Reflection on Hassan M. Abukar’s ‘Mogadishu Memoir’

Hassan Abukar, Somali writer, who left Mogadishu in 1978 at the age of 18, has recently written a memoir on his early life in the city.

Close, yet far away

Excerpted from chapter one of Mogadishu Memoir by Hassan M. Abukar (AuthorHouse, 2015). The book is available at Amazon. * * * “Go, greet your father,” my mother commanded me. 

A conversation with Somali author Hassan M. Abukar

Editor’s Note: Hassan M. Abukar, a contributing writer to Sahan Journal, has been chronicling the lives of Somalis, whether they are in Somalia and in the diaspora. A gifted writer, Hassan has also extensively written about Somalia’s politics and security.

Somali-American Documents His Journey to Defy All Odds in America

Hamse Warfa’s memoir, “America Here I Come: A Somali Refugee’s Quest for Hope,” is a symbol of human triumph against odds. The story, which involves three countries, across two continents, is to say the least heart-wrenching. It is a story about willpower, and how Hamse, and by extension his family, survived Somalia’s civil war.

After a Disastrous War, Mogadishu Regains its Lost Moxie

THE ROAD BACK HOME begins before dawn. Before the rose pink light of the day breaks the skyline, the long queues of people at Nairobi’s Jomo Kenyatta International Airport form in a procession-like fashion. Here, almost every day of the week, hundreds of Somalis – and a few non-Somalis – shove and shriek at each… Continue reading…

My Sleepless Night in Lamu

My older brother Abdinasir is relentless; he is a story hustler, constantly egging me on to write something, to give him “800 words” stories. He makes it sound so simple. “Simba, since you travel quite often and you take some good photos, why don’t you write something about these trips, something like a travelogue maybe,”… Continue reading…

Celebrating My Mother: Fatuma Hassan Nuur Jellow

“So how was it like hooyo, tell me,” I ask my mother, Fatuma Hassan Nuur Jellow, as I put down the tape recorder. I was asking about her life and Mother’s Day was on my mind. Of course I knew, or I thought I knew her life, for I was her son and I lived with… Continue reading…

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