one somali family

By Afdhere Jama

November 7, 2005: If you were a teenage boy in Mogadishu in the 1980s, it was rather desired by your parents that you spend as much time as you can with other boys. Ali Abdulle and Ismail Sakariye took full advantage of this. "Our American friends don't understand when we tell them that we used to spend the nights together, sleeping in the same bed, held hands in public all the time and shared meals in front of our families," says Abdulle, laughing. "Gay boys have it easy in Somalia because you have less to hide about your life."

But Abdulle and Sakariye's life in Somalia was anything but easy. When Sakariye's religious Muslim family proposed he marry a cousin of his, the teenager freaked out and came out to them. In fear that his family would harm him, the couple decided they had no choice but to run away together.

They went to another city with a high population of queers where they thought they would be accepted only to find acceptance would come with a high price: in order to be allowed as gay men by the community, they were required that they dress up as women. After a painful process, they conformed. In public, they dressed as women but once in their own homes they dressed as they wished.

When the civil war broke out in 1991, the couple ditched the drag and emigrated to neighboring Kenya. Once in Kenya, they applied for asylum as refugees. Three years after their application, they arrived in the United States. America offered something they have been searching for a long time: personal freedom to be with whomever you want to be with, however you want to be with them. But life in America had its inadequacies.

"We just had no idea how individualized this country was," says Abdulle. "We missed the community life of Somalia where you shared the celebration of life with your neighbors. Everyone here is cooped up in his or her own little four walls. No one makes the effort to get to know their neighbors. We felt out of place."

Like all new immigrants, the couple got over their culture shocks and became intrigued by the American Dream. They both went to school and became professionals. Abdulle always wanted to study Chemistry but he felt becoming a Chemist would take a long time. So he studied something close-he became a Pharmacist. Sakariye says he didn't have a "dream career but one had to decide on something." So he decided on becoming a Registered Nurse.

With their combined incomes, the couple was able to afford their first house. "Our home is definitely a dream come true. Abdulle said it was one of the most beautiful things that ever happened in our lives and I agree with him," says Sakariye. "We finally had our own space where we could do whatever we wanted. I think we threw parties every weekend for the first six months or something," he adds, laughing.

But the couple felt there was something missing. "Children. We always knew we wanted to raise a family," says Abdulle. "Now the question was whether we should have our own biological children or adopt. And that was a really hard choice for both of us because we come from a culture where adopted children are not considered you `real' children."

At the end, Abdulle says they "both agreed we would adopt children from Somalia because we knew there were thousands of orphaned children there and we realized why bring more kids into the world when there are so many beautiful ones who need homes, you know?" Now how to go about adopting children in Somalia was something they just did not have experience with and it would prove to be quite a task.

They went to some of their local adoption agencies and, well, that did not help much. "We quickly discovered adopting from Somalia was not easy at all," says Sakariye. "In fact, we didn't find any adoption agency that even knew how to adopt kids from Somalia."

In 2001 after going through a restless year of one agency to another, the couple decided the only way they could find their children was to go to Somalia themselves. "Somalia was not a stable country," remembers Abdulle. "It didn't have a central government. I mean there was a government in Mogadishu but it didn't even have control over all of Mogadishu. And the law and order of the country was horrible." Besides their own fears, Somalia was on a list by the US State Department of countries that it extremely discouraged for Americans to travel.

"We knew that part was okay," says Sakariye. "They would not harm us particularly but we knew everyone was in danger in Somalia. So we went there. We didn't know how long we would be gone and were not sure if the one month time off each of us took from work was enough at all."

They could not fly into Somalia directly. They had to go through either Ethiopia, Djabouti or Kenya. They went via Kenya. Sakariye says it "was the easiest because we knew we would remember much of Nairobi. [The capital city of Kenya.]"

After a decade in the Diaspora, they were back in the country of their birth. A country they were not so sure they would ever voluntarily go back to. "We were really shocked to see how the Somali people screwed up their country-I felt so ashamed," confesses Abdulle. "I kept asking myself `Why?' It just was not a natural sight to see. All the national monuments were destroyed. The
> downtown of Mogadishu now looks like a garbage place. Nobody cared about any of it."

The couple now admit their decision to visit Somalia was rather a rush decision. "Lets just say there were information we should have known before we went there," says Sakariye. Such information as you just cannot adopt children from a country that is going through a civil war and does not have a real government.

Also, there were no real orphanage houses in Somalia that they could find. "Every place we went to was a tribally-run place. No one would allow you to adopt," remembers Abdulle. "I mean we came thousands of miles to adopt these kids from our country and no one would trust us."

All that changed when the couple found out there were adoption agencies in Ethiopia where Somali and Ethiopian children were adopted. But they were running out of time. "Time was just flying by in Somalia and we realized we only had a week left to go back to Kenya before our tickets expired," says Abdulle.

They rushed back to Kenya and tried to extend their tickets. In the process, they found out the hospital where Sakariye worked told him if he wanted his job he had better come back. "We had to make the choice and I knew I would never forgive myself if I came back and we lost our chance to adopt," says Sakariye. So, he lost his job. Fortunately Abdulle's job was a bit more understanding and gave him another month of unpaid leave.

They extended their tickets and headed to Ethiopia. Addis Ababa [the capital] had a few agencies that had Somali hildren, says Abdulle. One day, they walked into an agency and a woman was dropping off her two-year-old nephew. She said his mother died and she just could not take care of him. Sakariye and Abdulle completely fell in love with the boy.

The couple rented a house and soon they were able to adopt that little boy. "I can't tell you how wonderful it felt to bring our son home that night," says Sakariye. "He was not nervous at all and was jumping everywhere. We gave him gifts and we were just hugging him. We could not wait until we brought back to our home in the States."

Unfortunately, they had to file papers with the US immigration for the child, which would take around six months. Abdulle had no choice but to leave and go back home, leaving Sakariye there to wait since he didn't have a job.

Back in the US, Abdulle had to make sure one income would carry all the bills and on top of that be able to support his family back in Ethiopia. It took less than expected and within three months, they were able to bring their son home. "We threw a huge welcome party for our son," says Sakariye. "All of our friends came together to celebrate. It was amazing!"

They were very fortunate. Only two months after they came back, 9/11 happened. "I don't even want to think about what would have happened if 9/11 took place before they came home," says Abdulle. "Everything turned out well. That is what we keep thinking of."

Now their son has just turned five. And as a Somali, I wondered what their child calls them. "He calls us Aabe [Somali word for father.] That is the word he uses for both of us," says Sakariye. "We don't really care about all that `Daddy and Papa' stuff," he adds, laughing. No matter what he calls them, this is one lucky child.