AK's story..

He is one of those people who easily are overlooked. Although his features stand him apart, his skin is black to the point his Somali friends playfully call him ‘Black man’, his face has hard features where you can perfectly tell the outline of the skull in part due to his profound skinniness, but yet his character is so easy going, so non-obtrusive, impeccably polite and well natured, he passes by easily unnoticed.
Once upon a time, things were peaceful and prosperous. A little skinny 8 year old boy was growing up in Baardheere, a southern town near the border of Kenya in Somalia. The little boy’s life was good, he is the youngest and he is adored by everyone, especially his mum. Dad was a cleric at the Mosque, mum was running her own market business, they had a house and 3 meals a day. War erupted, the family fled the rural area outside of Baardheere. Before they leave they hide the entire families wealth in a secret area within the house that nobody could find. 4 months living in the bush they return to their town. The once lively town is destroyed. A burnt out shell represents their house. Mum’s market store is looted. The family’s secret hidden money, all their money in the world, is nothing more than ash. There is nowhere to go, but no reason to stay. They have family in Mogadishu. Violence is flaring up around the country. They beg a man travelling in a car to Mogadishu to give them a lift. The man generously agrees to let them pay later if they can. A few short hours into the journey the driver looses control of the vehicle and it overturns in a bush wasteland far from anywhere. Thanks to Allah nobody is killed, but mum’s arm is broken in 2 places, she is screaming in agony. They wait by the side of the road praying for a lift. No cars come, they sleep by the road. A little boy sleeps to the sound of his mother crying in pain. The next day a vehicle comes past, takes them to the nearest rural village no further. The village, little more than a few straw huts and poor subsistence farmers, has no medical facilities. People know each other in this part of the world. They recognise the little boy’s mum from her market store, they let the family stay. Mum’s arm is now the size of balloon and her pain is intense. The villages traditional healer ‘bleeds’ her arm, a process of making incisions into the flesh to allow the swelling blood a place to drain. No anaesthetic, no sanitation. The family stay living with the village for 6 months, waiting for mum’s arm to heal. It’s a hard life for city folk, one meal per day at the discretion of the other village families and no amenities. One day the villages pool together some money, they give it to the little boy’s family so they can pay a driver to take them to Mogadishu.

They reach Mogadishu finally, its 1992 and the city is in the grips of civil war. The family take shelter with some relatives. Venturing outside is risky business, no guarantee to return back. Robberies, clan violence, stray bullets. But the family have no money. The family’s eldest son lives in Saudi Arabia, he sends $150 to the family, the elder brother goes to get the money from the transfer office, but he is robbed along the way and only brings back a fragment. Dad “doesn’t do much”, he puts his faith in Allah and spends his days in prayer. The little skinny boy can’t watch his family slowly starve and so he starts working. He takes a drum of cool water to the market place to sell to the people a glass of cool water at a time. He work his tender age, intentionally makes himself adorable, jokes and talks to every potential customer in the market. The people love him and although there are other water boys, they wait for him to pass to purchase from him. The throws of the civil war continue, but the little skinny boy does his business. Everyday he wakes up at 5AM, goes to the market there is no breakfast, he is now selling 3 tanks of cool water per day. He returns only at 4PM when the family eat their one meal of the day. The little boy saves 5000 Somali shillings per day (about US$1.50). He has a hiding place, tucks it under his mum’s bed, under a pile of rags, in a little nook in the wall, in a little casket. It’s his secret, nobody knows about it not even mum. Everyday the little skinny boy dutifully heads out into the city in the middle of a civil war, sells his glasses of water and saves a little each day. His older brother sees his little brother’s success and starts selling water as well. But seemingly everyday he is robbed of all his hard earned money. The little boy’s secret money stash grows to 500,000 shilling (US$150)… but nobody knows.

Mum has a problem, her eyesight is failing, after less than a year in Mogadishu she can now hardly see. Before long she is blind. The family have no money. Everybody is lucky to have 1 meal before them, the war around has only escalated and even the markets are closed now, ending the little boy’s water business. Mum only knows which child she is holding by gently running her hands across her Childs faces to feel the outline. She knows her youngest, as he has a scar running just above his nose between his eyebrows. She refuses to sleep without a hand on her little boy at night. The brothers take mum to a student hospital and beg someone to practise their skills and treat her. Thanks to Allah a student doctor agrees to conduct surgery on their mum’s eyes for a nominal fee. They take her home with the doctors warning, “She must have rest, and the healthy foods I told you, and importantly she must have her medicine or she might never see”. The brothers go home, the older brother calls a family meeting, just for one box of medicine it will cost 100,000 shillings. “What can we do?, we have to buy mum medicine, but we have no money”, his older brother breaks down in tears, his 15 years can take no more pressure. Mum speaks gently, “Don’t cry my son, I have lived 45 years, I have worked, I have married, I have raised my children…. I have seen enough”. On these words the little skinny boy is crying, he takes his brother hand and leads him to mum’s bedroom. He opens his secret stash. His brother lets out a cry of joy and amazement, “Where did you get this money!?”, Mum hears the commotion, they tell her the good news. The family choose the little skinny boy to go to the pharmacy to buy the medicine as if anyone else goes they will probably be robbed. He is successful. He returns with a first box of the precious medicine. His mother takes him aside, feels his identifying scar on his forehead, “My son, you have done a very good thing for your mum … you can never be in trouble again”.

Every month the little skinny boy makes his way through the Mogadishu streets, he is never bothered by anyone, his 10 years and tiny frame, an unnoticeable character weave a cloak of invisibility, he travels always to the medical clinic. Always visits the young student doctor who operated on his mum, “When can we take mum’s bandages off her eyes?”. The Doctor says, “Come here little boy, not yet ok”. After the 3rd month, the doctor finally say its time, he issues a warning to make sure she only opens her eyes very slowly and gently. Elated the little boy runs home. Despite being the youngest, he is now the head of the family. He instructs his older brother to take the bandage off mum’s eyes and tells mum to only open her eyes slowly slowly. Mum says, “Come here my little boy, let my son who returned my sight be the first person I see.” Her eyes open – she can see again!

Late 1992, the Americans arrive. Peace is slowly brought back to the city. Business can start again. The little boy still has 100,000shillings left ($US25) from his old water business. He has a new business idea. He buys 3 packets of cigarettes, selling individual cigarettes around the city. He is adorable. He jokes and is light hearted with every customer. Again the people love him. They wait for him to come past and insist to purchase cigarettes from the little boy. Again he is saving his money in a little stash each day. Again he is working from 5AM in the morning, marching throw the Mogadishu streets until 4PM when he drags himself home to eat the first and only meal of the day. His business is good enough, the little boy approaches a teacher, he wants to learn something, he has never attended school. He knows the family rely on his earnings he checks with mum, she agrees. He pays the teacher some cash each day, insisting, “I will come to class exactly on time, but you have to be there on time also, I have business to get back to and will only stay exactly one hour.” The teacher agrees and the little boy starts hungrily learning. His brother again copies his brother’s business, selling cigarettes. But routinely he is robbed and the little boy has to re-stock his older brother’s stolen supply. The little boy laughs, “Why are you always robbed and me never?”. His older brother replies, “Cos mum said you can never be in trouble again”.

Slowly mum’s health returns, she returns to market business, over time the family’s position improves, they now eat 3 meals a day. Every week the family have a meeting together. One day the little skinny boy, says “I want to leave this country”. Mum disagrees. He insists. Next week and the week after, the little boy makes the same statement at the family meeting, “I want to leave this country”. Eventually mum relents and gives her little boy her blessings. He leaves for Kenya, studies a little, and eventually winds up in Yemen.

AK tell me that no-matter what circumstances come and go, if he loses a job, if he has to ask for money from his family, if he needs a place to live… still too this day, he has never been in trouble.

Thoughts In Motion..

We all wonder and walk in unknown places through each and every day we’re given.
Sometimes lost, without clear direction, we flirt with fire, an excitement to bring newness to the same old situation.
Life is boring, and happiness seldom grasped, for one moment we may feel it, but the next its gone, a fleeting past.
I admire people with purpose and direction in their life, for focus gives a reason to be strong when you don’t feel like being strong, its like knowing that though the tunnel is dark now and foreign objects scattered on the ground may slow your walk, by taking a few more steps and maybe acquiring just a few more bruises, you’ll reach a point where the fading glow in the distance will soon become a guiding light, a destination point, a promised land of clarity and reason.

No more fearing a fall, for light will then highlight all the same old obstacles you so easily stumbled on whence in the dark. It makes the walk through the tunnel worth it, for you know it was the only way to reach that place, that place of comfort and experienced gain.