Somalia
Wailing with My Brothers in Garissa and Eastleigh in Kenya
The latest mayhem and destruction of the Somali community in Kenya speaks to deeper issues than meets the eye. It speaks to the pathologies of oppression and subjugation of a society that once enjoyed honor and respect among its equals. The condition in which Somalis found themselves since the end of colonialism is explained better by Ralph Ellison’s “Invisible Man” and Paul Freire’s “Pedagogy of the Oppressed.” The Somali person is an oppressed “nigger.”
The word nigger (with small “n”) is not supposed to refer to one’s skin color. It does not either refer to how dark one’s complexion is. Nor does it denote the texture of one’s hair; it does not even speak to one’s culture or way of life; rather, the concept of “nigger” in its postmodern world speaks to the position one occupies in the social ladder of global citizenship.
Is the Somali person the new “nigger” of the Horn of Africa as much as the narrator in Ralph Ellison’s “Invisible Man” was the “nigger” of America (Harlem) prior to the 1960s civil rights struggle of that country? No doubt the daily grinding and experiences of contemporary Somali in the Horn of Africa and a Negro in Harlem in the 1960s are similar, if one can only conveniently ignore the time difference and historical context in which these two groups exist.
A “nigger” in America in the 1960s was invisible in the same token a Somali “nigger” is invisible today in the Horn of Africa, the latter being invisible even to a gun touting dark skinned Kenyan soldier or Ethiopian peasant. To make his/her presence relevant, a ”nigger” works hard and follows orders as if those attributes matter.
But successive stories coming from Eastleigh or elsewhere (in South Africa, South Sudan, London, Columbus, Minneapolis, Toronto, and elsewhere) didn’t help the Somali “nigger” get respect and recognition. Branding shops with local names, to augment ones pride, such as “Khatumo” in South
The latest mayhem and destruction of the Somali community in Kenya speaks to deeper issues than meets the eye. It speaks to the pathologies of oppression and subjugation of a society that once enjoyed honor and respect among its equals. The condition in which Somalis found themselves since the end of colonialism is explained better by Ralph Ellison’s “Invisible Man” and Paul Freire’s “Pedagogy of the Oppressed.” The Somali person is an oppressed “nigger.”
The word nigger (with small “n”) is not supposed to refer to one’s skin color. It does not either refer to how dark one’s complexion is. Nor does it denote the texture of one’s hair; it does not even speak to one’s culture or way of life; rather, the concept of “nigger” in its postmodern world speaks to the position one occupies in the social ladder of global citizenship.
Is the Somali person the new “nigger” of the Horn of Africa as much as the narrator in Ralph Ellison’s “Invisible Man” was the “nigger” of America (Harlem) prior to the 1960s civil rights struggle of that country? No doubt the daily grinding and experiences of contemporary Somali in the Horn of Africa and a Negro in Harlem in the 1960s are similar, if one can only conveniently ignore the time difference and historical context in which these two groups exist.
A “nigger” in America in the 1960s was invisible in the same token a Somali “nigger” is invisible today in the Horn of Africa, the latter being invisible even to a gun touting dark skinned Kenyan soldier or Ethiopian peasant. To make his/her presence relevant, a ”nigger” works hard and follows orders as if those attributes matter.
But successive stories coming from Eastleigh or elsewhere (in South Africa, South Sudan, London, Columbus, Minneapolis, Toronto, and elsewhere) didn’t help the Somali “nigger” get respect and recognition. Branding shops with local names, to augment ones pride, such as “Khatumo” in South