As someone who was born during
these tumultuous times, my parents shared with me their experiences of unrest,
displacement, and fear during the clan conflicts. They recounted the famine and
disease outbreaks that claimed the lives of many in our community, exacerbated
by the relentless threats from clan warlords in the 1990s. I have witnessed the
lasting effects of these tragedies over the past two decades, affecting both
urban and rural areas of the country. The consequences have included forced
displacements, suicide attacks, and many other forms of violence that have
engulfed the lives of innocent civilians.
All these tragedies have profoundly
affected families, leaving them with lifelong trauma. Loss and suffering are
not just numbers; they represent enduring pain for families like mine, who have
lost a beloved and important member.
On January 2, 2016, I was in my
last year of high school in Baidoa. That morning, around 8 AM, my phone started
ringing repeatedly, with calls coming in from different regions of the country.
The last person I saw was my mom. I answered the call, even though it was
during one of our class periods, and she delivered the devastating news:
"Your two uncles were targeted in a suicide attack in Mogadishu. One of
them died, while the other is in critical condition." At that moment,
everything else faded away for me.
Since my mom was in a different
region, I called my older brother Mohamud Hikam, who was in Mogadishu at the
time, to confirm what had happened. He verified the information from my mom,
telling me, "Uncle Ayardus, my father's younger brother, died in the
incident, while Uncle Sh Bayadir, my father's elder brother, is in the ICU with
critical injuries." My brother’s voice was filled with emotion as he
shared the news, clearly upset by the situation.
I received the news and ran home,
forgetting to ask our school principal for permission to leave or inform him
about what had happened. I hurried past the security guard since our school was
mostly closed during that time, and no one was allowed to leave without prior
approval from the principal. I even left my books in the classroom as I dashed
toward the closed gate and asked the security guard to let me out. At that
moment, he realized I wasn’t okay and opened the door for me. I left the school
running, not knowing what else to do but to reach home and see my family.
To explain what happened on January
2, 2016, in the early morning: my late uncle, Sh. Aydarus Sh. Abdirahman
(Banani), the younger brother of my late father, was killed in a suicide
bombing at a restaurant in Hamarweyne District, Mogadishu, Somalia. My other
late uncle, Sh. Bayadir Sh. Abdirahman (Banani), who passed away in February
2025 and was the elder brother of my late father, was injured in this incident.
That day was incredibly difficult for my family and our community as a whole,
as we witnessed something unbearable.
Aydarus Sh Abdirahman (Banani), my
late father, was not only a friend but also a strong advocate for education. He
never hesitated to stand up for what was right, even in the face of brutal
regimes. In the 1990s, our village was invaded by clan warlords, who burned
homes and attempted to harass women. My late uncle, who was the only man
present at the time, courageously defended those women. Tragically, he was shot
in the mouth and elbow, resulting in the loss of his lower jaw and severe
injuries that he carried for the rest of his life.
Sh Bayadir Sh Abdirahman (Banani),
my father’s elder brother, passed away in February 2025. He was a visionary
leader in our community and the primary breadwinner for our family. Despite the
tremendous tragedies we faced, he worked tirelessly for community development
in education, health, and livelihoods. His efforts significantly contributed to
the well-being of our people in Somalia since the collapse of the central
government. I am proud to be one of the beneficiaries of his hard work and
vision. I may explore his life and legacy in a future blog post.
Furthermore, that day was one of
the most difficult moments in my life, as well as for my family and our
community. We lost our dearest person, our leader, and most beloved figure. It
was especially hard for my late grandmother, Hasila Hussien, who had witnessed
two of her loved ones suffering in the same incident. She had already lost her
son (my father) a few years earlier in 2011. If not for her faith in Allah,
which gave her strength to remain faithful and believe in destiny, the agony
that she and our family endured would have been unimaginable. What we have
experienced is among the highest forms of suffering in human life, which has
persisted in my country for over three decades.
As we approach the 10th anniversary
of my late uncle's death on January 2, 2026, our family will remember this day,
as the tragedy is still fresh in our minds. We will mourn the loss of our
dearest ones, including my other late uncle and my grandmother, who both passed
away on February 25 and November 30, 2025, respectively, along with all the
other loved ones we have lost during this time. I share the same emotions and
feelings with my fellow citizens who have also lost their loved ones in similar
incidents.