Listening Voices Eversion

Collection of stories, writing and
design by the ACTION Support Centre.
Photos produced or commissioned by
the ACTION Support Centre, unless
otherwise specified

Mogadishu Harbour. Photo by AMISOM Public Information, Public Domain

Terms and Abbreviations 1
Foreward 4
The Women’s Voices 9
The Men’s Voices 117
Conclusion 171
Acknowledgements 175
CONTENTS

1
Al Shabaab A militant Islamic extremist group, based mainly in
the central and southern parts of Somalia
Documents/papers Legal documentation, such as visas and permits
Green ID An form of identification that South African
nationals hold, which proves their citizenship
Home Affairs The government department responsible for
issuing visas and permits
Location Also known as “townships”, which are urban living
areas that were designated for black people under
apartheid, usually on the edge of towns and cities
Madrasa The Arabic word for school, or an educational
institution
Taxi Usually used to refer to a minibus commonly
used as public transport
AU African Union
CSVR Centre for the Study of Violence and
Reconciliation
JRS Jesuit Refugee Service
SASA Somali Association of South Africa
SASSA South African Social Security Agency
SASOWNET South African Somali Women’s Network
SWF Somali Women’s Forum
UNHCR United Nations High Commissioner for
Refugees
TERMS AND
ABBREVIATIONS

3
“The civil war broke everything.
It broke my heart, it broke my family.
Many of the people I knew died.
Even the streets are gone.
After the civil war, you can’t
remember anything, you don’t know
anything. If it stopped you can start a
new life and rebuild everything.
But there’s no end, it continues”
(Laila)

4
In 1991 a civil war started in Somalia. This was in response to
growing dissatisfaction with the rule of Siad Barre. who took
power in 1969. His regime was initially characterised by large
scale public works programmes. In 1977 he sought to re-take the
Ogaden region, a Somali-inhabited region that the British had
“given” to Ethiopia. This resulted in the Ogaden war, in which he
was ultimately unsuccessful.
In 1986, nearly 10 years after the Ogaden war, Barre (who was
still ruling), was involved in a car accident and left with serious
injuries. Wanting to extend his rule, he clung to power but people
were sceptical about his ability because of his health and age. As
he tried to maintain his grip, his Supreme Revolutionary Council
became more dictatorial. Exploiting clan animosities and resorted
to bombing cities and arresting those in favour of peace were only
some of his tactics. The people of Somalia had grown increasingly
dissatisfied with his military regime, and there were outbreaks of
resistance across the country, supported by Ethiopia.
His regime finally toppled in 1991, when rebel groups, based along
the same clan lines he attempted to use to keep himself in power,
overthrew him. Chaos ensued, as opposing militant groups
wrestled for power. This was the beginning of the civil war that
has ravaged Somalia for the past 24 years.
FORWARD

5
Photo by Frank Keillor on Flickr CC BY-NC 2.0
Mogadishu, 1980
Photo by United Nations Photo on Flickr CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
Mogadishu, 2012

6
This conflict has its roots in problems that long pre-dated it, and has since evolved
into other conflicts, including the Ethiopian war, and skirmishes with Kenya. In-
fighting continues to be widespread where extremist groups such as Al Shabaab
are opposing the recently formed government and seeking control.
An estimated 500,000 people have been killed over the course of the civil war. 1.1
million have been internally displaced, and close to 1 million out of the population
of 12 million are refugees in surrounding countries.
This is a very short history of a very complex political situation, but these facts
don’t capture the experience for people living through such times. The stories you
are about to read are the lived reality for those interviewed in this book. These
experiences are made up of bullets, bombs, running and hiding. Sometimes they
didn’t even know who their attackers were. Most lost loved ones, and some still
don’t know whether their child, parent, sibling or partner is alive or not. The facts
of the political situation also tell us nothing of what it’s like to be a woman living
in and fleeing from a war torn country. Their stories tell of being raped, stabbed
and beaten, of being forced to stay indoors because it’s not a woman’s place to be
outside, of being kidnapped and shown videos of executions, of forced marriages
to members of Al Shabaab, and of being used as a human bomb.
Sotheyranaway.SomeembarkedimmediatelyonthedangerousjourneytoSouth
Africa, while others moved from country to country until they eventually made
their way to South Africa. For many, South Africa is not their final destination – it
is a stop along the way in their quest to find a safe and peaceful life. Many wish to
go back to Somalia, if only the fighting would stop. They crave a home - a place
where they are not on the margins.
As they wrestle to re-start their lives in South Africa, there are those who have
helped them and there are those who have hurt them. In a world where the

7
foundation to identity and rights are heavily rooted in the nation in which they are
citizens of, refugees are commonly perceived as a threat – they are no longer seen
as fellow humans, but outsiders infiltrating the country and usurping jobs, space,
services and opportunities meant for citizens.
Whose responsibility are they?
They are viewed as a burden on the country and its people, because they do not
belong to the country nor are they its people.
These humans have been attacked, looted and disregarded even after arriving
in South Africa. They’ve had police telling them to “go back to where you came
from”. Tragic outbreaks of xenophobia taint refugee-citizen relations, and trust
between refugees and government authorities remains low. Citizens of other
countries granted refugee status should have the same rights as South Africans,
except the right to vote, but in practice a world of opportunities remains closed
to them. As if this wasn’t enough, clan animosities continue to divide Somalis
amongst themselves.
Womenareparticularlyvulnerable,bothasrefugeesinSouthAfricaandaswomen
in their own communities. They are easy targets for violence, so experiences of
being robbed, beaten and even raped inhibit them from seeking work outside
of the area that Somalis live, and even in these areas men are the preferred job
candidates. Without solid job options, they are reliant on men, so some of these
women marry for security or remain in abusive relationships because they’re afraid
to leave. Those who are abandoned by their husbands struggle to make ends
meet, and have the extra burden of having to look after the children who have
been abandoned too. Women also bear the brunt of health care challenges, as they
are the ones who get pregnant, give birth, and are responsible for the wellbeing
of their children.

8
But there are glimmers of hope; the women who refuse to let clan divisions stop
them from helping each other; the South African women who gave their time,
ears and sympathetic (or empathetic?) voices to go into the Somali community
and try to understand what it’s like to be a Somali refugee woman in South Africa;
the Somali man who built a hall for his South African community and employed
20 local South Africans.
This collection of stories is but an effort to make known what is unknown. To
listen to the voices not normally heard. To shine a light on where the system can
improve its ability to assist those in need, to give a voice to the voiceless to all who
will listen, and to invite us to do better for our fellow humans.
These women are survivors but also agents of change, and working together it is
our hope that greater understanding and trust can be built, and that we can view
each other as collaborators in creating better futures for all, rather than opponents
and contenders for opportunities.
It was with this vision that the idea for this publication was put forward during
the launch of the South African Somali Women’s Network (SASOWNET). The
ACTION Support Centre worked with SASOWNET and the Somali Women’s
Forum to identify those willing to share their stories for publication. A total of 27
brave women took part. We have also included the stories and perspectives of
three Somali men and one Zambian refugee family, to add a comparative element.
We have made every effort to stay true to the stories, as they were narrated to us.
We hope that we have done justice to the stories, and that our readers will take
them to heart, and be part of the solution, even if it’s just by knowing more about
refugee women, understanding them better and helping others to do the same.

10
Riyaaq
“He said women’s education
doesn’t help anything, you have to
stay home”
I used to live in Mogadishu with my family. I was not working
at that time, because I was still a teenager. In 1992 a bomb fell
on our house. My sisters and cousin died, and I was injured.
After that, we moved to Kismayo, running away from the war.
They attacked us again, and my brother was kidnapped. We
don’t know whether he died or survived. At the end of 1992,
we moved to the south of Somalia. When we moved there we
stayed well until 1999.
But I was forced to leave because of the war. Everyone was
being killed, I was even raped. My father was at home, but my
mum was not there that time. She had gone to fetch wood. The
rapists - the militias - they all of a sudden came to our house. It
wasn’t just me, there were other girls as well. I was very scared
to leave there, and my brothers and parents were separated
from that time. After that I didn’t see my mother again. She was
killed. I lost my brother as well, and half brother. They were
killed in different times and places. My father is still alive but I
haven’t seen him.
After that I left. I stayed in the bush and crossed the border
after three days with my neighbours. I was 15 or 16 when I left

11
Somalia. I liked it there, but the problem is war, continuously. I hate also
these big bombs, which kills the hearing. After the missile fell on our house,
I had a hearing problem because of that sound. I like my country but I don’t
like the situation that I left.
We were running away, and Kenya was the closest place. When we came
to Kenya things became tough. We were scared of the police, and there
was no free movement, no jobs. I stayed six months in Kenya, following
the same neighbour, but the neighbour decided to move again and search
for a place to get documents and peace and a job. They went to Uganda,
then Rwanda, then Tanzania. I was always with them. They didn’t have
a destination, they were just traveling. Until they got this idea that South
Africa is a better place. So we went country to country until finally we
came to South Africa.
I was a teenager travelling without my parents, so I was subjected to
harassment – some men take advantage of young ladies when they’re
travelling. Some want to sleep with you, and though I didn’t go through
this, they harassed me a lot.
When I came to South Africa I didn’t have money, and was dependent on
the neighbour for help. Some of the men would say to the girls that if they
marry them, then they’ll help them with money and transport. I told them I
don’t want to get married.
After coming to South Africa, I didn’t know where to start. Life became
very hard. The family (the neighbours I travelled with) became separated
and moved away. I tried to go to school, I went to English classes, but life
was difficult and I couldn’t support myself, go to school and pay rent. I also
didn’t know the offices of where people look for help.

12
When I first came to South Africa, it was the migrant community that helped
me in terms of accommodation and other help. Mostly I rely on them. First
time here I was staying in boarding school, but after I left, I was staying in
the community with other Somalis.
On being a refugee in South Africa
For myself, I was not expecting anything when I was coming to South
Africa. I didn’t know South Africa, but I was hoping that I would go to this
place where I could get education, because I didn’t finish my education at
home - I was just about in high school but I didn’t finish. So I wanted to
further my studies and go to university and plan my life, but all of a sudden
I didn’t reach my goal. Things didn’t come together, my life got worse and
worse.
There’s a huge crime problem in South Africa, especially against foreigners.
Police are not helpful, or hospitals. I like South Africa even more than my
country because most of my life since I became mature was in South Africa.
But the problem is that the community doesn’t like us. Each and every time
you hear “I hate foreigners”. If you go to the clinic - “you foreigners, you are
just coming here to get medicine, to take our things”. These things give me
emotional problems, I always feel bad.
One time I went to Durban, but I didn’t have money for coming back, so I
took a lift from another Somali guy, two guys, who had a car, and they were
hijacked. The men ran away, and I was stuck in the car. It was an automatic
car, and I didn’t know how to get out. The hijackers acted as police. The
car didn’t have petrol, so the man went to Shell, but there was a shortage of
petrol. So they left the car, but they threw me from the car, and I landed on
my knees. I was lucky, because it could have been much worse if they raped
or killed me. Even though I was in pain, I was surprised that they left me.

13
There was another serious incident. We were going to Pretoria from
Johannesburg, and as we were going through robots, another car bumped us.
He kept bumping, but didn’t stop even though he should have. He bumped
other cars. We lost control and hit the wall. We weren’t injured, but when we
got out of the car, the people in the other car had run away. Inside the boot of
their car was a body of a man they had shot.
In 2007 I was working selling items, when a group of people came and took
all of the stuff, and started beating us. I was beaten on my leg, and went to
hospital, but they wouldn’t help me. The police said “these things happen, we
don’t know who beat you”.
I work as an interpreter, and sometimes when I go some distance to interpret,
I face harassment. In 2013, I was on my way to a Magistrate for a case to
interpret. I took a taxi, and waited somewhere to exchange to another one.
While I waited there was a man nearby saying that “I hate foreigners, I hate
Indian people, I hate foreigners”. All of a sudden he stood up and came to me.
He pulled me and dragged me down. I was shocked, and the others there
didn’t talk, didn’t say anything, but just watched. I fought with him until I was
able to run away to a taxi.
When Mandela was in hospital, my son was beaten at the school for
xenophobia reasons. Kids were beating foreign children. They said that when
Mandela dies, the foreigners must leave. The children hear it at home from
their parents and bring it to school. My son was hospitalised. He was beaten
on the chest. Up to now I’m following up with a doctor. He has asthma now.
Even though it’s normal to have asthma, I think it might be due to the attack
and stress of it. The doctor thinks he may get better as he grows up. I have to
get medication every month, which is very expensive. Sometimes the doctors
help me to get the medication, sometimes not. I am told that I should not get

14

15
the medication because I am a foreigner, but I keep following up until I get the
right doctor who will give me a permission letter so that I can get it for my child,
because he needs it.
Sometimes I’m sick, I have abdominal pain, but I’m scared to go to the clinic
because of that harassment. If I think to go there, I think “what’s going to
happen? These people will continue to harass me”. The most difficult thing
being here, is the whole life is closed. I’m tired now, because if you go the health
side, you don’t get help. With grant access, sometimes they help, sometimes
they harass you or ask for bribes. The hospitals were better before, but they’ve
gotten worse. Same with Home Affairs. The police tell us to go home.
On being a woman
I’m here almost 15 years but I don’t have proper job. Specially, I’m a woman.
I finished English classes, then went to high school, until grade 11. During that
time I met the father of my baby, but he discouraged me from going to school.
“I decided to get married again because
there’s no other choice. If I look for a job
they say “you’re not South African”. So it’s
not easy to get a job, so I’m forced to get
married.”

16
He said “women’s education doesn’t help anything, you have to stay home”. I
stopped school and got pregnant. After that, he left me.
After that I decided to get married again because there’s no other choice. If I
look for a job they say “you’re not South African”. So it’s not easy to get a job, so
I’m forced to get married. Some women work at locations, and they can have
some opportunities.
Then after that, they (husbands) sometimes give you other problems, they
disappoint me, some they just beat you up until you’re fed up to leave. I’ve
married three times, the current one is the third time, and always they give me
problems. Sometimes I feel maybe me I’m a bad person, what’s wrong with my
life? I don’t know.
For jobs, they don’t consider women much, mostly they give them to men. If you
look for a job in this community, they prefer a man. They don’t consider ladies.
But women are the ones who will be abandoned with the baby. He says, “I can’t
help, how can I even know that it’s my child? Can you give me proof that it’s
my child?”. In our community they don’t have this thing that the man must give
child support for the child.
On help, hope and the future
For me, I always decide that if I have a problem, and I cry, I decide that this
thing will go away. It’s not going to stay with me. When I see difficulty I just like
to move on. The family I travelled with also used to say that “we’re going to be in
this problem for a small time, but then finally we will get out”. They encouraged
us – “don’t give up, things will get better”.
Also I always pray, and say, “God if you are there for me, I will get strong and
things will get better”.

17
There’s many things that I like in South Africa. I like movement, it’s not like
other countries. You can move freely with the documents – most of the time
police don’t arrest me if I move around. I like freedom to be able to rent,
without much conditions.
Most of the time if I have a problem, I don’t get much help, but I believe God.
In this community, there are those who help with temporary shelter to see
you through until you’re fit to look for your own place. JRS helped to give me
small business, also with rent and food vouchers, and school fees. The school
principal helped me, with a government application. The Indian community,
they also helped me some.
Right now I don’t have a business, I just sell things sometimes and work part
time as an interpreter.
If my country gets better, I’m going back. But I’m not considering it because
of this security situation and war. Even if I got a chance to go to Europe, I
don’t know how it is there, whether it’s better.
Riyaaq is a member of the Somali Women’s Forum, through which
she’s been active in helping other Somali women in the community

18
“For me, I always decide that if I have
a problem, and I cry, I decide that
this thing will go away. It’s not going
to stay with me. When I see difficulty
I just like to move on. The family I
travelled with also used to say that
“we’re going to be in this problem for
a small time, but then finally we will
get out”. They encouraged us – “don’t
give up, things will get better.””

20
Muraayo
“Sometimes I think it would be
better to go back”
I was born on the 15th of November, 1986. I lived with my
family in a location called Beledweyne. Then we moved to a
farm, where my mother sold vegetables. I went to Madrasa.
When I came back, I was helping my mother. In 1999 I went
back to Beledweyne, until 2005. I went to school until class
eight.
Problems in Somalia started in 1992. My two brothers and
father were killed by a bomb that hit a building, in 1993.
I was staying in a (temporary) house. It was me, my mother
and my brothers there. The lock wasn’t strong. Guys with guns
came into the home, and took my mother. It was dark, so my
mother tried to light something, and when she did, the men
asked why she was doing that, and beat her. She lost four teeth.
She was bleeding heavily. For two days she was in ICU.
One day three men attacked me and took money from me. They
stabbed me in my leg.
In Somalia when people were fleeing, my arm was broken.
There was no doctor to fix it. My mother looked for a doctor,
but the doctor asked her which tribe she is, and refused to help.

21
My mother urged me to leave Somalia. I was scared to leave Somalia. Somalia
is my country, everyone understands you and your language. But when
there’s fighting, and bombs … that’s why I left, I was too scared. I went to
Mogadishu, and got a job. My mother sent some money until I could leave
for South Africa.
I left Somalia in 2005 and reached South Africa in 2010. For years I was
traveling through different countries by boat. There was no food sometimes
for days, we were sleeping outside, living on one set of clothes, and we had
no money.
I worked in different countries to get money to keep moving to come to South
Africa. I stayed in Tanzania a long time.
I came to South Africa with many others. When I came to South Africa I
thought I was coming to help my people and change my life. I was going to
bring my mother, I would get education and a job. My mother said that when
I came to South Africa I could change my life. I came here to start a new life.
But here I have problems too.
South Africa
When I came to South Africa, I worked cooking food. I had taken a two year
course to learn how to cook. An Indian woman helped me – she gave me a
place to cook food and to teach other ladies. I sometimes cook for parties.
Then I married in 2010 in South Africa. I had two babies. One day I was
cooking samusas, mandazes, then there was an accident and my boy was
burned badly with the cooking oil. My son was in hospital for two months,
and has been going to have skin grafts.

22
The hospital wants R79,000 for my son. They didn’t mention it before, but
when he was coming out, I was told I need to pay that money. Where can I
get that money from?
I’ve had challenges with my son. When there’s a bandage on his face, and
then when it’s removed, skin gets pulled off. Every week I take him for a
check-up at the hospitals. Some doctors are good and help, but sometimes
they aren’t there. Sometimes they just tell me to clean the wounds and send
me away. I want to take him to skin specialist.
Health troubles
My biggest problem is health. I have a thyroid goiter problem, in my neck.
The doctor hasn’t given anything, and says it can only be fixed with an
operation. Privately it costs R47,000 to have the operation. Some Muslim
woman said she could give maybe R10,000. The operation is dangerous,
and if I go to the government hospitals for the operation, you’re teaching
students. With the operation I could lose my voice, otherwise I might lose
my eyesight. I can only get student doctors, it’s difficult to see a specialist.
Sometimes my hands shake and I can’t work, and I have problems with my
heart. My doctor said that I’m too stressed, and that if I can work and save
money I can get the operation in four or five years. But I’m experiencing a
lot of pain, in my head, my heart beating, I can’t sleep.
I’ve also had a problem with immunisation for my child. The baby was born
here, but the unabridged birth certificate doesn’t always get recognised.
Sometimes you wait in a queue for a long time, finally get in, and then they
tell you to come back next week. Then when you come back, there’s no
medicine again. There are also language problems when communicating
with doctors.

23
For me, the one thing that could make it better is to get a job. My daughter
sees others wearing nice shoes, and asks me to please buy her a nice lunchbox.
I managed to get child support. I’m managing to sell snacks to pay for rent
and school fees. I wanted to open a restaurant, but was asked for a green ID,
and sent away when they found I was an asylum seeker.
My husband has TB, but if he gets an operation he’ll be in hospital for two
years. He can’t drive a car because he’s sick. He also struggles to get a job,
because of the effects of his TB, people don’t believe he can work. South
Africa is safe in that there are no bombs, but there is crime. My husband had
a shop, but during xenophobia attacks, the shop was looted.
South Africa is a problem if you don’t have a job. I know how to use a till, but
can’t get a job because I don’t have a green ID. I’m a very good cook, I know
how to make many things, but no green ID, and I don’t have evidence of skills
from a South African college. Big restaurants want to see documentation, ID,
certificates. I finished primary school, but I want to finish education. I want a
job, I have skills. South Africa is nice if you have a job.
There’s no one to help here, no organisations are assisting me with anything.
I’m from Brits, and there are no organisations there – no ACTION Support
Centre, no UNHCR, no JRS. I’ve been to organisations but none of them
call me back. And going to organisations isn’t real help.
Help and home
There was one lady who has helped me, with pots and pans, and gave me
money sometimes. She gave clothes, shared food. She was helping, but she’s
gone now. That woman was also sick, and I helped her. There was a mistake
injection in hospital, and her womb was removed. I helped look after her kids.

24
My mother in Somalia is very sick, her legs are swollen, she is very stressed.
I have been saving money to send to her in Somalia. I try to call. My mother
doesn’t have electricity, so she can’t charge her phone. She’s too old to work.
Sometimes I think it would be better to go back. I’m sick, my mother is sick.
But I don’t have money to go back.
Muurayo is now receiving help for her son from Children of Fire
(www.childrenoffire.org), she got a job cooking, and is receiving
trauma counselling from the Centre for the Study of Violence and
Reconciliation.
A meal prepared by Muurayo for members of the ASC team who visited her in Brits

25
Nwortaz
“I miss my family a lot. I want to
see my father and mother”
Life in Somalia was hard, but I left in 2007 when my mother
passed away. She was killed by a missile, which is why I left. I
was 19 years old.
After I left, my brother and father got injured. After my mum
was killed by the missile, they ran in different directions. I
travelled alone. It was not easy to leave, the routes were closed.
I ran away with other Somali ladies who were also fleeing. We
escaped by hiding, until we reached Kenya. We were heading
to Tanzania, that’s where we wanted to be. My husband was in
South Africa, he told me to come to South Africa. I knew him
that time, but he wasn’t my husband yet.
I stayed for some time in Tanzania. After that I came to
Mozambique and then South Africa. The whole journey from
Kenya to South Africa took one month, by boat and by road.
When I came here I came to my husband. He’s the one who
took me in and helped me. It was in 2012 that I arrived, when
I was 22. When I was travelling I hoped that South Africa was
better, because of what I heard from my husband and friends.
It wasn’t how I was thinking or how I was hoping. Because the
same year I came, in 2012, my husband’s business was looted.

He had no money because of the looting.
The biggest problem is the health sector. I was pregnant and I went to
hospital to give birth but they didn’t help me. Even with my last born when
I was delivering they told me, “you can’t come back here pregnant looking
for treatment, we are not going to help you”. So now I’m looking for ways to
prevent babies, because I don’t want more babies because they won’t help. In
our area where I stay they don’t help people, they totally refuse to help because
we are foreigners. They only help those with green IDs.
I just try to work hard and get some money so I don’t need their treatment,
that I can afford to pay from private if it’s possible. Also I sought help from
Future Families and SASSA in North West but they didn’t help, so I came to
Pretoria to apply for help in Pretoria.
In South Africa there are no good things that I like. The life of South Africa is
very hard for me because I‘m not even getting health access but in my country
there’s a war, so I don’t know. It’s not easy for me to continue living in South
Africa.
I’m hoping that if our country gets peace we may go back, or maybe in the
future we can get resettled to another country. I went to UNHCR in 2013 but
didn’t get a response. I’m hoping to leave. I miss family a lot, I want to see my
father and mother.
“they told me, “you can’t come back here
pregnant looking for treatment, we are not
going to help you.””

27
Shamum
“I saw my sister. She was
like…pieces”
Life in Somalia was good from the beginning. I was young
when the war started, I was in school. That was when things
became out of hand. It was also when I was becoming grown
up and starting to notice things. It was the best time of my life,
when I was going to finish secondary school and go further,
when the worst was happening.
We were moving within Somalia, one week here, two weeks
there, this village this week, that village next week. There was
a lot of clan in-fighting. Even when the militia settled, they
used to live in clans. One village is one tribe. And they fight
each other. So you run and run and run.
Then in 2006 we moved close to the borders of Kenya. We
lived for six months, but couldn’t stay and didn’t know people,
so we came back to Kismayo. My family was still ok.
My father had four wives, and my mum had six children. At
that time my father was with another family. I have an older
sister, and my mum sent her to the shop to get something.
Sometimes rockets just fall. This time it fell on a bus carrying
passengers, and everyone around was killed. My sister was one

of them. She just happened to go at that time. That’s how I lost my sister,
and there were just five of us left.
I saw my sister. She was like…pieces. I had nightmares all over. I used to
scream very loud. I have nightmares, bad nightmares.
Then my mum decided, “no”. She contacted some friends, families, and some
neighbours from Somalia who had already gone to South Africa. My mum
said she will send me to South Africa. My dad came when my sister passed
away, and they buried her. My mother was a very hard working mother and
always wanted us to have the best. But my dad used to marry from here and
there, and he was not the kind of father who wanted to help or wanted us to
study. He said no. There was an old man, who he took some money from, and
then married me off. With all of those problems, he married me off. You see
where there is war, you don’t know family planning. I got two children in the
process, boy and girl.
Then I ran away. I told my mother, “no, I’m not going back to that man”.
She skipped me away to South Africa. There were people going by boat to
South Africa. I didn’t know anyone. There was this man who used to write
people’s names, he collects money, then the boat comes and brings you all
the way. It was so scary. In the process some of the ladies were raped. But I
was lucky, I wasn’t raped. But I was attacked and we ran into the bush. The
money we had was for the trip to Mozambique, so when we ran into the bush
we had nothing. We stayed for four or five days there. There were some other
men, the same thing happened, and we became nine women in the process.
Another day we saw fishermen, so we talked to them told them we have a
problem. They said, “we need money if you are going to Mozambique”. We
said, “we don’t have money, but we have contacts in South Africa who can
send money”. So they took us to Mozambique.

29
Central Johannesburg. Photo by Paul Saad on Flickr CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

30
South Africa
Then when I came to South Africa, I thought it was good, but things were
almost the same. The family I came to had a problem. A woman with two
children and husband were all sleeping in one room. I had nowhere to sleep, so
I slept in the kitchen. There were three families sharing together in the kitchen.
I put a mattress on floor at night, and in the morning I moved it.
I started looking for a job, and got a job for R1200 in Johannesburg. I used to
give R300 to the woman I stayed with, sent R500 back to my mum, and the rest
for myself. In the process I saw that things are not good. Because sometimes
with the job if you’re absent, sick, or go to Home Affairs, then the money doesn’t
come. So sometimes you earn only R800 or R900. So it was unbearable. And
you can’t go to the location, because for a lady it’s insecure. Every day you hear
someone has died. So I had to stay in town.
The only option left was to marry. When I married it wasn’t bad. The man was
hard working, he had a shop. We stayed nicely, I had two daughters at first. He
brought his brother to help him at the shop, and the shop grew. We were living
nice and happily and I used to send $100 to my mother every month. I used to
cook some things like roti, sell it to the shop, making some small money to send
to my mother.
Then on one day my husband’s car was shot with 11 bullets. He was taking stock
to the shop. The tires were broken from the bullets, the car rolled, all the stock
was broken. Things now became bad, because there was no car to take stock,
and all that stock was lost.
Then the in-laws became a problem, saying I was a bad omen, that’s why their
brother was getting these problems. I gave birth to two girls – “why are you
giving birth to girls?”. In the process I got a girl again, a disabled one. Up to

31
now she’s four years old. When I was six months pregnant the doctor said there
was something wrong, so I was operated. Then I don’t know what happened,
doctors say that she lacked oxygen at birth. She can’t sit, she can’t walk. She has
no school.
Me, I’m a hard working mother. I don’t go to places like JRS to ask for money
for food and rent. I know a Chinese man, he’s known me for many years, I used
to work with him. I went to locations, took stock, that is how I survived. In
the process my husband was not gaining anymore, he was losing and losing,
because he would be looted, the shop burned. Then after one month, you need
groceries, school fees. So you go back, ask for credit to get groceries to sell.
Then each time you get stable, you’ve repaid the credit, and then the same story
starts, and you end up in the same situation. However hard working you are,
there’s no security. You don’t want to beg, you want to be a human being, you
want to move forward, but you can’t move forward, again you come back to
square one.
A day that I was delivering my vegetables for the Chinese man, I didn’t know
that there was looting going on. At the first shop I went to delivery to, all
my vegetables went like that – the looters said, “oh thank you, you brought
vegetables, we only had other groceries”. They took everything. The Chinese
man was supposed to pay me for my delivery for that week and the last one. He
lost his goods, I lost mine, the owner of the vehicle – it was damaged all over.
In the house I was left with some small vegetables, and a stroller. Where I live,
the Somali community lives in one place. But I can’t sit, I have lost everything, I
have a disabled child to take care over. So the next week I was moving with that
stroller from door to door with those vegetables. But it can’t pay you anything,
just getting two rand or ten rand. Since that day I’m staying in the house, but I
have receipts with me, the Chinese man still owes me. The man whose car I was

32
using, I have to repair for him and pay him the money for that day.
You get no loan from bank, whatever I get is from my sweat. If whatever I
have today is all gone, where do I start from? I can’t say that I’m the target or
that Somali’s are the target, but where do you start from? We are people who
depend on our hands, hand to mouth. You start, you lose, start you lose, so
where do you end up?
You see, I am not disabled, I’m healthy, I can work, but where will I work?
I have nothing to show that I am qualified. I have applied three times for a
green ID, and a year passes and another year, and the green ID goes only for
those who pay money (a bribe), R2000, R3000 at Home Affairs. And I can’t
move really, I have a disabled child. Today I left her with someone, I begged.
She needs to have diapers changed, needs to be washed, she’s heavy. The rest
are healthy, you can ask someone to stay with them, but that one you can’t
leave her with anybody. When I used to sell vegetables I would put her in a
box, she stayed next to me all day there.
The only problem I’m facing in South Africa is insecurity. I’m a healthy
person, I don’t lack anywhere in my body, I have my mind ok. I don’t need
to beg and go to JRS to help me with food, with rent. No, I’m healthy, I can
work. If I put today my vegetables here, and no one steals from me, I can pay
my rent, feed my children and pay school fees. But where’s the place? I’m a
target. If I want to travel to sell, I have to rent a bakkie because I can’t travel
on public transport. So the whole problem comes to security. The other day
they broke into my house and took my small money from me. I don’t go to
location, because of security.
It’s my first responsibility to take care of my children. If I can work today I
don’t need the government. I can take my children to a proper school, I can

33
Somali women applying Henna patterns to South African women’s hands during a celebration

34
pay for their medication. Other problem – I don’t’ have an ID. Today I was
told was told that my daughter needs an operation for her hand and leg, but
they need R10,0000. I can get money, but where will I get R10,0000? For
someone with an ID they can get medical aid, I can pay my money slowly,
like every month R500. But for now I don’t have medical aid, I can’t do
anything. So my daughter will forever be like this – no walking, no crawling,
no talking. I can do anything, even building a house.
It’s the same problem here as at home. The only difference is no rockets.
I wake up at 4:00 in the morning because I’m a single mother. I need to feed
my children, I need to give them lunch and go for work. Sometimes I even
sell clothes from women with shops, then at least I have some money for my
children. All schools we pay money, there are no free. Even the free ones,
you apply, you get rejected.
I have a disabled child, I need a future for her. Of all the children I gave birth
to, she is the most worry I have. Because I don’t want her to say later, “my
mother left me like this because I was disabled”. I need school for her.
With the little one I have medical problem now. When I lost everything
I had a lot of stress and couldn’t pay rent, so I moved to a friends house.
We were all staying in their sitting room for three months. Every morning
we had to move everything. A friend in Port Elizabeth said I should send
my little one, so I took her to PE to stay there, because I did not have a
permanent place, and I couldn’t care for her. My friend told me “’till you
are ok, I will care for her”. The rest were going to school so I couldn’t take
them. She stayed for a year until I was stable. When I left the hospital, I told
them that I was taking her to PE because of the problems, so she would
not be able to come for her check-ups. When I came back, they said, “we

35
will not take you back as a patient because you just went and came back”.
I said “look at my visiting card. You wrote six months”. I said I’m back and
I’ve got my family together, can you give me an appointment? This was in
January. They wrote me a small letter, saying “call in November for next
year’s appointments”. She has epilepsy, but they said it was me who messed
with it. It’s true that I messed with her follow-up, but it was not deliberately,
it was due to the circumstances at the time.
Thanks and hope
I miss Somalia. The woman who brought me to this world, who suffered
for me through all that, she is still in Somalia. Somalia is always in my mind,
and the bad memories are also in my mind, but my mother is still there and
three of my siblings are still there. But the situation as it is, I will not go to
Somalia. That little education my children have, they will not get from there.
I have to always be there for their future. South Africa is not like Somalia,
there is no war and killing, what is happening is a security problem. In
Somalia people are killed all the time, but here if a Somali is killed, you hear.
What I’m thankful for is that my children go to school, they come back, and
they’re fine. We eat, we go to bed, and in the morning we wake up. I hope
that one day they will be better people and be able to help themselves. If
one day we just cook pap and fry two eggs, still we are secure and we ate.
I’m staying in one bedroom house, R1500 rent, and R200 for electricity.
Wherever I move, I have to take my sick daugther. I thank God that we
are secure in one way or another. The robbing is all over, it’s not like it’s
happening only to me.
For me I’m a single mother, everything is me – school fees, work, sick girl.
But first comes God, I have to thank God, there is nothing that God didn’t
plan for you, you will pass. I say “just be patient, maybe things will change

36
or one day things will work out”. And most important for me is my children
go to school in the morning and they come back. That is what gives me
hope, that one day things will be good, and they will be better off than they
are now.
“What I’m thankful for is that my
children go to school, they come
back, and they’re fine. We eat, we go
to bed, and in the morning we wake
up. I hope that one day they will be
better people and be able to help
themselves.”

39
“I went from Kenya, to Tanzania, to
Mozambique, to South Africa. It was
a very hard journey. We were always
running from towns and police.”
“My hope for the future is that my
children don’t become like me. That
they get education, and they become
somebody of their own.”

40
Kaafiya
“In short, no one should see us”
The reason I left Somalia is the war. When the war happened
everyone lost everything, people were running from here to
there. There were already many women who were raped, and an
attempt was made to rape me as well, but I was rescued. I was
happy when I was told that I was going to South Africa. But my
parents didn’t go with me. I left Somalia alone.
I went from Kenya, to Tanzania, to Mozambique, to South
Africa. It was a very hard journey. We were always running
from towns and police. In short, no one should see us. We were
moving from bush to bush. We were being troubled by people
who travel those routes every day, and who took money from us.
Each person (taking us on the journey) has a connection. Each
time at each country, from connection to connection. There’s
always someone waiting to move us from bush to bush. It took
months. I don’t know exactly how long. We walked and went
by car.
What kept me going was that I was going somewhere safe and
would have a good future one day. But South Africa was not
what I was expecting. I thought there would be a good future,
and that the government would help refugees, and that I would
have a place that I can work. But it’s not much different from
Somalia, only the war is different.

41
The most difficult part is not being able to work. I can’t get a job. Hospitals
are also problems. Whenever I’m giving birth, I’ve been assaulted and told
“why are you giving birth all the time? This is not your country, you come here
only to give birth, you’re not doing anything”.
My children are not in school. I applied but was rejected. Last year, the
previous year and this year. I have no education so I have no say over my
children. That’s why I’m in South Africa, I want education for my children.
But up to eight years, no school for my children.
The good thing about South Africa is that there is no war, no guns, no
shootings, no rockets. They used to spoil my eardrums. I miss Somalia, but
my people are still in conflict there, my parents are still there. But there’s
nothing much I can do for them, though I miss them. I consider Somalia my
home still.
Myself, my husband and my five children are living in one room. If we get
R4000 from a shop, can it pay rent? The children are always asking me about
school, “why are others going to school and we are not going?”
My hope for the future is that my children don’t become like me. That they get
education, and they become somebody of their own. Because I’m a housewife
now, and what the father gets is not enough for the whole family. If I could be
someone who could help, things could be different. I want a good future for
my children and myself as well.

43
Amina
“We were rescued by other men”
After the war had started, we were still ok in our home. But in
2008 my father was killed in Somalia. Me and another four or
five ladies used to prepare tea and snacks outside our house.
One day Al Shabaab refused to let us do that. They said that by
doing that we were part of helping the government, and they
don’t want women to sit around outside cooking, because it’s
against the religion, so we must go inside.
I decided to leave after my father was killed. I was 17. There was
another lady whose husband lives in South Africa and has shops
in the country, and he was bringing his wife. So I went with the
wife. I travelled by bus and by boat. There were problems with
men on the journey, who wanted to assault us. But we were
rescued by other men.
I was happy to come to South Africa because there was no war
or fighting. So at first I was happy to be in a safe country. But
it wasn’t how I thought it would be. When we came no one told
us what rights we have. I started working in Johannesburg, in
Jeppes town. They were giving me R2000 and I was going from
6:00 in the morning to 5:30 in the evening, standing, not even
allowed to break for 30 minutes. It was very hard. I came by taxi,
but one day they stole my phone and my money, so I opted out.
One thing I like about South Africa, is that at least when I came

44
they gave me documents so I can move around. Unlike Kenya, where we had
a lot of problems with documents and movement. But in South Africa there
is no work, no jobs. I thought it would be like any other country that accepts
refugees, that we would get jobs, be cared for, but I didn’t get that, and I’m a
woman, so it’s a risk to work.
I left my country because of problems, so here I hope for a better life. That
I can stay in a safe place, have work to do, and even study. I hope to have a
better life than I had in Somalia.
“I was going from 6:00 in the morning to
5:30 in the evening, standing, not even
allowed to break for 30 minutes.”

45
Ahlam
“We don’t know why they killed him”
In 2001 I was at our house and we were just sleeping normally,
even though our country was at war. My husband was sleeping,
just wearing house clothes. Then the militias came. First they
broke into our house, then they took my husband outside. They
grabbed him, they took him by force outside, and they shot and
killed him. In front of us. We were watching from the window. It
was very sad.
We don’t know why they killed him. They came in masks, people
were just coming breaking houses, we don’t know the motive up
until now. We got married in 1995. Then I became pregnant with
my first child in 1999. My daughter died in 2000 when she was
four months old from diarrhoea. So I was very sad for the baby’s
death. And then the incident of my husband. I was in shock and
traumatised from that time. And then in 2007 my dad got killed
by a missile which fell on our house.
My mother used to look after my small siblings and sold fruit and
vegetables, mostly tomatoes. She would get robbed. Because of
war people would run, and knock the produce over.
I loved my former husband, so for five years I didn’t get married
because of the trauma. My mother and I were struggling, after
my husband died. There was a guy who used to be my neighbour,
he used to support me with some money. He is my husband now.

46
“My husband was sleeping, just
wearing house clothes. Then the
militias came. First they broke into our
house, then they took my husband
outside. They grabbed him, they took
him by force outside, and they shot
and killed him. In front of us. We were
watching from the window.”

47
We got married in 2007, and he sent me some money and told me to leave the
country, which is how I left. I was in darkness, didn’t have money or know
where to go, but he helped me.
I arrived in South Africa in 2008, around the time of the xenophobia attacks.
Everyone was scared. My husband was working with someone who had a shop,
but the shop got attacked and was looted. Police came and were exchanging
fires with the looters, shooting at each other. And then I heard the gun sound
over the phone when talking to my husband. He said he couldn’t keep talking
with me because of the gun fire. After that he stopped picking up the phone,
and I thought maybe he had died. I was very in pain because I remember what
happened to me my first husband. I thought maybe he had also got killed.
But then police rescued them and took them somewhere, but the business was
vandalised and nothing was left. There was some small money, which we were
using at home. He became jobless but I was very happy because he was alive.
Our life was dark because there was no job, and no one was helping us.
In 2009 I was pregnant with my first child with my current husband. When four
months pregnant, I was encouraged to go to the clinic by other women. They
took me there. Most of the time when we go to the clinic we don’t receive good
service. First they receive the South African people, and they always make us
wait behind. I left my country because of that huge problem of war, killings, lost
family members and my husband. But I’ve met similar problems here. When
you want to tell them something, they say “why did you come South Africa when
you can’t speak English?”.
I gave birth to my child, and the hospital helped me that time. I gave birth
normally, and it was ok. I got pregnant again and gave birth early 2011, in
February. When I arrived hospital, there were other people before me, and they

48
didn’t check what was happening with my cervix. I went to the toilet, and when
I came out they told me “don’t move. Sit”. But the baby was pushing me. The
blood and water were broken. And then I screamed, I said “baby is already on
it’s way!”. So they ran around, and took me to a bed. The baby was already on
his way, but because they were not in time they were not ready, so they took
scissors and all this stuff. They managed to take out the baby, but the baby
didn’t cry because he was delayed in the cervix. I think he was having a shortage
of oxygen.
The baby had jaundice, but they told me he has nothing, take him home. Two
days I was at home, I see the baby was forming yellow. I took him to the clinic,
and the doctor who saw the baby said run to the hospital with the baby. They
could not do anything at Brits hospital, so we took him to another hospital. They
checked the baby, and transferred me again. It was night that time, they just
write down details, and in the morning when doctor came he saw the child, and
they put the light on the bed. They said jaundice went in his body thoroughly,
so they want to remove the blood. My husband agreed. They said if the jaundice
gets worse, they will remove the blood, but if it decrease they won’t.
They took him to another ward, and then they said that he was getting better,
and they discharged him. He was in the hospital for about 10 days. When we
took the baby home, he was not doing activity like any normal child. He can’t
suck the breast, I used to feed him with a bottle. I didn’t understand that there
was something wrong with the baby. He was not sitting even at six months.
When he reached nine months, he’s not able to hold his saliva. I took him to the
doctor, and she told me maybe the jaundice affected his brain, and they can’t do
anything.
The other lady there suggested that we must take him to a physiotherapist to
see what’s happening. They trained us how to feed him, and how to train him

50
A market in Mogadishu. Photo by AMISOM Public Information Public Domain

51
how to move. They stopped treating us, so the child still is at home, and he is
disabled now. He can’t eat, can’t keep his saliva, can’t talk, can’t move. He can’t
stand up, he always falls down. Because he falls many times, now he tends to fit.
All the time when I go to hospital and ask for assistance, they are chasing me
away, they say “go!”.
If I go to the clinic now I have to walk, and I have to take both children. When
I come, they always put me at the back, and they shout at me because of my
disabled child. I don’t like the way they treat him. The baby is fitting sometimes.
If I go to the clinic one week because of the problem, and then have to go the
next week because of the same problem, they say, “you were here last week,
why did you come again?”. I got a SASSA grant, but now whenever I’m going
to queue for getting this money, they are discriminating against me, they are
laughing at me. Sometimes the baby is sick but I don’t even take him to town
because of the clinic.
There’s a guy who was helping my husband before where he’s working. But
he got killed recently. My husband used to work with that guy, and he used to
assist us with the rent and food and now he’s been killed. They said they wanted
to kill my husband but they killed this guy instead. My husband is the driver,
he delivered the stock. These people wanted to take money from my husband.
They came to the shop, but they missed my husband, so they killed this guy
instead. They are still after my husband. The door was closed, and the men said
“give us something, airtime”. He wanted to give the airtime, but then they broke
in, and when he tried to run away, they killed him.
The family of the deceased man called and asked that we sell the shop and send
them the money. My husband was trying to sell the shop and send the money
back to the family, but another neighbour overheard that some in the community
were planning to burn the shop so business won’t run anymore. They told the

52
family that there was a plan to burn the shop and my husband should run away.
So he ran away from the shop, and they burned it. Up to now there are three
guys who are after my husband, and they have been chasing him. They saw him
in a police car when they were chasing him, and then they left.
My husband has now started another small shop, but he’s still scared of those
people.
So we have a lot of problems, because my husband doesn’t have a proper job
like before, and we have this disabled child. The R2500 that he earns is not
enough for the rent and food. My children are not attending school. We can’t go
to doctors because they don’t want to treat. Most of the problems are security.
When I go to the clinic I don’t get help.
The biggest problem is my disabled child. There isn’t a special school for him,
or therapy for him. I don’t have security. I ran away from my country, I thought
maybe in South Africa my life would change, but they’re not welcoming me at
all. I don’t have money to go out, I can’t go back to my country, so my future is a
problem. If I had money I would not stay.
“another neighbour overheard that some in
the community were planning to burn the
shop so business won’t run anymore.”

53
Photo by UNICEF Ethiopia on Flickr CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

54
Farhiya
“I was raped by four men”
I left Somalia in January 2006. We were in Mogadishu, but we
moved to a farm. We weren’t safe because of the war, which
is why we ran away. One time more than 100 people died at
once. I was supposed to run with my brothers, and uncle and
all of the family out of Somalia. Even now if I start that story of
Somalia I’ll start to cry. I don’t like to remember.
I came to South Africa but I don’t have security here either. I
want a life, to work. I have a daughter. Sometimes I want to
get work, but they won’t give me a job without a green ID.
In South Africa, I had three babies, but two were lost. I was
in Brits when my children passed away. After that I came to
Pretoria, then one day I was raped by four men. I have police
reports. The case is in Pretoria, but the police didn’t catch
them. I know the face of one of them, but the other three I
don’t know.
In Pretoria everyone talked about me. If I walked past people,
they would talk about me that I got raped. I don’t want people
to know and talk about it. So I moved to Soshanguwe, because
of people talking about me. Now I want a safe place, where no
one knows my story.

55
My husband is still in Pretoria, he didn’t go with me. I went with my daughter.
From my family in Pretoria it was only me who left, and my family was looking
to me. I was working in Pretoria, selling things outside, but now I’m not
working even though I want to work. I have no safe place to work. Even if
men are passing, I think, “what are they going to do to me?”. The police are no
longer looking for the rapists. So the men are still free.
If you sell stuff on the streets, sometimes it’s not safe, men will catch you on
your way home, and do whatever they want. I often have headaches because
life is so difficult.
I don’t want to stay in South Africa because there’s no life. If you have security
and work, then it’s fine. But if you don’t have that, it’s not good. It’s not good
to beg, it’s better to try and get work. It’s difficult to get work as an asylum
seeker, but doing your own business selling on the streets is dangerous.
I miss Somalia because it’s my country, and my whole family is still there. It’s
not safe there still. Last month a bomb was dropped near where my brother
was passing.
Some things are good in South Africa, but security is not good. The freedom
in South Africa is good. You can survive if you have security and a job. I have
been looking for jobs, but where I’m staying now I can’t get a job, because it’s
a location, and women can’t get jobs there, only men. Women if they work will
get too much trouble. I want to come back to Pretoria to start my work again,
but I’m still too scared of the men who raped me, and people talking about it.
If my daughter listens to the story… it’s very bad. That’s why I moved away.
I want to get a safe place, then it would be better. I tried to apply at UNHCR
for resettlement, sharing all of my documents, but they never responded.

56
Before I was working, I was healthy, I had everything I wanted. Now I don’t
have a place to work.
I’m hoping that I can be resettled to another country through UNHCR.
“Even if men are passing, I think, “what are
they going to do to me?”. The police are no
longer looking for the rapists. So the men are
still free. “

57
Rahma
“One of the members of Al
Shabaab married me by force”
In 2009 one of the members of Al Shabaab married me by force
and took me away from my family. I got pregnant and gave birth
to a baby girl. After that I escaped from him, luckily. But I left
my baby with him, and up to now I don’t know if she’s alive or
dead.
Then I came away from Somalia to Kenya, to the refugee
camp of the UN. I left Kenya and went to Tanzania, then
to Mozambique. I was arrested in Mozambique for lack of
documentation for five months. After they released me I came
to South Africa.
In South Africa, when I came, I was hoping my life would be
changed, and I would get documents. But since I arrived my life
is not ok. I’m still facing security problems as a woman. When
I came I started working in Mpumalanga region. I opened a
small food store, where I was selling chips and bread. One day
some children and women came, and ordered some food. So I
started preparing it, but then they refused to pay the money.
They ran away, so I went to the police, but they said “we don’t
understand you, this isn’t your place, leave”. They didn’t help
me.

58
After that, I left that place, stopped that business and came here (Pretoria). I
also got a problem here. Now I’m working in someone else’s shop, but when
I was coming home people stabbed me on the road, chased me with a knife
and wanted to rape me. I got paid cash in hand, but people would attack me.
I want to get an education, to learn English, if anyone can help me with that.
My hope now is to learn English, to get a better job, to be able to communicate
with the police or anything I need, to be able to do it on my own. My major
thing now is to learn English, it can change my life.
“My hope now is to learn English,
to get a better job, to be able to
communicate with the police or
anything I need, to be able to do it
on my own. My major thing now is to
learn English, it can change my life.”

61
“I didn’t know he was working with Al
Shabaab. And then all of a sudden he
came and he said “Kathara, I want you
to go some places and do this”
He’s going to put something on me
(explosives), and he’s going to direct
me to go somewhere (as a suicide
bomber).”

62
Kathara
“Give yourself to kill”
I was born in Somalia and grew up there. I had family, but my
mother passed away when I was very small. So I was with my
father and siblings. Then the fight started. A man came one day
and said to my father, “I want to get married to Kathara”. Family
to family. I married that man, and I got pregnant two times but
miscarried.
I didn’t know he was working with Al Shabaab. And then all of
a sudden he came and he said “Kathara, I want you to go some
places and do this”. It’s like, what am I supposed to do because I
don’t know nothing? He said, “I’m going to do all the job, your job
is just to go to that place and stand there”. It’s like, give yourself
to kill. He’s going to put something on me (explosives), and he’s
going to direct me to go somewhere (as a suicide bomber).
At that time my father had been killed, and my brother and
sister. I had no family, it was just me. I said I can’t do it. He said,
“whether or not you like it you have to do it”. He stabbed me
here (my leg). I had some gold from my mother and sister. I had
given it to my neighbours, for safe keeping. My husband said he
was going somewhere, when he comes back I have to be ready.
He put something on me (an explosive vest), and I dressed just
normally like this. He said, “I’m coming back, and when I come
back we have to go together”. And now I’m bleeding from here,
the stab wound.

63
So he went, and when he went I ran to my neighbours. I said “please help me,
it’s do or die”. I don’t even know how to open these things (the straps) that
were attached to me. She called her friends, they started opening the things.
You know, God is great. They opened the things, I took my gold, and ran
away for my life. I ran maybe 100km from Mogadishu. People directed me.
There’s a place called Afgooye. I spent a few nights there. People asked if I
have money, I said I have gold. Too much gold. So I sold some of the gold to
have money. From there we took the bus to Kismayo.
My leg, thank God it wasn’t worse. I can’t explain how much pain it was.
From Kismayo we were meant to take the boat. They said “you have to pay
this money, and we have to go”. I said “I can’t go to the boat, I’m scared”. They
said “fine, can you take bus”. Bus I can take, water I can’t. Many of us came on
the bus to a town in Kenya. The Kenyan police started asking us questions.
One took me to the office. I had gold, I hid it. I had earrings, he said “give
me”. I said “I can’t give you”. He grabbed me, so I said “ok fine no problem, I’ll
open everything and give it to you”. I had a chain, small chain. He said “give
this also”. I don’t know how he saw it. I said “you took everything already, this
is from my family. I can’t give it”. He came behind me and put a gun behind
me. He took it. I had zero zero nothing left, just my clothes.
We stayed there for two weeks, with no water, no food, no nothing. We had
to walk so far to get water. People then said they are leaving, but I didn’t have
money. The neighbours and people said, “we have to support one another, we
are all Muslim”. We travelled by foot and by bakkie until we got to Nairobi.
There’s a place called Islii in Nairobi, where lots of Somalis live. We slept in
one room, all of us. They said we have to go to immigration in Kenya. We all
went, twenty something. They told us “you are refugees, we’ll give you piece
of paper so you can stay free, no problem”. They asked many questions, took
photos, and gave papers with stamps.

64
Photo by European Union Naval Force Somalia Operation Atalanta on Flickr CC BY-ND 2.0

65
I stayed in Nairobi with the people for almost six years. I met so many people,
Indian, African, Somalis. I didn’t go to school, I learned English through
people. People communicated with me, and invited me to stay with them.
Even now, people say “Kathara, if you have problems even in South Africa,
you can come back. Come and stay with me”.
Then people said again, “we have to go to the boat, we are going to South
Africa”. I said I don’t even know where South Africa is. But people said, “we
are going. We have to survive”. We went, I don’t know which border and
border and border we passed. I didn’t come by boat, even now I feel dizzy if I
Then people said again, “we have to
go to the boat, we are going to South
Africa”. I said I don’t even know where
South Africa is. But people said, “we
are going. We have to survive”.

66
see the ocean. We are friends now, helping one another. I had nothing, zero.
If you come to South Africa, at least you can have a life. I thought, “Ok fine,
follow your friends, they are surviving, you can survive also”. I talked to myself
like that. “I’ve passed so many problems, let me try this one”. And thank God.
I had no travel documents, people were paying money to pass the borders. I
didn’t even have clothes. I had one t-shirt, jeans and an abaya.
I arrived in Johannesburg and didn’t know where to go. A lady said, “come
my sister”, and they brought me to JJ (Fatuma Hassan, the SASOWNET
Johannesburg co-ordinator). They took me to the house. I just stood there,
and when she saw me she said, “are you Somali?”. I said yes, she said “ok
welcome”. I was very sick then. She said, “you are Somali like me, you are my
sister. Come. I’ll take you to the doctor”. He gave me medicines and vitamins,
and said “this one she has too much in her head, just relax”. How can you relax
when you are in someone else’s country, and you have nothing?
People were going to Home Affairs, so I went there. But I didn’t have
fingerprints. They tried to take them, but there were no fingerprints. I went
to hospital, they said this happens to one in 1000 people. They told me to use a
tissue and wash with soap, but still nothing. I fasted for seven days, and went
back. I was told, put your hands on the carpet so they can be dry, but nothing.
Put them in your hair, nothing. I stood in front of the man and said “God,
please help me because this is the last chance I have”. He said “this is the last
chance, if it doesn’t come out this time you have to go”. I tried again. Luckily,
it came out, very lightly. He said “Ok, I’ll give you a one month permit. After
one month come back and I’ll give you four years”.
JJ called people from my mothers tribe. With your tribe you start helping
one another, they are like sisters, cousins. Then I got my four year document.

67
My friend told me there’s a place called Jeppestown where I can work, in an
Ethiopian shop. We went inside, and they offered R2000 that I will get at the
end of each month. I thought maybe there’s something I’m going to do in the
shop. No, you have to stand outside, and when people buy things and leave
the shop you have to search. I sat down and cried. I thought, I want to go back
to my country, but how can I go back?
I started working for that R2000. I worked, I worked, I worked. I lost my
period. I didn’t get period because of too much standing. I went to the doctor,
and he said “everything is ok, but you are standing from 8:00 in the morning
to 5:30, so the blood is just going to the legs. There is nothing we can do
unless you stop that job”. If I stop, how am I supposed to work, how am I
supposed to feed myself? You see, I went to the government clinic, and they
gave me family planning, then after six months I get one time period, after
seven months, one time period. Because of too much stress. I said “ok fine, I
can’t stop. I don’t want to stand on the street maybe selling myself or begging,
I have to do something for my life”. That’s why I’m surviving ‘till now. I went
to the UNHCR and they did an interview (for resettlement), and took my
pictures. They want you to state your problems. When you don’t have anything
and they see what you have, they want a bigger problem, like maybe someone
raped you. I can’t, I can’t lie like that.
Whenever I get problem I have to kneel down and say “Thank you God, you
are the one who is protecting me, you are the one who reached me to now”.
If I had a nice job, I can change things for the better. If you do something for
yourself, then it’s alright. Not standing outside, yet you are getting sick, you
have to eat food, you have to do so many things for your life.
If I had some training, then at least I could do better for myself. There’s so
many things I want to do, but how can you do it with nothing?

68
“I don’t want to stand on the street
maybe selling myself or begging, I
have to do something for my life.
That’s why I’m surviving ‘till now.”
“Whenever I get problem I have to
kneel down and say “Thank you God,
you are the one who is protecting me,
you are the one who reached me to
now.””

71
Isha
“I walked, carrying the baby
here”
It’s too much war in Somalia. My husband ran away from that
war, and I also ran away. My husband came first, and after
three years I came. You keep running from one place to the
next, you are scared, so you keep on fleeing. Many of my family
members were killed there.
I didn’t know where I was going, I didn’t know South Africa.
I came by boat. I had a small boy. I had no documents, but
because I was going by boat I wasn’t passing any borders.
Some of the time I had money for the journey, other times the
others helped me. Until I reached South Africa.
When you come from the boat, you have no car, you walk
three days to the border. There’s no food or water. I walked,
carrying the baby here, walking outside the border. When I
was in South Africa, I managed to get a car to take me to my
destination.
At Home affairs I only got a one month permit. I went back
and got a three month permit. I had to renew it every three
months. I’ve been here 15 years, but it wasn’t until 2012 that
they gave me a four year visa. Before that it was two years at

72
a time. Now that the office has moved to Pretoria, transport is a problem.
Sometimes it means my son is absent from school four or five days.
If Somalia had peace, I would want to go back home. It’s my country.
“I didn’t know where I was going,
I didn’t know South Africa. I came
by boat. I had a small boy. I had no
documents, but because I was going
by boat I wasn’t passing any borders.
Some of the time I had money for the
journey, other times the others helped
me. Until I reached South Africa.”

73
Sahro
“Every day they would show
me a video of some small
child they caught and killed”
I come from Somalia, and I was born in a small town, where
I grew up. My father I never even saw. I was staying with my
mother and step-father. My mum had seven kids other than
me.
One day when I was seven years old, as I was coming home
from Madrasa, there was a man standing outside our door. I
asked him what’s going on? He had a gun. He told me, “you
want to know what’s going on? Come, sit here”. I thought he
was going to tell me. But he told me “I killed your sister and I
want to kill you too. You have to be with me”. When my sister,
who was from another mother, was 22 years old he asked my
mum to give her to him. She said, “I will never give her to you,
you will not tell me to marry my daughter to you”. He said, “if
you don’t want to give me your daughter, I will kill her now”.
He killed her. He told me “I did that, now I want to do it to
you”.
He put the barrel of his gun against me. My mum came out,
and said “you killed my daughter, and now you want to kill
this one?” He put a bullet in her leg, and ran away. All the
neighbours came out. From that day we couldn’t come out of

74
our houses. There were bombs all the time, so you couldn’t come out. My
mum said, “you have to go to leave this country”. I told her, “mum, I can’t
leave”. My mum’s sister stayed in another place, so I went there. There was
no Al Shabaab there at that time. When I got there, I was caught and put in
jail for almost one month. My aunty, my mum and everyone was asking what
I had done. They said, “she came from another place, she has to be let out”.
One day when I came out, the fighting had started. You couldn’t even see
anything, just blood and bombs everywhere.
I went to a village for almost two years to stay with my grandmother. When
I was almost 10 years I went back to stay with my mum. When I went back,
they killed my uncle in front of my eyes. Me and him were going somewhere to
buy something for the house. When we were there I saw something coming
at him, and he died. Another two guys came, and they shot him until all the
bullets were finished. I was in shock, I was not talking, I was just quiet. My
big sister who was in Zambia came to Somalia, and when she came, she said
“I want to take Sahro, I want her to come with me to Zambia”.
Then Al Shabaab arrived. They told my mum at 3:00 am at night, “take out
your daughter”. They took me to a place, and blindfolded me. I couldn’t see
anything. My hands were tied for five days. I was just inside, and no one was
coming for me. I was just sitting, I couldn’t hear any voices, I couldn’t move,
day and night. And then they took off my blindfold and untied my hands.
I was inside a room, with no window, and the door was closed. It was
too dark. I was inside three months. They gave me food once a day, in the
afternoon. They were just giving me porridge. Every day they would show
me a video of some small child they caught and killed with a knife. I was in
shock every day. I told myself, “Sahro you will never get out here, maybe just
your body when you die”. They told my mother “your daughter died, you will
never see her again”. All my family forgot me, they thought I died.

75
After three or four months they took me out. There’s a place they took me, and
they told me to go wherever I want. I thought I would die, that I would never
get out. I was feeling happy when I came out. There was a guy selling things
outside at a small table. I went to him and told him my mum’s name, but I don’t
know her number. He said he knows someone staying where my mum is. He
called that guy, who called my mum. She said, “are you still alive?”. Yes I’m alive.
She took a car and came for me. When they released me they told me to get out
this country in 24 hours. They never said why, I just said “Thanks to God they’re
letting me go”. That day, I left with my family and my sisters. The next day I
took a car and left for Kenya.
When I arrived in Kenya, my sister came from Zambia to take me there. I was
in Zambia for seven years. I started going to school there. I had a permit for
Zambia. When I started school I was given a student card and after two years
I had a permit. One day my mum told me “you have to go South Africa, there’s
a man there who’s your husband. You have see him”. I didn’t know him, I’d
never seen him. He was my cousin. My sister brought me to South Africa. He
was in Durban. She had to leave because her baby was due. I went to stay in
Johannesburg, with another lady.
When my husband and I moved in, he changed. I had scratches on me. When
we moved to Port Elizabeth, he started beating me, telling me “you will never
“One day my mum told me “you have to go
South Africa, there’s a man there who’s your
husband. You have see him”. I didn’t know
him, I’d never seen him. “

76
Photo by AMISOM Public Information Public Domain

77
“When my husband and I moved in, he
changed. I had scratches on me. When
we moved to Port Elizabeth, he started
beating me, telling me “you will never
survive this”. Almost for two years he
was beating me in PE, so I ran away.”
“When I came back he asked me “do
you want to live your life or do you
want die?” I said I want to live my life.”

78
survive this”. Almost for two years he was beating me in PE, so I ran away. I had
many scratches. I started working in Germiston, cooking food. He was here,
but he was not calling me. For six months he didn’t say anything. Last month I
came back to this house, and when I came back he asked me “do you want to live
your life or do you want die?” I said I want to live my life. He said, “Ok you have
to look for work, and you have to leave your job in Germiston”.
I went to UNHCR to open a case, and I even have a case against my husbands
cousin, who hit me. One night, I went to a wedding and said hi to lady, who was
my sister in law. She said “am I your sister in law?”. We started fighting, and she
threw a stone at me, and I fell down. The ladies started fighting with me. I came
home and told my husband, but he got upset and said “why are you talking with
my sisters? You don’t want to see my sisters”.
Another day I was in another restaurant. He hit me, and my face was injured. I
went to hospital, and the doctor helped to fix my face, but it cost like R10,000.
When I was better, my sister moved here, and now she’s staying PE. My
husband fights with my sister, he said “my wife won’t even stay in my house,
she starts going to your house”. My mum told me not to go to my sister’s house.
I’m staying with him because there’s nothing I can do, it’s my mum who brought
me to him. I wish to leave the marriage, and everything. UNHCR just said go
to police station. I went one day, and they said that if I want to open a case, first
I have to go to a family court, and after that they will open a case for me. If I do
that, I know I will lose my life. Even if it’s not him, other people can do it.
Last week I went to the clinic at Johannesburg hospital, and they told me I have
cervical cancer. They told me to come back again, and they gave me tablets.

79
Fatuma
“We want women to get empowered”
I’ve lived in Johannesburg for about six years. Somalia is very
hard, it’s risky, especially for women, because of Al Shabaab,
war, the government. We have children, we can’t do whatever we
want.
Somali’s are fighting each other. Sometimes you are just buying
food in the shop, and then you hear the bombs fall, and you don’t
know who it is. Women don’t know the politics, they stay at
home with the kids. They can get raped. Sometimes when she’s
running, she will get gang raped in the street. That is why all of
the women run away. We are running from the rape. Some stay in
Kenya, but Kenyans treat us badly.
The Somali government can’t do anything. Other militaries, and
NGOs are trying, but still people are fighting. The AU hasn’t
made a difference. If there could be peace, all Somalis would go
back to Somalia. I went from Somalia to Kenya, to Tanzania,
Mozambique, to Harare. During my journey in Zimbabwe I was
pregnant. The Zimbabwean people and Mozambique people
treat people badly on the street, they say “give us the money or
we’ll kill you”. They took all of our gold. We came here with only
one set of clothes and shoes. I didn’t have documents, but some
people assisted me with money. Even the police will take money
from you in the street so you can come here safely.

80
Then when we came here to South Africa, it was trouble. The women can’t
work. You go with a car, they hijack you. I was working in the street one day
when people came. I ran, and broke my leg when I jumped, trying to escape.
They didn’t rape me but it was an attempted rape. I went to the police, to assist
me.
In South Africa women can’t work. Our husbands work in the locations, and
they are looted. And we can’t go back to our country. We need a safe place to
take care of our kids.
We came here, and we applied with UNHCR for resettlement to another
country. They said they will assist us, but they didn’t take us. My husband told
them he has two wives. UNHCR said that if you have one wife in Somalia and
one here, we can’t assist you. For America, you can only take one wife.
MyhusbandgotajobwithasalaryofR3000.ButhewaslootedinBloemfontein,
and now he is not working. We had a shop in Soweto, but looters took R170,000
of stock in one day. After that I applied to JRS, and they assisted us with three
months rent and food for the kids.
We (the Somali community) assist one another with shops. Four to six people
will share the cost of the shop. We’ll pay someone R3000, so that they take care
of shops. Because we are women, we can’t go to Soweto, it’s a location. We
allow our workers to sleep in the shop because if we don’t, people will take the
stuff. It’s the fear of being robbed. So the people we hire both work and act as
security.
We are tired of working in South Africa. When the husband’s shop is looted,
who will assist you? That’s why we are applying to NGOs. Lack of security, no
peace. That’s why we can’t stay South Africa.

82
Somalis can play a role bringing peace. They can’t go back because of war, but
they want the Somali and South African government to be at peace. Home
Affairs helps, and you can’t say all South Africans are bad. Only the criminals
take your things like that. We get help from the clinic, Home Affairs assists us.
It’s only the security problem that we have, which is why we are saying we want
to go to a third country.
The South African Somali women are not working. There must be somewhere
they and their kids can learn English, and computers, tailoring, or how to have
their own business. Because if the husband dies, who will help them? They
must be able to help themselves, to know henna, or hairdressing. They can even
do Madrasa.
We want women to get empowered, to learn English so they can go to hospitals
and other places. As SASOWNET we have to help the women from Somalia so
they can get tailoring, driving, or computer skills. Someone who’s not learning
these things can’t work.
Fatuma is the co-ordinator for SASOWNET Johannesburg, and has
been instrumental in helping other Somali women gain access to
opportunities.
There must be somewhere they and their
kids can learn English, and computers,
tailoring, or how to have their own business.

83
Luul
“Al Shabaab would come at night”
When I was young, the war in Somalia started. My family
moved, some of them died. My father and my brother were
killed by Al Shabaab. I didn’t see it, but I heard it. I only saw
their bodies. There were seven kids in my family. I was the last
born.
We moved to Hagadera refugee camp in Kenya, across the
border from Kismayo. I moved to the camp in 1992, and stayed
there for 22 years. People were just walking from Somalia to get
to the camp, there were no buses or anything. We slept in the
bush. There was no food or water, and some of the girls were
raped along the way. The neighbours who moved with us to
Kenya also died along the way.
When we were in the camp, sometimes Al Shabaab would
come at night, rape the girls and take people’s belongings, but
nothing was done about it.
After a while I moved back to Somalia. But then I ran away
again, because of Al Shabaab. I ran away from Al Shabaab
in Kenya, and from Kismayo. I got on a boat that went to
Mozambique. It took 25 days. The journey was difficult – there
was no water, and we just ate fish. There were only small bottles
of water, and we used all of them.

84
In Mozambique I only stayed one day, and then I started walking to South
Africa. I didn’t have anything, I just walked with some of the Mozambique
people who helped us to get here. I came this year in June.
I have a six month permit at the moment, and I’m not working. I don’t have
any family here, they are still in the camp in Kenya. I only just came so I don’t
know what South Africa is like yet. But the things I’ve heard have made me
want to go to UNHCR and move.
“We slept in the bush. There was
no food or water, and some of the
girls were raped along the way. The
neighbours who moved with us to
Kenya also died along the way.”

85
Sharifo
“We came in one of those big
gas trucks”
I was born in Somalia, and when the fighting started, we moved
to Ethiopia. When I was in Somalia and the fighting started, every
day there was fighting and bullets, and people were stealing from
houses. So we ran away, and stayed at a refugee camp. Going
from Somalia to Dolo we weren’t using a car, we just walked with
many people. We had to cross a shallow water to get there.
When we were staying in Dolo, people were getting sick,
starving and dying. There was no food. No one in my family died,
but we moved and ended up staying in the refugee camp. We
started school there, and attended up to high school. I trained
as a nurse, and earned money from it. I could help my family with
that money, but it wasn’t enough, which is why I left the camp. I
was working for MSF children. I was working 24 hours and the
money wasn’t enough.
I moved to Kenya for just two months, and then moved with
a truck, carrying many people to Tanzania. I then went with a
boat to Mozambique, and then to South Africa. When I came to
South Africa, we came in one of those big gas trucks. There were
40 of us in there.
On the journey, five people disappeared along the way. We were
shut in the trucks for long periods of time, and the oxygen wasn’t

86
good. But if you came out you might get caught by the police. We travelled for
two months. When we came to the border, to cross over, some police came with
guns and started checking everything we had.
When I came here, at first I was going to Home Affairs every month until I got
a four year permit. I started working in Jeppestown at the Checkers, standing
outside and checking bags. I used to go with the bus, but then one day the
driver and people on the bus took everything I had and left me outside on the
street. The same happened the next day, so I stopped working there and now
I’m staying with family, but not working. I have an injury still from the bus
incident.
I was scared when the xenophobia outbreaks happened in January – I just
stayed inside. I want to stay in South Africa, but I want to be able to help my
family. I can’t even help myself here. I want help now to start studying, and to
learn English. I want to work, like I did in Ethiopia.
Somali refugees in Dolo, Ethiopia. Photo by UNICEF Ethiopia on Flickr CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

87
Mohamed Family
“You were born in the country but you
don’t have the rights of a citizen”
Halima (mother):
I came here in January 1994. It was a very bad life in Somalia –
fighting, killing. It was clan wars. The president of Somalia was
my tribe, Darod. So my tribe and other tribes were fighting. The
other one was Hawiye.
That time I had one son, my first born. He was born January 1991.
My father, my son, and my sister were all killed by other Somalis.
I was there, I witnessed them being killed.
When I left Somalia with my husband, we went to Kenya. The
civil war spilled over into Kenya. We left Kenya, and went by ship
to Mozambique. We were hungry, and didn’t have money, but no
one touched me.
People from the United Nations gave me money, and we were
able to cross the border. We arrived in South Africa in 1994, and
things were ok then. But now it’s like Somalia. For about 10 years
we were happy, things were fine, but from the 11th year it got bad.
Somalia and South Africa are the same. Somalia is my country,
and I love my country, but I don’t like the people from my country.
I also don’t like South Africans. In South Africa, an Indian lady

88
killed my son. She ran my son over with her car, and ran away. She looked, she
saw, and she went.
My daughter had an operation, and she needs therapy but no one helps her.
She has a problem with balance. She’s ok inside at home, but she can’t go alone
to school. I don’t have a job. I don’t have proper documents. I don’t have the
respect of the country or respect as a human being. My daughters finished high
school but they can’t go to college because they don’t have green IDs, even
though they were born here and have lived here their whole lives. I’ve been here
for 21 years and I’m still on asylum papers. They won’t give me a green ID.
Zahra (Daughter):
Without a green ID you can’t do a lot of things. It’s like you’re a refugee. You
were born in the country but you don’t have the rights of a citizen. In most
countries in the world when someone is born in the country, they have the
rights of a citizen. But when it comes to South Africa there are too many issues.
When you go to apply, they just say your parents don’t have a proper ID, so
you can’t get the papers. So because I don’t have the documents, I have asylum
papers like I’m a refugee who came from another country. If I had other choices
I would leave the country, to go somewhere where I can study and get proper
documents.
Halima:
My husband ran away. He’s in Zambia, people tell me. My daughters were five
and two years, and my son one year. He ran away to somewhere in South Africa.
Then when my son died at three years, he crossed the border.
I had a tuck-shop, and when my son died I lost my memory – more than three
years. I later got another job, selling clothes from a shop. The Metro police one
day took all of my stuff, so I stopped working.

89
We are tired now, we need a better life. We’re not looking to stay here or go
back to Somalia. We don’t know what to do.
Zahra:
Only God knows what will happen, we just hope for the best and that things
will change. If I could get assistance with documents, sometime in the future,
I could even find a course or something to do. Maybe I could study part time
or get a job, or find something else to do. But it’s impossible when it comes to
South Africa. So you can just hope for another country.
Halima:
We applied to UNHCR but we’ve been waiting four years. They never
responded. They help people with money. There’s corruption. The ones
with houses, shops, nice business, are the ones who move out of the country.
Compared to some people I’m rich, but some people really have nothing. I’m
worried for those people. I think this life is not nice, where can you go?

90
Nasra (Daughter):
I would like to have a nice education, medical care and a future. For now I’m
just hoping for the best.
Daughters:
When you grow up with a single mum, you learn to work together.
Halima:
We are friends, we work together, we are a team. I didn’t marry again because
step-fathers can mistreat the daughters, he might rape them. We must be friends
with our daughters and care for them.
Zahra:
The father was just a sperm donor, there’s no contact. He’s like a stranger to us.
Halima:
He didn’t even say sorry to me when our son died.
“We are friends, we work together, we are
a team. I didn’t marry again because step-
fathers can mistreat the daughters, he might
rape them. We must be friends with our
daughters and care for them.”

91
Hani
“He told me to change how I dress”
I came from Somalia, Mogadishu. Before the civil war in
Somalia, we had a good life. At least we had a roof over our head,
and we had our own house. But during the war, my father got
sick, and there were no hospitals, everything was mess. He died
during the war from the sickness. My mother also died, after
him. My mother and one of the ladies from the neighbourhood
and my sister were in one room, and they were bombed. We
were in other rooms, so we ran out. The whole neighbourhood
was affected. My mother and my sister died instantly at that
same time. We had minor injuries.
After my mother and father died, we didn’t have a house
anymore. Then life was rough. We were staying with relative
after relative, and that’s how we survived.
Life was rough, I was staying with relatives, sometimes I got
a busy job to survive. And then I married one of the men, and
he was the one who decided to get out of the country. I came
in 2010.
The man I married had come back from South Africa. So I
didn’t know where I was going, but we went by bus after bus.
I had no passport, or money, I didn’t speak English, so I was
just following him. He told me to change how I dress, to wear

92
western clothing, so I wouldn’t be recognised. Everywhere we were going he
was paying money.
After we came to South Africa, he had a shop in a location, but had been
robbed several times. When he didn’t have any stock, the shop was closed.
And then we fought because life got tough. We got divorced two years ago,
and now I’m married to another man.
Before I came here (Pretoria), I was living in Durban. My new husband and
I had a tuck-shop there. Then one day we saw the mob starting. We were
shocked, we ran away, we didn’t even wait. When we came back, nothing was
left. During the xenophobic attacks, we lost everything to that mob. People
said we must go to the camp, but my husband said, “no, I’m not going to
“Before the civil war in Somalia, we had a
good life. At least we had a roof over our
head, and we had our own house.”
“After my mother and father died, we didn’t
have a house anymore. Then life was rough.
We were staying with relative after relative,
and that’s how we survived.”

93
the camp”, so we came to Pretoria. We asked other Somalis for help with
transport, and we came here.
For three months we were sleeping outside of UNHCR on the streets. We
were homeless. I would just go to the places of people I know for the toilet,
and to bath. There are eight families staying there, camping on the streets.
From Burundi, Congo, Zambia.
Now, Future Families helped us with food and rent for a room in Mamelodi.
We are leaving to move there in maybe two weeks.
The problems in Somalia are still there, but here also I have problems. In
Somalia I was a minority. And the minority is scared. I am a Somali Bantu,
and the sub tribe is Shidle. I can’t go back because we are the minority. And
here it’s another problem, it seems like wherever you go you can’t work,
because the only skills we know are how to make small businesses. And they
are very difficult to run, because you feel threatened.
I’ve been here for almost five years, and the only document I have is the six
months one. I have to renew every six months, and I can’t even do it here. I
have to go to Durban. I have to ask for help with transport to get there, and to
come back. My current one is going to expire in December.
I’m wishing to be resettled somewhere so I can have peace and be able to
work.
Since we were sleeping by UNHCR, we talked to them. We are going to try
to apply through UNHCR, but nothing is promised.

94
“For three months we were sleeping
outside of UNHCR on the streets. We
were homeless. I would just go to the
places of people I know for the toilet,
and to bath. There are eight families
staying there, camping on the streets.
From Burundi, Congo, Zambia.”

95
Safido
“When I refused, they took me as a
hostage”
There was war again in Somalia, after the civil war. For six
months, the extremists had power. And then the AU decided
that Ethiopia would intervene in Somalia. So Ethiopia was
fighting with the extremist Somalis in Somalia.
The whole southern region was controlled by the extremists.
They said they would enforce Sharia law, so the worry was
that they would extend their control, and that’s why Ethiopia
intervened.
It was 2010. There was a bomb, and my mother, two sisters and
a brother died instantly. I was at school at the time, and I was
22 years old.
After my mother died, my aunty came and took us. I stayed
with her, but her husband was a member of Al Shabaab. So
she wanted me to marry one of them, but when I refused, they
took me as a hostage. They took me to another house, where I
was held hostage for 20 days. When I still refused to marry, they
injured me. They beat me and stabbed me with a knife. They
wanted me to just accept it. I was locked in with a chain. I was
alone in the house and blindfolded, except for two other ladies
who I saw. One of them died, and the other one was injured.
They were with me in the room. I don’t know how she died, but
maybe they beat her like they did to me.

Listening Voices Eversion

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Listening Voices Eversion