them. It explores the habit of settling scores due to clannish differences to the extent that true issues are muddled or diluted. The case in point is the one mentioned above of Somalia’s president, the former jihadist. In 2009, Sheikh Sharif came to Minnesota, this time though he was, like Zeus in Greek mythology, sitting on the top of Mount Olympus. He encouraged Somali parents to keep an eye on their children lest they be recruited by sinister forces lurking in the shadows of mosques. “If you take them [children] to the mosque, and you wanted good things for them, that is a good idea,” he admonished. “But the [recruiters] have infiltrated the mosques, too. We must be aware when our kids go to mosques, what they do there, and how they think.” The Al-Shabab group has been waging war against the very government that Sheikh Sharif heads. This shift, in the Somali context, is more than political expediency. It is how religion is used, or rather misused, to justify any given position. What the president’s audience, and those who were clapping for him, forgot was that this was the same man who was openly recruiting the young men to join the jihad two years earlier but now was killing them in the name of the ‘war on terror’. This reminds me an incident a young Jordanian engineer told me about many years ago when, as a teen trying to get a driver license in his native country, he bribed a police officer to get the document. One day, the young man was driving in the streets of Amman when he committed an egregious traffic violation. He was stopped by an officer who screamed at him and asked the teen, “who is the idiot and the dog who gave you the license?” The young man did not flinch and told the officer, “Sir, it was you”. It was the same officer who had secured the license for him. The Somali president is like that traffic officer who had forgotten his misconduct. The president has yet to apologize for his indirect role in the missing youth and yet he again was the very one who made incendiary jihadist remarks.

While I thought the film was twice as long as it is needed to be, the documentary raises essential questions that are captivating and engrossing. I also would have preferred to see more of the youth speak in the film than the community activists and imams who, at times, are redundant. Unfortunately, seven of the youth speak a mere total of 12 minutes whereas the so-called community activists pontificate about topics that do not add to the topic in hand. The documentary is interesting when parents of the missing youth speak and not when the community activists huff and puff. For instance, Burhan Hassan’s mother gives a powerful and moving portrayal of her son; something Burhan’s two uncles, Osman Ahmed and Abdirizak Bihi (both of whom testified at the Senate and the House of Representatives respectively) unfortunately failed to do. Both uncles engage in vitriol attack against the people of Abubakar as-Siddiq Mosque for allegedly recruiting their nephew. Osman Ahmed, in a sworn testimony before the Congress, even went a step further when he accused that mosque’s leadership for recruiting Burhan, collecting money for al-Shabab militants, and sending the proceedings to Somalia. There is only one problem with these accusations. While mosque leaders were evidently guilty of ineptness in crisis management as well as poor public relations, they were never indicted in the case of the missing youth. In fact, all of the five clerics of the mosque, who were at one time put on the notorious ‘No Fly’ list, were subsequently removed. Perhaps, Osman Ahmed has some vital information about terrorist plots at the Abubakar as-Siddiq mosque that the FBI is not privy to.

Broken Dreams is a documentary that should be in every Somali household in the Diaspora, in every mosque, community center, and the very schools Somali children attend. It is a film that parents should watch with their children and discuss. It is a film that the Somalis should share with their friends and neighbors (I mean the original DVD when it becomes available and not pirated versions). It is high time that Somalis in the Diaspora talk about the social issues that are affecting the youth and not engage in double-talk.

Fathia Absie gives the Somali community a second chance. The community, as a whole, has bungled the first time with the tepid way it responded to the issue. It was a colossal failure from the top (i.e. Somali president changing colors and one time being a jihadist and the other time waging war against terror, and the American government supporting the invasion of Somalia by Ethiopia that caused massive death and destruction) to the bottom (i.e. parents’ dereliction of their duties in keeping an eye on their children or engaging with them). What are amazing in the case of missing youth are absentee fathers. In other words, most of the youth came from homes where the fathers were nonfactors. In essence, Fathia is giving the Somalis in the Diaspora an opportunity to reexamine themselves and the events that led to the vanishing youth. What did go wrong? Why did we react the way we did? Are we blaming our youth instead of listening to them? Fathia aptly put it when she once said in an interview, “…at the end of the day, the film is not about the boys but it’s about the entire community and what they went through”. As Somalis, given our internecine conflicts, we are not yet at the stage of “can’t we all just get along” but are rather in the early stages of “Can we talk”. Broken Dreams wants us to talk first. It gives us, as what the legendary filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock once intimated, a jolt. “I am,” he said, “to provide the public with beneficial shock”.