I was recently working on a research project looking into the Somali people's experience of living in Europe. The research focused on enhancing current social policies so we looked into all sectors of public life and institutions and it was breathtaking to observe the frustrations that the people faced but also how remarkably ambitious people were. What caught my attention particularly was how an increasing number of the older generation was employed and harboured great ambitions despite each one of them having an average of 6-7 children in addition to looking after parents and other elderly relatives. Quite a few of them were near retirement age but still possessed a zest for life and an appetite to work.
There was also an immense diversity in the disciplines and career aspirations of the youth moving away from the traditionally pursued areas of medicine, law, computing and engineering. Many of these youth have been raised on income benefits and haven't had the privileges that are often exposed to their peers but they still finished their schools with top marks. This really infused a great deal of hope in me of what the future might bring.
But there are some stark challenges that lie ahead and a common thread among most people we spoke to trickled down to language barriers. The main problem with the current ESOL system is that it is designed in a 'one-size-fits-all' kind of way. This means people coming from an academic background or have professional skills that just need to learn the language are sitting in the same class as people from an unskilled background. The two clearly can't learn at the same speed nor do they have the same comprehension level so the teaching becomes prolonged, tedious and eventually, fruitless. If any tangible progress is sought from these classes, they really need to reform and tailor to the needs of the students more acutely.
Many Somalis who have studied in the countries they have moved from find themselves in this ESOL rut and end up doing menial work that don't require much English. The language barrier also affects them when it comes to accessing public services whether it is going to the GP, dealing with their children's schools, sorting out housing issues or liaising with the local council.It is important that the ESOL issues in the UK is addressed but I also feel that the people need to make a greater effort themselves to overcome these challenges. The Somali diaspora have demonstrated the valuable contribution they can make through their efforts towards Somalia but this needs to be done in parallel to striving to become an integral part of the local society here in the UK. This is particularly important for the upcoming youth who have shown remarkable potential but they need a leadership that can steer them to achieve that potential. The adults therefore need to become the role models that their children can aspire to be like.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Friday, January 4, 2013
a new dawn..
The beginning of a new year is always promising and full of hope. We spent much of December and beginning of January planning the dreams and aspirations we hope to achieve in the new year. I for one had a very fulfilling 2012 and so my only real goal for 2013 is to try and stay on course.
I was very lucky to have been able to travel to Somalia last year and play a small part in the political changes the country was going through as well as help highlight some of the developmental challenges that still plague many regions. One of the main issues that weighed heavy on my heart, and that I wish to focus on in this brief note, is the haphazardness in the way many people were operating and this is largely due to people meddling in areas that are outside their skill-sets. It sounds very elementary but chaos certainly rises from people trying to do jobs they are not equipped to do. And this is across the board from politics to media, education and humanitarianism, I saw people young and old with lots of enthusiasm and zeal but zero clue of what ought to be done. I sadly also noticed how many people are in it for the wrong reasons, seeking praise and recognition without putting in the hard work. This is an underestimated and overlooked issue that can be costly if it is not addressed.
That being said, I remain inspired by the few that are the exception to the above issue, especially the youth both from the diaspora and within Somalia that put their degrees and professional experience to good use in places where they are really needed. It's these kinds of efforts that need to be sought out, empowered and promoted. The youth really can make the necessary change, if equipped with the right guidance and support as their hearts are often clean from the traumas of clannism.
This is the time where the older generation needs to put their differences aside and come together to inspire the next generation of leaders and in order for that to come to fruition, older generation need to start reflecting on the kind of influence they have on their youngsters and whether this can bring positive changes in the long run.
More than anything,sincerity and a revival of moral conscientiousness needs to take place among all that wish to work towards the rebuilding of Somalia.
May this year be the year she starts to shine.....
I was very lucky to have been able to travel to Somalia last year and play a small part in the political changes the country was going through as well as help highlight some of the developmental challenges that still plague many regions. One of the main issues that weighed heavy on my heart, and that I wish to focus on in this brief note, is the haphazardness in the way many people were operating and this is largely due to people meddling in areas that are outside their skill-sets. It sounds very elementary but chaos certainly rises from people trying to do jobs they are not equipped to do. And this is across the board from politics to media, education and humanitarianism, I saw people young and old with lots of enthusiasm and zeal but zero clue of what ought to be done. I sadly also noticed how many people are in it for the wrong reasons, seeking praise and recognition without putting in the hard work. This is an underestimated and overlooked issue that can be costly if it is not addressed.
That being said, I remain inspired by the few that are the exception to the above issue, especially the youth both from the diaspora and within Somalia that put their degrees and professional experience to good use in places where they are really needed. It's these kinds of efforts that need to be sought out, empowered and promoted. The youth really can make the necessary change, if equipped with the right guidance and support as their hearts are often clean from the traumas of clannism.
This is the time where the older generation needs to put their differences aside and come together to inspire the next generation of leaders and in order for that to come to fruition, older generation need to start reflecting on the kind of influence they have on their youngsters and whether this can bring positive changes in the long run.
More than anything,sincerity and a revival of moral conscientiousness needs to take place among all that wish to work towards the rebuilding of Somalia.
May this year be the year she starts to shine.....
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Somalia's women
Much of the political rhetoric surrounding Somalia in the last few months has seen a reoccurrence of one debate; women's participation. I was in Mogadishu when the roadmap milestones were met with the approval of the draft constitution and selection of parliament. But whilst these milestones were being celebrated, particularly because for the first time it was held in Mogadishu, many women were galvanising one another to push for more female political participation. Whilst at the constitution conference, outburst of women voicing their perturbance kept happening. I spoke to some of them then and the key concern seemed to be the fear of not getting their 30% quota in the parliament.
They didn't get their quota and since then, many presidential candidates including the current president included this issue as a priority into their campaign. I waited to see if any of these discussions and promises would bear fruit and, going by the street talk of Mogadishu in the last few days, the new cabinet, when announced, might be taking a key step into the forward movement of this debate in the form of a female foreign minister.
If this does become true it might be a cause for celebration but what lingers in the back of my mind is the fact that Somali women had always as far back as history depicts been part and parcel of Somali society, unlike our Arab and Western counterparts. They were highly active and held many key posts within government, including ministerial, as well as leading other areas and institutions of the Somali country and society. One of the fond memories I have as a child in Mogadishu is going with my mother to her university, whose department was led by a female professor.
And then when the civil war broke out, women took an even greater social responsibility upon their shoulders and became the backbone of society and initiators of survival. So I wonder when did this backward moving shift occur where women have now got to ask for inclusion, as if they're second class citizens? Till this day most women are the breadwinners of their households and leaders of their communities but them advocating for a minority inclusion defeats the mountainous role they always held.
It is a topical issue, one that can certainly not be concluded in a mere blog post but I just wanted to shed light into the need to properly examine and engage with somali women with regards to the roles they played, engage them on an equal platform as men and then look into developing their
participation, rather than having minority quotas and the odd ministerial position allocated.
They didn't get their quota and since then, many presidential candidates including the current president included this issue as a priority into their campaign. I waited to see if any of these discussions and promises would bear fruit and, going by the street talk of Mogadishu in the last few days, the new cabinet, when announced, might be taking a key step into the forward movement of this debate in the form of a female foreign minister.
If this does become true it might be a cause for celebration but what lingers in the back of my mind is the fact that Somali women had always as far back as history depicts been part and parcel of Somali society, unlike our Arab and Western counterparts. They were highly active and held many key posts within government, including ministerial, as well as leading other areas and institutions of the Somali country and society. One of the fond memories I have as a child in Mogadishu is going with my mother to her university, whose department was led by a female professor.
And then when the civil war broke out, women took an even greater social responsibility upon their shoulders and became the backbone of society and initiators of survival. So I wonder when did this backward moving shift occur where women have now got to ask for inclusion, as if they're second class citizens? Till this day most women are the breadwinners of their households and leaders of their communities but them advocating for a minority inclusion defeats the mountainous role they always held.
It is a topical issue, one that can certainly not be concluded in a mere blog post but I just wanted to shed light into the need to properly examine and engage with somali women with regards to the roles they played, engage them on an equal platform as men and then look into developing their
participation, rather than having minority quotas and the odd ministerial position allocated.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Mogadishu chronicles
My longing to see the city I was born in which I harboured for many years, finally came into realisation on the 20th of July 2012. I went for an assignment to moderate the Somali draft constitution conference. Prior to this trip, last time I was in Mogadishu was in 1989 as a 6 year old. As my flight lowered on to the ground ready to land, I noticed the beautiful blue ocean, its waves flowing serenely onto the crisp white beaches. Right next to it, there is a sea of makeshift tents scattered across the city, filled with displaced people. I was about to come face to face with my birth city, a city torn forlornly by war.
I made my way into the airport and had to queue in the 'foreigners' line for immigration. I was a foreigner in my native soil. I had to buy a visa to enter my homeland. It was a bitter pill to swallow. On my way to the hotel, bullet holes and destroyed buildings decorated the streets. People built makeshift tents in the old government ministries which were now destroyed beyond recognition. Every moment or so fresh gunshots would sound in the faint distant. My city was a city of conflict.
The first few days at work were haphazard and chaotic. The conference was being held at the former police academy and countless security checkpoints were put in place. More than 800 people from across Somalia were assembled to approve the draft constitution and hundreds of staff were hired to facilitate the conference during the 9 days it would last.But given the lack of coordination between those working there, minute tasks became impossible to accomplish. Security personnel weren't adequately trained so they would search people in the most inappropriate ways. Additionally, senior dignitaries and government officials were present most days which made circumstances extremely volatile. Whilst there, a mortar attack aimed at where people go through security and two suicide bombings were carried out. The suicide bombings were particularly frightening as they occurred just outside of the building where the conference was being held. The explosion shook the entire building and part of the ceiling came off. A security guard got injured and another one died. We all hurriedly ran towards the door and as I walked outside, I saw bits and pieces of the limbs and other body parts of the suicide bombers, dispersed across the ground.
Back at the hotel, most evenings would be filled with similar anxiety. Mogadishu keeps you on your toes. Every night, I would hear a varying number of casualties that had been killed either by roadside bombs or targeted assassination. Leaving the hotel was unimaginable.The sound of gunshots in the night were so regular that eventually it became the background music of my city. Strangely, I got used to hearing them after some days but would still have the occasional flinch.
When the work was done, I had a few moments to drive through the city. I was lucky enough to see the ward of the hospital where I was born, Medina hospital. I also went to the beach and played with its sand, a rare moment of tranquility amid chaotic circumstances. The city was beloved to me, it still is but its heart had been pierced and shredded and it pained me. I felt like I was driving through a ghost city. Very few buildings were in tact and the people looked like they had been to hell and back.
I took a moment to mingle with the people and noticed despite living in a city ravaged by war and having lived through it, they were remarkably hopeful and ambitious. I met several youngsters who were eager to educate themselves doing degrees and diplomas consecutively whilst having a part time job. The local business people were full of creative ideas. The entrepreneurial spirit of the people was alive and thriving. It was then that it dawned on me that the people of Mogadishu had moved beyond fighting with one another. There was no sign of clan animosity. They were ready for peace and stability but their leaders weren't moving in the same speed...
The city gave me a good sent off on the day I was flying out. The guards at the security checkpoint at the entrance of the airport struggled to get people to form a line. Instead of telling them to queue up, they fired gunshots in the air whilst standing right next to us. This was clearly the main form of communication but I remain optimistic and hope the next time I am there, the language of humanity would be there to greet me.
I made my way into the airport and had to queue in the 'foreigners' line for immigration. I was a foreigner in my native soil. I had to buy a visa to enter my homeland. It was a bitter pill to swallow. On my way to the hotel, bullet holes and destroyed buildings decorated the streets. People built makeshift tents in the old government ministries which were now destroyed beyond recognition. Every moment or so fresh gunshots would sound in the faint distant. My city was a city of conflict.
The first few days at work were haphazard and chaotic. The conference was being held at the former police academy and countless security checkpoints were put in place. More than 800 people from across Somalia were assembled to approve the draft constitution and hundreds of staff were hired to facilitate the conference during the 9 days it would last.But given the lack of coordination between those working there, minute tasks became impossible to accomplish. Security personnel weren't adequately trained so they would search people in the most inappropriate ways. Additionally, senior dignitaries and government officials were present most days which made circumstances extremely volatile. Whilst there, a mortar attack aimed at where people go through security and two suicide bombings were carried out. The suicide bombings were particularly frightening as they occurred just outside of the building where the conference was being held. The explosion shook the entire building and part of the ceiling came off. A security guard got injured and another one died. We all hurriedly ran towards the door and as I walked outside, I saw bits and pieces of the limbs and other body parts of the suicide bombers, dispersed across the ground.
Back at the hotel, most evenings would be filled with similar anxiety. Mogadishu keeps you on your toes. Every night, I would hear a varying number of casualties that had been killed either by roadside bombs or targeted assassination. Leaving the hotel was unimaginable.The sound of gunshots in the night were so regular that eventually it became the background music of my city. Strangely, I got used to hearing them after some days but would still have the occasional flinch.
When the work was done, I had a few moments to drive through the city. I was lucky enough to see the ward of the hospital where I was born, Medina hospital. I also went to the beach and played with its sand, a rare moment of tranquility amid chaotic circumstances. The city was beloved to me, it still is but its heart had been pierced and shredded and it pained me. I felt like I was driving through a ghost city. Very few buildings were in tact and the people looked like they had been to hell and back.
I took a moment to mingle with the people and noticed despite living in a city ravaged by war and having lived through it, they were remarkably hopeful and ambitious. I met several youngsters who were eager to educate themselves doing degrees and diplomas consecutively whilst having a part time job. The local business people were full of creative ideas. The entrepreneurial spirit of the people was alive and thriving. It was then that it dawned on me that the people of Mogadishu had moved beyond fighting with one another. There was no sign of clan animosity. They were ready for peace and stability but their leaders weren't moving in the same speed...
The city gave me a good sent off on the day I was flying out. The guards at the security checkpoint at the entrance of the airport struggled to get people to form a line. Instead of telling them to queue up, they fired gunshots in the air whilst standing right next to us. This was clearly the main form of communication but I remain optimistic and hope the next time I am there, the language of humanity would be there to greet me.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
a noble concept
As I left Cardiff last week on my way to Leicester, I wanted to discover the walking route to the Cardiff central train station. I normally catch the inner city train from my neighbourhood. Armed with directions on my iPad I went on my way but was soon lost given my habit of being directionally challenged! I asked some local policemen and as they were explaining the walking route, a passer-by overheard our conversation and when I began walking in the direction the police had pointed towards, the passer-by told me he was going in the direction of the train station and could show me.
Since we live in a paranoid-state-of-mind environment, I instinctively took a step away and looked him up and down, checking for the presence of any weirdness but then I thought not everyone has to have an ulterior motive to be nice and I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He led the way and as we walked through the town centre and I explained I was still getting to know Cardiff, he informed me of all the buildings we walked passed, told me their history and when they were built, pointed where the cheapest shops were and local markets where the freshest fruit and veg could be found. I had a guided tour and as we arrived at the train station, he wished me well and went back to work. It was during his lunch hour that he showed me the train station when most of us would think 'I only have an hour, where is the nearest place I can grab something to eat?'
The instinct to help another person when you can has become a dying commodity. In fact we are so used to individualism that we often assume there is a catch when someone offers to help, as I did.
Whilst on the train, I was overwhelmed with a sense of appreciation but I also couldn't help but feel guilty. Guilty that my first thought was one of suspicion as the gentleman offered to help. Guilty for not expecting niceness of humanity in the first instance. We should assume good of people until one is proven otherwise, innocent until proven guilty so to speak but I'm guessing we've become hardwired, engulfed in this tit-for-tat lifestyle of self-centredness.
This encounter was a lesson in humanity for me. Our society is made up of all sorts of people and for every rotten apple, there is a rose in bloom, somewhere...
Since we live in a paranoid-state-of-mind environment, I instinctively took a step away and looked him up and down, checking for the presence of any weirdness but then I thought not everyone has to have an ulterior motive to be nice and I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He led the way and as we walked through the town centre and I explained I was still getting to know Cardiff, he informed me of all the buildings we walked passed, told me their history and when they were built, pointed where the cheapest shops were and local markets where the freshest fruit and veg could be found. I had a guided tour and as we arrived at the train station, he wished me well and went back to work. It was during his lunch hour that he showed me the train station when most of us would think 'I only have an hour, where is the nearest place I can grab something to eat?'
The instinct to help another person when you can has become a dying commodity. In fact we are so used to individualism that we often assume there is a catch when someone offers to help, as I did.
Whilst on the train, I was overwhelmed with a sense of appreciation but I also couldn't help but feel guilty. Guilty that my first thought was one of suspicion as the gentleman offered to help. Guilty for not expecting niceness of humanity in the first instance. We should assume good of people until one is proven otherwise, innocent until proven guilty so to speak but I'm guessing we've become hardwired, engulfed in this tit-for-tat lifestyle of self-centredness.
This encounter was a lesson in humanity for me. Our society is made up of all sorts of people and for every rotten apple, there is a rose in bloom, somewhere...
Thursday, June 21, 2012
on the slow train, steadily going upstream..
Since commencing my PhD last October, I have often felt that I've been thrown in the deep end, at times thinking perhaps I've bitten more than I can intellectually chew. I started my journey with a set agenda instead of embracing that seeking knowledge is a limitless process without boundaries nor an end. I'm very fortunate to have realised this notion quite early on and it has made every piece of new knowledge that I've acquired since immensely fascinating. The irony that comes out of this process is how limited the human intellect really is, compared to the wealth of knowledge that is available and how we can't grasp most of it. Many a times I dropped several books because I just didn't get their theories but a few months later when I revisit them, they make sense. I even feel silly for not 'getting' it before and laugh. It is a humbling experience but you feel yourself growing and making remarkable progress at the same time, both academically and personally.
Last week I finalised my theoretical framework and research title after nine months of literature review. My research aims and methodology are taking shape and I feel quietly in control, something I haven't felt for many months! The natural storyteller in me is peeking through and I feel a story is coming out of this process on which I can confidently put my thumbprints on. The greater struggle is still ahead but as I look up, the journey to the finish line is looking to be a sweet one to enjoy.
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