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In the evening sometimes Maryan’s father quizzed his children, and especially Maryan and her brother, with general questions about general knowledge: “Abdullahi, how many teats are there on a camel?” The boy had once seen a male burden camel, and so he answered full of confidence, “One.” “Wrong!” Maryan, miffed that her father had asked her younger brother a question first, opted for deductive reasoning: “If the goat has two and the cow has four, then the camel must have six!” Laughter!
As she grew up, Maryan noticed quite a few differences between the culture of her Hamarweyne neighborhood and the cultures of other Somalis. She remembered, for example, that the Reer Hamar people were very private and did not enter each other’s houses unannounced or without clear invitation. However, if there were a death, neighbors were expected to drop whatever they were doing and come running to a place where they could hear the customary wailing. If a woman stopped so long as to put on her shoes, she risked criticism. Maryan’s mother hated to walk outside barefoot and Maryan remembers occasions when she, as a little girl, accompanied her mother and waited outside holding her mother’s sandals—not always acquitting herself successfully of her job. She played hide-and-seek among and inside the tall houses of her neighborhood and is still surprised at how tolerant people were of the children’s noise and running around. But when they were about ten years old, Reer Hamar girls went into purdah, or seclusion. All girls married young, but in contrast to other Somalis, Reer Hamar girls often married close relatives. “Other Somalis wanted their children to have significant abtis or maternal uncles,” Maryan noted, and thus looked for spouses beyond the circle of close relatives.
When she was six years old, Maryan went to school, joining her younger brother and the other boys of the household. She remembers how hard it was to keep up with the bigger boys, and how she was fearful of the boys’ loud pushing and shoving during breaks and on the way to and from school. Because parents and other adults of the community attached great value to education, however, they encouraged the children. An uncle who had a store on their way to school gave them bread and dates to make their school day more pleasant, and he always lectured them on the importance of education.
Although Maryan remembers being a bit annoyed by the importance given to her younger brother and, more vaguely, saddened by the loss of a sister to complications resulting from female circumcision, the early years of her youth were happy ones. Tragedy struck when she was barely a teenager: Her beautiful, young, joyful mother suddenly died, possibly of a disease of the liver. Jawaahir died in her own mother’s home in Galka’yo, where Maryan’s father had taken her in the hope that a change of air might do Jawaahir good. It was not until several years later that Maryan returned to her father’s house in Hamarweyne, for she could not bear seeing it or the neighborhood. In spite of her sadness about her mother’s death, she found joy in the attentions of her aunts and great-aunts in Galka’yo and learned to milk a little goat she named Qaato. After this extended visit to her grandmother in Galka’yo, Maryan moved back to Mogadishu. This time she moved to Iskuraran, another downtown neighborhood but one that was very different from her old, historical, coral-built neighborhood in Hamarweyne. Indeed, the name “Iskuraran,” which means “piled on top of each other,” reflected the informal character of the settlement, many of whose inhabitants had arrived not long before.
Women’s Leadership and Solidarity.
When Maryan moved to Iskuraran, the neighborhood was very cohesive and highly politicized. Most residents, although from a variety of family backgrounds, shared a nomadic rural background and originally hailed from the three regions of Bari, Mudug, and Haud. Most of them also belonged to the Somali Youth League, the leading nationalist party in the country, which was committed to create an independent, unified nation-state. Even though this densely built neighborhood of wooden houses and closely connected residents was known to her from earlier visits, living there was a new experience for Maryan. Here people were loud and outgoing, visiting each other unannounced, sharing meals on the spur of the moment, and actively and unabashedly involving themselves in each other’s daily lives. In the morning, the older married men, on their way to work, would gently bang their canes on every door and ask whether all was well that morning: “Ma barideen?” (“Have you all woken up well?” “Are the children fine?”) If someone ran out of something, a neighbor would provide it. If someone’s cooking fire was not lit, others would notice and offer help, or the woman herself would ask for assistance: “Are you a bit better off than me today?” People also disciplined each other’s children; Maryan still remembers her shock at being slapped once by a neighbor! For a girl who had grown up in Hamarweyne, where families valued privacy highly and minded their property and social relations carefully, this new environment was impressive and surprising mayhem. Maryan saw that for the people of Iskuraran, money and food existed only to be invested in people, not to be valued or saved for their own sake. Maryan particularly remembers the support women gave to men whose political activism for the nationalist movement led the Italians to fire them from their jobs. Women either provided free room and board for them, or they raised needed money by selling needlework. Maryan still remembers the first piece of embroidery she sold for this cause.

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