The Somali Ambassador to Rwanda: "I Love Kagame."

Recently, Somalia’s ambassador to Rwanda, Abdullahi Sheikh Mohamed, made a public confession.

The envoy, in an interview with the Great Lakes Voice, http://greatlakesvoice.com/i-love-kagame-more-than-my-president-somalia-ambassador/, said he loves Rwanda’s President Paul Kagame more than he does his own boss, Somali President Hassan Sheikh Mohamoud.  Abdullahi wishes Kagame were Somalia’s president.

Why does the ambassador love Kagame?

Simple.

Kagame, according to Abdullahi, is a role model for the entire continent of Africa. He is a man of vision and a dynamic leader.

 

It is fine for an ambassador to show admiration and affection for the president at host country. What is unethical—and perhaps beyond the norm of diplomacy—is for an ambassador to disrespect his own president and country.

Why did the ambassador come out publicly in support of Kagame?

There are rumors that President Mohamoud wants to replace the envoy. Abdullahi, however, dismissed such talk as baseless. He is very confident that he will stay in his job to the point of presumption. “These are rumors; nobody can dare fire me,” he boasted.

Abdullahi likes what he sees in Rwanda under the leadership of Kagame. It is a stable country with a good infrastructure; all the Somalis who live there are content, and, most of all, Somali-owned businesses such as Hass energy and Olympic energy, supply 70 percent of Rwanda’s oil needs.

Ambassador Abdullahi wants to do something special for Rwanda: He wants Somalia to supply fish to Rwanda, a land-locked country.

There is another reason why Abdullahi is flaunting his unbridled love for Kagame. The envoy has been having problems with the man he replaced, a former honorary consul. The discord between the two men is about business transactions. In other words, it is all about money.

President Kagame has been successful in transforming Rwanda. The economy there is strong; peace prevails, and there is no endemic corruption. The streets of Kigali, the capital, are immaculate--no garbage, no homeless people sleeping on the streets, and no sign of the pesky plastic bags that normally float around in many African cities. Kagame, though, has been accused of being a dictator who does not tolerate dissent. Some prominent opposition figures have been assassinated abroad by allegedly Rwanda’s secretive and formidable intelligence services. Kagame himself did not admit to these crimes, but he made it clear, in so many words, that Rwanda’s “enemies” deserve to die.

However, there is one thing the honorable Somali Ambassador should know about the man he admires most. According to Jeffrey Gettleman, east Africa bureau chief for the New York Times, Kagame has a habit of actually spanking his underlings when they do not live up to his expectations. When Gettleman asked Kagame about these beatings, the president did not directly admit to them, instead, he mentioned that he once got so angry with a subordinate that he shoved him so hard that the subordinate fell on the floor.

“It is my nature,” Kagame sheepishly said. “I can be tough. I make mistakes.”

The Somali president may be weak and indecisive, but, he is allegedly not given to spanking or shoving his own subordinates.

While Ambassador Abdullahi is a sad story of the state of Somalia’s incompetent Foreign Service, it is an opportune time for President Mohamoud to take decisive action in recalling him. This envoy is an embarrassment to Somalia and to himself.  After his termination, Abdullahi can retire happily in Rwanda, where his beloved leader is at the helm.

  

Kenyan Somalis: Caught Between Power and Profiling

The ongoing Kenyan government security sweep against Somalis has generated reactions both serious and comical. In May, the visiting Chinese Prime Minister, Le Keqiang, vowed to help Kenya in its efforts to repatriate illegal Somalis back to their country. Beijing’s offer was an attempt to curry favor with the Kenyan government, with which it then signed a trade agreement worth several billion dollars. The premier reiterated what his hosts wanted to hear: illegal Somalis and those suspected of having ties with Al-Shabaab must be deported from Kenya.

Even more absurd was the statement by Somalia’s State Minister for Foreign Affairs, Buri Hamza, in its dangling of the khat card (a mild stimulant plant known in Kenya as miraa). In an interview with the Standard on June 1st, Hamza alluded to the possibility of a trade war between Mogadishu and Nairobi. “If we stop importing miraa,” the minister stated, “so much the better.” Many in Somalia are addicted to khat, and it would be a herculean task—not to mention political suicide for the Mogadishu regime—to ban its importation from Kenya.

On a more serious note, the security sweep exposed fissures in Kenyan society and added controversy to the ongoing debate about the role and position of Kenyan Somalis in the country. The Somali factor in Kenyan politics is paradoxical. On the one hand, Somali Kenyans have been gaining increasing power in politics and business, but they have also become victims of periodic profiling and mistrust.

In the 1960s, Kenya’s first president, Jomo Kenyatta, became increasingly frustrated with the persistence of the Shifta fighters in the predominantly Somali-inhabited region of the Northern Frontier District—now the North Eastern Province—who were agitating to secede from Kenya and join their brethren in Somalia. Kenyatta saw no difference between the Shifta and ordinary Kenyan Somalis – he was known to repeat the aphorism: “mtoto wa nyoka ni nyoka” (a child of a snake is still a snake). Kenyatta came up with his own solution to the problem when he told them plainly: “Pack up and go, but leave us the land.”  The Somalis understandably shunned this directive and stayed.

Five decades later, Kenyatta’s son, President Uhuru Kenyatta, has cast a dragnet aimed at Somalis which directly and indirectly affects not only the country’s large contingency of refugees and immigrants but also Kenyan Somalis.

Kenyan Somalis inhabit a vast north eastern territory which is one of the poorest and least-developed regions in Kenya and are also concentrated in the Eastleigh district of Nairobi. The Somali Kenyan population has grown from several hundred thousand in the 1960s to approximately 2.3 million now, but still represents a minority among the country’s 43 million people.

In 1989, two years before the onslaught of Somali refugees in Kenya, the Kenyan government singled out Somali Kenyans to carry a pink ID card in addition to the identity document issued to all Kenyan citizens. This pink card, which highlighted the government’s discriminatory stance toward Somalis, was declared unconstitutional in 2003, but, even so, Somalis still remain the target of harassment and extortion. In Eastleigh, police officers, whether assigned there or not, routinely make money by stopping and harassing Somalis, legal or illegal. Somalis in Nairobi call themselves “Human ATMs.”

The label gained credibility when a large number of Somalis, briefly detained in the security sweep, secured their release by bribing police officers. Oddly, some elected Somali officials in the Kenyan parliament were themselves stopped and briefly detained, even though they had shown the police their Kenyan and parliamentary IDs. Ali Abdi Bule, a Tana River senator, was stopped and detained for half an hour because police officers said his papers were false. The police then released him. In another incident, Senator Billow Kerrow’s house was searched in clear contravention of his parliamentary immunity.

On the flip-side, Somali Kenyans are experiencing a golden age in terms of their high representation in the corridors of political power. They have solid representation in Uhuru’s Jubilee Coalition Government, with three cabinet portfolios—foreign affairs, industrialization, sports/culture and arts—which are headed by Somalis.  A Somali is serving as the chairman of the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC) and two are sitting judges in the country’s highest courts: One in the Supreme Court and the other in the Appeals Court. President Uhuru’s legal advisor is also Somali.

In the past, ethnic Somalis have held important positions, including Minister of Defense, Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces, National Chief of Police and Head of the Election Commission. The number of Somali parliamentarians on the legislative branch has increased from 13 a year ago to 32 today. Aden Bare Duale, a politician known for his bombastic rhetoric, holds the post of the National Assembly majority leader.  He told a Somali audience in Eastleigh in April that elected Somali officials were, for all practical purposes, in control of the government. “We know how to unlock this government,” he boasted.

In business, Eastleigh has become a residential haven and a booming business hub for Somalis. The district is the umbilical cord and the economic center of the Somali community and Duale asserts that Somalis manage most of the real estate developments in the country and 80 percent of the fuel trade; they own 80% of all of Kenya’s imported goods, and one of every five cars. Many Somalis from the diaspora have also invested heavily in Kenya, particularly in real estate.

Is the increasing prominence of Somalis in politics and business the reason law enforcement is profiling and targeting them?  Somali politicians and opposition figures have argued that the security campaign is an attempt to disenfranchise Somalis as a group. The Secretary General of the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM) opposition party, Peter Anyang’ Nyong’o, suggested that the security crackdown was  a case of ethnic profiling with the goal of winning back the trust of the West and flushing successful Somali businesses out of the country.

Somali Senator Billow Kerrow also questioned the real motive behind the government’s campaign. Somalis, stated Kerrow, are known globally for their business acumen, and the current security dragnet is “an economic war and not a fight against terror.” After almost three months of the campaign, the government has yet to arrest any suspected terrorist or dismantle a cell. In addition, Uhuru’s government has been dragging its feet to appoint an independent commission to investigate the Westgate Mall terrorist bombing.

While human rights organizations have condemned the campaign, the dragnet has also shown the political divide among Somali leaders in Kenya and their ambivalent approach to security issues bedeviling the country. While all these leaders condemn terrorists, some have issued statements that further aggravated the situation and made some Kenyans question how committed Somali leaders are in the fight against terrorism.

In a televised speech, Duale told an audience in Eastleigh that those responsible for the bombings in that district should bomb elsewhere. Then, he oddly mentioned Machakos, a town and major urban center 64 kilometers southeast of Nairobi, as an alternative target. “Had the bombers targeted Machakos,” Duale added, “Eastleigh would not have been harassed.” Duale later denied making the statement.

The former deputy speaker of the Kenyan Parliament, Farah Moalim, has alleged in the media that the government, not Al-Shabaab, is behind the bombings in Kenya.  Moalim subscribes to the conspiracy theory that the United States Government actually finances Al-Shabaab.

But not all Somali politicians in Kenya have spoken against the security sweep. For instance, the Somali cabinet ministers in the government and the former Minister of Defense, Senator Yusuf Haji, have yet to issue a statement about the crackdown.

Somali Kenyans exist in a precarious position. As a group they are prominently represented in politics and business, but they have also become a football, frequently kicked by the country’s president, his deputy, and the security establishment. Some Kenyans still view Somalis as aliens who are business rivals and a security liability. The dragnet is creating a climate of fear in the Somali community but we do not know yet whether this is a long-term trend or a consequence of the enduring success of Al Shabaab in Somalia and increasingly Kenya.

 (Written by Hassan M. Abukar. Reprinted with permission from African Arguments, June 23, 2013).

Courtship and Marriage: The Somali Experience in America (Part 4)

This article is the fourth of a 10-part series of true stories of Somali women and men and their blunt assessments of their relationships. The first six parts deal with Somali marriages in America and the last four with issues of courtship. The names and locations of these individuals have been changed to ensure their privacy.

***

The Workaholic

I was living in Virginia on the East Coast when I met my wife. I met her during a visit to Minneapolis to attend a political event. I was attracted to her bubbly personality, infectious smile, suave demeanor, and beautiful fashion style. We took a liking to one another. We talked as hundreds of Somalis surrounded us with their clamor and rendition of national songs. It seemed the two of us were on an island even though we were in the midst of more than a thousand people. Simply, we clicked.

When I returned to Virginia, I was a 40-year-old man in love. I lost a taste for food, neglected my friends, and became glued to my cell phone. In other words, I became mesmerized by my new friend in Minneapolis. I missed no opportunity to talk to her. I would call her three or four times a day to ask about her, her two children from a previous marriage, and her parents. I was into her and she was into me. We wanted to get married, the sooner the better.  She had a professional job and, on top of that, was running a small business. This bionic woman was amazing. I asked her how she juggled her parenting responsibilities, her job, and her business. Her response was smart and measured: “I prioritize what is important in my life.”

She told me I had paid so much attention to her by calling her daily and asking about her well-being. One thing was clear: To marry her, I had to move to Minneapolis. I had been to Minneapolis many times and, I must admit, it was one city I couldn’t stand. Its problem is simple: too many Somalis. Some say there are 40,000 Somalis, and some estimate as many as 70,000. I am not used to such a large concentration of my fellow countrymen in one major city. I prefer cities where Somalis have a smaller presence—say 5,000—to bigger cities like Minneapolis, Columbus, Seattle, San Diego, and Atlanta.

After seven months of courtship, I got married and moved to Minneapolis. The marriage ceremony was small and conducted in front of an intimate group of relatives. The bride, uncharacteristically, did not attend the ceremony because she was working. The marriage contract was done by proxy through her father as her official representative. In our religion, it is acceptable for marriage ceremonies to be conducted by proxy.  The guests feasted on rice and lamb and, after three hours, dispersed. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and let the matter slide because I was totally enthralled with her. After five hours, near midnight, the bride came home from work.

Love alone, it is said, is not sufficient. Although I clicked well with my two stepchildren, I realized what a big mistake I had made in marrying their mother. She immersed herself in her work as though nothing had changed in her life. My new wife worked seven days a week; the workload included her regular job and, on top of that, managing her business. The two boys were in high school and, in essence, took care of themselves. They had busy lives attending school and spending time with their friends. I had never before felt so lonely and marginalized. As a recent transplant to Minneapolis, I had no friends and no relatives. Most of all, I worked at home. By the time my wife came home at 6 PM, I was exhausted and she was exhausted. Four days a week, we lived on food purchased from Somali restaurants. I am a health-conscious man, and I do not like to eat restaurant food. My wife and I talked about setting aside some time to spend alone, but to no avail. There were always new things popping up to take care of.  Saving our marriage was never the priority.

Then, I saw a side of my wife that I had not known: She was a micromanager. She wanted me to wear this shirt or that shirt, cut my hair in a certain way, and she insisted on going with me to the store to purchase the clothes she liked. I protested, but she was not listening. I became resentful and acted immaturely by becoming withdrawn and distant. Suddenly, I felt unhappy and my relationship with my wife started to fizzle. It was a melancholy period of isolation and loneliness.

One day, I did something stupid: I packed all my belongings, put them in the trunk of my car, visited briefly my wife at her business, and drove off to Virginia. I was not bold enough to tell her that I was leaving her. The petulance I had demonstrated did hurt her and my stepchildren. I was a jerk and acted foolishly. When my wife returned home that evening, she was shocked to find my stuff gone. Interestingly, she immediately called me and left me an odd message: “You forgot one of your suits.”

My return to Virginia was not easy. I lost weight and became depressed. I was also wracked with remorse and blamed myself for my hurtful actions toward my wife and step-children. My wife understandably asked for a divorce, and I granted her wish. However, I did one thing during that tumultuous period: I kept in contact with my ex-wife. I apologized to her profusely and implored her to forgive me. Hope, not resentment, is the predominant feeling in our relationship today.

 Do you know something?

 I am getting remarried to my ex-wife. She no longer works seven days a week or owns a small business. Most of all, she has forgiven me and has vowed to work harder to maintain our marriage. We will be living alone, as my two step-children have become adults and they have their own careers.

The Equalizer

I am a professional woman. I was once married to another Somali professional who treated me like a maid. After we were married, he asked me to stay home and cook and clean for him. I love my career as a counselor, and I will not quit. My first husband and I split because our differences in regard to household duties diverged so badly.

 I believe partners should equally share household responsibilities, including the finances. I do not like my husband paying for everything. My first husband took my monthly contribution to household expenses, and on top of that money, he wanted me to take on extra duties like cooking and cleaning. No, no, no. We both worked, so why should I carry an extra load of work? No, I can’t accept that rule. I made the difficult decision to end that marriage. Of course, the divorce was clearly acrimonious. What else would you expect?

Two years later, I met a wonderful Somali man who is a true partner. We have what is now called “an egalitarian marriage.” We share responsibilities and decision-making. We both work, but we equally share the responsibilities. When I cook, he cleans, and vice versa. We are not only partners, but great friends. He is not secretive, and I share a lot with him. He has been accused of being “Nin daciif ah” (a weak man) by my fellow Somalis, and I am accused of being a control freak, a man-eater. So what? I am happy and my husband is too.  Got any questions?

Mama’s Boy

My husband is what the Italians would call a “mamoni” (mama’s boy). We were happily married until his mother came into the picture. The family dynamics changed once she started living with us.  In so many ways, she is a home-wrecker and her son, my husband, is the most disloyal human being I have ever known. Every day, she would deliver a laundry list of gripes. She criticized everything I did. I did not cook well or clean thoroughly or take good care of her pampered son and beloved grandchildren. Simply put, I was no good for her son.

My husband, the mamoni, listened only to his mother when she directed her vitriol against me. You would think his loyalty would be with his wife, but he simply said nothing and stood like a Hawo Taako statue. I was always good to this woman, so I did not understand why she was so hostile toward me. Even my children have asked me why Ayeyo (Grandma) hates me so much.

I asked my husband to rent his mother an apartment close to our house. He became enraged and stormed out of the house screaming at me for being difficult.

Suddenly, after being the first lady in my home, I was relegated to secondary status. My marriage hit the skids. My husband left home and took his mother to a hotel, where they both stayed for a week. When he came back and started harassing me again, I couldn’t take it anymore.  The children and I moved out.  He went to court, filed for divorce and full custody of the children. It is odd that a Somali man would ask for full custody of children under the age of 10. However, he wanted his mother to raise my children and thus render me irrelevant. That was only wishful thinking. I still have my children.

 

Courtship and Marriage: The Somali Experience in America (Part 3)

This article is the third of a 10-part series of true stories of Somali women and men and their blunt assessments of their relationships. The first six parts deal with Somali marriages in America and the last four with issues of courtship. The names and locations of these individuals have been changed to ensure their privacy.

***      
The Snob
He is an intellectual. That is my husband, a former college professor in Somalia. Here in Atlanta, he is a high school teacher.

I am an intellectual too, but a gentler and kinder one.

My husband is egotistical, arrogant, inflexible, and antisocial. He has an inflated view of his own intelligence and sees himself as the most knowledgeable man about Somali politics. It seems he has a sign on his face that reads, “Look at me. I am a genius.” He has an unpleasant habit of putting others down. He views Somalis as “qashin” (trash). “They don’t know anything,” he says. When you meet him, you can see his haughty attitude and uneasiness in dealing with his fellow countrymen. Yes, Somalis have destroyed their country, but that does not mean all Somalis are evil. Many were victims. Try telling that to my husband, however. His response is always negative. He simply declares, “Somalis are ignorant.”

Many of my relatives and friends have asked me why I am married to this jerk. I am a sociable, caring, and outgoing woman. I am always smiling and welcoming people to my house. It is my husband who receives my friends, and even his own relatives, with blatant contempt. He has no manners. He even treats me like one of his students. I am supposed to kowtow to him, stroke his ego, and never overshadow him. For all practical purposes, he wants me to feel like I was put on this planet to serve him. 

Oh, yes, we have been to therapy, too!

That did not work because the therapist, according to my husband, was an “idiot” who did not graduate from a prestigious university. After three sessions, I realized the futility of the meetings and ended them.

Recently, I found a good job as a university academic advisor. The pay and benefits are great. There is only one problem: My husband is displaying a streak of jealousy and pettiness. He is not happy because my salary is more than his. He has begun making demeaning remarks about the students I advise. “They are unmotivated, rude, and losers in the making,” he will quip. Suddenly, he is floating the bizarre idea that I quit my job and stay home with our children. He has even threatened to divorce me if I stay employed and continue “wrecking” our family life. My parents, unfortunately, agree with him.

I think I know what I will do, and it will surprise my husband. I am going to leave him this summer when the schools are closed. He will never change, and if I quit my job, he will have total control over my life.

The Two-Faced One

My community loves my husband of eight years. He is one of its top leaders, and the people always consult him, especially the newly arrived refugees. We attend social functions and community events, and I am always impressed with the respect and adulation given to him at these gatherings. He is full of fun with other people and regales them with interesting stories and anecdotes. We are constantly invited to lunch or dinner.

At home, my husband is a totally different person. He is detached, distant, cold, and aloof. He does not joke with me or the children. He comes home from work, settles on the couch, eats his meal, and watches TV. When the children talk to him, he mostly admonishes them not to bother him. When I try to talk to him, he is absent-minded and gives me perfunctory responses. The only time he utters loving words is when we are intimate.

Two months ago, I complained to three elders in my community about my husband’s abusive behavior. In hindsight, I see it was a big mistake. Two of the elders cursed at me and accused me of engaging in what they called “been-abuurasho” (making up stories). They kept defending my husband. “Anybody but Abdirashid,” bellowed one of them. One elder, however, did reprimand the other two for not being impartial. “This woman came to us to solve a problem,” he complained, “and you have already issued a verdict.”

Then, my husband heard about the incident. He was furious and accused me of soiling his reputation in the community.  All of a sudden, I became an instigator, an ungrateful and disloyal wife. My husband wanted to divorce me and, to his chagrin, I was not opposed to the idea. “Go ahead,” I told him. He was even more furious that I would actually be content being out of his life. Then, one day he came home and told me that he had changed his mind about the divorce.

You know why, don’t you?

He is protecting his image and his reputation in the community. This man does not care about his children and his wife. His only concern is his standing in the community. I think I am now empowered, and I am going to use that power to my advantage.

The Altruist

My wife is an angel. She is the kindest and most caring person I have ever met. She is not selfish and always puts her family ahead of everything else.  I guess you can’t teach kindness to anyone, can you? I can confidently say that I have a happy marriage. On a scale of 1 to 10, it is an 11. It is not due to my doing but rather the great efforts of my wife. I do little at home with the children, and she is the one who is involved in their homework and activities. I honestly do not know much about our household matters. In fact, I am lazy when it comes to housework. I do hire people who help clean our big house, but I am talking about the nitty-gritty of the household needs.

My relationship with my wife is based on respect and love. It is a unique relationship that bounces back quickly from any conflict that may arise.  We never argue in front of the children and never go to bed angry at each other. I spend two hours every night talking to my wife. We never run out of conversation. There is always something to talk about and share. I believe, in addition to being married, that we are best friends. I give her all the credit for making our marriage great.

Although I am blessed with a good marriage, I am confounded by how many jealous people there are in the community. Our close relationship is common knowledge. My in-laws, for instance, have a habit of constantly trying to come between my wife and me. She says that she has been accused of everything from “worshipping” her husband to “marginalizing” her relatives. Our community members cause problems too. Because my wife does not participate in weddings, she has been labeled as a weakling who “listens” to her husband. I do not like Somali weddings because they last until the wee hours, but I never prevented my wife from attending. I encourage her to go with her female friends for outings and have fun, but she rarely does.

I have been accused of keeping my wife from attending weddings. My wife is the one to blame. Some women had asked once about going to a wedding and she made a relatively innocuous comment—or maybe jokingly said: “My husband does not allow me to go to weddings.” The rumor mill began to churn.  Now, everybody in our community thinks I am a dictator and wife oppressor. My wife and I laugh about the incident when we are by ourselves. This is, perhaps, one issue I have no intention of correcting. Do you know why? Women in our community have stopped asking my wife to join them in their all-female late parties and weddings.

 

Courtship and Marriage: The Somali Experience in America (Part 2)

This article is the second of a 10-part series of true stories of Somali women and men and their very blunt assessment of their relationships. The first six parts deal with Somali marriages in America and the last four with issues of courtship. The names and locations of these individuals have been changed to ensure their privacy.

***                              
The Lion
There is an interesting Somali proverb that says: “Libaax nin aan aqoon baa madaxa u salaaxa” (It is he who doesn’t know a lion that pets him).

When I call my husband a lion, I mean the term in both a good and bad way. He is magnanimous, family oriented, a great provider, brave, generous, outgoing, loyal, and a true leader. I feel safe with him. My family loves him.

I have, however, one problem. My husband is not romantic.

For a man who is educated and has spent a decade and a half in the United States., he lacks the basic understanding of what a modern woman wants. Every time I show affection, he jumps on me like a lion that has captured its prey. He acts as though he is conquering that prey, with no gentleness and no consideration for his wife. 

I am by nature a passionate person. I like my husband to be affectionate. A simple touch out of affection brings me more than I bargain for or want. Why do men always misread women? I have told him on numerous occasions to relax and stay put. I can’t hold hands with him in the living room. I can’t snuggle with him without going the whole nine yards. I hear now and then that spouses train each other, but that does not apply to my husband. He is set in his predatory way. I have tried everything to help him change his habits. When we go out, I try to hold hands with him, but I am gently rebuffed. He considers showing affection in public as a “ceeb” (shameful). I explain to him that his lack of foreplay and gentleness—not to mention his selfishness—are not religiously sanctioned, but to no avail. 

I  am at a complete loss. On the one hand, my husband has many good qualities that would make many women green with envy. On the other hand, his rough edges drive me crazy. I am a 27-year-old woman deprived of love and affection. Sometimes, I ask myself if I really made the right choice to marry him. I am beginning to have serious reservations about this relationship. It is teetering on the brink of collapse.

 

Settling a Score

The wedding was great. It was well planned and well attended. Friends and family flew in from various states. The food was great, too. It was the second marriage for both of us. We both came from previous relationships that had each lasted a decade.

Three years later, I realize my marriage has been nothing but a fraud, a union built on a foundation of lies. My wife, Warda, married me simply to settle a score against her former husband, Kulmiye. I have been duped and used. All along, my wife has been obsessed with her ex-husband. I will let the facts drive my theory.

Warda told me her first marriage was made in hell. Kulmiye was manipulative, self-absorbed, emotionally-abusive, and a narcissist who lacked empathy and viewed all women as objects. Their divorce was bitter. I appeared on the scene nine months after their divorce. Warda and I started as friends, and a year later I asked her to marry me. Although I was enthusiastic and pushing for the marriage, she gave me the impression she was a reluctant partner. Nevertheless, I felt I had met my soul mate. Five months before our wedding, Warda showed increasing interest in our relationship by becoming more attentive. She started calling me daily and texting. She had never done that before; I was the one who had made all the calls. In hindsight, I realize it was that same time her ex was getting married to a Somali woman who grew up in Canada. At the time, Warda’s sudden interest in me, though endearing, was puzzling. I thought perhaps she had come to her senses, and realized the strong viability of our marriage. 

My wife has been having an “object affair”— a non-sexual affair that a spouse develops to marginalize the other spouse. The object can be work, the Internet, an automobile, shopping, etc. The spouse having such an affair becomes so pre-occupied with an object of interest that the other spouse ceases to have any meaning in the marriage. It was with a great sense of consternation that I discovered the object of my wife’s affair was the habit of electronically stalking her former husband. Every day, my wife checked up on her ex through the Internet, social media, and mutual friends. She asked her friends if they had seen Kulmiye, how he looked, whether he had lost weight or not, and—in a bizarre inquiry—what his wife wore. My wife knows a lot about Kulmiye’s wife through a complex process of information gathering that would mystify CIA operatives. Moreover, my wife has often put her pictures and mine on her Facebook page to infuriate her ex and make him jealous. Jealous, Kulmiye is not.  In fact, he has moved on and does not want to have anything to do with Warda. Interestingly, I do not have an account with Facebook, Myspace, Twitter, or Instagram, yet Warda made me conspicuous all over the social media.

When I once naively mentioned my own ex and said something positive about her, my wife was so upset that she subjected me to that familiar blend of scowl and silent treatment. “You still love her, don’t you?” she exploded. In contrast, I hear a lot about Kulmiye every day from her. In a nutshell, my wife’s default setting is her obsession with her ex. I am now convinced our relationship was one-sided from day one. All the years we have been together have not changed anything in our lopsided marriage.

I care a lot about my wife, but I have come to the conclusion she is frozen in her past, a period that remains unresolved. She refuses to seek professional help and even asserts that she does not love her ex. She has stopped chatting with me as she used to and prefers to spend time with her computer rather than with me. She goes to Starbucks for coffee alone and reluctantly allows me to accompany her when I ask. I am a rental car agent and my wife used to ask me about my daily work. Not anymore. She  constantly compares me with her ex, complimenting him on his earning power versus my dwindling income, praising him for his infectious humor versus my stoic demeanor, and lauding his skill as a handy man at home versus my standoffish attitude toward labor. She rarely acknowledges all the good things I do for her. I am getting tired of my wife. My friends tells me that I am setting myself up for a lifelong misery and regret. “Your wife will not take care of you when you get older,” they admonished me. I feel like I am single because my marriage has become only a name on paper, a union devoid of care and respect. 

Something odd has happened.

Kulmiye suddenly got divorced. My wife’s resentment toward Kulmiye’s ex got hotter. Warda started viciously badmouthing her: “Look at his picture! Kulmiye has lost considerable weight because of her.” I have heard from members of our community that Kulmiye is heading to Kenya to get married, again. I also heard that he had vowed never to marry another Somali woman who lives in the West. I guess it makes no difference to me because my marriage is crumbling and there is no hope for its rehabilitation.

 

Courtship and Marriage: The Somali Experience (Part 1)

A bit of background: In ancient times, 11 women came together in Arabia and agreed to discuss their husbands. They vowed not to withhold anything. The Umu Zarci Tradition, as it is popularly known, was a frank assessment by these wives of all the different kinds of men and their character: the generous, the kind and caring, the stingy, the selfish, the altruistic, the ravenous eater, the wife beater, the romantic, the unromantic, the gentle, and the gruff.                

This article is the first of a 10-part series of true stories of Somali women and men and their very blunt assessment of their relationships. The first six parts deal with Somali marriages in America and the last four with issues of courtship. The names and locations of these individuals have been changed to ensure their privacy.

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The Accidental Husband

 I am a 38-year-old woman and have been married more than 14 years.

I first met my husband Shire in Mogadishu. I was 24 and working as a teacher. Shire and I are related. Okay, he is my first cousin. We grew up in two different regions; he grew up in Mudug, and I in Benadir. I often heard my relatives talking about Shire’s life in the United States. He was the first in our family to emigrate to America, which he did in the mid-1980s.

Shire came back to Mogadishu in 1989 to look for a wife. On the one hand, I was proud he wanted to marry a fellow Somali. On the other hand, I was curious to see who this bride would be. I never imagined it would be me, his cousin. In my family, cousins do not marry each other. Shire’s first choice was a young lady who was attending Gahayr University. Unfortunately, she was not into Shire. Her mother was the one pushing for the marriage so she could go to America and live a better life. One woman’s misfortune, of course, is often another woman’s opportunity.

After that fiasco, Shire stopped by our house to visit. That was the first time I laid eyes on him. He was of medium height, handsome, lean, and humble. He also seemed to be religious but not in a way that would turn you off.  We all sat in the living room, drank tea, and talked a lot. He was a great conversationalist and made us laugh, especially when he talked about the experiences of Somalis and their culture shock in the United States.

Yes, I liked him a lot. The next week, I was not surprised when he came back and asked for my hand. My mother was strongly opposed to the idea of our marriage. She had a hard time envisioning her daughter married to a cousin.  However, that issue did not deter me one bit.

Shire and I married and my mother finally but reluctantly endorsed our union. He returned to the States, and several months later I joined him.

I was nervous when I came to America because I did not know English, and was not familiar with American culture. My husband helped my transition go smoothly. I would sometimes hear titters and murmurs from other Somali women about Shire not being a “typical Somali husband.” What was a typical Somali husband? Shire took care of the children, changed their diapers, fed them, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, and occasionally cooked and bought groceries. He would also sometimes hear snide comments from his friends that I “controlled” him.

Shire never speaks badly to me. He is a patient man, listens attentively, and vocalizes his appreciation of me. He showers me with gifts and even sends money to my family back home. When I turn down my family’s requests for financial assistance because I have to focus on our own immediate needs, they go behind my back and call my husband directly for help. He rarely disappoints them.

The Aimless Man

I am married to a loser, an aimless, clueless man who lacks ambition. He is 23 but acts like a child. I go to work for the family while he stays home all day, watching television and playing games. On weekends, he hangs out with his fellow Somalis in a restaurant, talking about politics and blathering on stale, boring topics.

Did I tell you he is also selfish?

He wants me to be his maid. He does not lift a finger to help in our household. I am tired of this man. I am 22 now, a college graduate, both ambitious and family oriented. I guess my biggest mistake was falling in love with this husband of mine.

When I first met him, he seemed smart, loving, ambitious, and attentive. I guess he gave me an Oscar-quality performance. I wish I had met the real him, the person lurking beneath the surface. My father warned me about him before I got married. Call that a father’s wise intuition. My husband was attending junior college at the time, and even then was a bit flamboyant. He always seemed preoccupied with his appearance. Now I realize that the only reason he attended college was to get financial aid.

I used to hear other young Somali ladies say they would never marry a Somali man because they all lacked ambition. I have seen young men my age leaving college and becoming cab drivers or security guards. No one in our community is raising hell about this phenomenon of our youth losing their ambition. I see members of other nationalities who are striving to become successful—Nigerians, Ethiopians, and Asians.

I have held out hope—foolishly, my parents say—that this man will change. I am out of sync with my husband. I am angry at myself for committing the egregious mistake of marrying him, and I am angry at him for letting me down and disgracing himself as a sloth. However, he doesn’t believe he is disgracing himself. Soon he will be my ex-husband. Mark my words. I am out of here.

The Player

My husband has a predilection for women who are not married to him. I am his only wife, and yet I share this womanizer with other women. Some of them I know are in my community; others I may never meet. He never met a woman he didn’t like. Why am I with him? I have been married to him more than 25 years. We have five children—three adults and two teenagers. 

When I met my husband, he was charming and charismatic, a very smooth talker. He made me laugh. He seemed a good catch: he was a dashing, educated, witty, and ambitious young man with a great career. We fell in love and were married. One thing we never worried about was money. I had a good job as a junior official in a government ministry, and he was a rising manager for a publicly owned company.

After several years of marriage, my husband suddenly stopped being attentive. He would come home, eat, and then sit in the living room and read. He stopped asking about me, my work, the children, and any of the household needs. I would ask him questions, and his answers were always perfunctory: One-word grunts of “fine,” “good,” and “okay,” were typical. I became a piece of furniture in a nicely decorated house, totally unappreciated and ignored.

My husband had a dark intimate secret:  He was leading a secret life of philandering. Of course, I had heard rumors of his penchant for infidelity, but I did not believe them. I defended him vigorously and lashed out at his critics. I thought these naysayers were just jealous of our happy marriage. Or, so I believed then.

Then, one day my husband came home bruised. His face was swollen as if he had been badly beaten, and his right hand was in a cast. I panicked and ran to him, inquiring what had happened. “I had an altercation with a guy at work,” he said. “It is not a big deal.”

That same night, my family was awakened by the sound of a police car. The police came and banged on our front door. They had come for my husband, and he was arrested. A police officer told me he had seriously wounded the husband of his mistress.  That man was in critical condition, suffering from knife wounds. Fortunately, he survived.

I learned that all the rumors I had heard for so long were, in fact, true. I felt the sting of betrayal. I had been bamboozled.

My husband was released after a week of incarceration. His well-placed relatives got involved, and he was hit with a slap on the wrist. All the charges against him were dropped. He returned home and promised never to cheat on me again. I naively believed he was capable of reform. For a year, he was his old self again—very attentive, loving, and appreciative.

Then, in 1991, the civil war broke out in Mogadishu, and we fled to neighboring Kenya. After two years in a refugee camp, we settled in Iowa in the United States.

People will say, “Once a cheater, always a cheater.”  Sadly, I am afraid they speak the truth.

My husband started hanging around with Somali single mothers in Iowa. He was “helping” them, he said. He started coming home late. Then, his all-night forays increased. He started driving to Minneapolis, which has the largest concentration of Somalis in the United States, a place with a seemingly endless supply of women.

I am still married to him, but please do not ask me why. He is a good father, and my children listen to him. If we got divorced, my teenage children would go astray. They would leave school and might get involved in gangs and drugs. I have to weigh my personal options very carefully. For the moment, I have decided to put my children’s well-being above my own happiness.

Courtship and Marriage: The Somali Experience in America (Introduction)

Eight years ago, at a traffic light in a California city, I sensed that someone was staring at me from the next car on the right. When I glanced over, I saw “Firdowsa” (not her real name) smiling and waving at me. I waved back and opened my car window. “Hassan, I am so fortunate!  I finally married the right man,” she said in jubilation. “Nin baa igu dhacay” (What a man I have found!), she added. I knew exactly who Firdowsa was talking about. It was “Adan,” also a friend of mine. In fact, I had known Firdowsa and Adan for many years. She was then in her mid-thirties, tall, pretty with an attractive figure, and a vibrant, bubbly personality.  Adan was in his late forties, educated, modest, and a social magnet. Before coming to the United States, he had been politically active back home against the Siad Barre regime.

The couple’s marriage was unique. They seemed happy and sincere, and spent a lot of time together. Theirs was either a second or third marriage, depending on whom you asked. After they tied the knot, Adan changed: He dressed better, stopped smoking, and gained needed extra pounds. Firdowsa was the same person, except she never missed an opportunity to brag about her husband. Many members of the community were pleased about their marriage because the couple was very popular.

About three years later, Firdowsa and Adan decided to split. It was shocking news to many of us who knew them and genuinely rooted for them to succeed. That can’t be, many people thought. However, it was true. Indeed, the way the divorce happened was so acrimonious that community members could do nothing but roll their eyes in bewilderment. Firdowsa’s complaints about Adan were so detailed they bordered on the salacious and even the absurd. Somalis normally do not talk about bedroom woes but Firdowsa did. Adan did not defend himself against the serious charges levelled against him but instead went on the offensive. He accused his former wife of being mentally unbalanced.

 “She takes medication for her mental illness,” he explained calmly and quite vindictively.  

Because of my friendship with the couple, I chose to be neutral during their war of words and said nothing. Secretly though, I was stupefied and had a hard time understanding the reasons for the split. This couple was unique, I thought. They would go out of their way to brag about their supposed happiness. What had gone wrong? In time, the couple moved on and met other people.  Adan married twice more, but none of his marriages panned out.

I have always asked myself what makes a good spouse. My biased view is that we men are generally responsible for most divorces. In my humble research of the literature on relationships, I have concluded there are three major ingredients for a successful marriage. The absence of any one of these components is testimony to a flawed marriage. The ingredients of a good marriage are communication, affection, and respect. 

Communication: Couples are always communicating to each other, but many are unaware they are. Many spouses frequently complain, “We are no longer communicating,” which usually means the wrong vibes are being exchanged. Communication is both verbal and non-verbal, with the latter comprising 93% of all communication. Body language, such as gestures, posture, eye contact, facial expressions, and hand and feet movements, are true expressions of one’s moods and attitudes.

Positive ways of communicating verbally with your spouse include telling her you love her, appreciate her, and think about her when you are at work and away. There is an anecdote about a wife who reprimanded her husband for not telling her he loved her. The husband protested and said, “Honey, but I told you that last month.” The good mate is one who avoids saying hurtful things or raises his voice. There are some words a man should never utter in anger such as “never” and “always.” For instance, phrases such as “always late” or “never helpful” are likely to make the wife feel both defensive and angry. It is also better to avoid any name calling. As the well-known American talk show host, Dr. Phil, advises, “Make sure your sentences have verbs.”

Non-verbal communication is crucial too because it involves certain body language that can turn off your spouse. One of the biggest complaints many women have about their husbands is that they just don’t listen. Men are often engrossed in reading a newspaper or playing with their cell phones when their wives talk to them. Giving your wife full attention when she talks to you is important because she would not tell you something if it was not important to her. “Before marriage,” the late humorist Helen Rowland once wrote while addressing women, “a man declares that he would lay down his life to serve you; after marriage, he won’t even lay down his newspaper to talk to you.” By listening to your wife, you are giving her what she wants most—a sympathetic ear. She is seeking someone who will listen to her, not a problem solver who is only too quick to dispense advice.

Affection: A good husband is one who demonstrates that he loves his wife through his actions. This aspect is perhaps one of the biggest challenges for many men because it requires self-discipline and commitment. Touching is very important in a relationship because it brings a couple closer and cements their bond. Non-sexual touches such as holding hands, hugging, and back rubbing will tell your spouse you care.

Many marriages become stale because the couples settle for the unchanging routines of their daily lives. Couples who make special time for each other by organizing weekend getaways or taking vacations, strengthen their bond. Courting does not begin and end before marriage; it should be continuous. Furthermore, doing little things for your spouse makes her appreciate you more.

Respect: Respect encompasses several important areas of a marriage. Respect means understanding that your spouse is different to you and has different interests, needs, and ways of doing things. Accepting your spouse for who she is and not trying to change her is a hallmark of respect.  Respect means understanding that your wife is as smart as you are, and there is no need to insist she does everything your way. Respect means not being a tyrant, but being a team player who is gentle and kind, a man who consults with his wife, keeps his promises, does not lie or cheat, and apologizes for his mistakes. Respect means sharing responsibilities and becoming an asset at home, not a liability. Respect means when you are home, you are there both physically and mentally. You do not bring your work woes home nor make home a place for your sole entertainment. Many men, when at home, just watch sports on TV and never bother to acknowledge their wives or children.

What follows this introduction is a ten-part series that addresses courtship, marriage, and the Somali experience in the United States. These articles are neither an indictment of Somalis nor a generalization of the Somali community. They are true stories reflecting only the characters involved in them.