STUCK IN A LIMBO

Dab aan ku gubin kulaylkiisa ma ogid

“You wouldn’t know how hot a fire is if it hasn’t burnt you”-Somali proverb.

Identity is the cornerstone of the human experience. What we eat, our clothes, and the music we play all add to our very being. But what of those who don’t know how to manoeuvre the inner complexities of their identity due to the obstacles that surround them?

I am authentically and proudly Kenyan Somali, but by being so I am stuck in a limbo. What should I identify with first? Does claiming one dismiss the other? The uncertainty has begun to get to me, especially in a socio-political climate that emphasises the need to be in tune with who you are.

Growing up, countless encounters pushed me into a box, forcing me to claim one over the other. In high school, I had a teacher who would often jokingly ask me when I was going back. Curious I’d always ask him “Back where?”. Of course, I knew what he meant but wanted to see him go at it. “When are you going back to Somalia?!” 

This became a question I’d hear from him repeatedly. I’d laugh each time, explaining to him that I was native to Kenya and thus had nowhere to go. Little did he know, his jokes threw me into a cycle of questioning my identity.

Historically, what it means to be Somali in Kenya is drowned out by mass afflictions. Coming from the state, colonial reign and the Somali people themselves. Let me take you back to 1902 when the colonial government implemented the Outlying District Ordinance to the Northern Frontier Districts (NFD). This ruling intended to reduce the movement of individuals in and out of the area with the addition of the “Closed District Ordinance” of 1926, the NFD essentially became isolated. Those who wanted to travel into the NFD required a special pass. These draconian regulations would heavily stifle the future growth of the region.

Furthermore, the British government threatened by the political development of the region, barred Somali residents of the NFD from voting in the 1957 and 1959 general elections. With these heavy limitations and policies that sought to seclude the North, it is understandable that the Northern Province People’s Progressive Party (NPPP) wanted out of the nation and to be rejoined with what is known as the “Greater part of Somalia.”

The history of Kenyan Somalis during the colonial era is vast, but unfortunately, things did not get better. During independence, the alienated community saw no benefit in engaging in elections. They felt as though that would force them to accept Kenyan citizenship, thus only around 1600 Somalis registered to vote. The election boycott was revelling up secessionist dreams, dreams that became fervour, peaking during the Second Lancaster Conference of 1962. Here the breaking of the NFD became a serious question. However, both the KANU and KADU governments alike would reject the idea. The late president, Jomo Kenyatta especially detested the proposition and posited that “ Kenya would not give an inch and that the Somalis could pack up their camels and leave.” Such statements became precursors to events that would shake the core of what it meant to be Kenyan Somali. The Shifta War and the Wagalla Massacre shortly followed.

The Shifta war is too long and complex to explain in this article, however, I will briefly explain tactics that furthered the estrangement of the Kenyan-Somali population. In the late 1960’s Jomo Kenyatta implemented a villagisation scheme, that would enclose pastoral communities in manyattas. Those found outside the manyattas were assumed to be Shiftas and as such would be attacked. Such stories seemed distant until my father told me that when he was around 12 years of age heavy curfews were imposed on his people in Mandera. This meant that being outside your house beyond the regulated time would lead to arrests/being shot on the spot on the assumption that you were a Shifta. If our grandmothers, fathers, uncles and cousins, lived during such a time it is no wonder I feel a deep sense of exclusion.

A friend of mine asked her father why people in the Northeast don’t do as well in Kiswahili as compared to their other subjects. To our shock, his response was, “To the people of the NFD, English wasn’t the language of the colonialists. Kiswahili was.” Hearing this, the jokes no longer rile up any laughter. They leave a pit, not in the stomach or the mind, but in the soul. 

“To the people of the NFD, English wasn’t the language of the colonialists. Kiswahili was.”

Once tensions in the Kenyatta and Moi eras were reduced, Kenyan Somalis were once more thrown into a frenzy. This was during the rise of extremist groups whose members were of Somali Identity. Following the Westgate attack by the Al-Shabaab, I felt as though I must relinquish my Somali identity and fully identify with my Kenyan side. During such a strained political climate, being Somali was an evil unaccounted for.

It was difficult to explain to the masses that Al-Shabaab had killed more Somalis than non-Somalis and by being linked to a group that does more harm to its own people, it became gravely unjust to the Somali population. Even the most nationalistic individual would be appalled to be linked to the most unethical and evil terrorist group in East Africa. My beliefs however did not benefit me as of course the terrorist jokes became prevalent in my life. My 8th-grade math teacher once called me Al-Shabaab right to my face, I stared at him in disbelief, unfortunately, this was not an isolated experience. My brother's teacher called him the same, but this time gave justification stating that Al-Shabaab meant ‘the youth’ and he was… the youth. Such experiences wedged a deeper hole in questioning who I was.

“Why do they get their IDs without being vetted?” is a question at least one of your friends of Somali descent has asked themselves. The same friends are well off, have food on their tables every night, with learned parents who have lived within this country for decades. The tormenting feeling of your nationality being questioned is a burn you would not understand until you touch the fire. Now, imagine those who live in the hinterlands, who don’t have access to institutions that can help them curb such processes. Those very friends of yours may be lucky enough to get someone to argue on behalf of their citizenry but those in the villages will still have trouble proving they are Kenyan.

The final chapter of Keren Weitzberg’s book ‘We Do Not Have Borders’  perfectly describes my final opinions on the topic. ‘We Are Not Migrants; We Are Living in Our Ancestral Land". I am not a 3rd generation Kenyan. My greatest grandmothers lived around here, before the establishment of the British protectorate, and just like my father pushes me to do I will claim to be Kenyan. Even through the insults and the jokes, Kenya is my home as much as it is the home of the Maasai or the Kikuyu. The government needs to take accountability for the rift it purposely placed on the native Somali people, and Somalis should learn to leave their tribalist perceptions to acclimate in our rightful abode. 

Finally, by understanding the deep traumas faced by my people, claiming Kenyan Identity feels like a copout and I would be lying to you if I told you I knew which team to support in a Kenya-Somalia game or if I should cheer for Mo-Farah instead of Kipchoge or if I should wear the Kenyan flag on my wrist. Even after this 1000-word essay, I am stuck in a limbo- with my back arched at an 80-degree angle. Different from my Father, Ahmednassir or Aden Duale who seem unquantifiably Kenyan. My experiences are too limited for me to move beyond my point of Inertia. 

PS: If you are looking to read up on a more detailed history of Kenyan Somalis, I recommend ‘We Do Not Have Borders’ by Keren Weitzberg it's an incredibly detailed book (if you’d like a copy feel free to reach out to me or the page, and I'll tell you where you can get one!)

REFERENCES: 

• Weitzberg, K. (2017). We Do Not Have Borders: Greater Somalia and the Predicaments of Belonging in Kenya (1st ed.). Ohio University Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv224txv2

• Deserted, K. A. (2022, October 4). Kenya: A Deserted North - Forgotten By History and Cursed By Devolution. Retrieved March 31, 2024, from allAfrica.com website: https://allafrica.com/stories/202210040574.html#:~:text=The%20Outlying%20District%20Ordinance%20established,military%20between%201921%20and%201926.

• Mũturi Njeri. (2015, April 13). Kenya That was Never Kenyan: - Mũturi Njeri - Medium. Retrieved March 31, 2024, from Medium website: https://medium.com/@muturi/kenya-that-was-never-kenyan-the-shifta-war-the-north-eastern-kenya-e7fc3dd31865

• Castagno, A. A. (1964). The Somali-Kenyan Controversy: Implications for the Future. The Journal of Modern African Studies, 2(2), 165–188. http://www.jstor.org/stable/158817