Audio Stories is a collaboration between EMPOWER Malaysia and Two Book Nerds Talking. The show features stories and characters (fictional and IRL) that are underrepresented in media that we're sure you'll love. This episode is now available on your favourite podcast apps or HERE. Alternatively, stay here and listen now! 👇
The following is the script for Freedom. [link to listen]
FREEDOM!
By Abeera Abdullah Moallim & Yusra Aseyr Abdallah
(Done in a style of a Ted Talk)
Hey my name is Fatima, and I am a Journalist
And I’m Halima, I currently work as a model
Years ago, standing here talking to you at a TedX conference in Malaysia, was but a dream written in whatever notebook we could get our hands on.
Yeah, we never imagined we’d be here, let alone sharing our latest youth projects
So... how did we end up here?
We ask ourselves that all the time. How did we end up here?
Well, we’ve got to take you back to the moment that changed our lives forever.
The day my Hooyo (mom) came home with the tickets was all a blur. She buzzed around the house gathering our things together, as my twelve-year-old brother and I stared wide-eyed.
“Naya boobsii. What are you doing? Get your things together”
I snapped into motion, we had rehearsed this moment for months, but I just couldn’t stop thinking: “This is it. This is our ticket out.”
*music*
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the window for the entirety of that two-hour flight from Hamar to Addis Ababa. It was crazy how small everything looked from up there.
And for a brief moment, I could forget all the hurt and pain my family and I endured in a country that was supposed to protect us. One ticket took us away from the years of war and conflict.
But, as the familiar sandy plains and rugged mountains morphed into the lush Ethiopian landscape, I couldn’t help but feel nervous.
We placed our bets on this unfamiliar, new place because an aunt I hardly knew moved here not long before. What if we get hurt, what if they don’t accept us, what if nothing changes, what if, what if, what if…
*music*
The journey can be so daunting, I myself was so young when I left Somalia. And my hooyo loves to remind me how I cried the whole way to Addis Ababa.
*music*
Anyways, before I could stress myself out with more ‘worst case scenarios’, we landed at the airport. Hearing the sweet melodies of Mugdisho by Khadar Keeyow wafting through the building, I was immediately reminded of home. Maybe Ethiopia wouldn’t be too different after all.
I felt at ease for all of 20 minutes. As Aunt Zahro welcomed us to our new home and my mind started racing.
This was the home Aunt Zahro promised? It was a tent, and there were rows upon rows of others just like it. “How many other people lived here?” I wondered.
There were older men and women gathered around a small fire, while children, some even younger than Ahmed, ran after a dirt-covered ball.
There were parents carrying their babies, and volunteers offering packs of food.
“Where did all these people come from? Why did they leave their homes?
How did we all end up here?”
Just as I was lost in thought, a girl, stronger than me, bumped against me.
“Oh look it’s the newbie. I heard you’re from Somalia. Hmm why do you look like that though… Oh don’t look so stunned, newbie, I’m sure it’s not the first time someone’s asked that. Somalis are supposed to be tough. Are you sure you’re really from there, newbie?”
And there it was. Nothing changed, it was like I was back in Somalia, except this time, this girl was telling me I didn’t belong in my home country either.
I ran and ran. I couldn’t let that girl see me cry. I couldn’t let her see how much her words affected me.
“Ugh, where is my tent?!” Which way was it? Everywhere I looked, all I saw were identical tents. It was only my first day here, and already, I felt like I didn’t belong.
“Hey” I opened my eyes to see a tall guy, dressed in the blue vest worn by volunteers, reaching a hand out to me.
“Hey, are you alright?”
I quickly wiped away my tears. “Ask me again in a few minutes.”
“Heh, well do you need help finding someone?
“No, I’ll be alright…
“My name’s Josh, and your’s is?”
“Fatima,” I croaked, looking at my feet.
“Well, Fatima, just let one of us know if you do need anything”
“Thanks,” and with that I slowly tried to make my way back to my new home.
I was exhausted, but just as I laid down to sleep…“Fatima! kakac! Sariirta walalkaa iskaleh!!
What are you doing? Get off! You know the bed is for your brother”
“Hoyoo, why should he get it? He’s small and will be fine on the mat for one night. You always give him everything he wants, just because he’s a boy”
“He needs to sleep well so he can grow big and strong. He’s the one who’ll end up supporting this family anyways”
“I’ll have to provide for you both first,” I muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” and I begrudgingly rolled myself to the mat.
“Hmph, and was that a boy I saw you talking to just now? We’ve been here for one day, and you’ve already forgotten your values Fatima, uff. Why can’t you just be friends with the girls?”
“They want nothing to do with me Hoyoo! Can’t you tell that I’m not like them? I’ll never fit in”
“Well you can try again tomorrow”
“What’s tomorrow?”
“I enrolled you in the local school near here. You thought just because we left home, you could skip school?”
“But hoyoo! The other students will just find more reasons to make fun of me and remind me how much I don’t look like them”
“No buts, you’re going”
*music*
Though I was furious with my mum at the time, I was grateful that despite favouring my brother in almost everything else, she insisted on me having an education. Without it, I don’t think Halima and I would’ve ended up where we are today.
I learnt so much from my time at school, but don’t get me wrong, my first couple of days were rough…
*music*
That morning, as the bell rang, I stood frozen in the hallway. Then I heard a familiar voice call out to me:
“Fatima! Hey, you go here too?”
“Oh Josh… hi. Apparently I do”
“That’s cool. Hey you should totally come to the fire pit we’re having at the camp tonight. We talk, play games, and eat food”
“Sounds like fun, I’ll try to be there.” Somehow while we were talking, I made it inside the classroom.
I was already excited for that night, going through all the different excuses I could give my mum. I knew she’d never let me go, especially if she heard whohad invited me.
But our teacher, Macalin, very quickly pulled me out of my daydream.
“Everyone please welcome Fatima! Would you like to come up and introduce yourself?”
No, thank you, I thought to myself. But I stood up and walked to the front anyway. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, on my skin. And ugh! That mean girl from yesterday is in my class. I’m pretty sure she just whispered something about me to the person next to her.
It was agonising. It felt as though everywhere I looked, somebody was staring at me like I wasn’t human. I went through the whole day under the scrutiny of everyone’s judgement, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. The one bright spot was when we were tasked to write out our dreams.
*music*
I still keep that piece of paper to this day as a reminder of how far Halima and I have come. Ten years ago, this is what I wrote:
“I am 20 and have finally graduated. My parents are so proud of me as I pursue Psychology in an entirely new country. I’m learning to love the culture of this new country, and have even started to get involved in the local community as an organiser. I lead teams of people in community-building projects that positively impact our lives. I’m surrounded by really supportive friends and finally feel a sense of belonging.”
At the time, I felt far from accepted.
But that night, at the fire pit, things began to change…
*music*
After that less than pleasant day at school, I was looking forward to taking my mind off things at the fire pit event. Hoyoo somehow didn’t question me when I lied and told her I was going to Aunt Zahro’s tent at 9pm.
As soon as I approached the fire pit, I immediately regretted coming. Everyone was there, including that mean girl and my unwelcoming classmates. Everyone was sitting in a circle around the fire. Dread flooded me as I walked towards the circle when Josh stood up and started speaking.
“Welcome everyone, thank you for joining us tonight. To kick things off, why don’t we go round sharing something about ourselves that no one else knows. Don’t worry, whatever is shared will stay within the circle. I’ll go first. I used to be really shy. Hard to believe I know, but it’s true. I struggled to make new friends, or speak in front of a crowd like I am today.”
I was still so nervous, but seeing Josh share something personal made me join the circle. And as soon as I did, someone else began speaking.
“Hi I’m Halima”
So that’s her name. Halima, the person who has been making my time here and at school so difficult. What would she have to say?
“I don’t really know where to start. I think people assume different things about me and the sort of person I am. But, I have struggled too. Back when I was in Somalia…
Wait, she's from Somalia? How did I not know we were from the same place?
“I was bullied for being overweight at school. Kids would call me names, and throw away my food. I eventually built the courage to fight back, no one has made fun of me ever since”
This was met with some applause, while others were tearing up. I wasn’t sure how to react. What Halima shared doesn’t excuse what she’s done to me, but I feel like I understand her a little better.
“Fatima, how about you go next?” asked Josh.
Suddenly, all eyes were on me again. My palms were sweaty, but I took a deep breath and started talking. “Hi everyone, I’m Fatima. I actually want to begin by thanking Halima for sharing her experiences with us. Honestly, I have to say I’m a little surprised. I never imagined that our stories would be so similar, especially from someone who, um, comes off as really confident.”
Everyone was quiet, and Halima was staring right at me.
Another deep breath. “I was also bullied up until recently. People mocked my skin condition.
My classmates used to point their fingers at me, warning other people not to touch me, that my vitiligo was contagious. I was made to feel different everyday, and that hurt. It still does, most days. But I’ve also learned to see my difference as another part of who I am, another reason that makes me unique. One day, I hope to speak up for people like me, for anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong.”
I didn’t know where the courage to say all that came from, but, for a moment, I felt a wave of relief getting it off my chest.
We continued going round the circle, with each person sharing their biggest fears, hopes, regrets, and dreams. It was incredible that we all somehow ended up here, opening up to one another. I was so taken by everyone’s experiences that I didn’t even realise Halima walked over.
“Hi… Is it okay if I sit here?”
“Um… yeah sure”
It was awkward for a moment, till Halima broke the silence.
“Aad iga raali noqo sida aan kugu daqmay adiga” Halima apologised in Somali
“Yeah, it hurts. Coming here was supposed to be a fresh start, but it felt as though I was right back where I started. We fled because of the violence between warring tribes. The way I was treated here felt a lot like I was being bullied based on my qabil, my tribe.”
“I’m really sorry, I, of all people, should have known how the name-calling and mocking would have felt”
I wiped away a tear on Halima’s cheek and held her hands in mine.
“I forgive you. After everything that happened to you, you were only trying to make sure you never experienced that kind of pain again”
“Yeah, I think I’ve been fighting for myself for so long that I forget that I don’t have to be this hard and tough person all the time.”
“I understand. And I admire you for what you did tonight. You opened up and somehow, it made me want to do the same”
“Hey, wait say that again”
“You inspired me to share my story because you told yours”
“That’s such a great idea. You said you wanted to speak up for other people like you right?”
“Yeah…”
“But what if we go one step further? What if we encouraged people all over Ethiopia, all over the world, to speak up?”
My eyes lit up. “Wow you’re onto something here.
Imagine that. A world where youth all across the globe are connected by experiences. Maybe we’ll learn that none of us are so different after all”
*music*
And that’s how we took over the world.
Hah, we’re only half kidding. But, yes, our night at the fire pit really brought the two of us closer together.
Every day after that, we pursued this project with a passion. We went around the camp interviewing refugee after refugee, and a few volunteers here and there. Each day, we’d hear tales of loss and grief, memories of someone recreating their hoyoo’s favourite dish, and another person overcoming the struggle of learning a new language. Most of all, there were stories of hope. Hopes of what life could be within and beyond the camp; hopes of a place you can call home.
But the very first story we published on the website addressed gender inequality in our community. It has a special place in our hearts because it was the first time we so openly shared our own experiences alongside millions of girls around the world. We tried to portray the strengths girls have, and show their potential to our community.
With a camera in Fatima’s hand, and a phone as a mic in mine, we walked around our camp asking this question to our community members. “What’s the role of girls or women?” Quite a few people were camera shy, others were worried that they’d face backlash from their own families. But we did find people to record, even if we didn’t always like what they said.
We heard from young boys who said “girls belong in the kitchen”, or older parents who believed, “girls should only study up to elementary school then stay at home.” It was hard, hearing those comments. It took me back to Somalia where women and girls aren’t seen as leaders. Those who did challenge those stereotypes often put their life on the line.
But after we posted that video on our website, it blew up! We got so many emails, and some suggested we apply for a global competition that invited participants to design projects regarding the challenges refugees face. We did just that, and guess what? We didn’t win, but we did place 3rd globally, and 1st place in a category that specifically addressed gender inequality in refugee communities.
Before our win, my mom was opposed to our work and the idea of us championing gender equality. This win not only showed her what Halima and I were capable of, but from then on, she has been our biggest supporter.
The gender inequality post was the first of many. We continued compiling more stories and revamped our website a few months after that fire pit event. At first, we weren’t sure if anyone was still interested in reading what we had to say. But, with a little patience, lots of emails, and many days of hard work, our website soon had thousands of readers from different backgrounds. We never expected the website to grow the way it did! It quickly became this buzzing community where people could connect even though they were oceans apart.
It gave Halima, me, and so many other people like us a safe space and the ability to be completely ourselves. This project has changed our lives. Halima was able to move here, to Malaysia, where she discovered that modelling was another passion of hers. She thankfully found job opportunities and, most importantly, a community.
Since then, we’ve been able to travel across the world, giving talks like this, and collaborating with different organisations to uplift the voices of various communities. Through this, we were able to provide for our families.
But above all, our project has shown us that you can and will feel accepted; that you can and will find freedom and build a home with the people around you.
I never imagined that we’d be standing up here, as refugees, as women, as people who have been bullied and looked down upon, but here we are, all because we opened up that one night.
Everyone has a story. Our’s just happened to begin at a refugee camp.
So tell us, what’s your story?
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