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Somali-origin players Afif and Abdirisaq play pivotal roles in leading Qatar to victory in the AFC Asian Cup.
On Saturday, February 11, 2024, the football world turned its eyes towards a historic clash that would etch the names of Akram Hassan Afif and Yusuf Abdirisaq into the records of the AFC Asian Cup lore.
In a match that was anything but ordinary, Qatar’s national team, buoyed by the exceptional talent of its Somali-origin stars clinched their second successive victory in the tournament by overcoming Jordan with a decisive 3-1 win.
Qatar’s triumph was heralded by the remarkable performances of Akram Afif and Yusuf Abdirisaq, whose origins trace back to Somalia, showcasing the diverse and rich talent pool contributing to Qatar’s footballing success.
Akram Hassan Afif emerged as the tournament’s top scorer, remarkably netting three penalty goals in the final match.
His prowess on the field and his unique celebration, holding up a letter ‘S’ in honor of his Kuwaiti wife watching from the stands, captured the hearts of fans and ignited discussions across social media platforms.
Afif’s journey from the streets of Doha to becoming a footballing icon is a narrative of determination, skill, and the love for the game.
Yusuf Abdirisaq, on the other hand, fortified Qatar’s defense with his agility and keen sense of play.
Born in Hargeisa, Yusuf’s path to footballing stardom is a tale of resilience and adaptation. Representing Qatar on the international stage, Yusuf’s performance in the Asian Cup final was a clear demonstration of his defensive prowess and his significant role in the team’s success.
The match itself was a rollercoaster of emotions as three penalties were awarded, leading Qatar to victory.
Despite the debates, the focus remained on the skillful play and strategic acumen displayed by the Qatari team, particularly its Somali stars.
The Arab media and international press were lavish in their praise for Qatar’s achievement, with special emphasis on Afif’s scoring feat and Abdirisaq’s defensive mastery.
Their stories of personal and professional triumph resonated well beyond the football pitch, inspiring many young athletes around the world.
Off the field, both players have faced their share of challenges and controversies, such as Abdirisaq’s alleged racial abuse incident, which he and the Qatar Football Association strongly refuted.
Akram Afif, the son of a former Somali national team player, has football in his blood. His journey from Qatar’s youth leagues to becoming a key player for Al Sadd, and on loan from Villarreal, is a beacon of hope and inspiration for many aspiring footballers in the Arab world and beyond.
Yusuf Abdirisaq’s story is equally compelling, showcasing the potential for football to change lives and transcend borders. From his early days at Al Sadd SC to his loan at Al-Arabi SC and back, Yusuf’s career trajectory highlights the opportunities and challenges faced by players of diverse backgrounds in the world of professional football.
As Qatar celebrates its second consecutive AFC Asian Cup victory, the contributions of Akram Afif and Yusuf Abdirisaq will be remembered as pivotal to this historic achievement.
Their talent, perseverance, and dedication have not only led their team to glory but have also served as a powerful reminder of the unifying power of sport.
Mohamed Ibrahim Warsame, one of Somalia’s greatest poets, dies aged 79.
Somali social media has been flooded with tributes to the man better known as ‘Hadraawi’.
Messages of condolences continue to pour in from around the world following the death of Mohamed Ibrahim Warsame, regarded as one of Somalia’s greatest poets.
Warsame, known as “Hadraawi”, died in Hargeisa, in Somaliland, on Thursday at the age of 79.
Social media has been flooded with tributes and praise for his contribution to Somali language and culture.
“I’m heartbroken to inform you our giant Mohamed Ibrahim Warsame Hadraawi has passed away. Might Allah bless him and grant him Jannah,” Ayan Mahamoud, founder of Kayd Somali Arts and Culture , said on Twitter.
“We will treasure his legacy and the rich scholarly work he left behind,” added Said Salah Ahmed, a poet and playwright who teaches the Somali language at the University of Minnesota in the US.
Hadraawi, which means the “master, or father, of speech”, was regarded as a pillar of modern Somali literature and a strong advocate of peace and democracy.
In 1973, he was imprisoned for five years by the president, Siad Barre, who ruled Somalia until 1991, for speaking against the revolution. His work was banned but he continued to compose poetry upon his release, which were was passed on through word of mouth.
The songs and verses he wrote are full of imagery and metaphor, open to interpretation, which made it hard for the military regime to control. A verse from his poem The Killing of the She-Camel resulted in his imprisonment without trial.
The snake sneaks in the castle:
although it’s carpeted with thorns
still the coward casts off his curses
so the courageous must stretch out his neck;
the cob stallion sells his values
in order to cut a fine figure.
When such cockiness struts forth
and even laughter becomes a crime
our country has unfinished business.
In the early 1990s he called for an end to the civil war, which caused thousands of people to flee Somalia. In 2004, he travelled throughout the country on a “peace march” urging warring parties to stop the violence. His message of reconciliation resonated with Somalis at home and abroad.
He retired a few years ago.
“Poet Mohamed Ibrahim Warsame (Hadraawi) was a symbol of unity and peace,” said the Somali president, Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, in a statement. “He was one of key pillars of Somalia’s art and literature who took a leading role in preserving the Somali culture and promoting the Somali language. His death is felt in every Somali household.”
The EU, Norway, the UK and other friends of Somalia sent condolences and tributes.
“Sending my heartfelt condolences to the people of Somaliland and to all Somalis for the loss of Mohamed Ibrahim Warsame “Hadraawi”, an iconic poet and one of the most eminent and beloved Somali poets of all time,” tweeted Lizzie Walker, head of the Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office in Hargeisa.
Hadraawi had been called the “Somali Shakespeare”, but Somali singer and songwriter Aar Maanta said: “Hadraawi wasn’t the ‘Somali Shakespeare’ he was the Somali Hadraawi. He was more than a poet; he was a philosopher and a freedom fighter who spent many years in jail for his stance against injustice and dictatorship.
“He wrote some of the most beautiful love songs and poems that Somalis in the Horn of Africa and beyond use as a benchmark.”
Ahmed, who knew Hadraawi since late 1960s, added: “Hadraawi was one of the kindest people I have ever met. His poetry speaks for the voiceless and calls out oppression against the people …. he will be missed so dearly but we will treasure his legacy and the rich scholarly work he left behind.”
Known as a “nation of poets”, poetry is woven into the fabric of Somali society with centuries of oral history, as the Somali language was only written in 1972.
Contemporary Somali poetry, including the works of Hadraawi, has been preserved in books and translated into English.
He may be younger than their children but one of Britain’s brainiest children, a Muslim, has been hired by a University to help adults with their sums as reported by Daily Mail .
Yasha Asley, 14, is employed by the University of Leicester – where he is also a degree student – to run tutorials.
He became the youngest ever student at the University and is now the youngest ever employee.
Yasha was interviewed and offered the paid job when he was just 13–years old – beating adult applicants. Admin staff had to apply to Leicester city council for special permission to employ him because he was so young. The weekly tutorials Yasha runs are for adult students who need help and support solving problems following lectures. Proud Yasha said:’I am having the best years of my life. I love going to university and I love my new job helping other students.
No more school uniform for me thank you very much.’
Yasha, who has been dubbed a ‘human calculator’, is now in his final year and plans to start a Phd when he finishes his course.
The child genius attended a state primary school before winning his place to study degree level maths at just 12 years old in 2014.He was the first child in the world to achieve an A grade in maths A Level scoring 100 per cent and 99 per cent in two of the six papers when he was just 8 years old.
He passed more A levels in maths and statistics aged 9 and 10.
After finishing year 6 at primary he went straight to University. Of his achievements, Yasha said:’I love maths because it is an exact science. It is the only science where you can prove what you say is correct. It is so easy and an enjoyable subject to study.’
Proud father Moussa Asley, 53, who raised him single-handedly at their home in Leicester, said his son had been made welcome by staff and students alike.
Mr Asley, who drives his son to lectures every day, said:
‘I am just so proud watching him flourish and grow doing something he loves.
He is so good at understanding problems and explaining them in a clear way he is perfect for the job.’
A former child refugee born in Somalia, who dedicated himself to changing lives through education, has been namedas this year’s winner of the prestigious UNHCR Nansen Refugee Award.
Abdullahi Mire grew up in the sprawling Dadaab refugee complex in northeastern Kenya with its population today of more than 240,000 registered refugees, mostly from Somalia.
The UN refugee agency (UNHCR) coordinates operations there together with partners, relying also on the support of the Kenyan Government and host communities.
The majority of the population, around 56 per cent according to 2020 figures, are children.
At that point there were over 60,000 students enrolled up to secondary school level, but despite that, the demand for teachers, supplies and classroom space, has long outstripped supply, leading to poor educational outcomes.
Educational pioneer
Of those managing to complete secondary school only a small number have been able to carry on into tertiary education.
Mr. Mire spent 23 years living in the Dadaab complex himself, from the early 1990s, and eventually went on to graduate with a diploma in journalism and public relations in 2013 from Kenya’s Kenyatta University.
After working for the UN migration agency IOM , in Somalia, specialising in the disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration of former combatants, he realised that without being literate, many were being brainwashed and radicalized.
Life-changer
His experience led him to start the Refugee Youth Education Hub (RYEH) in 2018, focusing on refugee education and youth development.
“I want to change the lives of refugee children and youth living in Daadab”, he told the UN Assistance Mission in Somalia (UNSOM) in 2020.
“The only way to do that is through education. If you give quality education for these children or youths, their lives will be improved for good,” he added. “For societies to progress, especially the ones recovering from decades of conflict, education must be a priority. I think it’s the midwife of peace and stability, if not more.”
Personifying change
Speaking ahead of the award announcement, UN High Commissioner for Refugees, Filippo Grandi, said: “Abdullahi Mire is living proof that transformative ideas can spring from within displaced communities.
“He has shown great resourcefulness and tenacity in strengthening the quality of refugee education.”
UNHCR noted that after growing up in the Dadaab camps, Mr. Mire had resettled to Norway, “but a yearning to serve his community drew him back”.
His education hub has opened three libraries in the camps – stocked with donated books – and expanded learning opportunities for tens of thousands of displaced children and youth.
“The win is not for me alone,” said Mr. Mire, 36. “It is for all the volunteers I work with… It is for the children in the schools.”
Regional winners
UNHCR also announced the regional winners to be honoured this year:
• Elizabeth Moreno Barco (Americas): a human rights defender who advocates for communities affected by armed internal conflict in Colombia
• Asia Al-Mashreqi (Middle East & North Africa): founder and chairperson of the Sustainable Development Foundation, which has assisted nearly two million individuals in Yemen affected by conflict
• Abdullah Habib, Sahat Zia Hero, Salim Khan and Shahida Win (Asia-Pacific): four Rohingya storytellers documenting the experiences of stateless Rohingya refugees
• Lena Grochowska and Władysław Grochowski (Europe): a Polish couple whose hotel chain and foundation provide shelter and training to refugees
The awards will be presented at a ceremony in Geneva on 13 December at the Global Refugee Forum 2023.
Hosted by the prominent US television journalist Ann Curry, the event will showcase the winners’ work and feature performances by Lous and the Yakuza, MIYAVI and Ricky Kej. It will also be livestreamed.
The awards are made possible through support from the Governments of Norway and Switzerland, IKEA Foundation, and the City and Canton of Geneva.
They are named after the Norwegian explorer, scientist, diplomat and humanitarian Fridtjof Nansen.
source/content: news.un.org (headline edited)
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UNSOM / Abdullahi Mire (far right) is supporting education initiatives in Dadaab refugee complex in northeastern Kenya.
The Minister of Islamic Affairs, Call and Guidance, Sheikh Dr Abdullatif bin Abdulaziz Al Al-Sheikh has approved the results and names of the winners in the 43rd edition of King Abdulaziz International Competition for Memorization, Recitation and Interpretation of the Holy Qur’an.
The competition, held at the Grand Mosque, witnessed the participation of 166 contestants representing 117 countries, competing in all five categories of the competition, with the total prize amount for this edition reaching SAR4,000,000.
In the first category, Ayoub bin Abdulaziz Al-Wahibi from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia secured first place and received a prize of SAR500,000. Saad bin Saadi Sleim from Algeria came in second place, earning SAR450,000, while Abu Al-Hasan Hassan Najm from Chad achieved the third position, receiving a prize of SAR400,000.
In the second category, Ammar bin Salem Al-Shahri from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia claimed the first position and was awarded a prize of SAR300,000. Mohammed bin Adnan Al-Omari from Bahrain secured second place, receiving a prize of SAR275,000. The third position went to Abdulaziz bin Malik Atli from Syria, who received a prize of SAR250,000.
In the third category, the winners include Mohammed bin Ibrahim Mohammed from Somalia, who clinched first place and received a prize of SAR200,000. Second place went to Shuaib bin Mohammed Hassan from Sweden, who was awarded SAR190,000 while Faisal Ahmed from Bangladesh secured the third position, earning SAR180,000 Saudi Riyals, and Mohammed Mufid Al-Azza from Indonesia claimed the fourth spot and received SAR170,000. Siraj Al-Din Muammar Kandi from Libya rounded off the top five, receiving a prize of SAR160,000.
Regarding the fourth category, the winners are as follows: Mohammed Ghai from Senegal secured the top position, earning a prize of SAR150,000. Hatem Abdulhamid Falah from Libya claimed the second spot, receiving an award of SAR140,000 and Yassin Abdulrahman from Uganda achieved the third position, with a prize of SAR130,000. Mashfiqur Rahman from Bangladesh attained the fourth position and was granted SAR120,000 while rounding off the top five, Abdulkader Yousef Mohammed from Somalia received a prize of SAR110,000.
As for the fifth category, Elias Abdou from the country of Larionion secured the first position, earning a prize of SAR65,000 while the second place went to Ibrahim Shahbandari from India who was awarded SAR60,000. Marwan bin Shalal from the Netherlands achieved the third position, receiving SAR55,000 and Mustafa Sinnanovic from Bosnia and Herzegovina attained the fourth position and received SAR50,000. Lastly, Hassib Amrullah from North Macedonia took fifth place, earning a prize of SAR45,000.
Ahmed Hussen came to Canada from Somalia as a refugee. Now he’s the new minister of immigration.
Along with thousands of compatriots, Ahmed Hussen fled war-ravaged Somalia for a better life in Canada.
Hussen’s journey took him from Mogadishu to Toronto and then on to Ottawa’s Parliament Hill, where the former Somali refugee was named this week as the country’s newest minister of immigration in a reshuffle of Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s Cabinet.
It was a fast political rise for the rookie politician, and will put Hussen, who arrived in Canada in 1993 as a 16-year-old, in charge of the complex portfolio that oversees who is welcomed into the country.
Friends say the lawyer and social activist will be able to draw from personal experience in his new role.
Mahamad Accord, who has known Hussen for years through his work with the Canadian Somali Congress, says his friend has not forgotten his modest roots despite walking Canada’s corridors of power.
“He didn’t change,” he says. “The people around him changed.”
Accord recalls Hussen offering him help a few years back. The Somali community in the provinces of Ontario and Alberta were struggling to tackle the deaths of dozens of young Somali men due to drug and gun violence.
He says Hussen did not shy away from speaking openly about the problems plaguing the Somali community in Canada, from high rates of poverty and unemployment to gang involvement.
But Hussen was also aware of how the community could be stigmatised, and was always careful in how he spoke and presented himself. Accord says his friend would tell him “we need to change people’s perception of us”.
“He expects high standards,” he says.
Accord admits he was sometimes jealous of the lawyer and social activist’s ability to get across a difficult message diplomatically.
It was that ability that struck former Ontario politician George Smitherman when he first met Hussen in 1999. Hussen was then fighting for the interest of Regent Park, a multi-ethnic neighbourhood in downtown Toronto where he had settled with one of his brothers upon his arrival in Canada.
In 2015, he told the Toronto Star that a backlog in refugee applications for permanent residency at the time meant he could not qualify for a student loan. Living in the public housing allowed him to save enough to go to university.
Hussen lobbied to help secure funds to revitalise the crime-ridden housing project, co-founding the Regent Park Community Council.
Some long-time residents had to move out of their homes during the redevelopment and were fearful they would not be able to return; Hussen worked to ensure their interests were protected.
“There was an extraordinary tension because there was distrust and concerns among tenants,” recalls Smitherman. “Ahmed had to very carefully but forcefully represent their interests.”
Smitherman, who calls the 40-year-old Mr Hussen an “old soul”, later helped him land a job working with former Ontario premier Dalton McGuinty.
“He was someone who spoke with a calmness and an informed knowledge and a maturity that defied his circumstances, both as someone who was young and someone who had taken this awesomely courageous step of leaving Africa for Canada.”
Mr Hussen swept his Toronto riding in November 2015, though he drew criticism for not living in the disadvantaged riding he was elected to represent.
Speaking last April in the House of Commons, he raised concerns about the recent drowning death of hundreds of migrants from Somalia and the Horn of Africa, saying: “Asylum seekers are not criminals. They are human beings in need of protection and assistance and deserving of our respect”.
Smitherman sees Hussen’s background as both an asset and a possible disadvantage in the challenging portfolio.
“It sets up for tensions also as expectations are increased,” he says.
Following his swearing-in, Mr Hussen, the father of three boys, told media he was “extremely proud of our country’s history as a place of asylum, a place that opens its doors and hearts to new immigrants and refugees”.
Hussen has always referred to himself as a Canadian first and Somali second, says Accord. In 2015 Mr Hussen told the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation that he does not want to be labelled a “Somali MP”.
“I’m a Canadian. Somali is my heritage and I’m proud of my heritage but I have a lot to contribute to Canada. And I’m a mainstream guy. I’m not limited by my community,” he said.
Hussen replaces John McCallum, a veteran politician who is going to become Canada’s envoy to China after managing Trudeau government efforts to bring in over 39,000 Syrian refugees in the last 13 months.
“The real message of the new appointment is that the government wishes to profile refuges as a more salient part of our immigration program,’ says Jeffrey Reitz, a University of Toronto sociology professor.
“But it does raise the question of the mainstream immigration programme,” he says.
The rookie minister will face challenges in the key, and rarely uncontroversial, portfolio.
McCallum recently introduced contentious changes to Canada’s popular family reunification programme, replacing a first-come, first-serve process with a lottery system to randomly choose 10,000 people who filled out initial applications to express interest. Critics say that reuniting families should not depend on luck of the draw.
Another recent decision to scrap a rule limiting how long foreign workers can stay in Canada is being targeted by the opposition as potentially harmful to the country’s work force in the long run. Immigrant rights groups have been critical of the programme, arguing the workers under the program are vulnerable to abuse by employers.
He will also have to defend a recent Liberal decision to significantly reduce the number of private sponsorship applications for Syrian and Iraqi refugees because of a current backlog.
Canada plans to bring in 300,000 immigrants in 2017, the majority of them economic immigrants.
source/content: bbc.com (headline edited)
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Ahmed Hussen is Canada’s new minister of immigration in Justin Trudeau’s government / pix: AP
Rome’s city council voted earlier this month to name a future metro station in the Italian capital in honour of Giorgio Marincola, an Italian-Somali who was a member of the Italian resistance.
He was killed at the age of 21 by withdrawing Nazi troops who opened fire at a checkpoint on 4 May 1945, two days after Germany had officially surrendered in Italy at the end of World War Two.
The station, which is currently under construction, was going to be called Amba Aradam-Ipponio – a reference to an Italian campaign in Ethiopia in 1936 when fascist forces brutally unleashed chemical weapons and committed war crimes at the infamous Battle of Amba Aradam.
The name change came after a campaign was launched in June, in the wake of Black Lives Matter protests around the world following the killing of African American George Floyd by US police.
Started by journalist Massimiliano Coccia, he was supported by Black Lives Matter activists, other journalists and Italian-Somali writer Igiabo Scego and Marincola’s nephew, the author Antar Marincola.
The ‘black partisan’
Activists first placed a banner at the metro site stating that no station should be named after “oppression” and pushed for Marincola’s short, but remarkable life to be remembered.
He is known as the “partigiano nero” or “black partisan” and was an active member of the resistance.
In 1953 he was posthumously awarded Italy’s highest military honour, the Medaglia d’Oro al Valor Militare, in recognition of his efforts and the ultimate sacrifice he made.
Marincola was born in 1923 in Mahaday, a town on the Shebelle River, north of Mogadishu, in what was then known as Italian Somaliland.
His mother, Ashkiro Hassan, was Somali and his father an Italian military officer called Giuseppe Marincola.
At the time few Italian colonists acknowledged children born of their unions with Somali women.
But Giuseppe Marincola bucked the trend and later brought his son and daughter, Isabella, to Italy to be raised by his family.
Isabella went on to become an actress, notably appearing in Riso Amaro (Bitter Rice), released in 1949.
Giorgio Marincola too was gifted, excelling at school in Rome and went on to enrol as a medical student.
During his studies he came to be inspired by anti-fascist ideology. He decided to enlist in the resistance in 1943 – at a time his country of birth was still under Italian rule.
He proved a brave fighter, was parachuted into enemy territory and was wounded. At one time he was captured by the SS, who wanted him to speak against the partisans on their radio station. On air he reportedly defied them, saying: “Homeland means freedom and justice for the peoples of the world. This is why I fight the oppressors.”
The broadcast was interrupted – and sounds of a beating could be heard.
‘Collective amnesia’
But anti-racism activists want far more than just the renaming of a metro stop after Marincola – they want to shine the spotlight on Italy’s colonial history.
They want the authorities in Rome to go further and begin a process of decolonising the city.
This happened unilaterally in Milan when, amid the Black Lives Matter protests, the statue of controversial journalist Indro Montanelli, who defended colonialism and admitted to marrying a 12-year-old Eritrean girl during his army service in the 1930’s, was defaced.
Yet to bring about true change there needs to be an awareness about the past.
Italy’s colonial timeline in East Africa:
1890: Kingdom of Italy takes over Eritrea and proclaims it a colony
1895: Italy invades Ethiopia, then called Abyssinia
1896: Italian forces defeated by the Ethiopians at Adwa – and sign a treaty recognising the country’s independence
1889: Italy sets up a protectorate in central Somalia
1935: Fascist Italy invades Ethiopia, accused of war crimes and using chemical weapons during its campaign
1936: Italians capture Addis Ababa. Ethiopia, Eritrea and Italian Somaliland become Italian East Africa
1937: Italian forces in Addis Ababa kill an estimated 19,000 people over three days in February in reprisal for the attempted assassination of the man appointed by Mussolini to govern the colony
1941: British and Commonwealth troops aided by the local resistance defeat the Italians in the region
The trouble at the moment is what seems to be a collective amnesia in Italy over its colonial history.
In the years I have spent reporting from the country I am always struck at how little most Italians seem to know about their colonial history, whether I’m in Rome, Palermo or Venice.
The extent of Italy’s involvement in Eritrea, Somalia, Libya and Albania to Benito Mussolini’s fascist occupation of Ethiopia in the 1930s is not acknowledged.
Somali bolognese
Last month, Somalia celebrated its 60th anniversary of independence.
Reshaped by 30 years of conflict, memories of colonial times have all been lost – except in the kitchen where a staple of Somali cuisine is “suugo suqaar”- a sauce eaten with “baasto” or pasta.
But for this Somali bolognese, we use cubed beef, goat or lamb with our version of the classic Italian soffritto – sautéed carrots, onion and peppers – to which we add heady spices.
I love to cook these dishes and last summer while I was in Palermo did so for Italian friends, serving it with shigni, a spicy hot sauce, and bananas.
It was a strange pairing for Italians, though my friends tucked in with gusto – with only the odd raised eyebrow.
And Somalis have also left their own imprint in Italy – not just through the Marincola siblings – but in the literature, film and sports.
Cristina Ali Farah is a well-known novelist, Amin Nour is an actor and director, Zahra Bani represented Italy as a javelin thrower and Omar Degan is a respected architect.
And today Somalis constitute both some of Italy’s oldest and newest migrants.
In spring 2015 I spent a warm afternoon meandering throughout the backstreets near Rome’s Termini station meeting Somalis who had been in Italy for decades and Somalis who had arrived on dinghies from Libya.
Those new to Italy called the older community “mezze-lira” – meaning “half lira” to denote their dual Somali-Italian identities.
In turn they are called “Titanics” by established Somalis, a reference to the hard times most migrants have faced in making the perilous journey across the Mediterranean to reach Europe, and the lives they will face in Italy with the political rise of anti-migration parties.
The naming of a station after Marincola is an important move for all of them – and a timely reminder for all Italians of the long ties between Italy and Somalia.
Hard truths beneath the exuberant arrangements of the Somalian-British singer-songwriter and activist strike a chord for others uprooted from their homeland.
The small stage at the Liverpool Philharmonic Music Room is bathed in lilac light as an acoustic drummer, a conga percussionist, two guitarists and then a saxophonist and keyboard player take their places.
For a few minutes, a laid-back jam session ensues until the lead singer weaves his way towards the microphone, expertly adjusts the stand and, without preamble, begins the set.
It is opening night of the city’s annual Arab arts festival, and the intimate audience, though it’s a decade since Aar Maanta and the Urban Nomads’ debut UK tour, is in for a rare treat: live Somali music played with instrumental accompaniment.
“Always with a band,” Maanta confirms to The National, “because there has been a cultural tendency to sing with playback music. I wanted something a little more genuine. I just thought: ‘I’ll be strict and do live shows.’
“I did playback one time when I was in my home town in Jijiga and I felt like I was cheating people, you know?” he adds, laughing.
Those gathered are making the most of the opportunity, clapping, bobbing their heads, dancing and singing along with Maanta’s soulful voice, the smooth tones of which a reviewer once aptly described as coloured by “the dusty echo of the desert”.
Midway through the live performance, he introduces a song called Uur Hooyo (Mother’s Womb) written by the oud virtuoso and renowned composer Ahmed “Hudeidi” Ismail Hussein.
“Unfortunately, he passed away in 2020 due to Covid in London,” Maanta tells the audience. “He was my teacher and taught me about music and generally about history, the connections between the Horn of Africa, Yemen and this area. There are so many connections here.”
As Maanta tells me, the gig is packed with significance as the port city welcomed the earliest members of the UK’s now 100,000-strong Somali community in the late 19th century.
Some of those mostly seamen and traders arriving by ship from the former British colony of Aden brought ouds – the short-necked, stringed instrument whose earthy notes are the signature of Somali folk music.
Maanta’s body of work across two albums and an EP is a poetic and, at times, urgent soundtrack of that migrant experience.
Finding his voice
Born Hassan-Nour Sayid in the capital of the Somali Regional State in Eastern Ethiopia, his creative journey began in the home of his auntie in Hargeisa, where he and his two siblings were raised.
“It was a good house,” he says. “Altogether, there were 10 children inside and it was fun. I was well cared for and, because there were so many of us there, I felt like I had many older sisters.”
Though his great-grandfather was Mohammed Abdullah Hassan, the Somali nationalist revered as a skilful oral poet, his maternal aunt was the one responsible for encouraging an early love of the arts.
Looking back, Maanta recalls the rhythms and melodies of the Iftin Band and those of Hudeidi himself emanating from an old transistor in the kitchen to intermingle with the aromas of Mandi, the traditional Yemeni dish of meat and richly spiced rice.
“My auntie used to sing these old Somali songs on the radio, and I would always listen and sing along because I loved the music,” he says.
“Now, this was the Eighties, so radio was very limited. Whenever the radio goes off, she would basically ask me to sing some of her favourite songs again and I would. It was beautiful.”
Though Maanta doesn’t much like talking about it now – “It’s a pretty common story and not a good one,” he has said – he was separated from his brother and sister when taken by an uncle to relocate to London in the late 1980s, on the cusp of the civil war.
“When I first arrived in the UK, I remember how strange it all was. We moved from a big house to a small apartment and the corridors were so tiny.”
Those tighter living conditions, however, were offset by the expansive music options afforded by the multicultural society of his adopted home where the rustic tracks favoured by Maanta’s auntie soon made way for hip-hop and R’n’B.
“I lived in Brixton and when you are younger you don’t realise it was the hood in those days. I remember it was a rough area, but I made plenty of Pakistani and West Indian friends,” he says.
“Then, of course, there was the Brixton Academy, a famous music venue. As a child, I wasn’t allowed to go in but I remember the posters outside of some of my favourite groups like Jodeci and Guy.”
For somewhat different reasons, a famous band from Liverpool featured at that time, too. As a newly arrived pupil in an inner-city primary school, the young Hassan could often be found scribbling words such as: “You think you’ve lost your love, well, I saw her yesterday,” into an exercise book.
“I had a teacher for English support who was amazing. He would say: ‘Right, if you like music then listen to these and write them down.’ He was into The Beatles. There was one song in particular: She Loves You.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,’’ Maanta says with enthusiasm, unconsciously repeating the refrain that took the world by storm in the mid 1960s. “They’re effective. The lyrics show the economy of language and how to structure as well. It’s better, I think, than studying Shakespeare because you learn that sometimes five words are more important than 10 if you know how to use them.
“Literally, music was a weird and easy way of learning.”
Maanta was shy and introverted growing up, which meant a lot of alone time that he used to teach himself the oud and piano in his late teens and early twenties.
His family were disapproving of music as a career so he embarked on a science degree at Sheffield University, but resistance was useless: “If it’s your dream,” he says, “it’s what keeps you alive.”
Averse to the idea of becoming a solo singer, he decided to work with other UK-based Somali artists as a producer and arranger.
But after one artist refused to take part in a function in London in 2001 due to a last-minute financial dispute, Maanta stepped in to perform the planned classic Somali hits.
“I remember how nice it felt to be able to convey a message to an audience from the stage. It gave me the encouragement that I can do this.”
But Maanta, whose professional name combines his nickname (Aar, meaning Lion) and the title of one of his most popular songs (Maanta, or Today), wasn’t planning on being just another vocalist for hire.
Seeking a distinct sound, he composed his own songs for a new generation of Somalis who, seeing live bands from other countries, yearned for the same form of entertainment from their own homeland.
“It’s mostly the same band line-up but, if people are not available, because of logistics and all that, then I go with whatever I can find.
“I just genuinely feel like if you’re gonna perform, you’re gonna perform. If you don’t wanna perform, and you wanna do playback, it’s fine. But live music is meant to be with live instruments.”
Part of the appeal is that expatriates hear their own experiences reflected in the mix. Hiddo & Dahqan, the debut album released under his label Maanta Music, is a revelation for its fluid blend of percolating Somali pop with oud-centred love songs – a genre called Qarami – and the bobbing bass lines of Afro-pop.
Dig beneath the exuberant arrangements, however, and there are some hard truths to be heard. By the time the album came out in 2008, Maanta had been touring regularly across Europe and the US but visa delays and long vetting by immigration officials were making a gruelling schedule more intolerable.
The frustration of being constantly under suspicion is encapsulated brilliantly in the song Deeqa, a popular girls’ name that Maanta translates as “Suffice” but points out that it was also how Somali Airlines, which ceased operating in 1991, became known.
For the music video, a recreation of an interrogation at Heathrow Airport, a tired Maanta is quizzed by officials about his travel plans in scenes that struck a deep chord within and beyond the Somali diaspora.
“I still keep getting messages to this day from all over about how people relate to this song, and it makes me feel so proud of it.
“There was even a barrister in the UK who tweeted how he used that song to train immigration officials on how to not deal with people in this kind of situation,” he says.
Music with purpose
Deeqa proved a turning point for Maanta in harnessing the power of the protest song. He began to infuse more sociopolitical subjects into his lyrics while leveraging his burgeoning profile to raise awareness of issues such as the refugee crisis.
Some of his frustration was particularly channelled into 2016’s Tahriib, or “Dangerous Crossings”, an a cappella piece written after a family member fell victim to human trafficking.
The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees subsequently reached out to ask him to re-record the song with collaborators including the Somali singer and former refugee Maryam Mursal, the Egyptian musician Hany Adel, and the Ethiopian singer Yeshi Demelash, in a multilingual campaign highlighting the perils of fleeing across the Gulf of Aden and Red Sea from Africa.
Maanta returned to Jijiga in 2015 as a United Nations Goodwill Ambassador and visited two refugee camps. “The environment was not really new to me. Even for some of us Somalis who didn’t go through this, we know our family experienced those situations,” he says.
“But it was tough to see the young people there. Yes, while they have some facilities like schools and food, they need more than that. They have dreams, they want to go out and achieve things, but they are not able to leave those places.”
Three years later, Maanta took his insights right to the top at a meeting with the then Somali president Mohamed Abdullahi Mohamed.
“We spoke about how there are a lot of Somali youths in difficult situations, such as camps in Libya or even forced into slavery,” he recalls.
“I just told him: ‘You guys need to do your job more and help those people.’ ”
No surprises, though, to hear that Maanta’s potent advocacy is not part of a plan to pave a way into the febrile world of Somali political life.
“Absolutely not,” he says. “Politics is generally very toxic and I do feel that African political leaders really don’t have much influence to change things at the moment.”
For the children
It was in Minneapolis rather than Mogadishu where he found an example of inspired leadership. Arriving in the US state of Minnesota in 2021, home to the country’s largest Somali population, Maanta was an artist in residence at The Cedar Cultural Centre for two years.
In a project funded by The Joyce Foundation, the Chicago-based philanthropy organisation, he teamed up with the esteemed poet, playwright and custodian of the Somali language Said Salah to compose and record songs that would become Ubadkaa Mudnaanta Leh (Children Have Priority).
“Myself and Professor Said Saleh didn’t decide to sit there and write the songs – we wanted the kids to share their experiences,” he says of promoting Somali heritage by seeking the lyrics and vocals of children aged five to 15.
“They were so enthusiastic about the whole process mainly because of the Somali language itself. They were curious and excited and that really influenced the way we created the songs.”
Form of creative therapy
The resulting EP is a stirring collection of bilingual offerings from a proud yet sometimes misunderstood community, the centrepiece of which is I Am Part 1 & Welcome to Cedar Riverside, a two-song suite in English that sheds light on the lives of those who live in “Little Mogadishu on the Mississippi”.
Through the album’s recording process, Maanta realised he was providing a form of creative therapy for Somali youth by giving them a platform to voice what they were facing in the West such as being in a minority with a different faith; struggles with their mother tongue; and the politics of the then-President Donald Trump.
“I also met a few kids who were autistic, and I realised how important an issue it was within the Somali community, particularly in the diaspora. One of the songs in the album is sung entirely by an autistic child.”
Some of these compositions were heard live for the first time in The Music Room on Friday, where the 25-degree heat prompted Maanta to half-lament that it’s always “the hottest day” whenever he goes to Liverpool.
After more than three decades in the UK, he has come to prefer the cooler months of autumn to those of summer not least because of their unpredictability.
“It seems like you don’t know what’s to come. Everything’s kind of changing,” he explains.
Maanta seems as mutable as his favourite season, telling The National that he now wants to make working with youth the focus of his future efforts.
“Any artist can make songs with the aim of becoming popular but when you cater for children it leaves a lasting impression, especially when there is a need.
“And when it comes to Somali children, the need is the greatest now because there is nothing really out there to cater for them musically. If your country is struggling, obviously making music for children is not going to be a priority.
“I want to make that change,” he says with a passion that echoes some of the poetry for which Somalia is famed.
As a musician he is already widely regarded as the bridge between the old generation and new, but he just may be about to perform his greatest gig of all.
The Liverpool Arab Arts Festival 2023 continues until July 16. For more information, go to: www.arabartsfestival.com/
The dream of becoming a journalist began for Kiin Hasan Fakat when she was just 10 years old. Her family had joined legions of Somalis displaced by war and hunger and since 2007 had been living across the border in northern Kenya, in one of the largest refugee camps in the world.
Each day, Ms. Fakat listened to her uncle’s small radio, which was powered by AA-sized batteries, and tuned to the Voice of America Somali service.
And each day, she became more aware of – and inspired by – the reporting of Asha Ibrahim Aden, a veteran correspondent who spoke with authority and confidence, and whose example showed Ms. Fakat what a Somali newswoman could achieve.
“I used to say, ‘Maybe I can be like this female journalist. I like her reports,’” recalls Ms. Fakat, who was raised in Kenya’s Dadaab Camp but was originally from the southern Somali town of Buale.
Today it is Ms. Fakat who has herself become a role model for Somalia’s aspiring female journalists, as part of the reporting team of the country’s first all-women news outlet, called Bilan, which means “bright and clear” in the Somali language.
With the aim of reporting powerful human stories often overlooked by Somalia’s male-dominated media – from the personal impact of chronic drought and the local ravages of climate change, to living with HIV and issues of addiction and gender-based violence – the six women of Bilan are expanding the practice of journalism in Somalia like never before.
High among their pioneering achievements in a staunchly patriarchal society: Serving as examples of professional excellence to other Somali women.
“A lot of Somali girls who are journalists contact us to join us, and we support them. Everything we write, they say, ‘You did a great job,’” says Ms. Fakat, clad in typical Somali dress, with head-covering and a long shawl.
“We are encouraging our sisters,” says Fathi Mohamed Ahmed, the chief editor of Bilan, interviewed in Mogadishu. “They call us and say, ‘Fathi, can you help me? I want to join Bilan; I want to do this story, how can you help me?’”
Part of their mission is to “bring taboo subjects into the open,” notes Ms. Ahmed’s Bilan biography. “Our sisters, mothers, and grandmothers will talk to us about issues they never dare speak about with men.”
“A game changer”
Launched last April and supported by the United Nations Development Program (UNDP), Bilan has brought together a half-dozen highly qualified female Somali journalists, each with years of experience writing news or broadcasting on radio stations or local TV.
Jocelyn Mason, the UNDP resident representative in Mogadishu, described the ambitious aims of Bilan at its creation.
“We hope this will be a game changer for the Somali media scene, opening up new opportunities for women journalists and shining a light on new subjects that have been ignored, particularly those that are important for women,” Mr. Mason said at the time.
In interviews conducted in the six months prior to launching Bilan, the UNDP found that Somali women journalists “reported being harassed not just on the streets but even in their own offices.”
“They are often denied training opportunities and promotions, and when a woman does reach a position of authority, she is often ignored while more junior [male] figures get to call the shots,” the UNDP said in a statement. “News coverage reflects this, with a lack of programming on issues that are seen as primarily affecting women, including childcare, domestic abuse, and equal political representation.”
On top of providing stories to local Somali outlets through the broadcast platform of Mogadishu-based Dalson media, Bilan is reaching a global audience by publishing stories in foreign news organizations such as the Guardian and BBC in the United Kingdom and El Pais in Spain.
“Before Bilan, our Somali female journalists were very weak. They were feeling fear for everything, [like] making decisions – they would wait for men, for editors and for the directors,” says Ms. Ahmed.
“But now, after starting this media unit only for female journalists, we have a lot of women who are interested,” she says. Applying for the vacant post of editor were 13 qualified women, which Ms. Ahmed calls an “amazing” number ready to “make decisions in the editor’s room.”
The result is that Bilan stories offer very different fare from what is produced by the country’s other news outlets.
“What is going on in Somali media, they just focus on politics and conflict, nothing else,” says Ms. Ahmed. “But there are so many stories to do on Somali society, especially about Somali people, and what is going on here. We are going to have all those stories.”
Bilan’s journalism sparks action
Bilan reporting has already had an impact. An article last year about the lack of medical facilities for displaced Somalis living in makeshift camps on the outskirts of Mogadishu led to the creation of a small hospital at the site.
One in-depth article in the Guardian last October helped raise an urgent alarm about Somalia’s looming humanitarian crisis and famine. Bilan journalists visiting three different regions of the country warned against repeating the mistakes of 2011, when some 100,000 Somalis died of hunger before there was an official declaration of famine, which ultimately left a total of 260,000 dead.
Finding oft-hidden voices is what Bilan does best. Ms. Fakat says that 80% of her interviews are with women, and Bilan works with civil society activists, especially on issues for women and human rights.
One recent story delved into the challenge faced by HIV-positive Somalis, who are often treated as outcasts, even by their own families. Another television report focused on students at a school with special needs, where the teachers and principal also have special needs, thereby “inspiring the students that they too can have bright, productive futures,” according to Bilan’s description of the report.
Also made for TV, a report showcasing the work and challenges overcome by the only female taxi driver in the northern coastal city of Bosaso.
And Ms. Fakat was in Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt, in November to report from the COP27 climate summit, as part of her ongoing reporting about how climate change is affecting Somalia. On a recent Friday morning, she was on the Lido Beach in Mogadishu, speaking to volunteers who each week collect trash washed up on the popular beach.
“Absolutely, we see some progress,” says Ms. Ahmed, whose ground-breaking example includes continuing to work, even as a mother with two young children. A third child was born in early December, soon after she was promoted to chief editor of Bilan.
“We talk to the people, and this is good for our [work], for our culture,” says Ms. Ahmed. “We talk to the young ladies, we tell them sometimes: ‘Don’t listen [to detractors], go ahead.’”
A grandmother’s approval
But the female journalists of Bilan are not just challenging local newsroom culture rife with harassment and de facto glass ceilings. They sometimes have to convince their own families that they should pursue their dreams to be professional journalists.
With a smile, Ms. Ahmed says she faced resistance from her own grandmother.
“I love journalism, talking to the people, [and] writing something,” she says.
“My grandmother always said, ‘It’s not good for you, stop! Stop, stop, stop! Please don’t do this job,’” she recalls. “I told her, ‘I love this,’ and I hid my work when I started out, for eight months.”
The success so far of Bilan, and Ms. Ahmed’s career, has now changed her grandmother’s mind.
“Now she is OK, she is happy!” she says, beaming. “She is proud of me.”
source/content: csmonitor.com / The Christian Science Monitor / (Scott Petersen) (headline edited)
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Scott Peterson/Getty Images/The Christian Science Monitor
Fathi Mohamed Ahmed, chief editor of Somalia’s first all-women news outlet, Bilan, on a rooftop in Mogadishu, Somalia, Nov. 8, 2022. Her Bilan biography says part of the outlet’s mission is to “bring taboo subjects into the open.”
As a child, she took part in the game she loves against a backdrop of civil war. Now, Britain’s first black female Muslim referee fights for the rights of others as a role model for inclusivity.
A cold, cloudy Sunday morning in West London and 22 grown men are on a football pitch playing in one of the capital’s minor leagues. The standard is not particularly good but nonetheless there is something remarkable about the fixture.
As the tackles fly in, a 1.6-metre-tall figure wearing match officials’ kit and a headscarf brandishes a yellow rectangular piece of plastic.
“My philosophy is that everyone deserves a chance,” Jawahir Roble, Britain’s first black female Muslim referee, tells The National. “But if they keep repeating fouls, I book them.
“I like to control the game first and then I’ll use my cards. The game is not about me. It’s about them having fun and making good memories.”
The contest finishes with a 3-1 home win but, for Roble, 29, the more important result is not the score at the final whistle — it’s that the players amble over to shake her hand and say thank you. Confirmation, she says, of a job well done.
Her extraordinary achievements have been recognised with an MBE in King Charles IIIs first New Year Honours List for services to the Football Association and volunteering work with the education and social inclusion charity Football Beyond Borders.
It is a feat perhaps rivalled only by the journey that has brought her to within tantalising distance of collecting the silver medal at a forthcoming investiture at Buckingham Palace.
Musing on how far she has come, Roble herself once said: “Who would ever think a black, Somali-born immigrant girl with eight siblings could ref a men’s game in England with a hijab on?”
Jawahir Jewels (JJ), as she is commonly known because of the Arabic meaning of her first name, was born in Mogadishu, where she could often be found barefoot in a four-a-side competition with her siblings, kicking scrunched up cloth wrapped in sticky tape around the courtyard of the family home.
Her parents, Mahdi, a grocer, and Safya, sometimes watched the rough and tumble from the sidelines with Jamila, the baby too small to take part, until the moments when the country’s civil war came perilously close. Then, play was suspended as everyone scarpered inside to relative safety.
“You did have to be careful,” Roble recalls. “You could hear gunfire, people screaming sometimes, loud bangs and explosions. I was scared. There were lots of kidnappings and crazy stories.
“But, as a child, it was also very carefree and fun and happy. We still had to get our school and mosque work done. We got told off so many times. But we learnt the system — do our chores and then we could go outside. We had to earn the right to play football.”
After Friday prayer, they would rendezvous with friends to play on a larger patch of muddy ground outside the house, or on the beach at Xeebta Liido by the Somali Sea a half-hour drive away.
The walls of the bedroom shared with her two younger sisters, Amina and Fatima, featured images of David Beckham and, intriguingly given Roble’s future career path, the controversial Italian defender Marco Materazzi, whose aggressive style amassed an inordinate number of bookings.
“With the obsession I have with football, you would think that someone encouraged me or a teacher influenced me. But, no, I just fell in love with it out of nowhere. At heart, I am a complete tomboy.”
As tensions heightened and the war escalated in the early 2000s, the siblings’ outside excursions were curtailed and Mahdi, who had applied for British visas and bought suitcases, put in motion a hitherto secret escape plan.
Ten-year-old JJ, forced to swelter in a coat in anticipation of the colder weather ahead, was taken in a packed eight-seater van to the airport for the 6,400km flight to London.
“We got told: ‘We have to move out.’ No time to tell anyone or sell the shop,” Roble says. “Dad gave it to a relative to look after.
“I remember thinking to myself, ‘We’re not coming back here for a long, long time’.”
Landing at Heathrow nine hours later was a shock. “Oh, my goodness, the place seemed massive. So many different people. Like there’s white people, there’s Chinese people. I’m only used to seeing black people. One of my siblings reached out to touch someone’s bright blonde hair.
“I thought: ‘Wow, this is the real world.’”
First stop was Sudbury in north-west London for a few weeks with a relative, then a temporary hotel stay in Kilburn before they were allocated a council house in the shadow of the largest football stadium in the UK.
“Can you imagine?” she asks with an infectious laugh. “Wembley! We could see the stadium — the home of football — from our house. Just amazing. Something I’ll never forget.”
Roble had thought that only players or special fans were allowed into the hallowed grounds but she has since been twice: on a Chalk Hill Primary School trip (“I couldn’t imagine someone like me could go … It was surreal); and last summer when England’s Lionesses beat Germany 2-1 in the European Championships final (“That was incredible”).
In their new garden, the serious rivalry resumed, one team captained by the oldest Roble sister, the other by the oldest brother, and a lemon or potato for a football.
But, after much pleading, her parents soon handed over £3 ($3.69) for a coveted purchase that enabled JJ, who at that time spoke no English, to overcome the language barrier and fit in more quickly at school.
“Because the kid that has the ball gets the friends,” she explains, smiling. “The first words I learnt I think were, ‘pass, pass’ and ‘shoot!’”
The restrictive uniform of long black skirt, white shirt, school shoes and hijab did little to stop Roble from playing every spare minute, skipping breakfast and lunch to take to the field before lessons, in break times and after the final bell.
“Sometimes kids at primary school teased me. Teachers asked how I could play dressed like that. I was like, ‘This is it, this is what Muslim people wear. You have to be covered up.’
“My religion was not an issue. As long as you’re just a nice person, they would accept you in the group. Being a Muslim is about being a good person, being modest and doing what makes you happy.”
When a supportive PE teacher spotted how well Roble was performing in sports, the first seeds of discord were sowed with her parents who expressed a strong preference for their children to excel instead at maths and English.
“My dad actually sat me down and said: ‘You came all the way from Somalia, all the way from the war just so you can play football? We want you to make use of this country’s opportunities. At least learn to be something that can help other people, like a doctor.’”
But, in Roble’s characteristically headstrong way, fulfilling her father’s ambitions was never a realistic outcome.
At 14, she thought the moment she had dreamt of had arrived. Players from Queens Park Rangers’ women’s team visited the secondary school for a coaching session and to seek out talent for the club’s academy.
Roble put in the work, showing off her pace and left-footed skills in the attacking and defensive duties of a centre midfielder.
“I was one of four or five girls who got a letter inviting me to trial. I was so excited. I’m on the bus and I’m reading this letter over and over again. All that letter needed was a parent’s name and a signature.”
When she arrived home, however, her mother tore up the invitation in an act that even now, 15 years later, causes Roble pain to recount.
Heart-broken at her life’s ambition being thwarted, the resigned teenager eventually left school early to begin a design technology course at college.
While there, she took the level one and two coaching badges with Middlesex Football Association before a referee shortage led to her being asked to step in at the last minute, with no experience, to take charge of an under-sevens girls’ match.
“The parents were very nice to me and the girls said how nice it was to have a female referee. So, from that, I continued volunteering as a referee for a whole year at junior level.”
That prompted the FA to fund her formal referee training. “I said to myself: ‘I have to continue, get braver, do different leagues, different age groups.’ Next thing you know I’m doing men’s and women’s. It happened so fast. Within four years, I was doing adult games.”
After joining the women’s pathway, Roble advanced to National League Level 3 and is now determined to progress to the Women’s Championship and Super League, and who knows where after that?
Along the way, she has garnered a clutch of accolades, including the FA Respect Match Official Award 2017 and being named on the BBC’s 100 Women 2019, as well as that MBE on the same honours list as the England head coach Sarina Wiegman, captain Leah Williamson, and players Lucy Bronze, Beth Mead and Ellen White.
When she’s not teaching at a special needs school in London, Roble dedicates herself to promoting inclusivity, defying stereotypes, demolishing barriers and clearing a path for future generations.
There are, she says, no limits to what can be achieved: “Only I can stop myself, and I’m not going to do that.”
Fitness is a priority, and she has also spent countless hours watching YouTube clips of professional referees such as the former Premier League’s Mark Clattenburg to study their positioning during play and how they control the game.
Further inspiration came last November when an all-female on-field refereeing team led by Stephanie Frappart took charge of a men’s World Cup game for the first time in the match between Germany and Costa Rica.
Even her parents are coming around to their daughter’s deep involvement with football, though Roble sounds as though she is meeting them halfway.
“I understand now that they wanted the best for me and to make sure I was protected and safe. They told me, ‘We don’t want any hatred towards you.’ I’ve told them it’s not like that.
“At the end of the day, I’m spreading positivity. I’m sharing my sports journey with young girls, you know, who like me are interested in football. Maybe if they hear my story, they can use it to inspire them and have a shortcut instead of what I did.”
What she did, ultimately, was find the courage to tackle the norms within the Somali community and succeed on her own terms.
“My faith encourages sports, my faith encourages a healthy lifestyle,” Roble says. “I feel like [the issue] was more to do with cultural concerns. Because our culture says girls should be at home, not getting involved in men’s sports. Girls should be shy, keep on the low, low. I’m sorry but that’s not me.
“I have challenged it. Now, in my Somali community, most of them are: ‘Oh, wow, you’re doing a great job.’ And I’m like, ‘So who was the problem? Do you have anything to say now?’”
It is the same toughness displayed when Roble encounters disbelieving looks from players and coaching staff as she walks to her happy place on the pitch or a decision is criticised.
As with all referees, she has received verbal abuse but says it’s nothing she can’t deal with. Despite her diminutive size, Roble’s big personality, confidence and forthright retorts make for a commanding presence — and there is always the “power” of the red and yellow cards in her pocket.
Her story might have had moments of isolation, sometimes in the family setting and at least initially in an unfamiliar country as a refugee, but she seems undaunted by the “loneliness” of the referee presiding over two teams.
“I have accepted that,” Roble says of the latter. “Once I get on the pitch, I feel like everyone is my team. I feel totally free, like nothing else matters. There is no stress, nothing.
“I wanted to be a footballer so, in a way, I am kind of living that dream. It is where I belong.”
When she’s not teaching at a special needs school in London, Jawahir Roble is dedicated to defying stereotypes, demolishing barriers and clearing a path for future generations. Photo: Shutterstock
