My Somali Woman

I’m seated calmly on my bed charmed by the rhythmical drum beats of the rain.

It’s Christmas Night and I couldn’t help but close this glorious day with the few pages remaining on my Desert Dawn read.

Waris Dirie took me through a final night ride that exposed me once again to the struggle, the pain, the joy, the love and the culture she was bombarded with during her return to Somalia to meet her mother.

Somalia is now part of my life refuge.

It holds dear to me due to the knowledge I have willingly consumed.

A woman never changes her name once married.

The right hand is considered the clean and polite hand.

A traditional woman’s dress is called a hejab, and a man’s is maawis with the hat, qofe.

Female and male circumcision are both performed 😦

The 5 stars on the Somali flag stand for Somalia, Somaliland, Djibouti, Ogaden and Somalis in Kenya.

The culture is rooted deep into the ground.

Waris tried to change their perspectives on her return, but her own people laughed at her, maybe she had a New York Fever, they would think.

My Symbol for this book is Waris Dirie’s Mother.

She presented an authentic definition of a strong selfless and surviving African Woman.

Her Struggle, Her Strength.

She rose early enough to greet the first Sun ray and always  worked endlessly.

She was a woman who experienced years of Somali culture from female circumcision, to running away from her clan to get married to a different clan, to raising her children in the boondocks(desert), to being beaten by her husband, to losing some of her children , to accepting more wives from her husband and to being a nomad all her life.

I don’t know about you, but that is beyond strength.

She represents a true Somali Woman who accepted by all means that Allah made her Somali for a purpose.

She did not fight back, she accepted every humane action but never blamed the culture.

She held her culture sacred despite it all.

She embraced that purpose from the food she cooked, to when it landed in her mouth, to when there was no milk or meat that day.

She was a spiritual woman who took refuge in praying to Allah.

I have learnt from Waris Dirie’s Mother, Fattuma Ahmed Aden, to remember that there is a higher power than my own.

Only by His Strength can one conquer the tribulations of this forsaken world.

A prayer comes a long way and Waris’s Mother never ever let the dusk settle without doing her prayers.

My Spiritual and Positive African Nomad Woman.

Happy Reading 💚


Desert Dawn

Image Credits to:  Sasha • Stories


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