Mogadishu, Somalia: Return to a Land of Uncertainty
Mukhtar Abdiwhab Ahmed, a 39-year-old Somali national, sits outside his modest home in Mogadishu, surrounded by the sounds of a bustling city. Children laugh and play nearby, soldiers gather in groups, and rickshaws whiz past, all under the unrelenting sun. Despite the vibrant life around him, Mukhtar’s mind often drifts to his past—a past marked by struggle and dislocation.
“If I knew I would end up here, I would have never gotten these tattoos,” he reflects, pulling his long sleeves down to mask the ink that has become a source of shame in this conservative society. Since being deported from the United States in 2018, Mukhtar has grappled with the harsh realities of readjusting to life in his homeland, a place he barely remembers.
A Tumultuous Journey to Deportation
Mukhtar’s journey began long before his return to Somalia. His family fled the chaos of civil war in 1991, first seeking refuge in Kenya before eventually making their way to the United States in 1995. Growing up in Seattle, he faced challenges of his own. Amidst the backdrop of poverty and youth violence, he fell into crime, leading to a series of arrests and convictions. In 2005, a felony conviction for armed robbery marked the beginning of a long fight for his future.
Upon completing his prison sentence, Mukhtar found himself faced with a new reality—deportation. U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) took him from prison to the Northwest Detention Center, a stark shift that felt like a second sentence for the single crime he had committed. “It felt like an animal being taken to the slaughterhouse,” he lamented, reflecting on the harshness of his situation.
The Strain of War and Instability
In 2017, despite Mukhtar’s concerns about being deported to a country embroiled in war, he reluctantly signed a document that would seal his fate. He believed he wouldn’t be sent to Somalia, especially given the ongoing conflict and instability fueled by groups like al-Shabab. However, in December of that year, he boarded a deportation flight filled with fear and uncertainty, tainted by memories of a life he had barely known.
The return to Somalia in March 2018 brought no triumph—only memories of trauma and danger. Mukhtar landed in a Mogadishu he did not recognize, one where the once-familiar sounds of home were overshadowed by the booming echoes of violence.
Life in a Strife-Laden City
Mogadishu serves as a backdrop to Mukhtar’s stark reality—an environment where every sound can trigger panic, and every street corner can become a site of danger. “In Mogadishu, explosions are reality and can happen any moment,” he states, providing a glimpse into the constant fear that haunts him and many others. The unease is palpable; a casual stroll can turn deadly in an instant.
As he navigates this precarious landscape, Mukhtar grapples with the lack of opportunities. With youth unemployment reaching nearly 40%, prospects are dim for anyone, especially deportees returning to a country where their identities have been stripped away. “If you’re a deportee, it’s much worse,” he remarks, reflecting on the additional stigma he faces.
Stigma and the Struggle to Belong
Cultural norms in Somalia further complicate Mukhtar’s reintegration. Tattoos, often associated with shame in conservative communities, mark him as an outsider. He has faced discrimination and negative comments, leading him to mask his ink under long sleeves. "I’ve even been verbally abused at a mosque," he shares, indicating the difficulty of reconciling his past with the present demands of societal acceptance.
His experiences are not unique. Anwar Mohamed, another deportee, recalls similar feelings. He reflects on the stares and judgment he faces due to both his appearance and his history. "When I walked around, everyone knew I wasn’t local," he says, highlighting the sharp disconnection between those who have remained in Somalia and those who have been away for years.
The Complexity of Survival
While some deportees attempt to rebuild their lives by joining the police force or the army—often for a meager salary of $200 a month—Mukhtar has resisted that path. The idea of carrying arms in a fragile security environment feels perilous. “You don’t know when someone is going to take your life,” he notes, emphasizing the fear that accompanies wearing a uniform.
Moreover, the socioeconomic landscape offers little reprieve. The high rate of unemployment among young people adds to the desperation. Many deportees lack the language skills or cultural familiarity needed to succeed in this often harsh environment. Mukhtar stresses that when you don’t have anyone to come home to, the options become dangerously limited, pushing some towards crime just to survive.
Navigating Uncharted Waters
As Anwar and Mukhtar adapt to their new reality in Mogadishu, they remain acutely aware of the psychological scars left by their tumultuous histories. Anwar recalls the traumatic explosions of his youth, memories that resurface unexpectedly. “It felt like imprisonment all over again,” he says of his return, highlighting the weight of his past and the overarching threat of violence in his environment.
Adjusting to life in a city laced with danger and uncertainty is an ongoing struggle for these deportees. They confront the haunting memories of their childhoods while navigating the stark realities of daily life in a society fraught with danger and division. “Every road I take can lead to death,” Mukhtar acknowledges, an expression of the exhaustion that permeates every step he takes in Mogadishu.
Both men strive to carve out a semblance of normalcy despite the overwhelming difficulties they face. Mukhtar reflects on the longing for connection—a community, a purpose, a place to belong. Anwar echoes this sentiment, acknowledging that while he drives a rickshaw to make ends meet, the hostility he encounters compounded with the remnants of his past can make life even more challenging.
In their quest for stability and acceptance, Mukhtar and Anwar represent the complexities of the human experience—caught between their past and an uncertain future in a homeland that feels both familiar and foreign. Their stories illuminate the pressing issues surrounding migration, identity, and survival in an ever-evolving landscape of conflict and resilience.
