Eid 2021 — Reflections from a “failed state”
Just under 3 months ago I came “back” home to Somalia. I’ve never been here before but for years the words “back home” would slip out of my mouth, imperceptibly and unthinkingly. I have never stepped foot on this soil, last I was here I was still a fetus, or in some stage of developing feet.
Like many members of the Somali diaspora I have travelled here and there and now found my way “back home”, a place that is often the butt of a global joke. Pirates, failed state, civil-war, FGM, war-lords, clan wars and tribal disputes are a few the terms that are sprinkled into conversations about this place.
What a dreary image that paints, another African country in total disarray.
In truth though, the world has an odd fascination with us, particularly because of the influence of the diaspora, characterized by close-knit communities and intense pride in being Somali, even if our country has “failed” we are convinced that we are a success. Humility is not an attribute that comes easily to a Somali, and nor should it be.
But I digress, I am not here to speak on the geo-political standing of Somalia and its children, instead I want to paint an image of what life in Xamar looks like and how even under the most difficult of conditions Somalis got some things right.
Last year, the first year I had to celebrate Eid without my family, I struggled but managed to have a fairly decent day. This year was perhaps the most perfect Eid I’ve ever had. I didn’t have any new clothes, I didn’t leave my neighborhood and I certainly was not slipped a few $$ by the adults in my life. Instead I spent the day first at the mosque, where I met an acquaintance from work, a woman in her early 50s who only 2-weeks ago wrestled a thief as he was stealing a bajaj. Later as I walked home she waved at me as I passed by the scene of the crime, outside her little tin roof shop.
A few moments later while I was distracted by all the children and their fabulous outfits my uncle called out to me, invited my mother and I into his house where we sat with family, my grandfather (what else can you call your grandmothers cousin?) and cousin and leisurely chit-chatted. Upon coming home we sacrificed our goat, welcomed our neighbors to get their portion of the meat, cooked, ate, relaxed until another visit from a few cousins rounded up our day.
Now all this is very mundane, everyday occurrences but I can’t help notice the ease at which Somalis spend their days, the only difference was that everyone was dressed up today. Here, time is meant to be spent with people, in earnest conversation with your neighbor, your co-worker, your family member. People sit outside for hours everyday, just relaxing, waiting for a passerby to exchange a few words with.
And I think there is something to be said about that, spending precious moments everyday being with people.
I can’t help but contrast this with my last Eid, spent with friends, most of whom were exhausted from the toll of the work-week, doing their best not to reach for their laptop to finish a report or answer a clients emails. Mimicking “rest” in preparation of returning to work.
Most employee’s in Xamar have basically taken the week off, Monday to fast, Tuesday and Wednesday for Eid, Thursday is a half-day and why return to work with such half hearted efforts? Might as well stay, and finally Friday, our weekend.
While I believe we should be rebuilding our nation I think we are doing something just as important, refreshing our souls and indescribable something that bind us together in celebration, in reflection, in the black plastic bags of meat handed from neighbor to neighbor.
I like this pace, a stroll through life, a chance to sit and focus on only the tasks that keep us alive, food and enjoyment.
And there is something beautiful that. Wouldn’t you agree?
Ciid wanaagsan to you and yours.
With love from Xamar.
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A few tunes for the Eid vibes
