Arabs & Arabian Records Aggregator. Chronicler. Milestones of the 25 Countries of the Arabic Speaking World (official / co-official). AGCC. MENA. Global. Ist's to Top 10's. Records. Read & Enjoy./ www.arabianrecords.org
Dr Hawa Abdi Dhiblawe, prominent human rights activist, founder and chairperson of the Dr Hawa Abdi Foundation and one of Somalia’s first female obstetricians has passed away in Mogadishu. She was 73.
She died Wednesday morning, but the circumstances surrounding her death remain unestablished at the moment.
Dr Abdi affectionately referred to as the Mother Theresa of Somalia, was a Nobel Peace Prize nominee. Her work is credited for saving the lives of thousands during some of Somalia’s darkest moments. She cared for the wounded, the sick – often for free – at a hospital, she established on her family’s land in 1983. What began as a humble one-room operation would eventually care for close to 90,000 people during Somalia’s catastrophic drought in 2011.
While caring for her patients, Dr Abdi famously faced down nearly 750 militants from Hizbul Islam who laid siege to her compound in 2011. She heroically told them at the time, “I’m not leaving my hospital. If I die, I will die with my people and my dignity.’ She yelled at the young gunmen, “You are young, and you are a man, but what have you done for your society?”. The militants were met with fierce resistance from the locals who gathered around the hospital demanding to see Dr Hawa and mounting international pressure. After a week, the second-in-command came to Dr Hawa with a signed apology letter written in both Somali and English.
When the civil war broke out in 1991, Dr Abdi’s grandmother implored her to stay behind and use her skills to assist the most vulnerable. She witnessed firsthand the devastation that occurred in Somalia early after the collapse of the government.
“During those dark days of 1992, starvation set in, and I sold my family’s gold to buy enough food to sustain the vulnerable children and give the gravediggers enough strength to work. Even when we were burying 50 people per day, I was still able to provide free land, security, and medical treatment. We clung to one another, and we survived, but the fighting continued. Now, again, we see famine—not caused by drought alone, but by the conflict that continues to ravage Somalia,” she said in an interview.
Dr Hawa Abdi was born in Mogadishu in 1947 and attended local elementary, intermediate and secondary academies.
In 1964 she travelled to the Kiev to study gynaecological medicine with the help of a Soviet scholarship. In 1971, she began her medical career as one of Somalia’s first female gynaecologists working in Mogadishu’s most prominent hospital. She quickly recognized the lack of resources for a hospital birth outside the capital. She decided in 1983 to open her clinic known as the Rural Health Development Organisation (RHDO) in the outskirts of Mogadishu. She focused primarily on the treatment of women from non-urban areas.
Dr Hawa told the New York Times that her dream to become a doctor began when she was 12 after her mother died during childbirth.
She was also an author; her moving memoir, Keeping Hope Alive: How One Somali Woman Changed 90,000 lives was published in 2013 and was well-reviewed.
Her unwavering commitment to the downtrodden has earned her recognition worldwide. She and her daughters whom Glamour Magazine named Women of the Year in 2010 and described as ‘Saints of Somalia’ have been running the clinic and Dr Hawa Abdi Foundation. She was nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize in 2012. In that same year, she was honoured with the BET’s Social Humanitarian Award, Women of Impact Award from the WITW Foundation, and the John Jay Medal for Justice. In 2014, she received the Medal from Want award from the Roosevelt Foundation. She was awarded the 2013 Vital Voices’ Women of the Year Award. In 2015, she was the recipient of the Pilosio Building Peace Award. Most recently, she was honoured by Harvard University with an honorary Doctors of Law degree in May 2017.
source/content: hiraan.com (headline edited)
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A Family Affair: From left: Dr. Amina Mohamed, Dr. Hawa Abdi and Dr. Deqo Mohamed, photographed during a business trip to Geneva, Switzerland, on September 18, 2010. Hair and makeup: Mitzi for Visage Management
Seven days after the legendary Iraqi singer Sajida Obaid died, women sat wrapped in black veils and abayas, their faces wet at her family home in the northern city of Irbil. Some were family members and others were fans who had loved her for decades.
Bitter black coffee, the drink of Iraqi mourning, passed quietly from hand to hand. The music drifting in from outside filled the spaces between sobs.
Outside, men sat under a canvas tent in the street. A traditional band beat the daf as some of the men wiped their eyes. In Iraq, the seventh day marks a return, a final gathering before grief begins to thin into memory.
Obaid died on April 4 at the age of 68 after a battle with lung cancer. The news was overshadowed by the Iran war that had spilled over into neighboring Iraq. But for her fans, her death felt personal — the loss of a woman whose voice had given them, for a few hours at a time, something close to freedom.
A space for women to let loose
In Iraq, a woman moving through public life carries weight with her; eyes watching what she wears, how she moves, whether she is stepping too far outside the lines. So Obaid decided to hold parties only for women. Every staff member including the DJ, the waiters, the security, and the organizers was a woman. No phones were allowed to prevent photography. To protect the women in the room, their freedom stayed inside those walls.
Women who would never dream of dancing in front of male audience came. They dressed how they wanted and danced the way they had forgotten they could.
Virgin Jaji, 68, was one of them. While the Arab world traditionally begins its mornings with the dreamy songs of the Lebanese singer Fayrouz, Jaji said she has listened to Obaid every morning for years, in the car, at home, even at the gym. “Even my parrot only dances to Sajida Obaid’s music.
“In her women’s parties we danced like we had no cares in the world,” Jaji said, her eyes red from crying. “We felt free. Truly free.”
Mina Mohammed, 40, said, “The first time I heard about a women-only party by Sajida, I borrowed money from friends just to be in that hall. Her voice will always take me back to the best moments of my life.”
A quick rise to stardom
Obaid was born in Baghdad in 1957, the daughter of a Roma family. In Iraq, Roma people are known as “Kawliya,” a community long tied to music and performance, but also one that has lived for generations at the edge of society. Sajida began singing at 12, performing at parties to help her family pay the bills.
By her teenage years she was already a known name. Her voice was warm and commanding, rooted in the dance rhythms of the Kawliya and in the older, more tender Iraqi style known as mawal. By the 1980s, it had reached the most powerful and most dangerous men in Iraq.
Saddam Hussein’s security guards would pull her away mid-performance from other people’s weddings and bring her to sing. She performed at the weddings of Saddam’s children and at birthday parties for his sons and daughters. It was the complicated price of being a national star in an era of dictatorship. She traveled the world, performed at international festivals and sometimes played as many as seven shows a week.
Shrinking space for Iraqi women
But the women-only parties were always special to her, said her brother and manager, Aayed Awda.
“Those parties were something the women themselves asked for, including women from the most conservative families, because they wanted a place where they could dress freely, move freely, be themselves,” he said. “Sajida believed deeply in helping women and giving them that space.”
Obaid’s songs sometimes pushed social boundaries, like “Inkasarat al-Sheesha” (“the shisha broke”), about a woman who has lost her virginity and must now face her family. “What will I tell my mother?” the lyrics ask. In Iraq, that is not a light question. Obaid sang it with a full voice, without apology.
Many Iraqi women feel that the gains they had made in rights over the years are receding. Last year, Iraqi Parliament passed amendments to the country’s personal status law that opponents say would in effect legalize child marriage and erode women’s rights in matters like divorce and inheritance.
“Iraq feels like it’s moving backward, and the space for women’s freedom is shrinking,” said Mohammed, the fan who borrowed money to attend Obaid’s parties. She hopes that the carefree moments they brought can “be carried forward, even in small ways, like women-only DJ nights with her music.”
A quiet end
In her final months, the woman who had sung on stages across five continents lived quietly in Irbil, in the home of her elder brother’s family. She had no children. She had married twice and divorced twice. She rarely went out. She spent her days close to the people she loved and played with the children in the house.
“She was gentle and warm, and she never once caused harm to anyone,” said her niece Sahar Sabti, 38, who shared the home with her. “She took care of everyone around her.”
About four months before Obaid died, doctors found lung cancer, Sabti said. She still insisted on flying to Canada for a concert. But when she came home to receive her first chemo session, her body gave up.
She was hospitalized in Irbil, where she remained for more than two weeks before being sent home on oxygen. Her family took her to the hospital once more, and this time she didn’t come home.
Her brother recalled the 40 years they worked together, and their sibling bickering about the shade of her makeup, the cut and color of her dress, the theme of the next party.
“We disagreed on everything,” Awda said, his voice breaking. “And I miss every single one of those arguments.”
On the seventh day of mourning, as the drum outside finally fell silent and the women inside dried their faces, they spoke about Obaid the way people speak about someone who has stepped out of the room for a moment.
“For me and my friends, dancing and Sajida are the same word,” said Leila Botrus, 55. “She brought people together everywhere she went through joy, through music.”
Outside in the tent, the band played its last song of the evening. The coffee in the cups grew cold, but the women stayed a little longer together.
In that room, filled with women sitting close together, it felt as though Sajida had left behind exactly what she always gave them; a space of their own.
Annemarie Jacir’s award-winning film “Palestine 36” leads the nominations for the 10th Critics Awards For Arab Films, which were announced on Wednesday.
The annual prizes, organized by the Arab Cinema Center, have been voted on by a record 307 Arab and international critics from 75 countries this year, with the awards ceremony due to take place during the Cannes Film Festival on May 16.
“Palestine 36” has been nominated in six categories including best film, director and screenplay. It is followed by Maryam Touzani’s “Calle Malaga” with five nominations; Cherien Dabis’ “All That’s Left of You” with four; and “Yunan,” “My Father’s Scent,” and “Once Upon a Time in Gaza” with three each.
Kaouther Ben Hania’s Oscar-nominated “The Voice of Hind Rajab” garnered one nomination in the best director category.
“Palestine 36” is set during the 1936 Arab Revolt and follows five interconnected narratives as villages across Palestine confront British colonial rule.
With rising numbers of Jewish immigrants escaping antisemitism in Europe, and the Palestinian population uniting against Britain’s 30-year dominion, all sides spiral toward inevitable collision in a decisive moment for the British Empire and the future of the entire region.
“I hope people see themselves in the film,” she told Arab News in December last year. “I don’t want to teach anyone anything. There’s a lot of history in the film and there’s a lot of history that’s been erased. I hope that’s something that comes through.”
source/content: arabnews.com (headline edited)
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Annemarie Jacir’s award-winning film “Palestine 36” leads the nominations for the 10th Critics Awards For Arab Films, which were announced on Wednesday. (Supplied)
The commission is headquartered in Beirut and brings together 21 member states across the Middle East and North Africa.
Rania Al-Mashat has been appointed Under-Secretary-General of the United Nations and Executive Secretary of the Economic and Social Commission for Western Asia, following an announcement by Secretary-General António Guterres.
Al-Mashat brings more than 25 years of experience in macroeconomic policy, central banking and international development. Between 2018 and 2026, she served in Egypt’s government across multiple portfolios, including tourism, international cooperation, and planning and economic development, becoming the country’s first female minister of tourism.
Prior to her ministerial roles, she served as sub-governor for monetary policy at the Central Bank of Egypt and worked as an adviser to the chief economist at the International Monetary Fund in Washington.
The Economic and Social Commission for Western Asia, headquartered in Beirut, is one of the UN’s five regional commissions, serving 21 countries across the Middle East and North Africa. Its mandate includes supporting economic integration, policy coordination and sustainable development across the region.
Al-Mashat holds a PhD and MA in economics from the University of Maryland, College Park and a BA in economics from the American University in Cairo. She has also completed executive programmes in leadership and public policy at Harvard and Oxford.
Iconic Kuwaiti actress Hayat Al Fahad, widely known as the “Lady of the Gulf Screen”, has died at the age of 78 after a prolonged illness, in a loss that has reverberated across the Arab artistic community.
The announcement was made on Tuesday via the official account of the Al Fahad Artistic Production Foundation, which paid tribute to her as a towering figure in Gulf drama whose legacy will endure for generations.
Al Fahad had faced recurring health complications in recent months, which kept her away from the screen. Sources close to the family said her condition deteriorated sharply in recent days, leading to her admission to intensive care before her death.
Over a career spanning more than five decades, Al Fahad was not only an actress but also a writer and producer, known for works that explored Gulf society with depth and candour.
Born in Kuwait in 1948, Al Fahad is regarded as one of the Arab world’s most influential television and stage figures. Her career spans acting, broadcasting, writing, and producing, with celebrated credits including the beloved television series Khalti Qumasha, Ruqiya wa Sabika, Jarh Al Zaman, and ‘Ndama Tu’Gany Al Zuho.
Despite advancing age, she remained active in Ramadan productions until her later years, delivering performances marked by experience and enduring passion.
Her death marks the end of a defining chapter in Gulf television, though her work will continue to resonate across the Arab world.
Tunisian researcher Emna Harigua has been honoured with Tunisia’s 2025 Best Female Scientific Achievement Prize for her innovative drug discovery work powered by artificial intelligence (AI).
In recognition of women’s essential contributions to science and innovation, Harigua, who holds a doctorate in biomathematics, bioinformatics and computational biology, was awarded the prestigious prize by Tunisia’s Ministry of Family, Women, Children and Seniors as part of the celebrations for the country’s National Women’s Day, observed on August 13. Her achievements include leading research in AI-powered drug discovery through a national node in the Global South AI for Pandemic and Epidemic Preparedness and Response Network, a global initiative supported by IDRC and the United Kingdom’s Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office.
Harigua, a scientist at the Institut Pasteur de Tunis, Tunisia, and principal investigator of the BIND project (Bioinformatics and Artificial Intelligence for Infectious Diseases), is leading an AI-powered platform that accelerates research against some of the world’s most persistent infectious agents that pose health risks.
Her research targets neglected tropical diseases such as leishmaniasis and malaria, combining bioinformatics, AI and experimental validation to shorten the drug discovery timeline and reduce costs. The BIND project has already identified nine novel anti-Leishmania drug candidates, with three now in pre-clinical validation. In addition, the team launched CidalsDB, an open-access AI platform for drug identification, marking a step forward in global efforts toward open science and collaborative health research.
“This award is not just a personal milestone — it’s a recognition of the potential of African-led science to tackle global health challenges,” said Harigua.
Beyond her lab, Harigua is a strong advocate for building Africa’s capacity in computer-aided drug discovery and ensuring that cutting-edge technologies serve the health needs of African communities. Her work — presented recently at the International Science Council during a workshop held in Nairobi, Kenya, on the impact of emerging technologies on science systems — underscores a vision where innovation, collaboration and inclusion drive the future of medical research.
source/content: idrc-crdi.ca (headline edited)
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Fourat Thamine, Institut Pasteur Tunisia. / Tunisian scientist Emna Harigua receives national recognition for her AI-powered drug discovery platform.
Thanks for highlighting Oman’s cultural wonders, UNESCO. Here’s everything you need to know about them.
As the oldest Arab state with over 100,000 years of human history, the Sultanate of Oman is home to a wealth of cultural and natural treasures that have captured the imagination of poets and travellers for centuries.
From the rugged peaks of the Hajar Mountains to the pristine shores of the Arabian Sea, this mesmerising country possesses a diverse collection of sites that have been recognized by UNESCO for their cultural, historical, or natural significance – all things we look for when we’re choosing our next global destination.
To be considered for inscription on the prestigious World Heritage List, sites must meet at least one of ten criteria, which include representing a masterpiece of human creative genius, exhibiting an important interchange of human values, bearing a unique or exceptional testimony to a cultural tradition, or containing outstanding examples of geological formations and/or habitats of significant biodiversity.
So, we figure if it’s good enough for UNESCO, it’s good enough for us. That’s why we’ve put together a list of the five Omani cultural sites that have been given UNESCO’s special designation, providing you with the information you need to dive into the rich history of this breathtaking Middle Eastern country.
Aflaj Irrigation Systems of Oman
Ad Dakhiliyah, Ash Sharqiyah South and Al Batinah South / 500 AD
Oman’s Aflaj Irrigation Systems are a feat of ancient engineering. These networks, which collect and transport water across the country using gravity, date back to 500 AD.
This revolutionary technology shaped the development of agriculture, particularly date palm cultivation, in arid Oman. There are more than 3,000 still-functioning aflaj water distribution systems in Oman, and UNESCO has highlighted five locations for their historical significance: Falaj Al Jeela, Falaj Muyasser, Falaj Daris, Falaj Malki, and Falaj Khatmein. Four of these sites are found in the Al Jabal Al Akhdar mountain range, and the fifth is located in the Sharqi mountains.
Ancient City of Qalhat
pix credit: whc-unesco.org/en
The remnants of this once-thriving port city are tucked into Oman’s rugged eastern coast, right by the Indian Ocean.
A bustling city centre of trade and commerce between the 11th and 16th centuries, Oman’s first capital – of which there is not much left – contains the remnants of necropolises, residences, workshops, and the tomb of an Omani queen, Bibi Maryam. Believed to have been commissioned in the 13th century by a local ruler in honour of his beloved wife, this mausoleum is the best-preserved monument in the historic city.
Those hoping to visit this site should be aware that, due to conservation efforts, it might not be open to the public.
Bat, Al-Khutm and Al-Ayn Archaeological Sites
Al Dhahira / 3rd Millennium BC
Dating back to the 3rd millennium B.C., the Archaeological Sites of Bat, Al-Khutm, and Al-Ayn provide a glimpse into the prehistoric settlements and burial grounds of Oman. These three sites cover 14 square kilometres and are situated within the rocky landscapes of the Al-Dhahirah Governorate.
A trip to these ancient sites gives travellers the opportunity to examine and explore the enigmatic ‘beehive tombs’ dotting the surrounding hills.
Older than the Pyramids of Giza, these tombs are free for anyone to visit.
Bahla Fort
Ad Dakhiliyah / 12th–15th century
The immense Bahla Fort can be found in a palm-filled oasis in the Omani desert.
The fort and settlement was the capital of the Banu Nebhan tribe, who dominated what is now central Oman from the 12th to the 15th century. An intricate irrigation system of wells and tunnels brings water from distant springs to this ancient settlement – a testament to the skills of mediaeval engineers in this region. Visitors to this heritage site can see the ornate Friday Mosque, the remains of a semi-covered market, and the towers and parapets of the fort’s walls.
This site is open to visitors, and is widely considered to be one of Oman’s top attractions.
Land of Frankincense
Oman’s Dhofar Governorate is one of the few places where frankincense trees still thrive. These plants carry important historical and economic significance in the region, as frankincense was one of the most luxurious trade items in ancient times.
There are four sites included in this UNESCO heritage listing that preserve the remains of the caravan trade of this precious commodity. One of these is the Frankincense Park of Wadi Dawkah, which allows visitors to learn about how incense is sourced. Another, Shishr, is an agricultural oasis that – in the past – allowed caravans transporting this precious resource to refuel on their trade routes. Sumhuram in the Khor Rori Nature Reserve is another component of this UNESCO World Heritage Site, and was once the heart of the world’s frankincense trade. A trip to this city offers views of structures from the 3rd Century BC to the 5th century AD, including storerooms and city fortifications. The final component of this heritage site is the Al Baleed archeological park. Although this site is open to the public, it is also still being explored, with new discoveries being made. This park includes a Frankincense museum, citadel, and more.
The best time to visit this area is in April, when the fragrant frankincense trees are in bloom.
Arab Women in Science Platform: Igniting a Collective Spark for Gender Equality in Science.
On the occasion of the United Nations International Day of Women and Girls in Science and Technology, the Arab Women in Science Platform was officially launched on February 1, 2024, in Alexandria, Egypt. The enchanting event hosted by the UNESCO Regional Office of Egypt and Sudan / Liaison office with the League of Arab States and the Arab Academy of Science, Technology and Maritime Transport (AASTMT) at AASTMT Main Campus in Abu Qir brought together over 150 high-level participants from diverse generations and fields, including natural sciences, human and social sciences, to discuss challenges faced by women scientists in the Arab region and explore strategies to advance women’s participation in science, technology, and innovation through the new Arab Women in Science Platform initiative.
A compelling initiative driven by the voice of Arab women scientists themselves, shaping a brighter future in the world of science
The figures remain dramatic. According to the UNESCO Science Report, women still account for only 28% of engineering graduates and 40% of computer science graduates worldwide. Women accounted for one in three researchers (33%) in 2018, just 5 years ago, and represent only 22% of professionals working in AI, the field of the future. Focusing on the Arab States, only 24% of senior management positions in science and engineering are held by women, and even though 47,3% of Egyptian universities STEM graduates are women, they only represent 38% of the STEM workforce (CAPMAS, 2018).
The Arab Women in Science Platform, launched one year after the call of the Egyptian and Sudanese women scientists’ made during the “Paving the way for Women Leadership in Science” dialogue in February 2023, to empower women in natural and social sciences across generations in the Arab region. It offers both online and offline spaces for women scientists to connect, share experiences, and access career-enhancing programs, including mentorship and training. Additionally, the platform raises awareness of gender stereotypes in science and advocates for gender-transformative policies and open science, with Arab women scientists actively involved in shaping the initiative.
10 & 11 February: Igniting a collective spark for gender equality in Science
The launch event featured insightful conversations, two panel discussions, and a workshop to structure the new community of Arab Women in Science, assess the platform prototype and identify innovative pathways to ensure inclusivity and foster systemic transformations in the scientific realm, and promote gender equality and support women scientists across the Arab region. Discussions and exchanges led to key recommendations that in the development of the platform include:
Translating the Arab Women in Science Platform into an inclusive, accessible, attractive, clear and interactive website.
Creating a strong community of Arab women scientists and men allies by investing heavily at the outset.
Actively engaging with the private sector and the industry to ensure initiatives’ financial sustainability and women scientists’ employment.
Addressing the professional challenges and opportunities of women scientists in the Arb region with a focus on research and training accessibility, women role models, gender stereotypes and displaced women scientists ‘support.
UNESCO office in Cairo also wish to acknowledge and warmly thank the bravery of women scientists in sharing their experiences and the difficulties they have encountered throughout their career, with a special thank to the Sudanese scientists, directly and violently impacted by the civil war.
Hearing the Voices of Arab Women Scientists: A National Surveys
Who better to shape the future of science in the Arab world than those who have dedicated their lives to its pursuit? These remarkable women, pioneers in their respective fields, embody the very essence of scientific exploration and discovery. Their voices, resonating with passion and dedication, hold the key to unlocking the full potential of Arab science.
UNESCO Office in Cairo recognizes that true empowerment stems from a deep understanding of the challenges faced by Arab women scientists. To this end, a participatory approach has been adopted, involving extensive consultations and a regional survey designed to capture the experiences and aspirations of these remarkable women.
The survey, now available, seeks to engage the voices of all Arab women scientists. UNESCO office in Cairo extends a warm invitation to all Arab women scientists to participate in this transformative initiative. Your voice matters.
Growing up, Ifrah F. Ahmed never planned on becoming a chef.
Born in Mogadishu, Somalia, Ahmed came to the US as a child after the start of the Somali Civil War. In 1996, her family was resettled in Tukwila, Washington, as part of an early wave of Somali refugees who went on to form a community there. In their new home, Ahmed’s mother made it her mission—even as she worked multiple jobs and took care of her children—to ensure Ahmed and her siblings stayed connected to their Somali identity. Food played a vital role in that mission, and planted the seed that, years later, led to Ahmed becoming a chef and writer—and eventually authoring her debut cookbook, Soomaliya: Food, Memory, and Migration, which is out now.
First, she had to learn the oral traditions of Somali cuisine. When Ahmed was in elementary school, her mother began teaching her how to cook classic Somali dishes. At times, Ahmed had mixed feelings about these lessons, feeling that they were part of a set of gendered expectations. But she came to appreciate the fact that through her mother’s cooking lessons, she was learning much more than the ingredients and techniques needed to make the perfect canjeero (sour fermented pancake) or sambuus (dumplings).
“It’s helpful to know the recipes,” Ahmed tells Vogue. “But it’s almost like her teaching me not just what we eat but how we eat was really teaching me about who we were.”
Ahmed soon discovered her passion and curiosity for food, which her mother nurtured. “I became an avid Food Network stan from a very young age,” she says. She would develop “hyper-fixations” on “classic American foods” like pancakes and chicken burgers, and enjoyed figuring out how to make them. She loved Anthony Bourdain, who merged her interests in food and geopolitics. She prized academic excellence (her work paid off; she was valedictorian), and originally pursued a career in law.
After college, Ahmed worked with Somali refugee students at Seattle public schools. She got married and started law school, but found that she was always taking her law work home with her. Cooking continued to be her passion, but she didn’t think of it as her life’s work. It was hard to shake the expectations inherent in being the eldest daughter in an immigrant family.
“I never thought of food as a serious career because usually, when you are coming from those backgrounds, you feel like you have to have a career that translates to something in terms of maybe redeeming some of your parents’ sacrifices,” Ahmed says. “I think a lot of immigrant and refugee kids can probably relate, and it’s not always easy to transition to a food career. I also had never really seen anyone that looked like me that had the kind of career that I was fantasizing about.”
Then, in 2018, she went on a homecoming trip to Somalia with her mother. “I had an urge to kiss the ground when I got off the plane. It was the first time that I was fully immersed in my own community in that way,” Ahmed says. “When I was there, it was really simple moments where I was like, okay, I really want to turn to food: the first meal that I had in our house in Mogadishu after meeting all of my family, and just really small moments like that.”
It was a constellation of moments that convinced her to reorient her life towards Somali culinary and cultural work. “Everything was incredible. It was that with the combination of being in your homeland, with seeing the beauty and the movement and the energy, and also tasting the freshness of the food, the ingredients, and the slowness and the intentionality around not just eating, but how you eat and who you eat with,” Ahmed says.
That experience eventually led to her launching Milk & Myrrh, her Somali culinary pop-up, which has routinely sold out since its launch in 2019. Around that time, she also had the idea for a cookbook focused on Somali cultural and culinary preservation. She set out to build the writing, cooking, and recipe development skills that she needed for the book, contributing to The New York Times’s cooking section, and writing for publications including Vogue, Eater, The Los Angeles Times, and more. Now, nearly a decade later, all her work has come to fruition.
The book explores the cultural, political, and geographic forces that have shaped Somali cuisine. Ahmed translates an oral cooking tradition into writing, building a vital new addition to the archive of Somali culinary history.
Researching, writing, and developing the recipes in the book wasn’t an easy feat. “If you’re coming from an oral cooking culture, you’re never just a recipe developer, you’re never just a chef, you’re never just a writer,” Ahmed says. “For a lot of this, I felt like a detective, a historian.”
In addition to recipes, Soomaaliya features profiles of people throughout the Somali food world, including chefs, business people, restaurateurs, herders, and agricultural workers.
“I think for me, it’s really important that my pioneers get celebrated because I think not only was there that lack of knowledge of Somali culinary traditions, but I just feel like they did such important work that really does not get the recognition that it deserves. Because what they did is they really worked on the preservation of our cuisine and really moving that through the digital age, especially to serve a growing diaspora,” she says.
For Ahmed, Soomaaliya has always been more than a cookbook. It is a work of cultural preservation, an invitation, and a way of addressing the disruption of the oral tradition of Somali culture caused by decades of forced migration due to the war.
It’s also, crucially, a way of taking long-held tenets of Somali cooking and culture, and putting them into writing. “The historical section is the past; the recipes are kind of like the present; and to me, the interviews are sort of like the future,” Ahmed says.
Below, Ahmed shares a favorite recipe from the book.
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Mallaay Qumbe (Coconut Fish Curry)
Serves 4
Despite Somalia’s long coastline, seafood has not traditionally been a big part of the Somali diet outside of coastal towns. In most of the country, red meat has been king, and both seafood and poultry have been seen as lower-class food, or not “real” food, in comparison to red meat. In the 1970s and 1980s, in a time of severe famine, the government tried to combat the negative view of seafood and boost the fishing sector. They relocated nomads to fishing cooperatives and even made certain days of the week officially “meatfree” days, dedicated to seafood consumption. Despite these efforts, the industry did not take off. A decade later, the Somali Civil War saw the full collapse of this sector. More recently, interest in seafood consumption is growing.
Mallaay qumbe can be found up and down the East African coast, including in the coastal towns of southern Somalia. This version is distinctly Somali, due to the addition of xawaash and creamy coconut milk. Serve mallaay qumbe with rice or soor.
Ingredients
1¼ teaspoons fine sea salt
1 pound (450 g) barramundi or other firm white fish, cut into serving-size pieces
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium red onion, diced
2 large Roma tomatoes, finely diced
8 garlic cloves, minced
1 (13½-ounce / 400 ml) can unsweetened coconut milk
1 cup (16 g) cilantro leaves, finely chopped, plus more to serve
4 teaspoons Xawaash
Steamed white rice, for serving
Method
Sprinkle ¼ teaspoon of the salt over the fish; put it aside.
In a pot just large enough to accommodate the fish in one layer, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Once the oil is hot but not smoking, add the onion and cook, stirring, for 8 to 10 minutes, until almost translucent. Add the tomatoes, cover, and cook for 7 minutes, occasionally stirring and smashing the tomatoes down as they cook.
Add the garlic and cook for a minute or two, then add the coconut milk, cilantro, xawaash, and the remaining 1 teaspoon salt; stir and cover. Cook for 4 minutes to allow the flavors to come together, then add the fish, making sure the coconut milk covers the fish (if necessary, add a splash of water to cover). Cover and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, until the fish can be easily flaked with a fork. Serve the curry with rice, topped with additional chopped cilantro.
Xawaash (Somali Spice Mix)
Makes about 2 ½ cups (260 g)
It’s no exaggeration to say that xawaash is at the heart of Somali cuisine. It is Somali history on a plate—a culinary reminder of Somalia’s centuries of global trade, particularly along the Indian Ocean. Xawaash is what makes many Somali dishes taste distinctly Somali. While every household’s xawaash recipe is its own, typically seven core spices—cumin, coriander, black pepper, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, and turmeric—are toasted until their fragrance blooms, then blended into an earthy golden-brown powder. Xawaash stores very well and for a long time in an airtight container, though it’s at its peak shortly after it’s made. If you use it often (and many recipes in this book call for it), you can double or triple the recipe for a big batch.
Ingredients
1 cup (100 g) whole cumin seeds
1 cup (70 g) whole coriander seeds
¼ cup (35 g) black peppercorns
1 small-to-medium piece of cinnamon bark
2 tablespoons green cardamom pods
1½ teaspoons whole cloves
¼ cup (30 g) ground turmeric
Method
Toast the cumin, coriander, peppercorns, cinnamon bark, cardamom pods, and cloves in a medium skillet over medium heat, stirring constantly so the spices don’t burn. The spices are toasted when they have a slightly darker color and become fragrant, 1 to 2 minutes.
Transfer the toasted spices to a blender or spice grinder and blend until they become a fine powder. Transfer to a bowl and mix in the ground turmeric until it’s fully incorporated and the spice mix is golden brown. Allow to cool completely, then store in an airtight container.
Excerpted with permission from Soomaaliya by Ifrah F. Ahmed, published by Hardie Grant North America, March 2026, RRP $40.00. Hardcover.
A new generation of talent is turning its lens towards intimate storytelling, with Africa’s largest nation as its backdrop.
“Algeria is a visually unspoilt country,” says Mounia Meddour. Meddour is one of the nation’s most prominent contemporary filmmakers. Her debut film, Papicha (2019), set during the 1990s Algerian Black Decade with Algiers as its backdrop, was screened at the Cannes Film Festival’s Un Certain Regard, bringing her international recognition. Yet, she is right: very few images of Algeria exist within the cinematic landscape.
There are many reasons for this. The industry has long been at a standstill; visas are difficult to obtain and cultural policy remains lukewarm. Algerian landscapes and intimate stories struggle to travel beyond the country’s borders. For several years now, however, a new generation of filmmakers, cameras in hand, has been working to capture and create a contemporary visual archive of a nation longing for representation.
Algeria nonetheless has a rich cinematic history. In 1975, thirteen years after gaining independence from France, the young state won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival for the historical fresco Chronicles of the Years of Fire, directed by Mohamed Lakhdar-Hamina — making Algeria the first, and still the only, African and Arab country to achieve this distinction. It is this legacy that leads the film critic Samir Ardjoum to speak of a paradox in Algerian cinema.
“This symbolic prestige has not translated into industrial continuity,” he says. “Algerian cinema suffers from a lack of stable international distribution. Films circulate widely at festivals, but rarely in commercial circuits.”
Ardjoum explains that Algerian cinema originated as a cinema of nation-building. After 1962, the country invested heavily in films recounting the War of Independence and enshrining a heroic national memory, creating a shared narrative and collective imagery. Many films about the thawra (the Revolution, or Algerian War) were commissioned, with Mohamed Lakhdar-Hamina among the most prominent figures of this movement.
A more mainstream cinema emerged in the 1970s, but was largely forgotten due to poor archiving. The Black Decade of the 1990s brought the industry to a near halt, as it did many others. Since then, Algerian cinema has remained in a state of lethargy. As the filmmaker Malek Bensmaïl puts it: “It is both fragile and very lively. Yet there is a deep desire to create our own stories and not let others tell them for us.”
The act of image-making inevitably raises questions of funding and audience. “All too often, we oscillate between a foreign gaze that restricts us and a nostalgic form of self-aestheticisation akin to self-Orientalism,” argues Amira Louadah, director of The Ark.
For too long, Algeria has been shaped by Western-manufactured representations, beginning with France. “Between 1830 and 1962, during French colonisation, most images of the country — whether in painting, photography or film — were created from a Western perspective,” Louadah notes. In a colonial context, such representations served to criminalise, demean and demonise “Muslim Algerians”, the term used by the colonial administration for indigenous people. Even today, Ardjoum adds, “Algeria is often depicted through the lens of crisis, politics or its colonial past.”
With limited state funding, filmmakers increasingly turn to European backers who, Louadah says, can at times “dictate the stories they want to see from our region”. The result is a striking absence of visual documentation of everyday life. “How did families live? How were social relationships organised? How did people communicate? What did daily routines, household objects or lighting look like? How did people travel, in both rural and urban areas?” she asks.
This new generation hopes to fill that void. “It’s exhilarating to have this rare access to locations and footage,” says Yacine Medkour, co-founder of the Algiers-based production company 2Horloges. “At the same time, it’s a huge responsibility.”
“Our country lacks images produced from its own perspective,” Bensmaïl emphasises. By reclaiming their narratives, this new wave of filmmakers is creating “archives for the future, preserving fragments of memory to pass on to future generations”. Yet this comes with what Louadah calls “a cultural responsibility”. “We need to support a plurality of perspectives rather than a single, black-and-white approach. We should represent all viewpoints and social classes—not just central Algiers. The more diverse, the better. We must break free from monopolies over narrative and representation.” Ardjoum agrees: “It’s not about polishing the country’s image; it’s about expanding the range of representations.”
As part of this shift, many filmmakers are moving away from stories centred solely on the Algerian Revolution. “People are growing tired of heroic narratives,” Ardjoum observes. Bensmaïl, whose forthcoming film The Arab reimagines the unnamed protagonist of Albert Camus’s The Stranger through the testimony of his ageing brother, suggests that “his generation needed to ask questions”. “We are not abandoning the Revolution,” he says. “We are simply no longer treating it as a static icon.” Ardjoum describes this as a shift in political focus — from the grand historical narrative to the personal sphere. “By constantly glorifying the past, it becomes difficult to describe the present.”
Meddour’s Papicha follows Nedjma, a fashion student determined to stage a show during the Black Decade — a period the director herself experienced. Sofia Djama’s The Blessed (Les Bienheureux) centres on a couple, Amal and Samir, celebrating their twentieth wedding anniversary as they reflect on their shared past. Louadah’s documentary La Grosse Moula ou Li Michan explores Algeria’s linguistic history from a personal perspective. “There was a need to ground Algeria in the present, to tell stories that allow us to come to terms with our reality,” Meddour says. As Ardjoum notes, “Contemporary Algerian cinema is no longer solely a cinema of national narrative; it has become a cinema of the personal, of trauma, of urban life and of social tensions.”
To portray Algeria fully, however, filmmakers must look beyond the capital. “Our generation has tended to film what we know — often Algiers, which is inherently cinematic in its vitality,” says Djama, who is currently working on her next film, Jeudi moins quart. “But it would be a shame to limit ourselves. We need to look further afield.”
Progress remains constrained by financial and institutional challenges. “Over the past fifteen years, there has been real progress — more young filmmakers, more women, more films in festivals,” Bensmaïl notes. “But it is not yet enough.” Sustained national funding will be essential if this movement is to endure — allowing it to evolve from a fragile ecosystem of resourceful auteurs into a stable creative industry.
“If the films exist, we also need venues in which to show them,” Bensmaïl adds. Filmmakers are calling for a wider network of cinemas, alongside what Ardjoum describes as “an ambitious policy on archiving and international distribution”, supported by legal protections for creative freedom. “We have a wealth of talented individuals eager to write, produce and direct across genres,” Meddour says.
Medkour remains optimistic: “Algeria is the future of image-making.”
