Prologue
Drums pounded as my cousin Axlam chased me around the field of goats quietly grazing.
The sun is starting to set as our bare feet carried us far into the tall grass, our laughter distracting us from our surroundings.
“Zuri!” cried Axlam “Wait up!”
I ran a few more bounds before realizing that Axlam wasn’t chasing after me anymore.
Giggling I leap up trying to see where she might be hiding-waiting to jump out and scare me.
I start to call for her, listening for any movement in the tall grass surrounding me.
The wind pushes against my face, and I heard my name very faintly. I am confused because it sounds muted, like it’s being muffled.
“Zuri!” I hear again, but it seems faint and weak.
Suddenly I see a tall dark figure walking towards the road, with a small body over his shoulder. The long hair and orange shirt tells me it is my little cousin.
Then I notice two other men walking through the grassy field, scanning the waves for movement.
My heart pounded in my ears deafening my thoughts.
I wanted to call out for Axlam, but it was as if I had no voice to use. I opened my mouth, willing myself to speak up, but there was no sound. There was only one coherent thought I could form: escape. My body seemed to be ready to move, despite the halt of my brain activity.
With one last glance at the men I carefully crawl towards the forest at the edge of the field, trying to avoid the grass moving too much.
I quickly shuffled up one of the trees using my headscarf to pull me up into its safe branches. I could see a truck on the side of the road, with little Axlam in the back motionless and tied up.
I start crying hot silent tears as I felt powerless to help my best friend. I was terrified, staying completely silent, trying to hold my breath.
I could only stare as the large men, who carried large guns, gave up on their search and got in the truck. I watched as they drove away with her...leaving a little dust storm behind them.
As I cried I thought back to this morning. I was gleeful when my parents told me we were to celebrate Neeroosh* at my grandmas with our family.
(*Neeroosh- “Held annually in July, Neeroosh, or Dab-shid as it is alternatively known, celebrates the beginning of the solar year in Somalia and Somaliland. The festival is known as the Festival of Fire internationally as locals build huge bonfires, splash water on each other, and dance to welcome the arrival of summer.“-www.iexplore.com/articles/travel-guides/africa/somalia/festivals-and-events)
I was excited because I always loved the handmade gifts my grandma would give me. I also loved to feed the goats, and dance to the drums my uncles played.
But more than anything else I was excited to play with my cousin Axlam. She always looked up to me like I was her hero, and would play whatever games I could come up with.
My parents reminded me to be gentle with Axlam because she was only 5 years old and I was six centimeters taller than her. I promised them I would be careful.
It was all my fault.
If I hadn’t run into the grass, we would be running around the bonfire right now.
I continued to cry in my tree as I felt overwhelming guilt.
Soon I heard my aunt and uncle call out for me and Axlam, quickly joined by my parent’s voices. They shouted as they walked through the grassy field. As the seconds went on my heart pounded wildly, not wanting to come out of hiding and face the truth.
There is no memory of what happened next, just a blackness settling over my mind.
Apparently, my Aunt had found me at the base of a tree, I must have fallen, with only a few scrapes and bruises. She had called out and my father carried me back to my grandma’s house. I was awoken with a damp cloth on my head and 10 concerned eyes looking at me.
I could see that it was dark out, how long had I been asleep? My aunt’s eyes were red and puffy so I tried to avoid looking back at them.
My grandma brought me into her lap, rubbing my back, and simply asked me “What happened Yejide**?”
(**Yejide- meaning in the image of the mother. Her real name is still Zuri, but her father and grandmother always use Yejide.)
The nickname my father and grandmother used for me felt comforting. I knew they would be upset by my words, but I held onto the hope they would be able to get Axlam back.
I could see her little face smiling bright, and how she could never sit still. Whenever I would try to braid her hair, I would stare at the birthmark behind her ear. The dark crescent always seemed to stare back at me. I had once complained to my mother that she didn’t give me a birthmark. She explained that birthmarks are not a choice, but something that happens by the grace of god.
But I began to wonder why god would give Axlam a special mark, just to take her away.
I tried to get through telling them what happened, but I began sobbing when I told them that I had hidden up in the tree, watching them take her away. As I stole a glance at my uncle’s pained expression, I felt my heart ripped from my chest.
When I had finished the room was silent except for my sniffling. My mother held me and my Uncle stormed out of the room, my Aunt following behind him.
Things were never the same after that day.
My mom had told me that some bad men were jealous of my fathers and uncle’s power and money, so they tried to take Axlam and me. She said that they wanted my aunt and uncle to pay a lot of money to get Axlam back. I had a million questions, but she told me to not worry about it.
I never saw Axlam again. I felt I was unworthy of friendship because of my betrayal of Axlam. I closed myself off to the rest of the world and was nicknamed Mala (bitter one) in primary school.
As I grew older, I uncovered the truth.
The truth behind my father
Behind Axlam’s kidnapping
And the truth behind my family’s wealth
