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Gabdho Girls You guys have to read it - it so disturbing Noter : -----

#1 L'utilisateur est hors-ligne   naina Icône

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19-septembre 05

Icône du message  Posté 28 juin 2006 - 05:08

By Afdhere Jama.

November 2002: "Oh, it is beautiful being a gabadh [girl,]" says Hamdi Suldan, a Somali transsexual who lives in Seattle. "Somali men treat you better. I really enjoy my days as a woman better than when I was a guy." Suldan, who now is in now taking hormones in preparation for a sexy change, was born a male child. The proud parents named the boy Siciid Ali Suldan. Later, she named herself "Hamdi"(an Arabic word that means "to be thankful") when she moved to a new community that was more accepting. "The name goes with how I felt. I was thankful to be who I was. It just came to me one night and in the morning, I told everyone I wanted to be called that name." As a young man, Suldan thought he was gay but also knew there was something different about the way he felt about guys. "I wasn't just another guy," says Suldan. "I was a girl inside a guy's body.

This was very confusing to a teen who did not even know there was such thing as a transsexual." She even once told a guy, after she fell in love with him, that she felt she was a woman inside. "He freaked out. I remember he was shaking and was trying not to touch me. He was gay and I just told him I was a woman, how would anyone feel? It was a shock."

Suldan, who originated from the northern Somali state of Waqooyi, ran away after that incident to southern city of Mogadishu. "I packed my bags and boarded on a bus the next morning," she recalls. "Next stop, Hamar [Mogadishu.] That was one of the wildest things I have ever done. I was scared. Fear makes you do all sorts of strange things."

There she found communities in which, she was told, she could live as gay or as anything else she wanted to be and would be accepted. "That was like a dream come true for me," says the now 29-year-old nurse, who moved to the U.S. six years ago. "I immediately moved to Hamar-Jajab [a district in Mogadishu] It wasn't easy having to find a place to live and work, but it was the best thing that I have ever done for myself." Suldan says she found the community there exactly what she was looking for; gay men wearing women's clothing. "I thought 'this is it.'"

A whole village of gay men dressed as women became a bit too much later, however, recalls the well dressed tall woman. "Suddenly, the reality hit," says Suldan, brushing her nails with something cosmetic as she sighs. "I was confronted with an entire district that was like me. Even though it was very nice to be accepted, I realized I was one of the lucky ones there." Suldan says she soon found out that gay men who did not want to dress as women were not welcome. In fact, she says, they were chased away from the village whenever they came around there to pick up drag queens. "It was horrible. I was not attracted to drag queens, I was attracted to men who dressed like other men," she recounts. "But I was not allowed to be with them. No, you had to punish them and chase them away. It was very strange."

One of these men was Ali Abdulle, a then teen whose main gay sex life revolved around the kindness of these drag queens. "I was young, I did not know how to pick up guys," he relates, now in a long-term relationship with another Somali. "It was my only place to meet someone with a dick who I could have sex with. It was very risky though, now that I think about it. I remember I was beaten couple of times by the 'mothers.'" The mothers are a group of elders who protect and guide other drag queens, says Suldan. When Abdulle finally met another young boy, from outside influences, the couple were confronted with the same problems. "We moved to another city called Shalaamboot," says Ismail Sakariye, Abdulle's partner. "We were told it was a tolerant city towards gays.

But like Shingani and Hamar-Jajab, we were asked to wear women's clothing." Though Sakariye did not like the idea, he agreed to do it. Abdulle, on the other hand, was very much against it. "I wanted us to go back to Mogadishu," he says, showing a clear sign that the memory bothers him. "It was very insulting to me, personally. Then I realized it didn't matter what I wore on the outside. And that as long as we were allowed to be together, we could survive anything."

What about these drag queen mothers? Meet Halima Aw-Saalah, a woman who, though she has not been through sex change, feels she is 100% woman. "I'm a Queen, dear," she says, smiling with the brightest teeth I have ever seen, "I'm a ruler over all men. I was born to be a Queen. I was meant to be a Queen," she says, pausing. "Then somebody made a physical mistake up there," adds, pointing toward the sky. Aw-Saalah, who believes sex change is wrong because it goes against "God's mistakes," says she finds being a woman her true self. She ran away from her nomadic family at the age of fifteen when they tried to marry the boy off to a 13-year-old girl. "They thought I was a man," she recalls, laughing. "That was the funniest thing I have ever heard. Darling, it was absurd. I may have had a little something down there like boys, but I was the woman of all women inside." When Aw-Saalah told her family how she felt, she was told she would be killed if she didn't marry the girl, since she would "destroy" the family's honor.

Scared and confused, the fifteen-year-old ran away from home to the only family she knew outside of nomad quarters, her aunt in Galkaio. Her aunt, a lesbian for Aw-Saalah's luck, sent the girl straight to Mogadishu, where there was a friend of the aunt, a mother no less. "I was trained by a goddess, hon.," she says, showing a picture of a woman named Diirshoon. "She showed me the way unto women's haven, her own heart. The survival kit she installed in my brain are still fresh and need no upgrade. She was a brilliant artist." Diirshoon, who took the scared little boy-but-inside-woman being, was running something similar to brothel at that time. Unlike a whore house, though, Diirshoon never allowed her "daughters" to be sexually used. On the other hand, they were there for personal pleasure; to be viewed as the goddesses' finest work. "She put us in rooms with glass doors that were double locked," recalls Aw-Saalah, smiling at the picture of the woman she admires so much. "Some men would come to just see the finely crafted glass doors that were imported from India. It was fun and it paid the bills, darling."

Ok, enough with the admiration of the woman; what did Diirshoon teach Aw-Saalah? "Well, she first changed my clothes. She gave me some fine women clothing," says Aw-Saalah. "Then she trained me how to walk the walk and talk the talk. In weeks, I was a complete woman." That is not all Diirshoon taught Aw-Saalah, however. She says Diirshoon soon exposed to her a world where gay men were not welcome. So, how can one tell? If you did not lie and say you were straight and married or hope-to-be married, you were a qaniis [gay] and got kicked out. "It was easy to lie in the beginning," recalls Abdulle. "But it got extremely hard as time went by. You couldn't hide the glow, the happiness, the joy you felt when you were around people who were just like you." Aw-Saalah protests that these men are just "like" gays. "No! We are nothing like them. We are women," she protests, showing a sign that she is insulted. "We are simply women. How dare they say we are like them? We are not!"

Alright. For a guy who mainly grew up in America, this is all too confusing for me. I thank God that I'm not the only Somali. "This is crazy," says Diiriye Maalo, a Somali who lived in America since he was ten. "These are the thoughts of savages, not a civilized society. I think we should send all Somalis abroad for a few decades and have them return." Some Somalis, however, are embracing these thoughts. "This is great," says Mahad Tukade, a gay Somali who lives in Toronto. "I'm glad some Somalis are showing the world that Somalia is not all corrupted by Arabic invasion on our faiths and
culture." As Tukade, Jeylaani Ma'ow, a Minneapolis, MN, resident, says he is
proud to hear that Somalis have not lost all of their primitive roots. "For once, I'm glad to hear about Somalis who are not terrorist sympathizers or terrorists themselves." He says, handing me a book on Somali primitive beliefs. "It is time we taught our children of these tolerant beliefs our people always had." Ma'ow, who is not gay but accepts Queer folk as "normal people," says he returned to "worshipping Waaq [a powerful goddess of pre-Islam Somalia, to whom some sacrificial sites, like Caabud-Waaq and Ceel-Waaq, were dedicated to.]"

"I didn't even know all these communities existed," says Nuur Sheikh-Adan, a gay doctor who lives in the Netherlands. "When I go back, I will definitely find them and maybe teach them a thing or two about science."

Sheikh-Adan, who has lived in the Netherlands for nine years, is going back to Somalia at the end of this year. He hopes to bring LGBT issues to the attention of mainstream Somalis. "I realize it is a risky business," he notes, knowing the beliefs of mainstream Somalis, "but I also realize someone has to do it. It is our turn to teach and be patient."

He says he does not think things will change overnight. Rather, he says, he is going
for the long road. "We want to pave some roads with whatever it takes. Our
wealth. Our time. Our lives even." The "we" is he and a group of gay Somalis he recruited for this project.

In the mean time, these fabulous girls have no desire to go back. "I actually want to bring out all of the women," says Aw-Saalah. "Somalia is unholy to us until it gets its act together." Suldan fears for her safety and does not wish to go back. "I think I became too American," she says, fondling her red hair. "It would be foolishness to think I can just go back and everything will be like old times. Everything has changed. The Somali community has changed and so have I."

Afdhere Jama is Editor-In-Chief of HURIYAH Magazine at http://www.huriyahmag.com
"It is by no means certain that our individual personality is the single inhabitant of these our corporeal frames... We all do things both awake and asleep which surprise us. Perhaps we have cotenants in this house we live in." by Oliver Wendell Holmes, The Guardian Angel

Man's Search for meaning is the primary motivation in his life and not a 'secondary rationalization' of instinctual drives. This meaning is unique and specific in that it must and can be fulfilled by him alone; only then does it achieve a significance which will satisfy his own will to meaning... Man, however, is able to live and even to die for the sake of his ideals and values. by Victor Frankl

Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities. by Voltaire
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#2 L'utilisateur est hors-ligne   naina Icône

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19-septembre 05

Icône du message  Posté 28 juin 2006 - 05:23

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.





Des communautés, des villages d'homos au sud de la somalie :blink:
Des homos qui adoptent des orphelins somaliens :o
La somalie est très mal partie.. Après la guerre sera la merde serieusement :(
"It is by no means certain that our individual personality is the single inhabitant of these our corporeal frames... We all do things both awake and asleep which surprise us. Perhaps we have cotenants in this house we live in." by Oliver Wendell Holmes, The Guardian Angel

Man's Search for meaning is the primary motivation in his life and not a 'secondary rationalization' of instinctual drives. This meaning is unique and specific in that it must and can be fulfilled by him alone; only then does it achieve a significance which will satisfy his own will to meaning... Man, however, is able to live and even to die for the sake of his ideals and values. by Victor Frankl

Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities. by Voltaire
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#3 L'utilisateur est hors-ligne   Lola Icône

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21-mars 05

Posté 29 juin 2006 - 02:37

:lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:
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