Maid Job for a Shepherd Girl (part one)

I believe we all remember our first  jobs. Don't we? However, we receive  instructions  of what we'll do as we're starting our first official paid jobs.

But for me things were different. I remember my first supposedly  paid job was a maid job, the question is how did I get a job when I knew nothing about town livings? or what do maids do nor did I requested? it's kind of funny somehow I ended up like that.

So the journey started that day when  I escaped from my family and went a local small village called Magaalo Yar (Small Town) in north Somalia, I came to an elder lady sitting under a huge Acacia tree shade in her thorn branch compound  and her small hut. Water I said the elder lady who seemed to live with only her late teen son  as she gave  me a cup of water and told me to come in, she let me stay with her in the evening and we slept in the hut at night while her son slept in the compound because the hut was too small and he was old enough to sleep alone.

In the early morning she woke me up, told me to wash my face and come with her she took me to the  trucks station  I could see her glancing around to see  if someone is watching us she didn't want anyone to see us this is why we left very early before even the truck drivers and the other passengers arrived we waited and we got first truck to head to the city, this elder lady didn't say anything to where she was taking me or why she is taking me to there. I was asking myself all the time. What is going on? And she paid my fares.

When it was approximately  11 AM we arrived at the somewhat small city called Yiroowe a mountainous small town which was a village before the civil war but later people relocated and it became a small town which was good for trading goods.I was brought into  the market and the elder lady whom I never knew her name brought me to a woman seemingly relative or friend the woman was a butcher who slaughtered  sheep or goat in the early morning and sold the meat in the market with her oldest daughter who was in her 20s with a four  or five  years old daughter and of course they needed a maid and not only a  maid but also a babysitter for three kids the oldest was even older than me but he was a boy.

The ladies stood in a  corner  and discussed I didn't hear what they said, however, the elder lady went back to the village and now I was with another strangers and not know what is going on I just sat there hungry,tired and unknown of anything going on, later afternoon the butcher lady told her daughter to take me home and I was led to their home still no food because there was no food at home too the mother was expected to come back and bring any leftovers of the meat and some grocery to make dinner or ready cooked dinner.

I sat down and waited for a nice meal and a comfortable place to sleep as a guest while everyone was waiting for me to start the job as a maid, I had to clean,cook,wash clothes, babysit when the ladies are out, had to make the beds, replace the curtains and wash them and so many chores but I knew nothing I was never told I was hired as a maid the ladies went aside and whispered and even the elder lady told me nothing how am I going to start unless they tell me. However that day the first day went awfully I slept hungrily because they were six people and now I'm the seventh the dinner was not enough for me probably because I have not eaten lately.

The second day began and the ladies went to the market together we the kids were  left home and I don't remember if I ate breakfast that day all I remember was I was still  starving, there was  a leftover food in a bowl and I really wanted to eat it so badly but the boy stopped me so I left them. I mean what is the point in staying with them  since I don't know who the people were? why was I with them? and what am I supposed to do with this hunger? Damn it. I left, do I care about the money I mean it will be a month and probably I'll be gone back to nomad before I get paid so I don't care about the job I just want something to eat.

Whatever the elder lady's reason was she was supporting I believe there is a story behind her reasons and support I wish I know but unfortunately, I never saw her again . and I'm grateful that she brought me to the town and found me a job with someone she know and trust.

The Arabic Schools

Madrasas are known as  Islamic schools however I call it arabic schools or arabic language schools because the only language they teach  is arabic they don't teach math, science, geography, history or anything else but the so called holy scripts aka Quran, hadeth and arabic alphabets.

I have been attending the arabic schools approximate  four years and I learnt  nothing but Quran and arabic alphabets I used to attend in the morning and in the afternoon twice everyday saturday through thursday fridays were the only weekend for us, in the morning we recited the Quran and after that we were assigned to memories new verses of Quran for tomorrow the Ma'alin the madrasa teacher decided for us kids where we would start our tomorrow's Quranic verses and where to end and he will know if we skipped some for example he assigned us  five verses of quran but we read only three  he'll know  sometimes he mark with a pencil sometimes he have that precious brain to remember every kid's assignment as every student have his/her verses of Quran

WE were not taught of what the Quran or the verses we're reciting means or what our religion is or the history of Islam nothing just that the quran is the God's spoken words and that we must not tore, drop on the ground if it accidentally falls on the ground we must kiss, and we must maintain the cleanliness of the Quranic book  because it's holy. We were taught not to question about God and his work before we question about God we must question how we came to this world and how the world is created and that Islam is the correct religion because God spoke himself to Mohammad.

I have seen so many people who finish the Quran more than once they would start from the beginning again and again for (hifz) memorizing of the whole Quran it's like attending to  school  multiple times with same course of study and never getting a degree however the more they read Quran and memorize the more they grow western hating  religious  the girls who  used to wear  lightweight shawls and normal dira a  large gown worn by muslim women who never prayed and have not read Quran before start wearing burqas and eventually end up  wearing the face veils (Niqab) same as  boys start from   normal pants and shirts to thawbs with kufis Islamic skull cap.

Those kids don't want to go madrasas but what choice they have. they're forced to go by their parents and even if they skip or refuse they're punished. the Ma'alin himself have the  beats the students even if the parents didn't give him the permission it's  obligatory for madrasa Ma'alins to beat the students if they fail to read Quran or show  bad behaviors. I have seen Ma'alin beating students with his belt, with sticks,  I have seen kids being carried from their homes to the madrasas  by other students because he/she refused to go to the madrasa, I have seen Ma'alins ordering  2-4 of his oldest and strongest students to held a poor boy's arms and legs and he whipped the boy's butt, I have seen Ma'alin letting the students lay down on the heat for hours,  I have seen Ma'alin punishing student to bent over  their heads low, cross  their arms in the back of their their leg and insert their index fingers in their ears he then whipped and told them keep going in half an hour,I have seen ma'alins whipping kids' palms till the skin went off of the palms,there were stories of kids locked in the madrasa till they accept their fate and start attending to the madrasa regularly,  I have seen parents in line to report their kids to the Ma'alin for doing bad behaviors or refusing to come to the madrasa or not recite in the Quran and the reason they come is to report and tell the teacher to punish  them Those kids go madrasa because their power is taken away from them as I was taken away from mine when I was attending.

My own sisters and brother who were born and raised in Minnesota were radicals even they were too young and were  born and grew up in here somehow since each of them started Madrasa in MN at age 5  in weekends they would not watch kissing scenes on the T.V when the parents are around, They were skeptical with infidel visitors or anyone who is not wearing Islamic dress code or say Assalama aleykum Islamic greeting,, my 7 years old sister reported me to mother when she saw me talking with a white classmate on the video phone  I mean it's unbelievable to me to see my 7 years old sister who was born and grew up  in a country with diversities   is reporting me for talking to white people, and they were punished by whipping them with belts, wooden spoons,shoes  and  cords

Those kids from poor families aren't able to attend schools their parent would rather pay them to go madrasas than elementary schools because they think that sending the kids to madrasa will benefit them in here and hereafter  than sending them to normal schools, in my opinion madrasas or any religious schools shouldn't be funded instead the children should be sent to schools and funded to those who can't afford.  

Lost my birth date

As I grew up in nomad where all I did was herd the family animals, fetch fire woods, cook dinner, milk and feed the little ones, fetch water from the wells in  nearby or far distance villages, respond granny's calls and do her demands, dig deep on the ground in search of tree roots and cut the grass during rain seasons to wave when it dries and build a  dome-shaped hut, and so on..

I never knew what a  birth date was, I have been asked my age and most of  my responds were I don't  know only times that grandma told me my age was the time I respond as she told me without knowing if it was really the  correct age or she just picked a number out of tiny air since she was an uneducated  illiterate just  like I was.

Out there in my country people don't care much about age or birth date all they ask is YOUR TRIBE/BLOODLINE when a stranger approached  she/he  asked which family I'm from and when  I pointed my tiny finger to our hut and told him/her (that family) then they start   asking about my clan, sub-clan etc. instead of my name, age or anything else.

Even after we moved in a town and I attended school I yet never learned what is a birth date or age, and when I came to the states I didn't understand  in the earlier until 2011 almost 2  years  of my arrival well, I was fed up seeing this date on every paperwork and documents but yet I never asked what is it? and why is it always written next to my name?  so I had to think what is it, I finally understood. Oh mm, this  is the  month I was born, this is the day I was born and this is the year I was born talking to myself. Who else should I ask? I had to figure it out by myself.

As time passed  I joined the social media such as facebook and started talking with people on facebook since I didn't have friends to hang out with most of the time those somali people were asking my age and when I responded they asked. Are you sure it's your real age??? because we know most somalis come to west with fake  age. at  first I knew it of course but I never imagined using  one of those  fabricated  age.

I have been stressing with this in several years because I was scared how will I find out and where will I find it out? My mother and I had no good relationship and most of all I didn't like talking to her unless it's about the kids or the family otherwise I didn't want to talk with her about my birth date.

But one day I dared to ask, I told myself. Whatever it takes give it a try,  so I sent a text asking mom if this is my  correct birth date.

The response was. No. Angry but excited to hear the real birth date. What is it then? I asked. Um May 13th 1989. Thank you I said and  thought it was true but few minutes there was another text. Oops I mean May 13th 1988. OK I said and I decided to try dad's side and see if I can find out the correct date but dad sent me a text saying it was Feb 27th 1989 then he changed response  and told me another date again.

Frustrated with my both parents for  changing their responses I texted mom  again still scared but eager to hear it. I explained  her about  what dad said and I told her I want to  know my real birth date but mom was angry yelled at me as I was expecting her to yell at me. Why did you ask him? he is sane he doesn't remember anything  and why is  age important to you? Why did you gave me this birth date I asked?  I gave you this, I subtracted 2 years from your real age  so you could  obtain education like you did. You got your high school diploma. Didn't you? what is eating you then? I did it for you. You see Aisha's daughter Faiza is crying asking her mother why didn't she make her young so she could be eligible for   high school. After this things were  out of my effort so I decided to just stop it.

I still want to know of course but I don't know where and how am I going to  find it out, it's also not that easy believing my parents after what they did. There was a vital record that mom handed me in 2007 when she visited us in Ethiopia and like I said birth date was something never been on my mind before 2011 so I have never looked the date on the record a brown  old small sheet which mother tore after a week due of her being afraid I might give it to the embassy because she filled with false information with my visa process   and   doing this would be complicated with the information she gave to the embassy.

I don't know what was her reasons of giving me a false birth date but I don't agree of her excuses of giving me the opportunity to get high schools, I mean all the immigrants are eligible for free education even if they are older than  elementary, middle or high school ages   we are still  eligible for adult educations where we can study GET instead of high school diploma and begin   colleges, and this is not something that I'm proud of walking around and telling the world what I'm not actually but I have to live with it for now.

It would not matter if they forgot the day or the month of my birth but the year matters to me, I mean how can both parents simply forget or confuse  the year they had their  first child. I'm the first born of my both parent, however the bright side is that I can tell something when asked my age unlike the old days that I was very embarrassed of not knowing my own age. I'm also confused if this is that my parent completely forgot my birth date or they just got confused and lastly  know there are people just like me who don't know their real ages and birth dates so welcome to the club.

My deafinity won't diminish me

When I'm around the deaf community or meet new deafies almost everyone tells me that they lost their hearing very young age some were born deaf and when I tell them I became hearing loss at age 14 they jaw drop and it makes me feel like I'm the oldest to became hearing loss. I don't mean I'm actually the oldest to loss hearing of course there are other people who are older than I but it really make me feel like one especially when I meet around ten deaf people and all say the same.

It's difficult to explain my condition however I can tell the whole journey from the beginning to right now. This journey was the most hardship I ever faced and at the beginning I got sick with several different kind of health problems included lose of appetite, burning  feet and losing my hearing.

At first I lost my appetite the food was stinking whenever  food comes around I ran out to vomit and all I ate was a tablespoon of dry orange juice I mixed with sugar and water and I drank it twice a day, I lost few lbs and skipped madrasa (Islamic school) few weeks. Then when I finally got my appetite back I started having feet burn it only burns at night on bedtime we usually went to bed around seven or eight o'clock, I screamed, groaned, scratched my legs on my tiny mattress or on the mat, it was painful I could feel my bone marrow following down from knees to my feet. I applied oil and massaged it but nothing helped I didn't go to a doctor because we couldn't afford there is no such thing as health insurance in my country you pay your Dr visit and your medicines and our living was just $100  US Dollar a month plus grandma paid our madrasas and my cousin's elementary school, however if grandma let  mom know  she would send me some money for my medical anyway grandma didn't have concern  for my both the burning feet and the appetite loss. It took what felt like couple weeks then I finally got back  my sweet good night sleep.

These were temporary but the last one the hearing loss become  permanent after the burning feet was gone I developed tinnitus that occurred at bedtime  too same as the burning feet, the tinnitus was awful I could hear everything that I heard in the past, birds chirping, car horn honks, phone ringing, people chattering, varies animal voices, Azan (mullah calling for prayer at the mosque) the list goes on everything that I heard when I was hearing in the past came  inside my ears, and every night that my ears rang my hearing reduced  after it lasted six nights I finally come to realize that I'm completely deaf at the seventh morning . I have informed grandma about the tinnitus at the very first but she didn't take it serious she thought it was temporary just like the appetite and  the feet and it will pass soon, so neither I. I didn't take it serious until I couldn't hear a thing in the morning of the seventh night of the tinnitus.

At first I was scared and  couldn't believe that  I was really deaf I sometimes sat down, put my head on my knees and cried. I couldn't hear the madrasa teacher he was a male and we sat behind curtain in the madrasa when he wanted us to recite the Quran he called out our names one at a time and the student who are called recite the Quran immediately but I couldn't hear him when he called me out the students didn't know I have not told them because I didn't understand what was wrong with my ears. he called my name twice until our supervisor gestured me to recite the Quran then I went home sad and at the same time upset and  embarrassed as well that was the last time I went to the madrasa my grandma didn't want me  to quit the madrasa so I pretended that I went to the madrasa and sat behind our corrugated iron sheet bedroom and come out after the madrasa was over and the next day I went to a neighbor's home and stayed till the madrasa was over and the next day sneaked to a friend.

Later grandma found out that I have not gone to madrasa in three row days and was angry she asked me why am I paying money if you're not studying? where have you been blaah. I told her you're wasting your money because I no longer hear a thing and I left the madrasa because I couldn't hear when the teacher called my name fortunately she didn't punish me.

My world went upside down the madrasa friends, the neighbors and the whole country become meany I felt unsafe walking on the alleys or on the dusty streets, the local you boys playing on the streets threw me stones called me names such as dhagool (she who's deaf) they  wold follow me sometimes while still throwing stones and calling me names the adults or passersby  just watched and didn't do anything,  the girls  called me names, laughed at me and made fun of  but they didn't throw things, I hated those  kids  and I hated  their parents more  because if their parents taught them to respect people they wouldn't do this to me.

The adults were no better they would tell me craps of how bad luck I'll be in the future they told me that no matter how beautiful, and smart I'm  no man will marry me except those poor ones, the old men, or the a disabled like me and this was worsening the trauma that I was already dealing with, however if I had a supportive family all those wouldn't matter that much my family were even worst they would laugh when I misunderstood of things and then they repeat it to other people in the next days,weeks,months or years it's like they never forget it for example one full moon night granny, my cousin, his mother and I were sitting inside  our thorn bushes of compound   between our nomad hut that we used as a kitchen and our corrugated  iron sheet bedroom my cousin  began repeating a story about a speeding car that he saw in nomad, I guess this speeding car was his first time to see a car because he  talked about this a lot it was full moon but there were no other lights  and I tried to lipread but I couldn't read his tiny little lips so I thought he said a speeding woman  since the words gaadhi (car) and gabadh (woman) in somali language  are bit alike, I misunderstood and  impulsively asked him. Was the lady running? because how else can she speed. Everybody burst out laugh but it hurts that my own family were laughing at me instead of explaining what he said  however  the worst part is that they kept telling the relatives, neighbors or the  visitors what I said in the next days,weeks months and years and this was not the only moment, there were so many  moments that misunderstanding  like that happened.

Afterward I felt sad, isolated and depressed I gave up the madrasa and I was angry that I gave up because my peers whom I was competing were still there but not me. I would cry and say. Dear God why me? Why did you forsake me? When I was sad crying I prayed for those who hurt me for being deaf   to become deaf like me but they never did, 

What seemed like a month passed and I still have not seen a Dr  until one afternoon my grandma's cousin visited us and she told granny stop watching this girl and take her a doctor after that I was taken to  few doctors but none of them  helped I don't even know what they said I was told that they said go to abroad for hearing aid. I was taken to Hargeisa  the capital city  of Somaliland the self-declared state internationally recognized as an autonomous region of Somalia.  where I stayed three months then I was taken to  Ethiopia but the Ethiopian doctors said the same so there was  no hope for me  until my mother who already lived in the states told us that she have plans for me.

I was also taken to several  cultural healing centers because my grandma was obsessed with evil possession she thought I was possessed and took me to a local (cilaaj) the healing center what they heal is evil eye, witchcraft, jinn and black magic the cilaaj was awful during the examination the imam would pull one or two of my fingers backward which was very painful, he would whip me a water hose and put  something that was suffocating on my nose that I couldn't breathe  and at the end he gave me so many more remedies from plants that were all unbearable to use however I did. a jar of water with some kind of plants that he gave to drink at bedtime, a jar of oil with some kind of plant to run all over my body at bedtime and sleep with it, a dry leaves to burn it  in incense burner and cover with a large blanket to get the steam and a container of holy water called cashar that he recited quran and slightly spit on it  for both drink and rinse after I take shower and I did this for a week while still attending the cilaaj.

During the test there was no sign of possession but I was told to keep going few more months so I did, after a month and  half one day the imam called me and his niece-in-law  for exam. We sat down in the exam room, he gave us a water hose each and told us to put onto our ears then he recited Quranic verses shortly the he pulled my fingers backward and it hurt awfully I though he was going to break my fingers after I couldn't bear the pain I tried to pretend that I'm possessed. Bad idea is not it? I just wanted him to let my fingers go before he break them I threw the hose and yelled. let me go, let go off of my fingers then he started asking so many questions but I couldn't find an answer  however I said what I could to act like possessed. I told him I'm possessed by jinn but when he asked the reason why I was possessed and the location where I was when I was possessed I couldn't say a thing because I'm not a skilled liar I was trying my best to lie but then all of sudden the imam did something. He did sexual violence I was laying on the ground trying to easy the pain caused by him for pulling my fingers he was pulling the fingers on my right hand and my left hand he put it under his knee he was sitting in front of me then he inserted his other hand under my hijab and started squeezing, squeezing  and squeezing my breast, I was scared I couldn't believe he was doing this especially in front of his niece  in law who was teenage girl, I was scared what if he brought me here to rape me, I was scared what if he sends his niece in law out of the room and locks me inside with him because no matter how I scream or yell nobody will believe me because everyone will assume that I was possessed and the devil is using me  so I pulled my hand under his knee and pulled his hand off of my breast but he did it once more this is when I decided to tell him the truth that I'm not possessed I sat down and told him I'm fine, I'm not sick and your healing is not necessary  please let me go.

He stood immediately stepped out of the room quickly and told his niece in law take her to the ladies room I sat down in the ladies room exhausted and my eight finger except the thumbs were hurt bad I didn't say anything about what the imam did to the girl  I didn't even ask his niece in  law if she saw it, I wasn't in the position of talking about it I just wanted to leave the damn cilaaj and never return, I could leave the moment but the men in the front will think I'm possessed they'll bring me back forcefully so it was no use.

At 12PM it was our time to leave the cilaaj I asked a lady to roll my hijab and put it on my shoulder because I couldn't use my hands to roll or to carry it I walked many miles to home and when I finally come home an hour later I saw the imam standing inside our iron sheet bedroom talking with grandma. and grandma seemed delighted to hear that  finally the jinns spoke  and she thought since the jinns spoke they'll leave and my hearing will return  she also wanted the imam to examine me in front of her so she can witness it but what is left for me I already had the worst and if the imam pulls my fingers again I'm sure  they'll all break. How smart is he? he come before me to tell her the  lies I made up so that grandma  don't  believe my story. I ran because I didn't want to see him again and never said a word.

 The next morning I decided not to go to the cilaaj  grandma was disappointed that I refuse to go to the cilaaj and thought the jinns or whatever possessed me are using me and she was threatening that she'll take me to cilaaj forcefully,  lock me in the building until what possessed me leaves and my hearing returns however I didn't go. I stood far side of the compound so she don't catch me and whenever someone try to come closer to convince me to go back to the cilaaj I ran. Fortunately I wasn't forced to go the cilaaj .

You might be curious why I didn't say anything. Aren't you? Well when I see stories of women who were raped, molested or sexually abused and they  didn't report I used to say what the hell? Why didn't they say something? In my case I couldn't it's not because I didn't want to,  it's because who'll believe me? The imam was powerful in the area were we lived. Being powerful doesn't have to be being a king, a queen, president or God, when you're well  respected it's power too. We were neighbors, he was considered the best imam, he owned and operated  couple madrasas one for kids in the morning and one for ladies in the afternoon, he owned and operated the cilaaj that I was going, he was the prayer leader of one of the local mosque, he was engaged to a pretty young neighbor  girl as his 2nd wife most of my neighbor women were his students. And most of all he told grandma that he took his niece in law with me so that means I wasn't alone with him of course I wasn't but I couldn't trust his niece in law that she may testify because she was a teenager and she was his family although she   was his in law but I wouldn't trust that she'll  tell the truth if grandma asked her. That's why I decided not to say anything because nobody is going to believe a teenage girl and disbelieve the  town's top best imam. He was called Abdillahi Shareco. Shareco in arabic means Sharia I don't know if it's his nickname or his father's name but people called him Mr Sharia and Sharia law is the Islamic law  so being Mr. Sharia it giv.es him more respect than other imams. I also couldn't trust my own grandma because she was always humiliating me around people. She would tell them not to listen or believe me because I'm just a crazy teenager who doesn't even remember what she ate last night or the crazy teenagers who doesn't know where she is going or coming from.  Years elapsed when grandma asked me if I want to back to the cilaaj this is when I finally told her the truth that I was hiding years I told no one else she was the first person I told and I'm glad she believed me that time.

My mother's plans worked and I came to the states  fall in 2008 I went to the doctors which I received hearing aid at first however the hearing aid didn't work  if I'm not wearing hearing aid I can recognize the sound whether it's voice or other sound however  with hearing aid every sound  was louder than  musical drums  I then went to the doctor and we talked about Cochlear Implant this time somehow I decided not to take it because the risk is greater than the hope I had I couldn't insert a rusty metal on my head for and most of all I want to get back my hearing naturally not a device that's when I decided not to have surgery for the implant and I'm happy that I didn't get it.  Thanks to some of deaf folks who gave me the courage to be me and be proud of who I'm, I'm more than proud today because I read, write and speak my native language somali I also use english and American Sign Language. When there are no translators I do write although I'm still a beginner in english and sign language  I do my best.