Envision a World: Shukri

From Somalia to South Sudan and Democratic Republic of Congo, Scholars share stories of their experiences growing up as young refugees determined to educate themselves and others.  Shukri Ahmed is pursuing a master’s of science in rural community development at the American University of Beirut (AUB). This story was originally published in AUB’s The Main Gate magazine.

I have been on the move for most of my life, so that even now I have never had a firm idea of what “home” is. I don’t know what it is like to have childhood friends. I’ve always wondered what it meant to have a country to go back to or a passport to take me there. I’ve never taken lessons in my mother tongue or learned the history of my people. I’ve never had a sense of belonging and I’ve always wondered what it would be like to understand the rules of the game in your culture, your society, or your community. It is a strange feeling being a resident stranger your whole life.

The civil war in Somalia forced many families to flee in the 1990s, so my experience as a young girl was not unusual. At the age of eight, I was taken away with my nine-month-old sister by our mother and spent six months on a perilous journey that took us to four countries in two continents to reach a safe haven in Sweden.

I was exhausted but excited to think that we had the opportunity now to find a safe shelter, a peaceful life, and a good education. Soon I started imagining what my future career might be, a doctor, or lawyer, or a TV presenter. After tasting the experience of crossing Europe with my mother and sister, I knew one thing—that I must have a good job, so I could take care of myself and my own children so they would not have to go through what my sister and I did.

I was taken back to Somalia when I was 12. The only explanation I was given was that it was not good for me as a young Somali and Muslim girl to grow up in Sweden. Unfortunately this is a common practice among the Somali diaspora community. I couldn’t understand what was happening to me at the time, but I knew all too well that I was back to Square One and had to start all over again.

The dream of building my own successful career still burned in my breast, even though in the reality of the next few years it took a lot to keep the flame alive. The dangers of Mogadishu and its bleak career prospects drove me to neighboring capitals. I gave birth to a lovely son but I became separated from him through circumstances I don’t want to go into here. Although I still can’t see him today, he gives me reason to strive for a better life, for him, which he so deserves.

But still I hadn’t tasted the worst. Desperate to revive my fortunes, I took the dangerous journey across the Gulf of Aden to Yemen and I was lucky to survive the ruthless people traffickers on the way. I worked for two and a half years in Yemen as a housemaid, a hotel cleaner, a waitress, a cashier, and a receptionist. All I wanted was to go to school, but I couldn’t because I was an undocumented immigrant with little money. Yemen saw the peak of my vulnerability and the most serious violations that I have faced: long hours without breaks or days off, beatings, being deprived of food and wages. All the while harassment in the workplace and in the street. I had to escape and the only option I had was to take another risky journey, by foot, over the mountains to Saudi Arabia.

As an undocumented immigrant, my only option was to become a domestic servant. The lady who employed me, I only knew her first name, was a cultivated person with an important job in Jeddah and no husband. She was a graduate of the American University of Beirut and I saw that real freedom for women in our societies begins with education. She was surprised by the request from her Somali housemaid, but she allowed me to read the Arabic books in her library and gave me the newspaper to read every day after she had finished it. I spent all my free time reading.

Eventually, after five years in Saudi Arabia, I saved enough to return to Africa and complete my secondary education in Somalia and undergraduate degree (with distinction!) in Uganda. I paid my way by doing part-time jobs and my mother sent me some funds from Sweden although she could ill afford it.

Despite all the hardship and difficulties that I faced in my early life, I remained positive about my future. I pushed myself beyond my limits and that gave me the confidence to realize my inner abilities. The way I see it, every experience has made me more determined to develop people’s capacity to help themselves and to work with others as a community. I give my energy to programs and organizations to support women and especially Somali women and girls.

Just a few years ago I was among the thousands of voiceless women working in the Middle East and North Africa  region as domestic workers. Education was my only hope and getting the Mastercard Foundation scholarship was what pulled me to come back to the region. It was a dream come true.

Now that my AUB journey has started with a world-class education and learning the practical skills to transform my community back home in Somalia, I am planning to use my education, my training, and my skills to benefit the situation that girls and women face back home. Being a Mastercard Foundation scholar is being a role model. I am ready to take up that challenge. I envision myself as a leader who will bring positive change on the ground. I know it will take a lot of time to change all that, but I will be satisfied to do my part, however small.

Now that Somalia is emerging from a long civil war there is a lot of work to do in terms of security as well as food security. As I have been writing this article a terrible tragedy has happened in Mogadishu. The bombing left more than 300 people dead, and hundreds are missing or injured. The vast majority of Somalis either know someone who was killed or injured by the atrocity or know someone who is connected at a personal level, be they a friend, a colleague, a close family member, or a more distant relative. Most of the victims were young people, the future leaders, doctors, teachers, and stars of the next generation.

With my friends in the African Club, which we have revived at AUB this term, we held a vigil under the message #IAmSomalia and Arab and European students, faculty, and staff stood alongside us. It was a strong and emotional reminder not to let lack of stability back home stop us from being the best we can be here at AUB so we can shine and keep the hope of Somalia alive.

Envision a World is a series by Scholars that express their ideas for change and a more equitable, prosperous world. Together, this collection of individual accounts forms a vision of Africa by African youth. Follow us on Instagram and join the conversation by posting about the world you envision with #EnvisionAWorld.