Sayyid Ahmed: A Charistmatic Somali Bridge Builder in Egypt

In 1978, when I was 18, I left Somalia to join my older sister, a diplomat, in Cairo, Egypt. It was my first trip abroad, and I was both excited and ambivalent. On the one hand, I was apprehensive about an unknown future. On the other hand, I felt I was embarking on a new adventure in search of better educational opportunities.

In the year and a half I spent in Cairo as a student and a local employee of the Somali Airlines’ branch office, I met some interesting Somali individuals, both leaders and ordinary people. Cairo was a transit stop for many Somali officials heading to Europe or other parts of Africa. It was also a city in which many Somalis attended school, while others came to get their work permits on their way to the Gulf. Still others had left their families in Cairo as they went to work elsewhere, while a good number came to spend their vacations in Egypt.

Interestingly, I met one Somali elder who made a lasting impression on me—the legendary Sayyid Ahmed Sh. Musse. The loveable and brilliant leader had helped cement Egyptian relationships with Somalia. Sayyid Ahmed (1910-1980) hailed from Somaliland (Habar Yonis) and had come to Egypt in the 1930s. He was a jack of all trades. His career seesawed between being a university student, a successful businessman, who imported camels from Somaliland, and a journalist at the Somali Service of the popular “Sawt al-Arab” (Voice of the Arabs) radio program in Cairo.

 He was a charismatic and sociable character, an excellent conversationalist who had played a crucial role in the politics of Somaliland in the 1950s as an activist. For many, he was the point man of Egypt in the Somaliland British Protectorate, and he had notable influences in the fields of culture and politics. After 1960, he mentored a group of Somali diplomats stationed in Egypt about the country they were posted.

As a young adult, Sayyid Ahmed proved to be a resourceful and powerful figure to whom many looked up. The following story excerpted from his fascinating years in Egypt proved this. Former ambassador Abdullahi Adan (Congo), whom I also had the pleasure of meeting in Cairo, said in an interview that he was one of the 22 students from Somaliland who were told that they would be met by Sayyid Ahmed, the “Somaliland Representative in Egypt” once they arrived in Egypt. When the students disembarked at Port Said, to their surprise, there was no one to receive them. They took a bus and arrived in Cairo in search of Sayyid Ahmed. Apparently, Sayyid Ahmed had not been informed of the arrival of the new students.

The students struggled to find Sayyid Ahmed in such a cosmopolitan city as Cairo, and navigating the unfamiliar terrain of outdoor meat markets, street peddlers, and towering buildings became a Herculean task. The students split into groups in the crowded streets of the city shouting Sayyid Ahmed’s name. But to no avail. Some of them went to Al-Azhar University, where they inquired about Sayyid Ahmed’s whereabouts. This time they were lucky. A tall young man with Somali features approached them and introduced himself as Sayyid Ahmed. They were thunderstruck by his appearance because, in their harried calculations, they had assumed such a powerful position would be filled by a middle-aged, professional-looking man. Sayyid Ahmed, it turned out, was a slim, smiling youth attending Al-Azhar University. However, his resourcefulness did not disappoint them as he took every one of the 22 students to a tailor and got them coats and pants. “It was quite a scene,” Ambassador Abdullahi Adan said many decades later, “seeing 22 Somalis walking in the streets of Cairo wearing the same clothes.” Sayyid Ahmed then took the students to al-Mujammac, a government center located at Tahrir Square, and obtained their immigration papers.

In the 1950s, Sayyid Ahmed returned to Somaliland, where he became a relentless champion for teaching the Arabic language in the British Protectorate. He was instrumental in opening the first Islamic institute in Buro. Moreover, in 1956, he founded a political party called “Hizbu Allah” (God’s Party). According to Dr. Abdurahman M. Abdullahi (Badiyow), the author of The Islamic Movement in Somalia (2015), Sayyid Ahmed was influenced by Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood and Nasserist ideology. He skillfully combined Islamism (a globalist religion and ideology) and nationalism (a particular ideology for a nation-state), a contradiction in terms. His Islamic activism was relatively moderate. First and foremost, he advocated the independence of Somaliland from Britain.

Sayyid Ahmed wrote three books in Arabic, which are all out of print: “Hizbu Allah wa Hizbu al-Shaydan” (The Party of God and the Party of Satan), “Al-Tharwah al-Taaci’ah fi al-Soomaal” (The Continued Loss of Wealth in Somalia) and “Khadarul al-Casabiyyah cala Soomaal” (The Danger of Zealous Clannism to Somalia).  

Sayyid Ahmed was married to an Egyptian woman who bore him several children. He also fathered children from a Somali wife. His son, Mahdi from the Egyptian mother, was quite popular among Somalis in Cairo. He was a handsome social butterfly who helped many Somalis navigate Egypt’s social and administrative landscape. Some Somalis dubbed him the “Egyptian” for adopting the local habits of “Mujamalah” (sucking or kissing up).

Sayyid Ahmed had a son, Mohamed “Cirro”, who became an accomplished Somali journalist working in Mogadishu. I met him in Cairo during one of his visits to his family, and we struck up a lasting friendship. He was smart, educated, and a capable reporter who encouraged me to pursue journalism. A nationalist who believed in Somali unity, he stayed in Mogadishu after the collapse of Siad Barre’s regime. In the early 1990s, Cirro worked as an adviser to General Mohamed Farah Aidid, and later to his son Hussein Aidid. He later became ill and was brought to Hargeisa, where he passed away several years ago.

Asmahan Sh. Musse, a niece of Sayyid Ahmed who lives in Canada, fondly remembers her uncle from long conversations she had with her father. Moreover, as a child, her uncle would bring her and her siblings sweet treats from Egypt. “My whole family was proud of his immense contribution to the Motherland,” she said. “He was simply a hero who the new generation has yet to learn about and appreciate.”

Sayyid Ahmed is best remembered as a nationalist who championed the preservation of Islamic identity and culture in Somaliland. He helped establish Islamic institutions there and was a catalyst for many Somali students to win scholarships in Egypt. He served as an informal ambassador for many Somalis long before Somalia became independent. He blended Islamism and nationalism and is credited for lending crucial support to the then-nascent pro-independence party in Somaliland, the Somali National League (SNL). He is also the first Somali student to graduate from the prestigious Al-Azhar University.

Somalis in Norway Confront Child-Rearing Culture Clash

The Somali community in Norway is at a crossroads. Norway is one of the wealthiest, safest, and most welcoming countries in the world. It is home to many immigrants who have fled poverty and lack of opportunities in their native countries. However, the country has some of the toughest child welfare services in the world; a record that has angered Norwegians and immigrants alike. Somali immigrants must learn Norwegian-approved child-rearing practices and the laws that govern them, but need a method to share that information across the community.

“We are definitely under the microscope,” a Somali community member in Norway said. “There is an intense debate now in Norway regarding the welfare of Somali children.”  

Recently, a Norwegian TV channel aired a documentary about Somali children whose parents had returned them to Somalia and who subsequently suffered violence and other abuses. These parents were doing what the Somalis call “dhaqan-celis” meaning cultural rehabilitation, or a process in which children in the West are taken to Somalia to reform and learn their culture. As a result of the furor, the Norwegian government has tasked seven departments to look into the matter and make recommendations.

There are about 42,217 Somalis in Norway, making it the second-largest non-Western community in that country. The first few Somalis came to Norway in 1970 as seamen; others arrived after the Somali civil war started in 1991. About 50 percent of the Somali population in Norway is concentrated in Oslo. Interestingly, 17,000 of the 42,217 are children. Some Somalis have adapted to life in Norway and have become integral members of Norwegian society. Interestingly, Somalia’s current Prime Minister, Hassan Kheyre, and Mohamed Osman Jawari, speaker of Somalia’s Federal Parliament, are both Norwegian nationals.

Other Somali asylum seekers and refugees have settled in Norway in the past few years and are adjusting to their new home. “Almost 70 percent of Somalis fall into the latter category,” said Mahad Abdulle of Maqal Radio at a gathering in August 2017 where members of the Somali community in Oslo met a visiting Somali official.

During that meeting, it was clear the community’s main concern was the removal of Somali children, who were being taken from their homes by Barnevernet, the Norwegian Social Service Agency.

Tough Child Welfare System

Norway has rigorous child protection laws that have confounded many international critics. Barnevernet is responsible for the protection of children in the country. It is devoted to children’s rights, and promotes their well-being more than any other nation. According to the Child Welfare Act of 1992, Barnevernet’s main purpose is to “ensure that children and youth who live in conditions that may be detrimental to their health and development receive the necessary assistance and care at the right time and to help ensure children and youth grow up in a secure environment.”

According to Statistics Norway (2016), by the end of 2015, almost 36,800 children had received some type of services from Barnevernet, including counseling, social service visits, and day care assistance. About 60 percent of those receive services at home and 16 percent outside their homes—mostly in foster care or in institutions. The 36, 800 receiving some type of services represents 2.9% of all children in Norway.

The current controversy is not over Barnevernet’s provision of child welfare services, but its removal of children from their homes.

According to published government data, children are referred to Barnevernet for the following reasons: about 29 percent of the children have parents who lack parenting skills, 17 percent of the children have parents with a mental illness, 11 percent have experienced some type of domestic conflict, and 8 percent have parents abusing drugs.

Recently, domestic critics of Barnevernet have become vocal. In 2016, a Norwegian mother and her Romanian husband lost their five children to the agency. An evangelical Christian couple, Ruth and Marius Bodnariu, were accused of administering corporal punishment to their children, a charge Ruth admitted to Barnevernet case workers. In Norway, spanking children is illegal. The Bodnariu case became a media sensation when the BBC made a documentary about it.

Corporal punishment is outlawed not only Norway, but in 42 other countries around the world.  However, Norway has raised its opposition to corporal punishment with unprecedented zeal. One Norwegian reverend took pains to refer to his country as a secular nation. “They have a new translation of the Bible that erases all the verses that talk about disciplining your children,” he said.

About 170 psychologists, social workers, and lawyers signed a petition last year condemning Barnevernet for its stringent child welfare rules and the excuses it uses to remove children from their homes. “Children are removed from the homes on very weak evidence characterized by speculative interpretations,” the signatories to the petition wrote. “Too often, we see biological parents who do not have all the world’s resources behind them, stand no chance against a big and powerful public apparatus. We see a tendency for decisions to be made based on incomplete observation basis and tendentious interpretations.” The signatories called for a reform of child welfare services and the end of policies that unfairly traumatize both children and parents.

Barnevernet officials point out that 90 percent of children receive services while at home and only 10 percent are removed from their parents. “The worst mistake is when we wait too long to take children from home,” the director of the agency said to SBS Australia.

International outcry

In 2016, Czech President Milos Zeman compared the Norwegian child welfare system to Nazi Germany’s Lebensborn, a program in which the children of unmarried mothers were given to Aryan parents.

An Indian couple had their children removed from home because they fed them with their hands. A Brazilian woman in Norway sought refuge in her country’s embassy in Oslo after Barnevernet case workers quizzed her about her daughter’s eating habits, and a former Russian government official accused Norway of kidnapping children to solve the country’s low fertility rate.

According to a BBC report, eight child welfare cases in Norway were heard in the European Court of Human Rights in 2016. A Czech member of the European Parliament said there were “human rights violations [that] have occurred and that there is something dangerous in Norway.”

Romania, Lithuania, Poland, and Sweden have protested Barnevernet’s practices, which they say are ruining families.  

Between 2005 and 2015, about 500 parents left Norway and illegally removed their children to settle elsewhere.  

Are Somali children in danger?

Saeed Amin, a Somali Norwegian who works for an Oslo municipality, has been stopped many times in the streets and asked about the “3,000 Somali children” Barnevernet had taken. The staggering number of 3,000 did not surprise him because in Somali communities rumors oftentimes outpace facts. He decided to let the evidence speak to the community.

“The good thing is Norway documents everything and publishes it,” he said at a community gathering.

What did Amin find out?

“The notion among Somalis that there are 3,000 missing Somali children is baseless,” Amin said.

Equipped with the latest statistics of the Norwegian government, Amin said that, in fact, only 180 Somali children have been removed from their homes. “About 680 of our children are currently getting some type of services from the system,” he added.

Cultural issues

Many Somali children are raised in a culture that sits very close to the confluence of tradition and modernity. Spanking is acceptable in Somali society; parents administer corporal punishment, as do public school teachers and instructors of the Quran. There is a different system of child rearing in Norway to which Somali parents need to adjust.  

One Somali community activist in Oslo observed a difference between how Somalis view their children and how Norwegians do. Somali parents raise their children so that when they grow up, the younger generation can help their parents, the community member said. “In Norway, parents raise their children for the betterment of society and, hence, it is not their sole responsibility.”

Community action

According to a young Somali Norwegian, there are more than 100 Somali organizations in Norway and Somalis are divided across clan lines.

Saeed Amin thinks there is one major thing the community lacks: unity.

“It is not shameful to have particular organizations, but we have to have an umbrella organization that speaks for all of us and furthers our interests,” he said at a community gathering. Being united in pursuit of a common purpose will make the community stronger and aid in the fight for its rights, he added.

The road to the future

In the end, it is what individual parents do that matters most. Sharpening parenting skills, understanding the social and educational system in Norway, and providing stability for children will help quell the Barnevernet controversy.

Masraxa Furan Opens Up In Mogadishu

A TV program in Mogadishu, which has become popular among Somali youth, provides a different and entertaining narrative of the beleaguered city — a narrative that is bridging cultural divisions and healing old wounds in the wake of Al-Shabaab’s devastating bombing campaign in the city. While Al-Shabaab (the name means youth) wreaks havoc among innocent people with bombs and other weapons of destruction, the youth are coming to the show to sing or dance.

Universal TV’s weekly program Masraxa Furan (Open Mic) has become a hit in Somalia and in the diaspora. The show is the first of its kind in the country and freely mixes comedy, music, dance, poetry, and storytelling. It is hosted by the Benadiri comedian, Abdi Muridi Dheere, better known as Ajakis.

Participants selected to the program are expected to sing, dance, recite poetry, or tell stories. The method of selection is simple: Ajakis, who uses a stick, goes through the audience and places it on the head of the person selected. The selectee immediately goes in front of the audience to perform. The mantra of the program is simple: you are either an observer or the one observed. “Please greet the audience, state your full name, and tell us what you have prepared for the program,” instructs Ajakis, who is the gatekeeper of the show. He then asks if this is the first time the selectee has been to the show or not. Thus, the entertainment begins.

Mogadishu has come a long way. Not so long ago, Al-Shabaab ruled there with an iron fist. Music was banned, intermingling of the sexes was prohibited, Western dress was frowned upon, cell phones were periodically monitored for pictures or indecent messages, and offenders were severely flogged. These days, Masraxa Furan is rewriting the narrative and pioneering a culture that is anathema to all things Al-Shabaab.

Although the military has kicked the radical group out of Mogadishu, it still maintains dangerous secret cells that kill and maim innocent civilians at random. Recently, Al-Shabaab ramped up its ruthless and indiscriminate bombing campaign by detonating bombs in highly populated public places. On October 14, the group was allegedly responsible for the worst suicide bombing in Mogadishu’s history, when car bombs killed or injured over a thousand people. The radical group has not targeted Masraxa Furan, which ironically owes its success to the public-spirited and peaceful participation of Mogadishu’s younger set. These young people are not afraid of Al-Shabaab and openly appear before TV declaring their full names.

The possibility of becoming famous or simply having fun are the main reasons why youngsters flock to the show. On the one hand, their participation is a manifest exhibition of fearlessness in the face of Al-Shabaab’s killing spree; on the other hand, it is a way of showing that the youth are no longer prepared to conform to strict cultural norms.

Masraxa Furan’s participants are much like any youth in Nairobi, Johannesburg, or Cairo. Some wear jeans, others come with stylish hairdos that would make the rapper Ludacris green with envy. The women dress modestly, but stylishly. Their clothes are a tapestry of beautiful colors. Many wear makeup, a departure from the customary lack of facial adornments. Most of all, these young people are not shy of performing in front of strangers. When one young lady hems and haws before taking the spotlight, Ajakis reassures her by coaxing and cajoling her. His self-deprecating humor and encouragement generally put hesitant performers at ease.

The show addresses a wide range of topics, from romantic love to love of the Motherland. However, like any typical youth gathering, love talk reigns supreme. Even Ajakis himself is occasionally nudged and teased. One beautiful young lady, who had an effervescent smile and animated eyes, brazenly asked him if he had ever fallen in love. Her blunt remarks managed to produce some rather amusing howlers. 

Ajakis, who has little trouble with eloquence, did not blink and responded, “I am actually in love now.” Emboldened, she asked him if he had two wives. If Ajakis was uncomfortable, he did not show it. He mumbled for seconds and then, sounding celebratory, said, “Only one.”

When the bantering seemed to have ended, it suddenly took an unexpected turn. “Well, I want to be your second wife,” the young lady said, flashing a small grin. By this time, Ajakis had had enough, and laughingly changed the topic. For the record, Ajakis excoriates polygamy, a system he strongly believes some Somali men have abused.

In one episode, a young lady read a poem titled, “Men who lie constantly.” She presented men’s foibles with an elegant, witty, and sarcastic style. She contrasted the empty promises some men make during courtship—nice villa, beautiful car, latest electronic gadgets, and shopping sprees abroad—with what they actually deliver after marriage—a hut or a shack, no electricity and no running water, and abject poverty.

The audience roared with laughter, and then Ajakis issued his own verdict: “I really like you,” he told the performer.

The egalitarian nature of Masraxa Furan is palpable. While the host and his support staff are middle-aged men, the amateur performers are young and are equally selected for the strength of their performance, without one gender being favored over the other.

Ajakis constantly subjects his audience to a relentless fusillade of laconic and sarcastic humor. At times, he goes out of his way to do some matchmaking. He boasts of the program’s worldwide reach and mentions, for instance, a young man in Australia who had fallen in love with a young performer named Nasro. Ajakis calls her to come to the front and tells her about her admirer in Australia. Nasro is obviously flattered and giggles, but makes no statement.

Ajakis has reiterated numerous times that he wants “to see the girl in Somaliland marry the boy in Puntland.” He wants young people to meet during the show and, if possible, to tie the knot. At every show, Ajakis rattles off some names, and reads greetings from Somalis abroad who regularly watch the program. 

“Three guys in the U.S. have contacted me” he boasted in one episode, “and they are coming to Mogadishu for the sole purpose of visiting our studio to perform.” 

The diversity of Masraxa Furan’s audience is staggering. The show transcends the artificial borders Somalis have erected between them since the 1991 civil war. These divisions, either geographical or tribal, are marginalized during the program. The show welcomes all Somalis, regardless of their background.

In one episode, two young men from Burco, Somaliland, were guests and one of them read an inspirational poem titled, “Mogadishu as it was before.” The young man recalled the good times in the city before 1991 and he connected all the threads that unite Somalis: from Djibouti to the Northern Frontier District (Kenya), from Galkayo to Baidoa, and from Hargeisa to Beledweyne. He then emphasized that Somalis are one body, one nation, despite their current state of misfortune.

Speaking of Somaliland, Ajakis, who normally avoids politics, had an unfortunate incident in January 2017. While on a business trip to Somaliland, he was arrested in Hargeisa. In 2014, Ajakis had mocked the president of Somaliland, Ahmed Mohamed Mohamoud “Silanyo,” during a Universal TV show. The Somaliland authorities were not pleased with the segment and he became a figure of loathing in government circles, despite his public apology.

“I am an artist, not a politician,” the remorseful Ajakis said.

The regional authorities in Somaliland, who have a history of muzzling journalists and imprisoning them, took a measure of revenge when Ajakis finally landed in their lap. According to Ajakis, he was slapped, pushed over, and detained for a day.

After interrogating the comedian, the authorities finally deported him back to Mogadishu. “Don’t you ever come back to Somaliland again,” he was warned. Ajakis got the message.

Back in Mogadishu, Ajakis was philosophical about the incident: “The Somaliland official who roughed me up at the airport was of a dark complexion and he seemed to me like he was the angel of death.”

In another well-covered political incident, Ajakis once ridiculed Farah Moalim, the former deputy speaker of Kenya during a TV show. Moalim was portrayed as a self-serving, bad-tempered politician, who is only seen by his people in northern Kenya during elections. Moalim, Ajakis said, dresses stylishly, lives in a five-star hotel in Nairobi, and wears expensive perfumes whose fragrances can be detected from miles away, while his people die from starvation and poverty. Moalim was not laughing, and threatened to sue Universal TV until it was driven into bankruptcy.  

Masraxa Furan is still evolving as a popular show. The host and organizers are as new to programming as the amateur performers they attract. Sometimes, the songs are subpar, the plays are haphazard, and the sound system lacks quality. But that is why it is a show for amateurs. Although Ajakis is an established comedian, he would indeed benefit from the services of a knowledgeable expert in the entertainment industry. However, all these shortcomings are outweighed by what the program has accomplished. It is serving a specific but limited purpose: providing a peaceful venue for the country’s youth to meet, exchange skills, and have fun, while at the same time negotiating the country’s cultural taboos. The program is an alternative for some of the youth to be radicalized. Ajakis puts it aptly, “Here, in this show, there are no thieves, no violent people, and no troublemakers.”

Perhaps he and his TV show will heal the divide that has ruptured so many innocent lives in Somalia.

(Reprinted from New Dalka Magazine, December 17, 2017).

Osob Samantar: Making a Difference

Several months ago, at the US. Institute of Peace in Washington, a young Somali attorney spoke about the humanitarian crisis in her native country, Somalia. Confident and poised, she described the plight of thousands of Somalis gripped by poverty, famine and displacement. The audience, comprising mostly representatives of American government agencies and international aid groups, listened attentively to the articulate and forthright speaker. Her name: Osob M. Samantar

Osob, 31, laughed as she told me she had always been opinionated, even as a child. While she was in 8^th grade, her school held a career day, during which various professionals descended upon the campus. One of the visitors — a lobbyist who spoke during the last session — left a lasting impression on Osob. The lobbyist asked students to debate whether the driving age should be increased from 16 to 18. It was a lively and memorable discussion, and Osob was impressed. She followed the lobbyist to the parking lot and asked her, “Excuse me, how can I become a lobbyist?” The lobbyist turned to her and simply said, “Go to law school, kid,” and then drove away in a gold Jaguar. To say that Osob has been hooked ever since is an understatement.

As Osob grew older, the benefits of a legal education became increasingly apparent to her. “It is vital in terms of critical thinking, communication, and writing skills,” said Osob, now a contract attorney in Washington DC. She is also working to build the Somali Forward Group—an entity that does consultancy work in Somalia in financial, legal, and policy fields. “Our main focus is institutional capacity building and human capacity injection,” Osob said.

She believes the Somali diaspora, which has had the privilege of extensively learning about the rule of law, diversity, and technical expertise, can share and give back to the Homeland. In fact, Osob advises Somalis in the diaspora who want to return home, to be genuine people who will put Somalia’s interests above their own personal agendas.

When she is not working, Osob volunteers at the Somali Embassy in Washington and helps with various events throughout the year. “We are all proud of her and her dedication,” said Ahmed I. Awad, Somalia’s Ambassador to the United States. “She was instrumental in the opening of the embassy in 2015.”

Most recently, Osob teamed up with equally talented women under a group called “Famine Resistors,” which is raising funds and awareness, and is looking for “creative ways to prevent and gather solutions to put an end to the vicious cycles of recurring famine.”      

Osob comes from a family steeped in Somali history. Her late father, Mohamed Ali Samantar, occupied important positions during his lifetime, and served as vice president, defense minister, and prime minister. He was also considered the architect of Somalia’s national army in the 1970s—once one of the strongest in Africa. But to Osob, like any little girl growing up, her father was the perfect role model.

Today, Osob’s other role model is her older sister, Zahra, who has also held important government positions in Somalia, including as the Minister of Women and Human Rights. “Zahra is the champion for women, human rights, and minorities,” Osob said. She saw Zahra in action in Mogadishu several years ago. “People meet her and she welcomes them with a smile and kind words,” said Osob, glowing. “That’s the type of person I want to be.”

Osob draws inspiration not just from her talented family members — she is also a big fan of Oprah Winfrey. “Oprah built an empire from scratch,” Osob said, smiling. “She is associated with greatness, success, and grander.” As an avid reader and listener of podcasts, Osob recommends one podcast: “Making Oprah,” to appreciate and understand Oprah’s humble beginnings.

Osob is optimistic about Somalia, in spite of the huge challenges the country faces. She dismisses the naysayers who think Somalia may never experience better times again. “Hope,” she said, “is still alive.” However, there are important tasks that need to be done.

“We need reform in all sectors in order to align with the federalist system,” she continued. As an attorney, she believes fixing the country’s weak judicial system is paramount. Moreover, equally important areas that need to be developed include “providing real security in Mogadishu, a reform in the agriculture and fishing industries, a reasonable and fair tax code, improvements in public school and health system, and most of all, injecting experienced personnel.”

In spite of the fact that Somalia’s challenges are massive, Osob is not one to be easily discouraged. She is optimistic and sees a bright future for the country. “Look at America 100 years ago,” she said, “a country that had civil war, slavery, Jim Crow and institutional racism, child labor, and an unequal criminal justice system.” She believes that no country is perfect, but that there has to be a commitment to “reconcile our differences and never shy away from incorporating marginalized groups into the decision-making process.”

Osob said that she recently read a quote by Harriet Tubman: “If you are tired, keep going. If you are scared, keep going. If you are hungry, keep going. If you want to taste freedom, keep going.”

Osob Samantar is the perfect embodiment of this quote as she moves forward, tirelessly advancing the cause and addressing the critical needs of Somalia’s displaced people.  

Sheikh Shibli and the Somali Bantu: A Racial Controversy

A Somali politician once joked about what he termed Somalis’ penchant for “perpetual controversy.” It is always one letdown after the other, he said. “At this point, there is nothing my people could do that will shock me,” he said, smiling.

Last month, the Somali government caused a political ruckus when it handed over Colonel Abdikarim Muse, a Somali national, to Ethiopia. A government spokesman declared that the surrender was in the interest of fighting terrorism.

This month, Somalia faces a religious controversy, which is raging across the country and on social media. Abdiweli Sh. Ali Emi Yare, a resident of Galkacayo, was accused of possessing a picture of the Prophet of Islam, Mohamed (PBUH). This is a blasphemous act because Islam prohibits the making of an image of the prophet. The allegation is so serious that some clerics have demanded the man to be arrested and killed. Sheikh Bashir Ahmed-Salad Warsame, the head of the Council of Religious Scholars, condemned the man and asked the local authorities in Galkacayo to take action.

The local authorities investigated the man, arrested him, and brought him to court. He categorically denied all the charges against him and was released. In an interview with the BBC Somali Service , the man said he was flummoxed by the allegations. “Who is in his right mind can show an image of the prophet?” he asked incredulously. “I only have a picture of my religious teacher, who happens to be named Mohamed.”

However, the dismissal of the case did not temper the smoldering controversy. Sheikh Shibli, a prominent cleric based in Kenya, suddenly joined the discussion. As usual, he was stern and unbending and lashed out at the man, accusing him of engaging in kufr (disbelief). Shibli asked both the regional state of Galmudug and the federal government to intervene, arrest the man, and kill him, according to the Islamic jurisprudence. “I don’t care if the Somali federal government falls, but this man has to be brought to justice,” Shibli admonished.

Then, Shibli wondered why the man would show an image of the prophet that was one of “an ugly man, a Jareer (Bantu)?” To Shibli, showing an image of the prophet was sacrilegious, but the image of the prophet as a Bantu man was equally repugnant.” The TV interviewer chuckled in approval of Shibli’s statement. 

Members of the Somali Bantu community in Jowhar, in Middle Shebelle, were horrified by Shibli’s remarks. The comments sent a large portion of their members—a marginalized group, who have been historically discriminated against—spinning into nervous fits and hyperbolic rants.  They asked why Shibli would call their people “ugly”. The fact that a prominent cleric like Shibli—who preaches tolerance, fairness, equality, and acceptance—would demean an entire community as unattractive was appalling, they said. “Shibli needs to repent as soon as possible,” said one of them.

Shibli issued a video in which he clarified his earlier statement but gave a lukewarm apology to the Bantu people. “If my remarks offended some people,” he said sheepishly, “then I apologize.” But, he continued to defend his position by offering a plethora of proof in the Islamic literature about the existence of the Jareer (Bantu) as a distinct race with distinct physical features. He said that all black people—including all the Somalis—were Bantu. Shibli was attempting to sidestep the furor he had created, which was not about the existence of Bantu as a racial group, but about him calling them ugly.

Sheikh Abdulkadir Kishki, a cleric based in Canada and a longtime nemesis of Shibli, jumped on the opportunity to attack him. Kishki apologized to the Somali Bantu community for what he called “Shibli’s ignorance, racist, and un-Islamic behavior.” It is shameful, he said, that a renowned religious scholar like Shibli, who knows better, would blatantly engage into racial baiting.

Race and racism have been a social issue in Somalia as long as the Somali Bantu have been a part of the Somalia society. The Bantu originally hailed from Tanzania, Malawi, and Mozambique and were brought into Somalia as slaves and plantation workers. They mostly reside between the two rivers of Somalia. The United Nations and some countries, including the United States, have recognized the Bantu refugees who fled Somalia as a protected group. Many have been resettled  in America.  

Shibli was addressing a religious issue regarding the image of the prophet, but he inadvertently created another controversy. His failure to apologize to the Somali Bantu and own his faux pas added more fuel to the fire. The episode highlights how racism in Somalia is still a social problem that needs to be addressed and openly discussed. It is a stark acknowledgment that even religious scholars are not immune to racial charges.

Political Storm Rages Over Somali Colonel's Extradition to Ethiopia

On August 23, 2017, the security forces of Galmudug, a regional state in Somalia, arrested a man in his 60s who seemed suspicious. Fearing he was an al-Shabaab fighter, regional security agents interrogated him. It turned out he was Colonel Abdikarim Muse, a prominent figure in the Ogaden National Liberation Front (ONLF)—a group seeking independence for the Somali-inhabited region of Ethiopia—and he was visiting a sick relative. A few days later, Colonel Muse was flown to Mogadishu, where he had lived since 2014, but this time he was in handcuffs. On August 28, he was whisked out of Somalia and formally handed over to Ethiopia. The news of his arrest and extradition to Ethiopia created a political firestorm in Somalia and the diaspora. Protests poured in regarding the Somali government’s action, and demonstrations broke out in certain parts of the country. Moreover, the news went viral on social media.

What went wrong?

The nascent, seven months old Somali government under Mohamed Farmajo found itself in a political quagmire that exposed serious fissures in government circles, as well as poor crisis management, a dichotomy between Farmajo’s populism and political realities, and the emergence of a detached president retreating from crucial decision making.

Competing interests

The head of the Somali Intelligence Agency (NISA), Abdullahi Sanbalooshe, emerged as the central figure in handing over the ONLF official. His agents took over Muse’s case after the colonel was brought to Mogadishu. Later, at a press conference, Prime Minister Hassan Kheyre was asked about Muse’s delivery to Addis Ababa. The head of NISA interjected and said the matter was so “sensitive” it would only be addressed in due time. The premier was visibly annoyed by the interruption, but he chose not to say anything about the matter. It would take two weeks before the government issued a statement about the case.

The security services in the country are still run by officials appointed by the administration of former President Hassan Mohamoud, who was later defeated by the current president. The current director of NISA, a former protégé of President Mohamoud, was also the Minister of Security for the previous administration. The security services have a long and close relationship with Ethiopia and some Western countries. In fact, several Somali security branches have been trained and funded by countries such as the United States, the United Arab Emirates, and Qatar. Occasionally, some of these branches have fought against each other in the streets of Mogadishu.

Poor crisis management

The Somali government gave conflicting accounts of Muse’s extradition to Ethiopia. At first, some officials leaked suggestions that Colonel Muse had willingly agreed to be taken to Ethiopia because he had negotiated with Addis Ababa, and the Somali government had merely facilitated his transfer. A representative of the ONLF denied this suggestion and accused President Farmajo and PM Kheyre of complicity in handing over a Somali man to Ethiopia. Then, Ethiopia’s Information Minister declared that the Somali government had handed Muse over to Addis Ababa because he belonged to what he termed a terrorist group. The Somali government neither confirmed nor denied this allegation. Later on September 6, the Somali Council of Ministers had a meeting in which Muse’s case was retroactively discussed after he was already in the hands of Ethiopia. Only one minister—fittingly, the Minister of Human Affairs—opposed the transfer of Muse to Addis Ababa whereas two other ministers (interior and transportation) abstained. Later, the Council held a press conference and acknowledged Muse’s transfer to Ethiopia as “a legal step taken to remove a security threat,” according to the Information Minister. Then came a bombshell: the minister accused Colonel Muse of having a close relationship with al-Shabaab. To bolster the government’s case, the minister said both Addis Ababa and Mogadishu signed an agreement in 2015 in which the ONLF and al-Shabaab were designated as terrorist entities. It was the first time in Somali history a Somali government official had called the ONLF a terrorist group.

The government’s position on Colonel Muse drew howls of outrage among some legislators and civil society leaders. First, the two former Somali government officials who signed the reported agreements with Ethiopia denied that the documents they had signed mentioned the ONLF. In an interview with the VOA Somali Service, former Security Minister Abdikarim Hussein Guled and Mahad Salad, a former State Minister for the Office of the Presidency, said the agreements they had signed respectively, were between Ethiopia and a Somali regional state (Galmudug). “The agreement cannot be used as a justification for handing over Muse over to Ethiopia,” said Guled, “because it had nothing to do with the ONLF or the exchange of criminals or prisoners.” Furthermore, these agreements were never ratified by the Somali parliament.

Limitations of Farmajo’s nationalist platform

President Farmajo was elected on a nationalist platform and defeated an incumbent who was heavily favored by Ethiopia. It became apparent that Farmajo’s strength was also his major weakness. His call for the sovereignty of Somalia and unity among Somalis became mere rhetoric as he did what he once accused of his predecessor of doing: kowtowing to neighboring countries such as Ethiopia. Farmajo may have opted to stay neutral in the Gulf crisis between Saudi Arabia and Qatar, but Ethiopia is a different beast. Calls for his resignation grew louder, as he was perceived as a leader who had the gall to send a Somali citizen to Ethiopia. The Somali provisional constitution prohibits handing over any Somali to a foreign country. Moreover, Colonel Muse was a military officer in the Somali national army and even fought against Ethiopia during the 1977-1978 Somali-Ethiopian War. Colonel Muse had also lived in Mogadishu for the past three years and belonged to a liberation movement that has been dormant for many years. Only Ethiopia regards the group as terrorists; in other words, critics of the Somali government questioned the validity of the argument that ONLF posed a security threat to either Somalia or Ethiopia. The group has never been accused of bombings in Somalia, and the last bombing by the group in Ethiopia was on November 28, 2006. In 2009, the group claimed to have captured seven towns, but the Ethiopian government spokesman denied this and called the group’s claim “simply the desperate act of a dying force.”

A detached president

President Farmajo has yet to address the Muse incident. There are conflicting reports that his prime minister and the head of the intelligence service misinformed him, or that he was totally in the dark over the negotiations. Others say that the president delegates too much responsibility to others, and thus, was not party to the decision concerning Muse. Critics say Farmajo lives a cloistered existence in Villa Somalia, the seat of government. The prime minister and the head of intelligence took the lead in managing the affairs. Since the political storm started brewing, Farmajo has simply vanished from the public scene, except for a brief appearance at Lido Beach, Mogadishu, where he played soccer with some youngsters and drank tea with them. He spoke to the youth about other issues and deliberately evaded any discussion of Muse. Although it is difficult to gauge the extent of opposition to Farmajo’s handling of the incident, there have also been scattered voices that have defended him and applauded him for handing Muse over to Ethiopia. These supporters have equated any criticism of Farmajo to what they derisively call “Qaran-dumis” (Nation-Destroying). However, some members of parliament have vowed to hold hearings about the matter.

What is next?

Contrary to what the Somali Information Minister said, al-Shabaab has denied having any relationship with Colonel Muse. An Ethiopian official has praised the head of the Somali National Intelligence Agency for handing Muse over to Addis Ababa, but refrained from doing the same for President Farmajo and PM Kheyre. The government’s strategy of keeping silent for two weeks after the incident and then later denouncing Muse as a terrorist did not go well with the public, and dented Farmajo’s reputation as a nationalist. There have been calls for the president to come clean regarding the matter, and to admit that egregious mistakes were made. Others have called for PM Kheyre and the head of the intelligence services to be fired. It is not clear what Farmajo will do, but members of the Somali parliament have vowed to investigate the matter further, which makes it seem as if the incident will continue to spiral out of control. Farmajo may survive this storm as president, but his administration is incrementally losing the public’s vote of confidence. Either way, a political scandal may loom larger than expected.

Abdirahman Jama Barre: An Obituary

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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