The Somali community in the UK

Transcription

What we know and how we know it
By Hermione Harris
Commissioned and published by
The Information Centre about Asylum and Refugees in the UK (ICAR)
June 2004
What we know and how we know it
is published by
The Information Centre about Asylum and Refugees in the UK (ICAR)
International Policy Institute
King’s College London
A project funded by a respected anonymous donor
to whom we are extremely grateful
First published June 2004
ISBN 0 9547024 4 1
Copyright © King’s College London 2004
King’s College London
Strand
London WC2R 2LS
United Kingdom
Contact details for ICAR
t: 020 7848 2103
e: [email protected]
www.icar.org.uk
ICAR is an independent information centre that exists to promote understanding of
asylum and refugees in the UK context and to encourage information-based debate
and policy making.
The copyright of this publication is owned by King’s College London. The views
expressed in this report are those of the authors alone and do not in any way represent
the views of the donor or King’s College London.
2
Table of contents
Foreword
4
Introduction
Plan of the report
6
6
8
Part I: The invisible community?
How we know what we know about Somalis
in the UK
10
Sources of information about Somalis
in the UK
The focus of research
The quantity of Somali research
The significance of type of research for
knowledge about Somalis in the UK
The search for the ‘Somali voice’
Somalis as researchers
Methodological problems
Part II: The Somali diaspora in
the United Kingdom
Map of Somalia
Historical background
The regime of Siad Barre 1969-1990
Continued conflict: 1990-2003
Migration of Somalis to the United Kingdom
Stages of settlement
Entry into the UK
Somali asylum claims in the UK
Determination of Somali
asylum applications
Decisions on Somali asylum
applications and rates of refusal
Exceptional leave to remain (ELR),
humanitarian protection (HP), and
discretionary leave (DL)
Refusal of Somali asylum applications
Non-compliance
‘Third country’ cases
Appeals
Return of failed asylum seekers
Detention
Resettlement
Family reunion
10
11
12
Concluding remarks
Number of Somalis in the UK
Employment
Education
Youth
Cultural conflict
Health
Mental health
Khat
Women and gender roles
Gender roles - conflict and change
Female genital mutilation (FGM)
Self-help and fragmentation: RCOs and the
politics of clan
31
32
39
43
48
50
53
54
58
59
62
65
66
13
14
15
16
Conclusion
71
Publications
Somali diaspora in the UK
Audio-visual
72
72
78
18
Tables and figures
18
18
19
20
22
22
25
25
25
28
28
28
29
29
29
30
30
30
30
Table A: Classification of sources
11
Table B: Subject matter of reports
11
Figure A: Asylum applications received from
Somali nationals, 1998-2003
25
Figure B: Number of initial decisions on Somali
asylum applications, 1988-2003
27
Figure C: Initial decisions on Somali asylum
applications, 1988-2003
27
Table C: Snapshot of Somali detainees
30
Table D: Ten largest Somali refugee populations
at end of 2002
31
Table E: Grants of settlement to Somalis
32
Table F: Estimates of Somali population
in the UK
33
Table G: Estimates of Somali population
in London
34
Figure D: Map of London boroughs
34
Table H: Estimates of Somali population
in London boroughs
35
Table I: Estimates of Somali population in
provincial cities
38
Table J: Achievement of Somali pupils in
Camden schools
44
3
Foreword
ICAR welcomes this report and recommends it to policy makers and service
providers. We hope that it will be of use
to all who wish to learn more about the
Somali community in the UK, and to Somalis
themselves. The report summarises what is
known about this community, and the part
played by Somali researchers and Somali
voices in creating that body of knowledge.
It uses interviews to clarify the published
material and illuminate the issues.
Individual Somalis in the UK have achieved
a great deal. Research shows that many are
from professional and business backgrounds,
and as a group are characteristically resolute
and determined to help themselves. Nonetheless, many suffer from a series of severe
and often interrelated handicaps in settling
in the UK, linked to the circumstances of
their flight. There is little evidence to indicate the gradual integration of Somalis into
the British labour force, more of occupational and social downgrading. Dedicated
and specific services are required in order
for them to fulfil their potential.
This report does not offer specific recommendations, but several priorities emerge.
Priority 1: Accurate data should be collected on this group by local authorities,
the Office of National Statistics and/or the
Home Office.
Somalis have settled in the UK in quite large
numbers in recent years. Some settled here
in the nineteenth century, others have arrived as asylum seekers since the troubles in
Somalia of the 1980s. Although an estab-
4
lished part of the UK population, there is
no single agreed figure for Somali numbers
nationally or regionally. The 2001 Census
figure for Somalis-born London inhabitants
is less than half the figure estimated in two
recent studies. We need to know how many
people there are of recent Somali extraction in the UK and where they have settled.
Priority 2: Somali youth projects should
be established to provide dedicated help in
schools and youth clubs.
Many young Somalis leave full time education unconfident and underachieving. Their
job prospects are limited. Those born in
the UK do better than those arriving as
older children, but not well enough. Most
fare less well than other new communities
in the UK. Their family culture and religion
(all are Muslims) are often felt to be out
of step with prevailing youth culture in the
UK. Somali youth are potentially excluded
from mainstream society, at risk of depression and developing mental health problems.
Some become dependent on khat or even
attempt suicide. Somali-specific services are
needed to supplement the government’s
national integration policies if these problems are to be solved. Lack of provision will
be disastrous in the long term, both for the
Somalis and the host communities.
Priority 3: English language classes
must be provided for Somali families
Amongst the older generation, poor English
language leads to unemployment, isolation, ill- health and psychological problems,
especially for women. Parents who cannot
participate in their children’s schooling pass
on their disadvantages to the next generation, whilst the British economy cannot
benefit from those with professional skills
and technical expertise.
Priority 4: Funding for future research
should include evaluation of outcomes
This study shows that Somalis have been
interviewed and their problems documented time and time again. Findings and
recommendations are repeated, but action
has been limited. Although there are areas of
Somali experience that still need research,
recommendations need to be implemented
and outcomes evaluated. We hope that this
report will contribute to a wider understanding of the Somali community, to the
development of appropriate services and to
the support of Somali initiatives to improve
their lives in Britain.
June 2004
5
Introduction
Somalis, an invisible community in crisis is the title
of a Somali organisation’s pamphlet (Somali Relief
Association, 1992). Another, authored by a Somali,
is entitled Feeling exclusion? A survey of the Somali
community in Lewisham; while an article deals with
1
Somalis in limbo (Ditmars, 1995). The launch
event for a recent report on Somali housing (Cole
and Robinson, 2003) was billed as Social exclusion
– the Somali experience. These phrases reflect the
marginalisation which Somalis claim to experience
in the UK. Given the long association of Somalis
with the United Kingdom, this obscurity seems
paradoxical: Somalis have been in Britain since
the mid-nineteenth century, arriving to work in
dockyards and to man British ships. Twentieth
century events in Somalia - once partly a British
protectorate - have forced others to join them, and
now Somalis constitute one of the largest ethnic
minorities in the UK.
Yet their presence remains largely unremarked by
mainstream society. A trawl through newspapers
from mid 2002 produces a clutch of reports that
Southall’s Asian MP held Somali youths responsible
2
for local crime, and a few articles on the practice
of female genital mutilation (FGM) within the
3
Somali community. There is the occasional more
sympathetic piece, such as the coverage of lone
4
asylum children in the Independent on Sunday.
But mainly there is silence and disinterest. A
media subgroup of the current Somali Community
Meeting (convened in London by Jeremy Corbyn
MP) calculated that there had been 741 articles in
five of the main newspapers covering the murder
of the young Nigerian Damilola Taylor. The killing of
a Somali boy, Kayser Osman, merited just 21.
In terms of the wider society, there is a general
ignorance about the communities that make up
a multicultural Britain. The majority of Britons
1. The same theme is echoed in the titles of British research e.g. Gregory
(1992), Somalis: the invisible community. Griffiths (2000: 285) also comments on this characterisation of the Somali community in the UK.
2. Daily Mail 4.9.02;The Mail on Sunday 8.9.02. However, there were
other reports on this story which also included dissenting voices i.e.: Evening
6
are hard put to distinguish between Africans and
African-Caribbeans, let alone to identify a Somali.
Their country of origin is no longer in the public
eye as it was during the height of the civil war and
UN intervention in Somalia in the late 1980s and
early 1990s (see below p.21). The end of the Cold
War and the collapse of the Soviet Union reduced
Somalia’s geopolitical significance, and western
interest has waned. Simmering violence and
parochial infighting are not headline material, and
Somalia has been eclipsed in the news by conflicts
elsewhere.
The attention that Somalis may currently attract
in the streets - an unwelcome visibility - is not so
much for their nationality as their religion. Through
their dress and religious practice, older Somalis are
immediately identifiable as Muslims, as are many
younger men and women who follow their parents’
tradition. The events of September 11th 2001,
recent fundamentalist activity, and upheavals in the
Middle East have activated a popular Islamophobia,
an overlay on hostility towards refugees. The
current profile of any refugee group affects the
reception it receives in the country of asylum in
terms of public sympathy, official acceptance, and
charitable funding. In Liverpool, Somalis grumble
that they are being upstaged by newer, more
publicised, arrivals - such as refugees from the
5
former Yugoslavia.
Another issue raised by Somalis to do with their
public profile is the lack of official consultation
and Somali involvement in projects directed at
6
their communities in the UK. As will become
apparent, the existence of an enormous number
of Somali community groups has not ensured
their representation in local and national bodies
concerned with their welfare, and there are no
Somalis in the corridors of power. One official
Standard 4.9.02;The Guardian 4.9.02;The Independent 4.9.02.
3. The Daily Telegraph 2.1.03;The Sunday Telegraph 23.6.02. For FGM,
see p. 65 below.
4. The Independent on Sunday, 15.6.03.
response to this charge is that the Somali
community keeps very much to itself; that it is not
interested in ‘integrating’ or participating in civil
society. It is true that the first generation of Somali
seamen always set their sights on return to Somalia.
They had not envisaged that events at home would
frustrate their dreams. This voluntary isolation has
contributed to the character of the community,
with its strong sense of family and a common
Muslim identity. The high rate of unemployment,
coupled with problems of language, has also
precluded a common route into the wider society.
But times have changed, and younger generations,
both those escaping violence at home and those
born here, have a different relationship to the UK.
Although often represented in policy documents
as undifferentiated, Somalis do not form a single
group defined by their predicaments. To begin
with, there is the vexed question of the term
‘community’ - implying cohesion, uniformity, and a
common consciousness. In a certain context its use
is justifiable - not only do the majority of Somalis
have a common language and all share an Islamic
faith, but the problems they encounter as refugees,
explored below, are widely shared despite diverse
social characteristics. But if, in this report as in
others, this problematic term is used as convenient
shorthand, it must not obscure the fact that no
ethnic minority - any more than a native population
- is homogenous. The basic divisions are those
in any community, although they will carry their
own cultural load. Despite present unemployment
among Somalis, and the popular perception of
refugees as impoverished economic migrants,
many Somalis come from the educated middle
7
class who could afford to flee. Somali class is a
fluid concept - households both in Somalia and the
UK often contain uneducated members alongside
professionals who share much of the same lifestyle.
Nevertheless, the experience of a functionally
illiterate old seafarer or a recently arrived youth
with no education is not identical to that of a
university graduate. The implications of gender and
the development of men’s and women’s roles are
explored below, as is generation, which combines
5. Information on Liverpool is taken from sources in footnotes 10 and
11 and from interviews with the Community Resource Unit of Liverpool
City Council; the Lodge Lane Somali Women’s Group; the Liverpool Asylum
Seeker and Refugee Partnership, and the Merseyside Community Centre.
in different patterns with the age of entry into the
UK. The older settler communities, the refugees
from the civil war of the late 1980s and 1990s, and
the most recent arrivals via third countries, all have
particular experiences of both Somalia and the UK.
Some Somalis arrive as adults or elders, some are
born in the UK. Generation and birthplace affect
both the orientation towards the homeland, and
life in the diaspora.
Area of origin in Somalia is another key variable.
A refugee from northern Somaliland will have had a
different background and history from one escaping
from the south. This combines with the factor of
clan affiliation, a form of social identification highly
significant in Somalia and with resonance in the
UK (see below p. 78). Area of residence in the
UK also impacts on the refugee experience. The
density of the Somali presence, the character of the
neighbourhood, the history of the community, and
the availability of services differ between London
boroughs as well as between British cities. Findings
from Tower Hamlets may not be applicable to the
newer communities of Harlesden. Somalis may
also have different immigration statuses which
in turn affect their relationship to state benefits
and employment. Asylum seekers awaiting the
outcome of appeals, or those unsure whether their
limited leave to remain will be extended, live in a
greater state of insecurity than those confirmed as
refugees.
And then there is the individual experience of
war. Unless very young, few Somalis in the UK
have escaped the horrors of armed anarchy, the
repercussions of a collapsing civil society, or the
grief of bereavement and family separation. But
personal stories differ and particular traumas are
carried to the UK, affecting experience of exile. In
a condensed overview of Somalis in the UK, these
nuances may become buried under an essentialised
representation of the community. But it must be
borne in mind that history, personal and collective,
determines both identification and difference for
Somalis in the diaspora.
6. Cf. Stokes, 2000: para. 14.4.
7. Farah (2000) provides an interesting insight into the different exit
strategies of various sections of the middle class, and the comparative
experience of the less fortunate.
7
Plan of the report
It would take a full scale ethnography of Somalis
in the UK, based on detailed fieldwork, to analyse
these particularities. This report is not of that
scale. Its aim is to examine existing secondary
sources, not to produce new primary research.
However, during the research process, interviews
and discussions with Somalis, together with
personal participation in Somali events, were vital
in illuminating the published material and clarifying
issues, and will be acknowledged throughout.
Consistent with ICAR’s brief, the purpose of
the report is to draw together already available
information, and to comment not only on its
content but also on its character. Part I therefore
sets out to examine the nature of existing material
and comment on how we know what we know
about Somalis in the UK. The first sections look
at the type of sources available, and the subjects
they cover. The next comments on the quantity of
material that already exists, belying the impression
that little is known about Somali refugees and
settlers in the UK. The following section analyses
the prevalence of certain types of sources - namely,
reports - while the following sections ask how far
the material reflects the Somalis’ own voice, and
consider the role of Somalis as researchers. Finally,
there is an outline of the principal methodological
procedures and problems.
Ideally, these methodological considerations would
frame Part II: the presentation of research findings
on Somalis in the UK which forms the body of
this report. But as the review of the literature is
incomplete, it is impossible to comment on the
sources on any one topic, assessing, for example,
how far material on education or women is
based on adequate samples or reflects the Somali
voice. This means that there is some disjuncture
between the two aims of the report: to critique
the methodology of research, and to summarise
its findings. Each section in Part II will, however,
mention the sources from those consulted found
to be most useful and point to those that include
comments and stories from Somalis themselves.
8
Details of individual lives flesh out the broader
picture of the Somali experience, but these
biographies are played out against a backdrop
of national disaster in Somalia, the native land.
Many sources, especially those written by Somalis,
include an account of the circumstances that have
torn their land apart and forced them into exile.
It is impossible to make sense of the particular
situation of this refugee population, and the
specific problems it encounters, without some
understanding of the country and its recent
history. Part II will start with a brief overview of
the history of Somalia, followed by an outline of
Somali settlement. This will include what statistics
we have, plus relevant aspects of immigration
legislation, before turning to particular aspects of
the settlement process.
Despite much common experience, Somalis have
particular needs arising out of unique historical
and cultural circumstances. Too often diversity
is ignored, and the totality of Somali experience
elided with that of other communities. However,
certain issues which are shared with other
ethnic minorities have not been dealt with in as
much detail as the particularities of Somali lives;
the general literature on refugees or minority
populations has not been scoured either for
references to Somalis or for background on
common themes. Racism, for example, is an
everyday occurrence for many Somalis, but is
assumed rather than documented in this report
- although Somalis may suffer particular forms of
discrimination, institutionalised racism and personal
hostility are experienced by all black or minority
ethnic communities. Housing is another area where
problems are common to low income refugees.
A recent report has signalled the importance of
poor accommodation to all aspects of Somali lives
(Cole and Robinson, 2003). But in what follows
it is the aspects of the housing problem which
are most particular to Somalis that have been
highlighted and incorporated into sections on
health and on single mothers.
There are further areas which would merit
more attention: crime, political empowerment,
and artistic production, among others. But the
topics selected are those which Somalis, both
8
in interviews and in public debate, most often
identify as significant to the quality of their lives:
employment, training, education, youth, physical and
mental health, khat, women and gender roles, FGM,
and, finally, the factors that fragment and unite the
Somali population.
8. See, for example, Evelyn Oldfield Unit (1997), Somali Conference
Report and the ongoing Somali Community Meeting (2003)
hosted by Jeremy Corbyn MP.
9
Part I: The invisible community?
How we know what we know
about Somalis in the UK
Sources of information about Somalis in
the UK
The received wisdom is that material on Somalis in
the UK matches their public profile - we know very
little. Researchers often comment on the ‘paucity
of information’ on the community and the need
for yet more investigation. In fact there is already
a wealth of knowledge - ICAR has identified 139
substantial items on Somalis in the UK published
since 1990, included in the bibliography appended
to the report. This list does not purport to be
exhaustive. Many locally-produced reports are
never widely circulated, and new material is
emerging all the time. General works on race
and ethnic minorities which mention Somalis are
not included, nor are the internal documents of
Somali organisations. The bibliography also excludes
newspaper articles, websites, and films, and leaves
aside most of the large number of publications on
the historical, political, and economic background
of Somalia.
In the short timescale of the project, it was not
possible to consult more than half of the sources
available on Somali refugees and settlers in the UK.
Constraints were not only those of time but of
accessibility of material. Many documents are hard
to track down, and some seem to have disappeared
without trace. This especially applies to reports by
voluntary or statutory agencies - academic books
and articles were easier to find, though some
theses proved elusive. The selection was therefore
10
largely based on accessibility - the report does
not pretend to provide a comprehensive survey of
all the literature available. But one of the aims of
the report was to compile a list of references as
a resource for future researchers and the Somali
community itself. Even though not thoroughly
reviewed, the size of the bibliography nevertheless
indicates the amount of work that already exists
on the Somali community in the UK, and belies the
common assumption of ignorance.
The 139 sources contained in the bibliography
which are concerned with Somalis in the UK can
roughly be classified into the following categories:
Table A: Classification of sources
Topic
Number of reports
Consulted (percentage
consulted)
General overview of principal areas of
concern
39
20 (51%)
Physical and mental health
12
4 (33%)
Employment and training
4
2 (50%)
Education
3
1 (33%)
Children and youth
5
4 (80%)
Migration and repatriation
4
2 (50%)
Housing
Khat (stimulant leaves chewed by
Somalis)
FGM
4
1 (25%)
5
4 (80%)
4
3 (75%)
Women
2
1 (50%)
Minority Somali clans
Reports on Somali organised
conferences
Elders
2
1 (50%)
2
2 (100%)
1
1 (100%)
Local radio
1
0 (0%)
The focus of research
The body of sources on Somalis in the UK can be
classified as reports, the results of investigation by
statutory or voluntary bodies. The subject matter
of these 84 reports can broadly be broken down as
follows:
This categorisation is only a rough indication
of subject matter. The general studies contain
material on a range of subjects, and issues overlap:
children and young people with education; khat
with mental health; women with FGM and so on.
Indeed the general overviews contained in both
academic material and reports illustrate how the
problems that beset Somali refugees and asylum
Table B: Subject matter of reports
Type of source
Number of items (percentage
of total sources)
Consulted
(percentage consulted)
Reports by voluntary or statutory bodies
84 (60%)
41 (49%)
Shorter articles in periodicals and magazines
13 (9%)
7 (54%)
Theses (from PhDs to BAs)
12 (9%)
6 (50%)
Educational packs/booklets
10 (7%)
3 (30%)
Academic articles
8 (6%)
7 (90%)
Books
5 (4%)
4 (80%)
Booklets/scripts of personal stories
4 (3%)
3 (75%)
Academic seminar papers or book chapters
3 (2%)
3 (100%)
9
9. Contained in Journals such as Journal of Refugee Studies, New
Community, Immigrants and Minorities, Libri and Educational
Studies
11
seekers interconnect: education and health affecting
employment; problems of transferability of skills
determining loss of occupational status and
unemployment; lack of work bearing on gender
relations and the dearth of role models for youth;
anxiety about family in other parts of the diaspora
undermining wellbeing; problems with language
affecting access to services and integration into the
wider community - and so on.
Nearly all the material in reports is based on
research in particular geographical areas - cities
or specific London boroughs - indicating the
distribution of the Somali population. Besides
Liverpool, another such longstanding community
is the East London borough of Tower Hamlets,
the focus for 16 of the reports and much of the
academic material. These early settlers were later
joined by their families, and since the late 1980s by
the flow of refugees and asylum seekers escaping
civil war in Somalia. These later arrivals started
to spread into other London boroughs (in the
north and west, together with areas adjoining
Tower Hamlets) where they are now attracting
family and friends who are already living in exile
elsewhere in Africa, or in Europe, the USA, Canada,
or the Gulf states. Many of the most recent
reports reflect these trends, looking at other
areas of London besides the older settlements.
One such is the report on Refugees and asylum
seekers in the Learning and Skills Council London
north area (Thomas and Abebaw, 2002). This looks
at education, qualifications, and employment of
refugees in Barnet, Enfield, Haringey, and Waltham
Forest, and has a subreport on Somalis. Other
Somali populations reflected in the provenance of
reports include (in order of number of documents):
Wales (especially Cardiff), Bristol, Sheffield,
Birmingham, Manchester, and Leicester.
The quantity of Somali research
Why is there such a plethora of studies on Somalis
- albeit disconnected and inaccessible? The answer
is suggested by the form in which most research is
published: reports. Research is generated by
political and policy considerations; the investigation
of ethnic minorities is dictated by pragmatism. The
explosion of the ‘race relations industry’ in the
12
1970’s was prompted by the perceived threat to
public order posed by black immigration. Those
communities which have not been perceived as
problematic, or as making particular demands on
public policy, remain undocumented. The large
output of information about Somalis stands in
sharp contrast with some other communities from
Africa. Take, for example, the Nigerian Yoruba, very
few of whom are asylum seekers or refugees. The
documentation on this other large and longstanding
ethnic minority in the UK amounts to three theses
on religious organisations and a handful of articles.
Yoruba students and immigrant workers have not,
by and large, drawn heavily on state services or
challenged welfare provisions. In contrast, Somalis
themselves have been proactive in demanding
investigation in order to generate policy outcomes.
Earlier generations of Somali seafarers, forming
self-contained communities since the nineteenth
century, also attracted little attention. It was only
when political events in Somalia during the 1980s
produced an increasing number of asylum seekers
needing support from the state that Somalis
became the focus of concern. Numerous reports
then appeared documenting their difficulties. Take
Liverpool, for example, where the longstanding
Somali seafaring community has been swollen by
families and new refugees. Over the last decade,
there have been at least six general studies on
10
the Somali population and nine publications on
specific topics ranging from health and education
11
to the foundation of a community radio service.
Somalis have also been included in general research
on ethnic minorities in the city.
There are other significant contrasts between the
Yoruba and Somali experience. While many Yoruba
are Christian, all Somalis are Muslim. Whereas
Nigeria’s colonial past has produced an Englishspeaking nation, it is only those from the north
of Somalia (Somaliland) who have had colonial
connections with the UK and exposure to the
English language. But Somali refugees to the UK
10. E.g. Liverpool City Council (nd); Granby Toxteth Community Project
(1993); Bulle (1995); Xifaras (1996);Yusuf (1986); Stokes (2000).
11. E.g. Royal Liverpool Children’s Hospital (1991); Mahmoud et al (1992);
Bullivant et al (1995); Saleh (1995); Liverpool City Council (1996a; 1996b);
Noor (1999); Lawlor (1999); Hassan (2000).
since the late 1980s have come mainly from the
South. This means that their language and culture
cuts them off from mainstream British society, an
decreases their access to education and
employment in their new environment
The numbers involved, and their particular
circumstances, have placed demands on statutory
and voluntary services - and so generated research.
Why is it, then, that there is still said to be so little
information on Somalis? One reason has to do with
the social invisibility of Somalis mentioned above.
Compare this profile with the African-Caribbean
community. Both groups suffer racism, but AfricanCaribbeans are perceived to be part of British
society. Their music and mores have permeated
British youth culture, whilst behaviour traditionally
expected of young Somalis conflicts with these
values. It is not the volume of research on AfricanCaribbeans (although this is considerable) that
gives them a public presence, but their high visibility
in the wider society. Somalis too are rendered
visible largely through their dress. But the social
distance between Somalis and the indigenous
British culture increases their isolation. There
is therefore a dissonance between the amount
of information which actually exists, and what is
believed to be known.
The assumption of ignorance about Somalis is
also connected to the nature of the material itself.
With a few exceptions, research is contained in
brief, small-scale studies, often undertaken by local
authorities or non-governmental organisations
(NGOs). Many of these remain in duplicated
form, are not widely distributed, and, as already
mentioned, are extraordinarily hard to obtain. All
too often, local authorities, NGOs, and RCOs who
have produced a report have no knowledge of it
a few years later, let alone spare copies. In general,
information is fragmented, poorly catalogued, and
badly circulated.
Given this apparent disregard of much investigation,
it is hard to imagine that ostensibly policy-oriented
reports have always resulted in action. It would
be instructive to follow up individual reports to
see in each case what measures had been taken in
respect of recommendations. Certainly, although
there may be internal assessment documents by
local authorities and NGOs, it is striking that those
that reach the public arena tend to reiterate the
problems which the community experience, rather
than monitor projects and evaluate their progress.
The repetition of findings and duplication of
recommendations have not resulted in consistent
practice based on a shared corpus of research.
A recognised body of good practice would go
towards building a wider understanding of the
Somali community at a local and national level
Associated with the problem of dissemination and
use of information is the perennial problem of the
gulf between academia and commissioned reports.
Although the growth of disciplines such as applied
anthropology and development studies is improving
matters, there has always been a mutual disregard
between policy-oriented investigation and the
academy - between NGOs and the universities.
The most substantial ethnography we have on
Somalis in the UK, David Griffiths’ Somali and
Kurdish refugees in London (2002) makes full use of
reports on Tower Hamlets, his ethnographic field.
But in the extensive bibliography of Rima Berns
McGown’s fascinating Muslims in the diaspora:The
Somali communities of London and Toronto (1999)
such material is absent, and she laments the lack of
‘systematic research’.
The significance of type of research for
knowledge about Somalis in the UK
Although they contain a great deal of essential
information, the fact that much of what is publicly
known about Somalis comes in the form of
reports also has a profound effect on the way the
community is seen and perceives itself. The agenda
of much research is determined from the outset to identify difficulties and suggest solutions. In these
policy-based documents, Somalis are presented in
terms of the obstacles they face, as ‘problems’, or
victims of circumstance. Indigenous Somali culture
expects a high degree of self-reliance from both
men and women within the context of accepted
relationships of authority, so this investigative angle
flies in the face of an ideal Somali self-perception
rather than acting as an agent of empowerment.
13
On the one hand, the bias is both understandable
and necessary - there are real problems to be
overcome, on which reports produce painstaking
analysis and recommendations. But on the other
hand, the predominance of problem-oriented
research reinforces the image of Somalis as passive
supplicants of the welfare state.
This type of document therefore cannot fully
reflect the strength, initiative, and determination
of many Somalis who have made the best of a
traumatic past and difficult present, retaining
humour and a sense of dignity. Some report
authors are careful to stress Somali resourcefulness
- for example, the Camden LEA report on Somali
children in Camden schools by Emua Ali and
Crispin Jones (2000) counters the findings of failure
with teachers’ positive comments on their pupils.
But reports rarely deal with community-based
initiatives and self-help projects. It is the form
as much as the content of much research that
problematises Somalis.
It has to be said, however, that this representation
of the Somali community does not come from
British agencies alone. There have been two
attempts to set up a national Somali forum to
address community problems. The account of
the first, Somali conference report (Evelyn Oldfield
Unit, 1997), and the circulated submissions to
the ongoing Somali Community Meeting (2003)
hosted by Jeremy Corbyn MP both analyse Somali
experience in terms of hardship, racism, or
community dysfunction.
The standard format of reports can also have a
dehumanising effect. Despite quotations and case
histories, most reports are not a sparkling read.
Longer documents such as articles and theses,
which do not necessarily bear a policy burden,
provide more opportunity to place problems
in a theoretical context, and include qualitative
material. The opportunity is not always taken. Janie
Robertson takes an interesting look at Somali takeup of early years educational provision in Enfield
in her MA thesis, but quotes from secondary
sources rather than her informants. On the other
hand, Sarah Cox’s dissertation on Somali children
in a Harlesden nursery (2002) contains lively
14
ethnography full of comment from parent and child.
Kahin’s useful study on Educating Somali children in
Britain (1997), besides readable background on the
main issues, includes autobiographical stories.
Somalis have recently become a popular subject
12
for academic dissertations, but although Cox
has summarised her findings in an article in the
Journal of the Anglo-Somali Society (2003), most
theses on Somalis in the UK remain unpublished.
One exception is David Griffiths’ publication
of his comparative study of Kurdish and Somali
refugees in Tower Hamlets (2002) with preliminary
articles (1997; 2000). Griffiths deals with one of the
older Somali settlements rather than the newer
communities formed by recent arrivals, but in its
focus on identity and the renegotiation of clanship,
gender relations, and generation it is an invaluable
baseline for future ethnography. Clanship is a
central topic to El-Solh, also researching in Tower
Hamlets, in her article ‘Somalis in London’s East
End: A community striving for recognition’ (1991).
This type of ethnographic research also analyses
obstacles, but can include more of the community’s
own perspective than some questionnaire-based
reports have the space to do. Monographs and
ethnographic articles can also present a fuller
picture of refugees as agents rather than as targets
of policies and programmes.
The search for the ‘Somali voice’
The ideal form for the expression of a proactive
agent is the autobiography, or personal story, such
as the women’s voices in Breaking the silence and
the two collections of women’s stories told in their
own words (Somali Women’s Association, 1987/88
Our strength comes with us: Somali women’s voices,
and Hassan, 2002, From Somalia to Liverpool:The
experiences of seven women). When understood in
the light of background drawn from other sources,
these are powerful testimonies.
Two other books rely entirely on (auto)biography.
Nuruddin Farah’s Yesterday, tomorrow:Voices from the
12. E.g. Ali (2001); Bloch (1997); Cox (2002); Harper Bulman (1997);
Hassan (1988); Polese (2001); Robertson (2002); Saleh (1995); Xifaras
(1996).
Somali diaspora (2000) includes encounters with
Somalis of different generations in the UK. Waris
Dirie’s Desert flower (1998) charts her own journey
from a desert nomadic childhood to the catwalks
of Europe and America via exploitation as domestic
labour in London. Both books give rare insights
into the particularities of individual lives within the
parameters of their social context. But there are
few other accounts written by Somalis themselves
about their own experience, and there is little in
the way of fiction on Somalis in the UK to convey
the texture of lived lives.
The examples of Farah and Dirie, both Somalis,
should, however, sound a note of caution in the
search for the ‘Somali voice’. What do we mean?
Farah is a cosmopolitan author, Waris Dirie is a
supermodel. Their accounts cannot be taken as
the basis for generalisations. As we have seen,
the Somali community is not homogenous: class,
gender, generation, refugee career, and other
factors determine the inflection of the ‘Somali
voice’ and defy efforts to encapsulate the ‘Somali
experience’. In the desire for ‘authenticity’ there is
a danger of essentialising ‘the Somali’, whether he
or she be the object of research or the researcher.
What first hand accounts provide is an array of
Somali voices, thus communicating exactly that
heterogeneity so often missing in reports that
necessarily focus on shared problems.
But in these reports, too, the use of informants’
own words is invaluable, even only as brief
quotations from questionnaires or interviews.
Sherriff’s report on Reaching first base: Guidelines of
good practice on meeting the needs of refugee children
from the Horn of Africa (1995) injects short quotes
from her respondents. These may be illustrative of
particular circumstances, and cannot necessarily
be taken as representative, but that is not their
function. They bestow authenticity and bring the
text to life. Where there is no direct quotation,
experience is bleached out of the text and the
subject of the study is silenced. A model in this
respect is Renewal’s study by Lukes and Bell (2002)
Renewing west London: Refugee communities - their
hopes and needs, which includes both shorter
quotes and verbatim case histories. Other reports
include composite short biographies compiled by
the researcher. Although these are not in direct
speech, they put opinion in the context of the
speaker’s background.
However, many reports do not reflect the
insights and understanding that must have been
gained through the process of research, and the
Somali remains a silent recipient of services.
Whilst this may be consistent with a thin piece
of research, it need not necessarily be so. Bloch
and Atfield’s report to Refugee Action and the
International Organization for Migration (IOM)
on The professional capacity of nationals from the
Somali regions in Britain (2002) is an invaluable
source on a critical subject. Their depth of
knowledge is reflected in the extent of their
secondary sources – but not conveyed through
‘Somali voices’. By contrast, there are reports
which use the ‘Somali voice’ as a main research
tool. Farah and Smith’s Somalis in London (1999)
presents a statistical analysis of data gained from an
educational outreach programme, but at the heart
of the report are family case histories and Somali
commentaries on various aspects of life in the UK.
Somalis as researchers
The advantages - or the necessity - of Somali
participants in investigation may go some way
in representing the voices of their informants.
Indigenous researchers may also avoid some
of the obstacles that many researchers have
encountered. Chief among these is a resistance
to the whole enterprise of research. As do many
minority communities, Somalis value their privacy,
for reasons both of culture and of caution. The
Somali Muslim culture is not a confessional one;
self-containment is valued and personal enquiry is
seen as intrusive. On a practical level research can
arouse suspicion - questioning is associated with
Home Office or local authority investigation. For
those whose immigration status is uncertain, or
who are worried about their benefits, interviews
are unwelcome. When these are carried out by
someone from the same ethnic group, distrust
may be reduced. However, there are also accounts
by Somali researchers of encountering identical
problems. Despite assurances of confidentiality,
15
there may be the concern that personal details
will filter out into the community. A ‘stranger’ is
sometimes safer.
Both Somali and other researchers also have
to face resistance on another front. While it is
reiterated that more research is needed as so
little is known about the community, Somalis,
especially in London, themselves feel preyed upon
and overresearched. When the investigation is
academic, it is seen as bringing little advantage to
the community. When policy-based, Somalis are
still wary. Too often they have spent time divulging
information said to assist them, but have seen no
practical outcome at all. They have lost patience
with the explanation that funders need preliminary
research - RCOs, often approached in investigation,
want service provision, not more summaries of
what they already know. A Somali interviewer
may ameliorate this problem but not necessarily
(according to reports) solve it.
Receptivity to a Somali researcher may also be
influenced by the same variables that affect the
voice of the researched. While reports record
that women have been selected to interview
women, other differences such as clan, class, and
generation are more difficult to control, and
can impede understanding of the informant by
the researcher - and vice versa. Being ‘a Somali’
is not necessarily a guarantee of total accuracy.
Indigenous interviewers, however, will have a more
informed sense of the significance of questions.
Queries that might seem innocuous to an outsider
- about an address, or the number of household
members - may either be seen as impolite or carry
implications that may not be apparent to a nonSomali.
All recent reports on Somalis involve members
of the community in some capacity, even if only
as interviewees. But in many, Somalis have a more
prominent role. Of the 139 items in the ICAR
bibliography on Somalis in the UK, over a third are
authored or co-authored by Somalis. Given the
proportion of professionally qualified and skilled
Somalis in the diaspora, there is no shortage of
candidates for projects. Most commonly this is
not only as interpreters, but also as interviewers.
16
Already fluent in the language and familiar with the
culture, members of the community are trained
in research methods and often help in analysing
the results. Where Somalis have been employed as
interviewers, their role may extend into helping
to frame the investigation in the light of their
knowledge - they therefore become informants as
well as researchers. Their voice may be there, even
if not as direct speech.
Increasingly, Somali professionals are undertaking
lead roles in research into their own community.
Two current examples are in the fields of
mental health and refugees. Nasir Warfa and
Salaad Mohamud are part of a team conducting
investigation into Somali mobility and mental health
(the SOMMER project) based at King’s College and
Queen Mary, University of London. Their results
will shed light on issues of health and social status,
service use and geographic mobility across primary
care group boundaries in east and south London.
In Manchester, Zeinab Mohamed, a midwife, is
collaborating with others on research into the
determinants of ill health and the obstacles to
mental and physical wellbeing. In a previous study,
some of the health workers who initiated and
carried out investigation into Somali mental health
in Liverpool (Bullivant et al, 1995) were themselves
part of the community - the short report includes
illustrative quotation and the Somali translation of
terminology for mental states.
Methodological problems
There are other research problems that afflict
Somalis and non-Somalis alike. One of the chief
difficulties for research on Somalis is the wide
variety of estimates as to the size of the Somali
population in the UK. As made clear by the
confusion over figures considered below, it is
difficult to establish a solid base on which to
construct a sampling frame from which conclusions
can be extrapolated to a wider population.
Repeatedly, there is an expectation by researchers
that they will start off from an existing statistical
baseline of the Somali population in their chosen
area, only to find that they must adapt their
methodology to its absence and jettison any hope
of accurate numerical data. This is not true of all
reports. Many include quantitative data based on
their samples. But in the absence of a firm sampling
frame, statistically sound generalisations of a
particular category cannot be made.
In some contexts, such as a defined school
population, random sampling is possible. But in
others, such as a locality, means of sampling have
to be chosen which cannot produce a statistically
sound study. The most common is the method
which is usually employed in qualitative work, but in
Somali research is also used to select samples. This
is the ‘snowball’ or network technique, whereby
contact is initially made with ‘gatekeepers’, who
provide access into the chosen community. These
may be individuals who introduce the researcher
to friends, family, or co-members of groups.
Other common starting points are RCOs, Somali
associations, or other voluntary or statutory
bodies who work with Somalis.
Whilst often the only avenue, and one which
is effective in communicating trust, snowball
sampling through gatekeepers has its drawbacks.
If contacts are made though one individual, the
network may be characterised by particular traits
or circumstances - the lifestyles and networks of
these initial contacts are likely to determine the
demographics and socio-political orientation of
the referral chain that follows. For Muslims in the
diaspora, Berns McGown contacted her London
sample though two community organisations and a
mosque (1999: 10). Could this have influenced her
findings on the resurgence of interest in religion
amongst her informants? Researchers often stress
that they have used multiple gatekeepers to enable
diversity, but access through organisations to its
members leaves the problem of ‘non-joiners’, those
remaining outside the group who might represent a
different section of the community.
In order to keep a balance of gender, age,
occupation, and other relevant variables,
researchers may introduce quota sampling,
selecting respondents who fit into certain prespecified categories in order to represent a survey
population. Whilst this is a step towards eliminating
bias, in the absence of a national sampling base it
is impossible to make generalisations based on
probability about the Somali population in the UK.
Another form of quota sampling is to link the study
to a particular group or topic – youth,
women, health, education. As we have seen, many
Somali reports are single-topic. But some of the
richest material we have of this kind dispenses
with the attempt to find a statistical base and
relies on qualitative material. A recent example
is Lucy Hannan’s outstanding report A gap in
their hearts (2003) on separated Somali children
arriving in the UK without their parents. The
depth of both background research and interviews
with young people, including extensive personal
accounts, inspires confidence that her findings are
representative, even if this cannot be statistically
proven. The impossibility of obtaining a random
sample is irrelevant. An advantage of reports of this
quality is that they are picked up by the press, and
so come into the public domain.
Although Hannan makes no methodological
comment, studies such as this clearly rely on
intensive in-depth interviewing. Interviewing
techniques recorded in reports range from the
administration of fixed pre-coded questionnaires,
written or recorded, through various combinations
of open-ended questioning, and structured, semistructured, and unstructured interviews. The form
depends on the kind of information required, but
because of the difficulty of selecting samples and
gaining adequate access to informants, the numbers
interviewed in many studies are extremely small.
There is seldom enough recognition that formal
structured interviews are themselves problematic,
whether trying to establish events or asking for
an opinion. Respondents rarely give accurate
information to an unknown investigator, especially
on topics seen as personal. There is much to be
said for long-term qualitative research and casehistory evidence. Even though the findings cannot
be strictly quantified, they introduce agency, open
a window on the process of social life, illuminate
generalisations, and counter the essentialisation of
groups and communities.
17
Part II: The Somali diaspora in
the United Kingdom
Source: CIA World Factbook, Somalia
Historical background13
Somalia is a country of 246,200 square miles,
curving like a figure seven around the Horn of
Africa. The Indian Ocean lies off its eastern coast,
with the Gulf of Aden to the north. Recent
estimates of the total population vary from 6.3
14
15
8 million to 8.8 million. For many centuries,
these solidly Muslim peoples have been nomadic
pastoralists, herding sheep, camel, and goats in
the semi-arid pasture of what is now Somalia,
although the search for grazing takes them across
contemporary borders into neighbouring Ethiopia,
Kenya, and Djibouti. Although herders may also
grow subsistence crops, the north suffers from
13. There is a large literature on Somali history and society. See the
bibliographies attached to the sources used here which include: Hersi
(1997); Samatar (1997); Samatar (1988); Abdullahi (2001); Stevenson
(1995); Lewis (1999 [1961]); Griffiths (2002); Library of Congress Federal
Research Division, Country Studies (http://lcweb2.loc.gov/frd/cs/sotoc/
html#so0031).
18
extremes of temperature and low rainfall, and
Somali agriculture is mainly practiced in the fertile
southern land between the Juba and Shabeelle
rivers. A decade ago, some 25% of the population
were farmers, but 60% still were pastoralists.
Although contemporary Somalia has an increasing
urban population, like many non-industrialised
societies the line between town and country is
permeable. Urban families often have herds in rural
areas, and many townswomen have spent part of
their childhood herding livestock. Much of the
subsistence and cash economy is still based on the
camel, and Somali poets celebrate the nomadic way
of life which lies deep in the national psyche:
14. Projected estimate for 2001: UNDP Human Development Report,
Somalia, 2001: 57.
15. Country Information and Policy Unit, Immigration and Nationality
Directorate, UK Home Office (http://www.ecoi.net/pub/nz332/01007som.
htm), 2002: 2.
16. Quoted in Dirie, 1998: 12.
A she-camel is a mother
To him who owns it
Whereas a he-camel is the artery
16
Onto which hangs life itself….
The curious shape of Somalia’s official borders
and the existence of some three million Somalis
in eastern Ethiopia and northern Kenya are due
to the fragmentation of Somaliland during the
‘scramble for Africa’ by European powers. The
area’s geopolitical location made it attractive both
for strategic and commercial purposes, especially
after the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869. By the
end of the nineteenth century, France had annexed
Djibouti, and British colonial Kenya claimed Somali
territory along its border. Ethiopia also encroached
on Somali terrain, taking the Haud and the Ogaden
in the 1890s, and condemning Somalia to panSomali reclamation struggles over the following
century. The remaining land was then divided. In
1905 Italy appropriated the larger central-southern
section, with its capital Mogadishu, while in 1886
Britain took control of the smaller northern
protectorate, managing the country from the main
city of Hargeisa.
The regime of Siad Barre 1969-1990
Armed resistance to these occupations had
been crushed by the 1920s, and it was left to
Somali political parties to organise around the
reunification of an independent Somalia. In 1960 a
nationalist coalition swept to power in northern
elections. The UK conceded independence to
the protectorate, Italy relinquished control of
the south, and a united Somali Republic came
into being. However, this democratic unity was
short lived. Distracted by the attempt to regain
Kenyan and Ethiopian lands, the government under
successive leaders grew corrupt and inefficient.
In 1969 the president was assassinated, the army
staged a coup d’état, and Major General Mohamed
Siad Barre became the head of state. Over the next
decade, the military established themselves as the
core of the ruling Somali Revolutionary Socialist
Party (SRSP), with Barre as president.
True to the theoretical principles of scientific
socialism which he espoused, Barre introduced
some democratic reforms. Health and education
programmes were backed by developments in
infrastructure. In 1972, orthography of the Somali
language was devised for the first time, followed
by a nationwide literacy campaign. The status of
minorities became an issue, as did women’s rights.
But the regime became increasingly repressive.
As dictators are wont to do, Barre became ever
more suspicious of those around him, and, aided by
Soviet-supported state security, violently intolerant
of opposition. When eight Muslim clerics opposed
his reforms on women and the introduction of
the Roman script, he had them executed. These
summary killings were by no means exceptional.
Murder, rape, and torture became commonplace.
Some of his most vicious campaigns were waged
against the former British protectorate of the
north, home of the Somali National Movement
(SNM), which was founded by Somali students in
the UK in 1988. In the same year, the SNM attacked
Barre’s army bases in the north. This precipitated
a civil war which displaced over a million people
and cost the lives of thousands. Hargeisa and
other northern towns were heavily bombed, and
hundreds of thousands fled to Ethiopia, or overseas
to Western Europe, North America, the Gulf, and
the Indian subcontinent.
Barre’s policies also led to economic disaster.
From 1960 to the mid-1970s, the economy was
in a stable state. Overall annual growth was 2.1%,
and the industrial sector, with food processing,
pharmaceuticals, and textiles, was developing at 5%
per annum (Samatar, 1997: 123). A refinery was
established at Mogadishu to process Saudi Arabian
petrol, but nationalisation of manufacturing and
commerce halted these developments. Natural
disasters exacerbated the decline - severe droughts
throughout the period cut a swathe through herds,
decimated agricultural production, and engendered
widespread famine. An ill-conceived development
plan threw the country into debt and onto the
mercy of foreign creditors. Because of its strategic
value at the time of the cold war, both eastern and
western money and military hardware poured into
the country, sustaining the state but undermining
a productive economy. Barre forfeited Russian aid
19
when retaliating against Soviet support for Ethiopia,
and turned to the United States. But when Somalia
continued to renege on debt repayment, foreign
donors, including the IMF, withdrew funding in 1988,
and the economy collapsed.
These economic factors played their part in
the downfall of Siad Barre’s regime, but it was
internal military opposition that finally brought
him down. Despite their internecine rivalries upon
which Barre could capitalise, various opposition
groups formed and reformed from the mid-1970s
onwards, organising militias both internally and
from neighbouring Ethiopia. It was fighters from the
United Somali Congress (USC) that finally expelled
Barre from Mogadishu in January 1991.
Continued conflict: 1990-2003
The aftermath of Siad Barre’s regime in southern
Somalia has not been reconstruction, but further
fighting and the disintegration of civil society.
Although much of the disorder has been caused
by the individual ambitions of local warlords in
the absence of a central state, the idiom in which
conflict continues is that of clanship, an issue to
be explored below (p. 78). The force behind the
SNM was the Isaq, the dominant clan in northern
Somalia, while Siad Barre, as did most of his cronies,
came from a Darod subclan, the Marehan. The
various groups that opposed him also had clan
identities, and after Barre’s defeat, the common
political purpose of these factions, always tenuous
and complex, fell away, leaving a chaos of competing
claims to power. The authority of the USC, which
represented the dominant clan family in Mogadishu,
the Hawiye, was challenged by rival militias, and
Somalia descended into civil war. The fighting
escalated when the USC itself was torn apart by
two contenders for power: the head of the military,
General Mohamed Aideed, and the President,
Ali Mahdi, supported by rival Hawiye subclans.
Barre was also fighting for a comeback, and armed
local clan elders struggled for power. The ensuing
mayhem resulted in the devastation of Mogadishu
and cost over 30,000 lives. Ten times as many died
of starvation, thousands were displaced, and Somali
refugees streamed into neighbouring Kenya.
20
The combination of war and drought produced
devastating famine. Hundreds of thousands died,
and pictures of starving babies that appeared on
western television produced substantial foreign
aid. But the avarice of local leaders prevented its
distribution, and in 1992 the United Nations moved
in. The first mission’s brief was keeping the peace
and providing humanitarian aid. But with ‘Operation
Restore Hope’ and its UNOSOM successor the
following year, the aim of national reconciliation
and economic reconstruction was more ambitious.
Both proved impossible. The UN became
embroiled in armed clan factionalism opposing
Aideed, causing hundreds of Somali deaths as
17
well as UN casualties. In March 1995 the UN
abandoned the chaos and beat an ignominious
retreat.
In a maze of complex shifting clan alliances, local
warlords pursued their interests and fought for
dominance in Mogadishu. In 1996 high hopes for
peace were raised by the presidential appointment
of Aideed’s son, Hussein Mohammed Farah Aideed,
a naturalised American from California. But he too
turned his back on international efforts to broker
peace, and deployed his militias in military action.
For the rest of the decade, further peace efforts
foundered and fighting escalated, exacerbated by
Ethiopian military intervention into the complex
Somali scene. With no protection from a central
state, the civilian population continued to suffer
the brutality of the warring factions. In March 2001
Amnesty International declared that “the future
for human rights in Somalia looks very bleak
18
indeed”, a forecast endorsed by subsequent
events. International humanitarian efforts have been
constantly frustrated by the decimated state of civil
society and attacks on their personnel.
After a peak in violence at the end of the decade,
the new century did see some de-escalation of
conflict. In 2000 the Arta peace conference elected
members to a new parliament, the Transitional
National Assembly (TNA). This was the first peace
initiative to work around civilian groupings
17. For details of UN intervention up to March 1993 see Human Rights
Watch, 7.3.93.V: 2 (http://www.hrw.org/reports/1993/somalia).
18. Amnesty International News Service nr. 57, 28.3.01 (http://web.
amnesty.org/library).
- religious leaders, clan elders, intellectuals,
businessmen, and NGOs - rather than armed clan
factions. All major clan families were represented,
with a member of a Hawiye subclan as president.
A leader of a Darod subclan was named as Prime
Minister, who set up a Transitional National
Government (TNG). But in the following year,
factional leaders backed by Ethiopia set up a rival
Somali Reconciliation and Restoration Council
(SRRC), and Parliament voted the TNG out of
office. The next hope was the Eldoret peace
conference hosted by Kenya in October 2002
to sort out these differences. But despite the
concerted effort of the Kenyan government with
various international bodies, the conference was
not able to reconcile the contending interests. By
the end of 2003, plans were once again under way
to rekindle the Eldoret process.
Without some kind of accord in Somalia, the
northern territory, the former British protectorate,
has refused to open up discussion with its southern
neighbour. This is the only part of Somalia which
has regained relative stability. Having finally defeated
government troops, the SNM broke away from the
south in 1991 to form the independent republic
of Somaliland. Despite intermittent violence, and
the constant rumbling of clan conflict, Somaliland
is comparatively peaceful. At the end of the
1990s, the United Nations High Commission for
Refugees (UNHCR) arranged the return of nearly
three quarters of a million refugees from Ethiopia.
But Somaliland has failed to gain international
recognition, thus starving the country of official
aid; its decimated infrastructure has not recovered,
public services remain rudimentary, and the
country does not have the capacity to reabsorb all
those who have fled the horror of civil war.
1880
Start of division of Somali-populated areas between Britain (1886: northern
protectorate), Italy (1905: central-southern section), France, and Ethiopia.
Somalis from North begin to come to Britain as seamen.
1960
Independence of British Somaliland. Capital Hargeisa.
Independence of Italian Somalia. Capital Mogadishu. Amalgamation of north
and south as the Somali Republic. Capital Mogadishu.
1964
First war with Ethiopia over borders.
1969
General Siad Barre becomes head of state after assassination of President.
1972
Introduction of Somali as written language in Latin script.
1974-5
East African drought crisis.
1981
Foundation in the UK of Somali National Movement (SNM) by students
(mainly Isaaq) from the north.
1981-7
Popular insurgency in the north met with fierce government reprisals.
1984-5
Severe drought.
1988
SNM capture Hargeisa and Burao. Barre’s retaliatory bombing raids raze
northern towns and villages. Civilian population flee to Ethiopia or overseas.
First substantial wave of refugees to the UK, chiefly from north.
Opposition to Barre intensifies. United Somali Congress (USC) insurgency
moves from countryside to Mogadishu.
1989
21
1991
Fall of Siad Barre. Split in USC between Ali Mahdi Mohamed and General
Aideed. Fighting and chaos spreads over south. Devastation of Mogadishu,
generating thousands of refugees. Many of those coming to the UK are single
women and children.
1991
North-west declares independence as Somaliland.
1992
Famine, especially in south-central area. Launch of ‘Operation Restore Hope’
by US to deliver food and aid.
1993
UN Somali Mission (UNOSOM) takes over US intervention, but clashes with
Aideed’s supporters.
1995
Withdrawal of UNOSOM.
1996-
Successive peace plans fail to end factional conflict and restore civil
society. Discussions hosted by Kenya at Eldoret still underway. In the UK,
Somalis trying to consolidate families though reunion with members in the
diaspora.
Migration of Somalis to the United
Kingdom
Stages of settlement
The first phase of settlement, in the nineteenth
century, reflects the colonial relationship with
Somaliland. By the beginning of the twentieth
century, there were firmly established communities
of northern Somali men in the dockland areas
of Cardiff, Liverpool, and London, with smaller
settlements in Hull, Bristol, and South Shields.
Working as stokers, boiler men, and crew on
British ships during wartime, they formed part of
the recruitment from Empire and Commonwealth
countries to serve in the Royal Navy. After World
War I more Somali seamen came to Britain.
Although they might leave a wife and family at
home to look after lands, herds, or urban property,
they initially came here alone. Not a great deal
is known about these first arrivals, although they
feature in some of the early forays into research on
19
immigrant communities.
Travelling is nothing new for Somalis. For many
centuries the nomadism of pastoralists had its
commercial counterpart in the trading expeditions
to Ethiopia, Saudi Arabia, Abu Dhabi and other Gulf
States. The Gulf has also provided employment for
less transitory Somali migrant workers. But it is the
political history of Somalia, both past and present,
which is fundamental to the course and character
of Somali settlement in the UK.
Some married British women, and, from the 1960s,
some applied for their wives to join them. There
were still few Somali women in the UK at that
time - one wife who arrived in 1962 says that she
20
only knew of two others in London. Certainly in
Tower Hamlets at the time the Somali community
21
was largely made up of single men, and a 1987
Liverpool study showed that the majority of elderly
22
Somalis were men still living on their own.
The history of their country has largely determined
the course of Somali lives in the UK. The traditional
economy and social organisation, colonial ties, the
particular phases of war and disruption - all have
shaped their identities, influenced critical decisions,
and affected their diaspora experience. The fate of
Somalia has been eclipsed in the western media by
other world events, but refugees follow every twist
and turn as best they can. Apart from the fortunes
of family left behind, the fluctuating political
situation in Somalia has been a key factor in the
success or failure of their asylum claims.
22
These men tended to form a separate community.
This was partly because of their long absences
at sea, whilst racism played its part. But it was
also related to their ultimate goals. Despite their
long sojourn in the UK, their sights were still set
on Somalia, with dreams of home - hopes still
23
cherished by the older generation in the UK.
Some would periodically travel back to visit
their families, and also started the tradition of
remittances, sending back money to support their
extended family and to build houses for their
24
return. But then, as now, hope of return and
reality are different matters. As one woman, who
arrived in the late 1980s, commented:
There was a time when most Somalis would go
elsewhere in the world, not England. People who
came here never returned and their families
back home used to talk about them as if they
were dead. In some cases, the wives left behind
25
remarried.
The second stage of this early settlement began
at the end of the 1950s. The demand for seamen
was falling, but the economic boom was creating
opportunities for employment in industry. Somali
communities began to emerge in Sheffield and
Manchester, and this less transitory way of life
encouraged men to bring their wives to the UK.
It was during this time that the present Somali
community, chiefly from the Isaaq clan family
and Darood subclans from the north, became
established in what is now Tower Hamlets,
26
especially in Bow, Wapping, and Poplar In this
period numbers were still small - estimates by
old seamen range from a few hundred to over a
thousand. But the fortunes of seafaring settlements
were to wane. The merchant navy was declining
during the 1970s, and when it regained strength
in the next decade, Somalis were excluded. The
economic recession threw more unskilled or semiskilled Somalis out of work, setting the pattern
19. See Little (1948); Banton (1955); Collins (1957).
20. Adan, Sulaika et al, 1987/8: 30.
21. Green, Marianne, 2001: 17.
22. Bullivant, M. et al (1995).
23. Summerfield, 1996: 86.
24. Remittances form an increasingly significant aspect of the diaspora
process. See Omer, A. (2003), A report on supporting systems and
procedures for the effective regulation and monitoring of Somali
for unemployment and dependence on state
benefits that still characterise the older Somali
communities.
The next phase in Somali settlement was not of
dependents or labour migrants, but of refugees.
This exodus gathered pace during the 1980s,
with the degeneration of the Barre regime and
escalating violence, culminating in the 1988
decimation of the north. Northerners fled. Some
went close to home - Kenya, Saudi Arabia, and
the Gulf Emirates. There they could join Somalis
27
already settled in the Gulf - Somali women’s
life stories often mention living and working in
Aden whilst their husbands or fathers were at sea.
Others sought asylum in the United States and
Europe - Germany, Norway, Sweden, and also the
UK, where they made for the areas where their
families or co-clan members were living. This wave
of Somali asylum seekers laid the foundations of
the present pattern of settlement. After Barre’s fall
in 1991, the continued violence in the south drove
many more out of Somalia in a second wave of the
contemporary migration.
Some of those who fled to the UK during the
post civil war period of the late 1980s and 1990s
were men, but the great increase in the Somali
population in the UK was made up of women and
children. Some came to join their husbands, but
a great many were single women with children
- their men had either been killed or had stayed in
Somalia to fight. This exodus from Somalia meant
that the overall character of Somali settlement
in the UK changed from one of single seamen to
that of refugee communities, with at least as many
women as men and a high proportion of children
and young people.
In more recent years, a large proportion of Somalis
seeking entry to the UK have come from countries
other than Somalia. The diaspora now extends
remittance companies (hawala), UNDP; Gundel, J. (2002), The
migration-development nexus: Somalia case study, Copenhagen:
Centre for Development Research; Sorensen et al (2002), The migrationdevelopment nexus: Evidence and policy options, Copenhagen:
Centre for Development Research.
25. Hassan, L., 2000: 81.
26. El Solh, 1991: 540-41.
27. E.g. Adan, S. et al, 1997/8: 9-11, 16.
23
to the USA, Canada, New Zealand, Australia,
Holland, Italy, France, Germany, Switzerland,
Norway, Denmark, Finland, Sweden, Luxembourg,
and Austria, besides Zambia and Tanzania. Families
have been torn apart by the war - Somalis in the
UK worry about relatives still living in the refugee
camps of Ethiopia, Djibouti, Kenya, and Yemen, and
often mention their desire to bring them to the
UK. Those with rights of residence (see below
p.30) apply for family reunion through which
they are entitled to bring spouses and children
under eighteen into the UK. Older children and
elderly parents are only allowed into the UK
on a discretionary basis, but relations seek to
rejoin their families. The characteristics of Somali
immigration are therefore changing. Although, like
the previous phase, the inflow is mainly composed
of women and children, it is largely drawn from the
wider diaspora rather than from those escaping
Somalia itself.
The reasons for seeking to leave the previous
country of exile for the UK are not altogether
clear. The impression given by sections of the
British media is that refugees are attracted by
the welfare benefits in ‘soft touch’ Britain. But
anecdotal evidence from some of those who
have come from Holland, Sweden, and Norway
suggests that living standards there are better than
in the UK. In Finland, for example, according to
someone who lived there for ten years, housing is
28
far superior. A major draw is the desire to join
both kin and fellow countrymen and women. Not
only do Somalis suffer keenly from the cold in
some northern European climates, but also from a
chilly reception by the native population. Countries
such as the Scandinavian states, lying outside the
historical nexus of slavery and imperialism, have
little experience of black immigration, and it is
claimed that racism is rife. The UK hosts the largest
Somali community outside Somalia, and the UK is
described by Somalis as a ‘meeting point’, a ‘more
intercultural society’ than many of the states
Somalis leave behind. The UK also has a reputation
for religious tolerance. Struggling with immigration
issues, many also prefer the anonymity of a big city
rather than the stringent surveillance said to be
exercised in parts of Europe.
24
Another factor is the English language. A
contemporary diaspora can remain in close contact
through modern means of communication, but
for this a common language is necessary - one
young man went to meet newly-arrived relatives in
Leicester, and found that they only spoke Finnish!
While the older generations hold onto Somali,
young people born abroad may not have the same
command. English, already familiar to those from
northern Somalia because of colonial history,
becomes a second tongue. Parents are keen that
their children benefit from a British education.
But apart from the particular attractions of the
UK, geographical movement must be seen in the
context of globalisation. As the Somali diaspora
spreads and becomes increasingly mobile, so do the
entrepreneurial connections it forges. Somalis have
always travelled to trade - the UK is now a centre
for Somali commercial enterprise, for business
that is both local and which crosses international
boundaries.
28. Interview Abdulkadir Diesow, the Birmingham Support Group of
Somali EU Citizens, Asylum Seekers and Refugees, 08.04.03
29. Griffiths (2002), Somali and Kurdish refugees in London: New
identities in the diaspora, Aldershot: Ashgate: 81-82.
30. FCO Travel Advice, available online from: http://www.fco.gov.uk/servlet/
Front?pagename=OpenMarket/Xcelerate/ShowPage&c=Page&cid=100702
9390590 [accessed 16 March 2004].
31. http://www.unhchr.ch/html/menu3/b/o_c_ref.htm.
32. http://www.unhchr.ch/html/menu3/b/o_p_ref.htm.
33.The official title is the Convention for the Protection of Human Rights
Entry into the UK
Figure A: Asylum applications received from Somali nationals, 1998-2003
8000
7000
6000
5000
4000
3000
2000
1000
0
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
Somali asylum claims in the UK
Determination of Somali asylum applications
Since 1985, Somalia has featured amongst the top
ten countries from which asylum seekers come to
the UK, with a marked increase in numbers over
the last decade. Somalia was the highest applicant
nationality in 1997 and 2003, and the second
highest in 1995, 1998, and 1999. The sustained
growth in applications has been matched by an
increase in both the number and percentage of
refusals, particularly from 2000 onwards. The
main refugee flows date from the beginnings of
the civil war and progressive state collapse during
the 1980s. The marked increase from 305 claims
in 1988 to 1,850 in 1989 suggests a clear link to
the bombing of the cities of Hargeisa and Burao
in 1988 and the increasing number of claims from
1996 can be seen as a result of the continuing
absence of centralised authority in Somalia and
29
the resultant lack of safety. Somalia is one of
several countries in the world that British citizens
are advised against travelling to by the Foreign and
30
Commonwealth Office.
Asylum applications from Somalis, as from other
nationalities, are decided by one of the caseworkers
from the Immigration and Nationality Directorate
of the Home Office, or by an immigration officer,
usually on the basis of an interview, and any written
evidence or documentation submitted by the
asylum seeker and his or her legal representative.
When a claim for asylum is made, it is assessed
against international criteria set out in the 1951
United Nations Convention relating to the Status
31
32
of Refugees and its 1967 Protocol to which the
UK is a signatory. The Convention defines a refugee
as a person who “owing to a well-founded fear
of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion,
nationality, membership of a particular social group,
or political opinion, is outside the country of his
nationality, and is unable or, owing to such fear,
is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of
that country”. The UK is also a signatory to the
33
European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR).
The Human Rights Act 1998 incorporated the
ECHR into UK law. Entry clearance officers,
immigration officers, and all staff of the Home
25
Office’s Immigration and Nationality Directorate
have to ensure that their decisions comply with the
ECHR; this includes the decision to remove asylum
seekers from the UK, following refusal of their
claim. Under the Immigration and Asylum Act 1999,
asylum seekers can also raise human rights grounds
when appealing against refusal of their asylum claim.
The United Kingdom has enacted a series of
legislation governing asylum procedures in the
UK and the treatment of asylum seekers whilst
their claims are being processed. Details of the
UK asylum determination procedure are provided
in ICAR’s navigation guide to UK asylum law
34
and process. The Immigration and Nationality
Directorate (IND) of the UK Home Office also
provide a brief guide to asylum procedures in the
35
UK on their website and they publish a chart
36
giving an overview of the asylum process.
When an asylum claim is assessed, there are three
37
possible outcomes:
•The applicant is recognised to be a refugee
under the terms of the 1951 Convention
and is granted asylum in the UK.
• The applicant is refused asylum, as their
circumstances do not meet the terms of
the Convention definition, but they are
recognised to be in need of international
protection, or there are humanitarian or
other compelling reasons why they cannot
be removed, they will therefore be granted
either humanitarian protection (HP) or
discretionary leave (DL) to remain in the
38
UK. Prior to the introduction of HP and
DL on 1st April 2003, the Home Office
would grant exceptional leave to remain
(ELR) in such cases. For some countries, a
general policy of granting ELR for
humanitarian reasons has applied at certain
39
times.
• The applicant is refused asylum and
humanitarian protection or discretionary
leave. In this case, there is a right of appeal
to the Immigration Appellate Authority, an
independent judicial body which is part
of the Court Service. Some applicants
may have a further right of appeal to
26
the Immigration Appeal Tribunal, and
applicants may also seek a judicial review of
decisions of either the Home Office or the
Immigration Appellate Authority in the High
Court.
Those granted refugee status are given indefinite
leave to remain in the UK (ILR) and have the same
civil rights and duties as UK nationals, i.e. they can
stay permanently in the UK (provided they do not
engage in violence such as to endanger national
security), they do not need permission to work,
they are eligible to apply for welfare benefits or
social housing, and they can access the NHS, social
services, or obtain funding as a ‘home student’ for
40
further or higher education. Those granted ELR
(and more recently HP and DL) have different
entitlements to refugees, particularly with respect
41
to family reunion and travel documents.
Until July 1998, ELR was usually granted initially
for one year, followed by two further periods of
three years. After this seven-year period, indefinite
leave could be granted. From 27 July 1998, ELR was
granted for an initial period of four years, after
which an application for indefinite leave could be
made. The usual practice was to grant indefinite
leave upon request following a grant of four
years’ exceptional leave, even though this was not
guaranteed.
In recent years, the Home Office has made greater
use of temporary protection provisions, and has
indicated that these may be increasingly used, for
example when, as in the case of Somalis, it is not
possible to arrange for the person to travel back
to their country of origin. In such cases, applicants
may be granted twelve months’ leave with no
42
expectation of renewal.
Figure B: Number of initial decisions on Somali asylum applications, 1988-2003
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Figure C: Initial decisions on Somali asylum applications, 1988-2003
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Total number of refusals
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Granted ELR/HP/DL
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34. http://www.icar.org.uk/pdf/ng002.pdf.
35. http://www.ind.homeoffice.gov.uk/default.asp?PageId=87.
36. http://www.ind.homeoffice.gov.uk/filestore/v1.0%20Asylum%20process
%20front%20page.pdf.
37. UK Home Office (n.d.) ‘Fact sheet: Asylum policy’. Available online from:
http://www.ind.homeoffice.gov.uk/default.asp?PageId=3659.
38. Humanitarian protection is usually granted when the applicant is
considered to face a real risk of being subjected to torture, or inhuman or
degrading treatment or punishment (prohibited by article 3 of the ECHR)
if returned to their country of origin. Discretionary leave would normally be
granted if removal would breach article 8 of the ECHR (right to respect for
private and family life) or would breach article 3 only on medical grounds,
or if the applicant is an unaccompanied asylum-seeking child. Source:
Home Office, Humanitarian protection and discretionary leave,
APU Notice 01/2003, 1 April 2003. Available online from: http://www.ind.
homeoffice.gov.uk/default.asp?PageId=3801.
39. Seddon, D. (ed.) (2002), Immigration, nationality and refugee
law handbook 2002 edition, London: Joint Council for the Welfare of
Immigrants: 216-217.
40. Seddon, 2002: 215-216.
41. See Seddon, 2002, chapter 12 for further details.
42. Ibid.
27
Decisions on Somali asylum applications and
rates of refusal
As the graph above shows, 2003 was the first
year in which fewer than 50% of Somali asylum
seekers were granted leave to remain in the UK.
Rates of refusal of Somali asylum applications
have increased considerably since 1999. Although
only 120 Somali asylum claims were refused in
1999, this represented 39% of all decisions, as
only 305 decisions were made during that year.
This trend has continued in subsequent years with
21% of claims being refused in 2000, 42% in 2001,
42% in 2002, and 63% in 2003. This represents a
sharp reduction in the percentage of applicants
being granted ELR and a fluctuating but declining
percentage of applicants granted refugee status
from 1997 onwards.
Exceptional leave to remain (ELR), humanitarian
protection (HP), and discretionary leave (DL)
There has been a noticeable change in the
proportion of asylum applicants granted ELR
during the period surveyed (1998-2003). As the
graph above shows, between 1991 and 1996, the
majority of Somali asylum applicants (88%) were
granted ELR. This is in line with a wider trend in
asylum decisions: between 1985 and 1993, 55% of
all decisions on asylum claims were to grant ELR,
though this dropped significantly in subsequent
years, averaging only 15% between 1994 and
43
2002. The impermanence of their status and
concern about whether their leave would be
extended caused significant anxiety to many
44
Somalis granted ELR.
Since their introduction in April 2003, combined
grants of humanitarian protection and discretionary
leave have been significantly lower than grants of
ELR – averaging only 7% of all decisions. This is in
line with the Home Secretary’s decision to “restrict
grants of leave to unsuccessful asylum seekers
who are recognised to be in need of international
protection or to have other compelling reasons for
45
not being removed”.
One of the reasons for granting ELR rather than
asylum was due to the nature of persecution faced
28
by many Somalis. Interpretation of terms such as
‘persecution’ in the Refugee Convention has been
the subject of much debate among refugee lawyers,
as well as being subject to varying interpretation
in national jurisdictions. Although the Refugee
Convention was drafted to protect individuals who
feared harm from the state or its agents, such as
police or security officials, some refugees may fear
‘non-state’ actors or agents, such as ‘warlords’
(the ringleaders of militia groups), as in the case of
46
many Somalis. In October 1995, the UK Home
Office asylum division produced a background
brief on Somalia stating that many Somalis were
not Convention refugees as they were not
members of a group suffering persecution from
a state authority. This may have been one of the
reasons for the high percentage of grants of ELR
rather than refugee status, particularly in the early
47
1990s. For example, in the case of Adan (a Somali
48
asylum seeker) in 1998, the House of Lords held
that in order to be successful in an asylum claim,
an applicant would have to show that s/he faced a
risk “over and above” those inherent in the general
situation of civil war.
Refusal of Somali asylum applications
However, not all asylum claims are refused solely
because they are not deemed to meet the terms
of the 1951 Convention on the Status of Refugees,
or the criteria for a grant of ELR, humanitarian
protection or discretionary leave. In 2003, 3,240
Somali asylum seekers had their claims refused
after full consideration. This represented 85% of all
Somali refusals, and 54% of total decisions taken in
that year. Asylum applications may also be refused
without full (or substantive) consideration of the
claim itself, on grounds of either ‘non-compliance’,
or if the applicant is to be returned to a third
country (i.e. neither the UK nor the applicant’s
country of origin) which is deemed to be safe, in
order for the asylum claim to be determined there.
Guidance for Home Office caseworkers on refusing
asylum claims without substantive consideration is
49
included in the Asylum Policy Instructions.
Non-compliance
‘Third country’ cases
Asylum applications may be refused on the grounds
of non-compliance if the applicant is considered
to have failed “without reasonable explanation,
to make a prompt and full disclosure of material
factors, either orally or in writing, or otherwise
to assist the Secretary of State in establishing
50
the facts of the case”. This includes failure to
attend an interview relating to the claim, failure to
report to be fingerprinted, failure to complete an
asylum questionnaire (statement of evidence form
- SEF), or failure to comply with a requirement to
report to an Immigration Officer for examination.
This usually means that although there is a right
to appeal against the refusal, the substance of
the claim is not considered in depth at the initial
decision stage and the first occasion on which
it will be examined in detail would be on appeal
before an adjudicator.
Asylum applications may also be refused on the
grounds that the applicant should be returned to a
‘third country’ which they passed through en route
to the UK in order that their asylum claim can be
considered there. This usually applies if the asylum
seeker arrived in the UK not directly from the
country where they feared persecution, but from
another country in which they had the opportunity
to claim asylum, and if there is “clear evidence” that
the asylum seeker would be admitted to that state.
Since 1993, if the asylum seeker is to be returned
to another EU member state under the terms of
52
the Dublin Convention or to a state designated
by Parliament (currently Canada, Norway,
Switzerland, and the USA), the asylum seeker may
only appeal against the removal decision after s/he
has left the UK, although it is possible to seek
judicial review of the decision to transfer them. In
the case of removal to all other countries, there
is an in-country right of appeal against the third
53
country removal. In the case of Adan and Aitsegur
in 2000, the House of Lords held that Germany and
France were wrong in not recognising persecution
by ‘non-state’ agents and that, as a consequence,
asylum seekers should not be removed from the
UK to either of those countries on ‘third country’
54
grounds. This constituted an important decision
for the safety of Somalis in the UK. In 2003 only 80
Somalis (1% of all decisions) were refused asylum
on safe third country grounds.
From 2000, a large number of asylum claims were
refused on the basis that asylum applicants had not
submitted their asylum questionnaire (SEF) within
the required ten-working-day time period, although
it later came to light that the majority of these had
been wrongly denoted late, due to a processing
51
error at the Home Office. Thus in 2000, 24,290
of all asylum applications were refused on noncompliance grounds, a 22-fold increase on the
1,085 refusals in 1999. Non-compliance refusals
constituted 15% of all decisions made in both
2002 and 2003, 18% in 2001, and 25% in 2000,
compared to 5% in 1999. In 2003, 460 Somali
asylum applications were refused on the grounds of
non-compliance. This constituted 12% of the total
number of refusals and 8% of the total number of
decisions made during that year.
43. Calculations based on figures cited in figure 6.1 of Refugee Council,
(2002) Asylum by numbers 1985-2000, London: Refugee Council, Asylum statistics United Kingdom 2002, published 28 August 2003, and
Asylum statistics 4th quarter 2003, published 24 February 2004.
44. See also Seddon, 2002: 218.
45. Asylum Policy Unit Notice 01/2003, ‘Humanitarian protection and
discretionary leave’, 1 April 2003.
46. Seddon, op.cit.: 161.
47. Griffiths, op. cit.: 82.
48. R v. Secretary of State for the Home Department, ex parte
Adan, [1998] 2 WLR 702.
49. Available online from: http://www.ind.homeoffice.gov.uk/default.
Appeals
Somali asylum applicants have had higher success
rates on appeal than the average for all asylum
claims. In 2003, 38% of all Somali appeals were
allowed, as compared with 26% from Africans as a
asp?pageid=2626.
50. Paragraph 340 of the Immigration Rules (HC395 as amended): http://
www.ind.homeoffice.gov.uk/default.asp?PageId=3197.
51. Seddon, op. cit.: 206.
52. This provision also applies to Norway and Iceland, by special agreement
between the EU member states and Norway and Iceland, ‘Refusals without
substantive consideration:Third country cases’, Asylum policy instructions: http://www.ind.homeoffice.gov.uk/default.asp?PageId=2654
53. R v. Secretary of State for the Home Department, ex parte
Adan and Aitsegur, [2001] INLR 44, HL.
54. Seddon, op. cit.: 207-08.
29
whole and 19% of asylum appeals overall. Similarly
35% of Somali appeals were allowed in 2002, as
compared with an overall average of 22%.
Return of failed asylum seekers
With the increasing number of refusals of Somali
asylum applicants another issue emerged - that of
refused Somali asylum applicants who were not
being removed to Somalia. Many Somalis found
themselves in a kind of limbo situation, without any
formal legal status in the UK and thus not entitled
55
to work or to receive asylum support. According
to the Home Office, in July 2003 UK officials
signed a memorandum of understanding (MoU)
with the authorities in Somaliland to provide for
the return of people from Somaliland who had no
legal basis to remain in the UK. Somali nationals
may also return to Somalia on a voluntary basis,
under the auspices of the Return and Reintegration
to the Somali Regions voluntary assisted returns
programme, run by the International Organisation
for Migration (IOM) and co-funded by the
56
European Refugee Fund. However, in response
to a parliamentary question by Ian Coleman MP
in January 2004, Beverley Hughes, then Minister of
Detention
Detention is not a significant issue for Somalis.
According to Home Office statistics, Somalis
constitute a very small proportion of total
immigration detainees in the UK. The annual
statistics do not record the total number of people
detained in a given year, but instead provide a
snapshot of those detained on one particular day in
late December of that year.
Resettlement
A small number of Somali refugees have also been
resettled in the UK in recent years - 178 in 2000
and 162 in 2001 (340 in total), the majority of
whom came from either Ethiopia (69%) or Kenya
58
(23%). They composed the largest national group
resettled in the UK, accounting for 40% of all
refugees resettled during those two years.
Family reunion
Family reunion constituted a significant mode of
entry for many Somalis, particularly following the
Table C: Snapshot of Somali detainees
Somali
detainees
(percentage
of total)
Of whom:
Year
Total
immigration
detainees
asylum seekers
other detainees
1998
741
7 (1%)
7
-
1999
n/a
n/a
n/a
n/a
2000
n/a
n/a
n/a
n/a
2001
1,545
5 (0.3%)
5
-
2002
1,415
15 (1%)
10
5
2003
1,615
15 (1%)
15
-
State for Citizenship, Immigration and Community
Cohesion, stated that between January and June
2003, only 25 Somalis were either removed from
57
the UK, or returned voluntarily to Somalia.
Although it is not known how many failed Somali
asylum seekers left the UK, unrecorded, this figure
suggests that a significant number remained in a
situation of limbo in the UK.
30
outbreak of civil war. In Liverpool, for example, a
1997 survey estimated that out of a total Somali
population of some 3,000 on Merseyside, some
1,500 came to the country through the family
reunion scheme, with a further 500 arriving as
59
asylum seekers. Applications for entry clearance
to join relatives already in the UK should normally
be made in the nearest British diplomatic posts
(usually Addis Ababa or Nairobi). However,
between September 1988 and January 1994, the
government operated a concession to allow
applications for family reunion relating to Somalis
in refugee camps in Ethiopia and Kenya to be made
60
instead from within the UK. The reversal of
this policy caused considerable logistical problems
for those in refugee camps without money or
transport.
Concluding remarks
The rapid increase in the number of Somali asylum
applications in the UK from just over 300 in 1988
to a peak of almost 7,500 in 1999 is indicative of
the worsening political climate in Somalia, as well
as reflecting a general upward trend in the number
of asylum claims in the UK over this period. This
was partly a result of the outbreak of a number of
small wars and ethnic conflicts following the end
of the Cold War and the consequent relaxation of
exit controls, combined with the changing nature
of international migration due to processes of
globalisation - developments in communication
technologies and the growth of faster and cheaper
air travel facilitating increasing cross-border flows
of both people and information.
However, in spite of this relative increase in the
number of Somali asylum applications in the UK,
the majority of Somali refugees remained in their
region of origin. During 2002 alone, an estimated
24,000 refugees fled from Somalia, mainly to
61
Yemen and Kenya. According to UNHCR, at the
end of 2002 there were 429,474 Somali refugees
worldwide, constituting the fifth largest group of
62
refugees in the world. Of these, 155,767 were
55. Although they may qualify for basic assistance (accommodation and
full board) under the ‘hard cases’ fund operated by NASS. Seddon, 2002:
717-8.
56. Home Office, Somalia operational guidance notes, 6 February
2004, at paras 6.2 & 6.3. Available online from: http://www.ind.homeoffice.
gov.uk/default.asp?PageId=4742.
57. House of Commons Hansard written answers for 5 January 2004,
Column 7W. Available online from: http://www.publications.parliament.
uk/pa/cm200304/cmhansrd/cm040105/index/40105-x.htm
58. IOM (2003), ‘Global trends in resettlement: Comparing the UK with
other countries’, background paper prepared for the Home Office Research
Seminar on Refugee Resettlement held on 6 February 2003.
59. Smyth and Mohamed, 1997: 25-26.
60. Griffiths, op. cit.: 76.
in Kenya, 80,763 in Yemen, 37,532 in Ethiopia,
33,066 in the UK, 28,693 in the USA and 20,251 in
63
Djibouti.
Table D:Ten largest Somali refugee populations at end
64
of 2002
Country
Kenya
Yemen
Ethiopia
UK
USA
Djibouti
Netherlands
Denmark
South Africa
Canada
Size of refugee
population
155,767
80,763
37,352
33,066
28,693
20,251
15,688
9,582
6,515
5,545
Overall, there has been a considerable increase
in refusal rates of Somali asylum applications
since 1999. Among the Somali community in the
UK, there is a perception that an earlier period
of special treatment due to the former colonial
relationship between the two countries has come
65
to an end. The high percentage of grants of ELR,
rather than full refugee status, particularly between
1991 and 1997, has created a feeling of insecurity
among the Somali community in the UK, especially
since it entailed difficulties in obtaining family
reunion. Somalia has remained among the top ten
countries from which asylum seekers come to the
UK throughout the 1990s and among the top five
for every year but one between 1995 and 2003
61. UNHCR (2003), Refugees by numbers. Available online from:
http://www.unhcr.ch/cgi-bin/texis/vtx/home/opendoc.pdf?tbl=STATISTICS&id
=3d075d374&page=statistics.
62. 2002 UNHCR population statistics (provisional) table 4. Available from:
http://www.unhcr.ch/cgi-bin/texis/vtx/statistics/opendoc.pdf?tbl=STATISTICS
&id=3f3769672&page=statistics.
63. 2002 UNHCR population statistics (provisional) table 3. Available
from: http://www.unhcr.ch/cgi-bin/texis/vtx/statistics/opendoc.pdf?tbl=STATIS
TICS&id=3f3769672&page=statistics.
64. UNHCR (2002), ‘Refugee population and major changes, 2002’ from
2002 Annual statistical report: Somalia, Geneva: UNHCR, 23.07.03.
Available from: http://www.unhcr.ch/cgi-bin/texis/vtx/statistics/opendoc.pdf.
65. This sentiment was expressed by several Somalis in interviews with
the author.
31
66
Number of Somalis in the UK
Estimating the total number of Somalis in the UK
is very difficult. There has been no national survey
which could be used to produce an accurate figure,
but there are estimates of both the size of the
Somali population in the UK, and an increasing
number of local area estimates (examples given
below), which range widely and need to be viewed
with caution. One of the reasons for the difficulty
in counting the population - and a possible
explanation for the divergent figures - is the issue
of definition. The term Somali is used to denote
both people born in Somalia, and those of Somali
origin or ethnicity (for example second or third
generation Somalis born in the UK). Thus the
published government immigration and census
statistics only count a part of the community.
Statistics on asylum applications and outcomes
do not give the full picture of the number of
Somalis admitted to the UK. Each year, a number of
Somalis are also granted permission to enter and
remain in the UK on other grounds, for example
as dependents. Annual statistics are published by
the Home Office detailing grants of settlement,
i.e. people subject to immigration control who
are allowed to remain in the UK indefinitely (from
recognised refugees to different categories of
dependents). These are the main available measure
of the longer-term immigration of persons subject
to immigration control and they include both
people granted settlement on arrival at ports and
those initially admitted to the country subject to
a time limit which is subsequently removed. In
2002, for example, a total of 10,000 Somalis were
granted settlement in the UK - the largest figure
for any national group in Africa and overall second
only to Pakistan, 11,935 of whose nationals were
granted settlement in 2002.
For Somalis, the largest group granted settlement
were those recognised as refugees or granted
exceptional leave (5,485 in total - 55%) and the
second largest group comprised 3,255 children
granted settlement as dependents (33% of the
67
total). The pattern was very similar in 2001, when
out of 8,290 Somalis granted settlement, 4,610
(56%) were recognised as refugees or granted
exceptional leave and 2,710 (33%) were children
68
granted settlement as dependents.
The settlement figures only show the number of
persons allowed to remain in the UK in a given
year, and are not aggregated to include grants
of settlement in previous years. It is therefore
difficult to obtain an accurate figure for the size
of the Somali population in the UK as a whole.
The estimates given in the tables below indicate
the difficulties in accurately quantifying the Somali
community in the UK. Figures drawn from various
sources are included here not as wholly reliable
data, but to underline the wide variability of
estimates and to serve as comparative material for
any future figures that may be produced. In most
cases, the figures from the 2001 census are lower
than other estimates. Future research will have to
address this issue of huge divergence.
Table E: Grants of settlement to Somalis
Total
Four
years
with
work
permit
Refugees
and persons
granted
exceptional
leave
Other
discretionary
Others
granted
in own
right
Husbands
Wives
Children
Parents
and
grandparents
Other
dependents
Other
acceptances
Category
unknown
2001
8,290
5
4,610
55
5
95
215
2,710
35
555
5
-
2002
10,000
†
5,485
75
-
95
215
3,255
20
765
†
85
32
Table F: Estimates of Somali population in the UK
Year to which
estimate refers
Estimated numbers of Somalis
living in the UK
1994
25,000
2001
43,691
2002
250,000
2003
95,000
Source
Berns McGown, Rima (1999), Muslims in the diaspora:
the Somali communities of London and Toronto, University
of Toronto Press: 240
2001 census (England and Wales, Scotland, Northern
)69
Ireland
Estimate by Ioan Lewis, Liberation meeting, London,
26.11.02
Holman, Christine and Holman, Naomi, (2003), First
steps in a new country: Baseline indicators for the Somali
community in LB Hackney, London: Sahil Housing
Association: 6
The widely disparate figures in table F show that
the size of the existing Somali population in the
UK as a whole is unknown. Since the establishment
of the National Asylum Support Service (NASS)
in 2000, statistics have been published showing
the regional distribution of asylum seekers who
receive assistance with either general subsistence,
housing, or both, but no such regional figures are
available for those granted permission to stay in
the UK as refugees, or those granted exceptional
leave to remain. The 2001 census records a total
of 43,532 people born in Somalia resident in the
UK, of whom 19,882 (46%) were male and 23,650
(54%) were female, but of course that is only a
percentage of the full Somali population.
A recent survey suggested that there was a low
level of participation from Somalis in the 2001
70
Census. The majority of Somalis were in England
and Wales; in Scotland there were 159 Somali71
born residents, but there were no Somali-born
72
residents recorded in Northern Ireland. The
uncertainty as to the size of the population runs
throughout the literature on Somalis in the UK.
Ali (2001: 21) quotes a 1997 estimate for the total
population as 60,000. The figures given in various
sources for the year 1994 range from 25,000 in the
UK as a whole, to 65,000 in London alone (Berns
McGown, 1999: 240, n.4).
Another recent national estimate is of a national
population of a quarter of a million, some 4073
50,000 of whom live in London. But the Black
Women’s Health and Family Support (BWHAFS),
a Somali-led organisation in Bethnal Green, puts
the London figure at 70,000. The calculations
for the individual London boroughs are equally
unsatisfactory, as shown by table H below.
66. See ‘Explanatory notes and definitions’, para. 27, Home Office (2003),
Control of immigration: Statistics United Kingdom 2002, Cm 6053.
67. Home Office (2003), Control of immigration: Statistics United
Kingdom 2002, Cm 6053, table 6.1.
68. Home Office (2002), Control of immigration: Statistics United
Kingdom 2001, Cm 5684, table 6.1
69. The 2001 census provides statistics for the Somali population in the
UK by England and Wales, areas, counties, cities and London boroughs:
http://neighbourhood.statistics.gov.uk.
70. Questionnaire survey of Somalis in London – results reported orally to
Somali Community Meeting, held in Committee Room 14 of the House of
Commons on 29 March 2004.
71. Scotland Census 2001, table UV08: Country of Birth.
72. Northern Ireland Census 2001, table UV008: Country of Birth (full
detail).
73. Estimate by Ioan Lewis, Liberation meeting, London 26.11.02
33
Table G: Estimates of Somali population in London
Year to which
estimate refers
Estimated numbers of Somalis
living in the UK
Source
1999
65,000
Berns McGown, Rima (1999), Muslims in the diaspora:
the Somali communities of London and Toronto, University
of Toronto Press: 240
2001
33,831
2001 census
2002
40 – 50,000
2003
63,000
2003
70,000
Estimate by Ioan Lewis, Liberation meeting, London,
26.11.02
Holman, Christine and Holman, Naomi, (2003), First
steps in a new country: Baseline indicators for the Somali
community in LB Hackney, London: Sahil Housing
Association: 6
Estimate by Black Women’s Health and Family
Support, Bethnal Green, London
Figure D: Map of London boroughs
Source: Corporation of London, London Boroughs map. Available online at http://www.cityoflondon.gov.uk/business_
city/key_city_orgs/london_map.htm
34
Table H: Estimates of Somali population in London boroughs
Year to which
estimate refers
Borough
Estimated numbers of
Somalis living in different
London boroughs
1991
Tower Hamlets
15,000
Cole, Ian and Robinson, David (2003),
Somali housing experiences in England,
Centre for Regional Economic and Social
Research, Sheffield Hallam University: 14
2001
8 – 12,000
Green, Marianne (2001), Profiling refugees in Tower Hamlets to
Deduce their particular health needs and
how best to meet them,
Tower Hamlets Primary Care Trust:
17-19
2001
1,353
2001 census
Source
1994
Ealing, Hammersmith and
Hounslow
11 – 12,000
Harper-Bulman, Kate (1997), Somali
women’s experience of the maternity service
in West London and recommendations for
for change, unpublished MA dissertation,
London: Institute of Education: 11
2001
Ealing
3,330
2001 census
11-15,000
Cole, Ian and Robinson, David (2003),
Somali housing experiences in England,
Centre for Regional Economic and Social
Research, Sheffield Hallam University: 16
2003
2001
Hounslow
1,257
2001 census
2001
Hammersmith and
Fulham
1,197
2001 census
2001
Barnet, Enfield, Haringey
and Waltham Forest
18,650
Thomas, Felicity and Abebaw, Meron
(2002), Refugees and asylum seekers in the
Learning and Skills Council, London North
area, Africa Educational Trust
2001
Barnet
1,207
2001 census
2001
Haringey
2,194
2001 census
2001
Brent
9 – 12,000
Cox, Sarah (2002), Hooyo: A study of
Somali children and their mothers based in
two nurseries in Brent, unpublished MSc
dissertation, Brunel University: 71
3,381
2001 census
2001
35
Year to which
estimate refers
Borough
Somalis living in different
London boroughs
Source
2001
Enfield
1,082
2001 census
6 – 7,000
Robertson, Janie (2002), How effectively
do the Somali community in Enfield access
early years provision?, unpublished MA dissertation, University of East London
2002
2001
Newham
3,163
2001 census
2001
Hackney
706
2001 census
5,000
Holman, Christine and Naomi Holman (2003), First steps in a new country:
Baseline indicators for the Somali community in LB Hackney, London: Sahil Housing
Association: 6
Redbridge
1,234
2001 Census
2001
Camden
1,904
2001 Census
2001
Waltham Forest
1,414
2001 Census
2001
Harrow
1,231
2001 Census
2001
Islington
1,226
2001 Census
2001
Greenwich
1,064
2001 Census
2001
Southwark
981
2001 Census
2001
Lambeth
982
2001 Census
2001
Hillingdon
929
2001 Census
2001
Wandsworth
743
2001 Census
2001
Kensington and Chelsea
657
2001 Census
2001
Lewisham
623
2001 Census
2001
Barking and Dagenham
521
2001 Census
2001
Croydon
510
2001 Census
2001
Westminster
303
2001 Census
2001
Bromley
246
2001 Census
2001
Merton
184
2001 Census
2001
Sutton
69
2001 Census
2001
Richmond
49
2001 Census
2001
Bexley
46
2001 Census
2003
2001
74. Green, Marianne, 2001: 17-19.
75. Nick Cohen, The Observer 9.11.03.
76. Geoff Dench: personal communication to ICAR.
77. Thomas, Felicity and Abebaw, Meron (2002).
78. See Ahmed E.A. (nd); Cardiff City Council et al (nd); Hansen et al (nd);
Save the Children Fund (1994).
79. Welsh Somalis Return to Roots. BBC News: http://news.bbc.
36
co.uk/l/hi/wales/2705363.stm 29.1.03
80. See Bloch and Atfield (2002); Bristol Refugee Inter-Agency Forum
(1995), and Somali Education and Cultural Community Association (1997).
81. See Daahir and Duale 2002.
The unreliability of statistics is a frequent issue
for researchers undertaking local studies. A good
example is work in the London borough of Tower
Hamlets. Marianne Green, in her study of refugee
health needs in the borough (2001), consulted
Home Office notifications of asylum seekers to
the local health authority, GPs’ lists, the local
education authority, housing data, voluntary and
community organisations working with Somalis,
and guesstimates by local inhabitants. This resulted
in wildly different figures - from 5-25,000 - with
74
Green finally settling on 8-12,000. The 2001
census, however, produces a figure of 1,353!
There are several factors that may account for
this low result. Firstly, Somalis in Tower Hamlets
are a mobile population. Now that the focus of the
docks has gone, the oldest settlement is no longer
the largest in London. Somalis have been moving
out to other parts of London, and more recent
arrivals have been joining relatives elsewhere in
the city. Secondly, there may be problems with the
census itself, with apparent official underestimation.
Some refugees, suspicious of authority, may prefer
anonymity - a propensity seemingly shared with
others in the general population - and the overall
results of the 2001 census were one million
75
short of what was expected. Thirdly, previous
estimates may well have been tied up with local
politics. Dench, in his report Fighting with numbers
(1994), convincingly argues, on the basis of detailed
field research, that the figures produced by Tower
Hamlets Somalis in their 1991 Demographic survey
were grossly inflated. This, he maintains, was to
reinforce claims for better services and a larger
share of the borough’s resources - in this case a
community overestimation. The process may well
have continued - the 1997 Education Department
Ethnic Census found only 406 Somali pupils in
Tower Hamlets schools, with 372 speaking Somali
76
at home. Given that many Somali families are
large, this does not indicate an adult population of
thousands.
Similar discrepancies in figures collated over the
last decade for other London boroughs reflect
both problems with finding reliable bases for
estimates and real demographic changes. Ali (2001:
21) states that in 1997 the highest concentration
of Somalis apart from Tower Hamlets was
found in Newham and Ealing. In 1994, the Ealing,
Hammersmith and Hounslow health authority
estimated there were 11-12,000 Somalis in the
area (Harper-Bulman, 1997: 11). Cole and Robinson
(2003: 16) increase the Ealing estimate to 1115,000, composed chiefly of refugees arriving after
1990, and supplemented by Somalis leaving older
communities in east London in search of better
housing and employment. Somalis do indeed
find jobs at Heathrow airport. Comparisons are
hindered by a different grouping of boroughs in
the 2001 count, but the census does not bear out
such high figures: Hounslow 1,257, Hammersmith
and Fulham 1,197, and Ealing 3,330. It does at least
corroborate previous conclusions on the areas
most densely populated with Somalis - albeit with
much smaller numbers than hitherto assessed. The
census figure for Newham was 3,163, amongst the
highest figures, along with Haringey (2,194). Brent
appears to be another burgeoning area of Somali
settlement (3,381). Cox (2002: 71) suggests that
there are 9-12,000 Somalis in the borough.
Robertson (2002: 7; 47) puts the figure of Somalis
in Enfield at 6-7,000, while a recent study of Barnet,
Enfield, Haringey, and Waltham Forest estimated
a population of 18,650 Somalis in these boroughs
(a high proportion of whom live in Tottenham,
77
Colindale, Edmonton and Edgware). The sum of
the Somali population from these boroughs in the
2001 census, however, comes to under 6,000.
Outside London, the statistical information is
equally unsatisfactory. Liverpool figures suggest
growth, but cannot present the actual size of the
community with any accuracy. A decade ago, the
Granby Toxteth Community Project estimated that
there were from 200 to over 1,000 Somalis during
the 1980s (1993: 4) with about 12,000 by 1989
(ibid: 5). In his 2000 report Stokes put the figure at
3-5,000. In Hull, newcomers are grafted onto older
settlements of seafarers. Cardiff, too, has a Somali
78
population originally stemming from the docks.
South Wales, particularly Cardiff and Newport, is
79
said to have a Somali population of 7,000. Leeds,
80
81
Southampton, Glasgow, Bristol, and Leicester
also have Somali communities. Manchester, too:
Refugee Action’s 1997 report on refugees in the
37
north west of England put the number of Somalis
here at 2-3000 (Smyth and Mohamed, 1997: 29), but
the council’s head count two years before came up
with 5,000. A primary care lecturer at Manchester
82
University puts the number at between 5-6,000
- but the 2001 census claims there are only 1,367.
83
Estimates for Birmingham stand at 3,000 and
4,000, (Dick, 2002: 8), with 819 in the census. For
Sheffield, figures range from 1,306 in the census to
2,000, (McCarthy, 1995: 15) to up to 10,000 (Cole
and Robinson, 2003: 12).
Table I: Estimates of Somali population in provincial cities
Year to
which
estimate
refers
1989
City
Somalis living in British
cities
Source
Liverpool
1,200
Granby Toxteth Community Project (1993),
Survey of the Somali community in Liverpool: 5
2000
3 – 5,000
Stokes, Peter (2000), The Somali community in
Liverpool, Foundation for Civil Society
2001
678
2001 census
2003
3 – 5,000
Cole, Ian and Robinson, David (2003), Somali
housing experiences in England, Centre for Regional
Economic and Social Research, Sheffield Hallam
University: 14
Smyth, Kate and Mohamed, Atiha (1997), Refugees
in the north west of England, Refugee Action: 29
1997
Manchester
2 – 3,000
2001
1,367
2001 census
2003
5 – 6,000
Estimate by Dr. Hermione Lovell, Manchester
University
2001 census
2001
Birmingham
2002
1995
819
4,000
Sheffield
2,000 +
Dick, Malcolm (2002), Celebrating sanctuary:
Birmingham and the refugee experience
1750-2002, Refugee Week 2002 Steering
Committee, Refugee Action: 8
McCarthy, Margaret (1995), Elders in exile,
Northern Refugee Centre: 15
2001
1,306
2001 census
2003
1,400 – 10,000
2001
Leicester
872
Cole, Ian and Robinson, David (2003), Somali
housing experiences in England, Centre for
Regional Economic and Social Research,
Sheffield Hallam University: 12
2001 census
2001
Milton Keynes
616
2001 census
2001
Bristol
604
2001 census
2001
Northamptonshire
517
2001 census
2001
Slough
267
2001 census
2001
Luton
160
2001 census
2001
Coventry
137
2001 census
As table I shows, there are towns with a much smaller presence than the large Somali populations of
38
London, Liverpool, and Manchester. Refugee
Action’s report on the north west of England
records a “small number” of Somalis in Warrington
(Smyth and Mohamed, 1997: 17) and in the
Lancashire districts of Chorley and South Ribble
(ibid: 20). The 2001 census lists several areas with
fewer than 100 Somalis. Apart from Leeds and
Southampton, these include Oxford, Reading,
Middlesbrough, Bedford, Watford, Southend, and
Swindon.
The particular needs of Somalis in areas where
there are only small numbers are as significant as
those in cities with higher settlement. But lack of
numerical data hinders sound service delivery in
all regions. In his study of The Somali community in
Liverpool (2000) Stokes points out that there is no
ethnic monitoring in any field - health, education,
employment, crime. This makes it impossible to
plan and produce local services on an accurate
assessment of need - whether estimates are made
by a local authority or Somalis themselves.
However, even if accurate figures are not yet
available, the main areas of concern for Somalis
have been well documented. The purpose of this
present addition to the literature is not only to
draw together how we know what we know about
Somalis in the UK, but also to highlight anxieties
expressed by Somalis themselves. These may differ
according to geographical area, gender or particular
group - education for some, health for others. But
it is striking how far the reports from different
parts of the UK replicate each other and dwell on
identical problems. Employment, education, physical
and mental health, the particular tensions around
youth and gender, together with the internal
divisions in the community, are all raised as critical
issues by Somalis throughout the UK.
Employment
In the early twentieth century Somalis arrived
in Britain to work. But, as we have seen, seamen
lost their jobs after the war. Those that did not
find work in the industrial and manufacturing
sectors became unemployed, and now many
of those arriving later as refugees have joined
their ranks. No accurate figures are available, but
1987 estimates put the Tower Hamlets Somali
unemployment rate at 87% (El-Solh, 1991: 550,
note 13), with 95% in Liverpool out of work
(Xifaras, 1996: 26). Estimates since then show
a slight improvement, but nothing which would
indicate a gradual integration of Somalis into the
British labour force. A 1993 Liverpool study gave
an unemployment figure of 72.6% (Granby Toxteth
Community Project, 1993: 36). Two years later,
Ditmars (1995: 8) reckoned that 80% of Somalis
in London were out of work. Contemporary
estimates no longer include the older settlers
who have retired, but reflect the employment of
refugees. One estimate for the unemployment rate
among Somali men in 1999 was 87% (Frieda and
Walters, 1999: 26). Studies also find that a high
proportion of Somalis have never worked since
coming to the UK.
This does not appear to depend solely on
the fact that Somalis are members of a black
minority. On indicators such as levels of pay, or
the permanence of the post, Somali refugees fare
worse than other ethnic populations as a whole
(Bloch, 2003). Is it then just a matter of education?
The educational profile of early settlers, who
often came from a nomadic background, has
contributed to the impression that Somalis are
less educated than other refugee communities.
Figures on qualifications are also slanted by the
lower educational level of women, and of many
young people who have missed out on schooling
in Somalia and have been unable to catch up in
the UK. But it is often the case that refugees and
asylum seekers come from the better-educated
sections of their society, the social strata which
could raise the money to escape. Somalis are no
exception - the community in fact contains a large
number of highly qualified men and women.
Somalis constantly express frustration that this is
not recognised, and point to the underutilisation of
their professional skills - doctors driving minicabs,
teachers unemployed. This is confirmed by a recent
study by Bloch and Atfield (2002) who surveyed
82. Dr. Hermione Lovel, personal communication to Kirsteen Tait, ICAR,
King’s College London.
83. O. Hassan, Birmingham Support Group: interview 8.4.03
39
the professional capacity of 200 Somalis, half from
London, and half from provincial cities. Covering a
range of age and gender, over 50% were recently
arrived refugees, having been in England for less
than ten years. They found that 73% had received
a secondary level education, including 12% to
graduate level (ibid: 22). Of the 9.5% who had
obtained a qualification elsewhere before coming
to the UK, one third had degrees (ibid: 23). Once in
the UK, over a third of the sample were studying,
the majority at degree level.
Before coming to the UK, most had been studying
or working - in teaching, retail, engineering,
farming, nursing, or as librarians, lawyers, doctors,
nursery workers, scientists, and office workers,
amongst others.Yet this “wealth of employment
experience” (ibid: 33) was not reflected in their
occupations in the UK. More of Bloch and Atfield’s
sample were working in shops and factories than
in classrooms; there were several security guards,
but no doctors or nurses (ibid: 37). These findings
of occupational downgrading are confirmed by the
Learning and Skills Council’s recent research in
four north London boroughs on asylum seekers
and refugees (Thomas and Abebaw, 2002; Africa
84
Educational Trust, 2002; Duale, 2002). This found
that whereas 20% of the Somali sample currently
employed in the UK had been professionals at
home (many as teachers and engineers), this
dropped to 4% in London. The comparative figures
for skilled workers were 16% to 11%. In contrast,
only 13% had been in semi-skilled or manual work
at home - in the UK this rose to half of Somalis
now in work (Africa Educational Trust, 2002: 6; 23).
One Somali man, for example, had qualified
as a chemical engineer in Somalia.When
he arrived in the UK thirteen years ago he
completed a GNVQ in Administration and
then completed training as a teacher. Despite
having experience through work placements
and voluntary work he has not been able to
get a job in the UK. He now works for the RCO.
(Thomas and Abebaw, 2002: 33)
40
Employment in refugee community organisations
(RCOs) is one option for the unemployed,
particularly among the Somali with their
proliferating associations. Another potential source
of work could well be local authority and NGO
departments which deal with the community, but
one of Somali refugees’ complaints is that they
are rarely offered this opportunity from which
both sides could benefit. In Liverpool, for example,
where there is a longstanding Somali population,
one Somali women’s organisation feels the lack of
a Somali-speaking community worker. There was,
the director alleges, a Somali team employed by
the council - but as other ethnic groups did not
have this privilege, it was deemed inequitable and
disbanded. Although there are now two Somali
health workers, and some Somalis are employed
as firefighters, there are very few Somalis in public
85
services. Leicester City Council does have two
Somali development workers, but these employees
recently commented:
The fact is that only a few schools employed
Somali speaking staff. All other agencies
including advice centres (where most Somalis
are facing language barrier), housing, education,
social services departments…and health
authority…[with two exceptions] do not have
Somali speaking staff.
This has already determined the level and
degree of how quickly people can settle down
and participate socially and economically in the
area in which they live. (Daahir and Duale,
2002: 32)
As with earlier arrivals, male Somali refugees are
often reluctant to take jobs incommensurate with
their previous occupations in Somalia, and stay out
of work. Women, perhaps because of their family
responsibilities, have always been more prepared
to take menial work that men have rejected
(Summerfield, 1996: 94); many Somali women
work in the lower ranks of the service and care
84. The main report on the research commissioned by the Learning and
Skills Council was prepared by Thomas and Abebaw.They were working on
behalf of the Africa Educational Trust who conducted the project, and issued
a summary report. Mohammed Duale undertook the investigation of the
Somali community, the subject of an appended document.
85. Interview, Lodge Lane Somali Women’s Group. 19.3.03.86. Interview,
Ahmed Farah 24.3.03
industries. But here, too, even given the average
lower educational levels of women, they are often
underemployed. In their study of twenty Somali
women in Waltham Forest, east London, Sales and
Gregory (1998) found that only one was
in secure employment. Others had casual work as
interpreters, cleaners, or other low paid
service workers. None of those with professional
qualifications - including teachers, health workers,
a doctor, and a chemist - had been able to pursue
their career in the UK.
The loss of self esteem is hard to accept, and
is echoed by some of the 50 women in Tower
Hamlets, Hackney, and Islington interviewed by
Emua Ali (2001: 166). Many who had skilled jobs
in Somalia were hindered by the non-recognition
of their qualifications and lack of British work
experience in finding similar employment in the UK.
The majority were living off benefits, supplemented
by cleaning, factory, and sweatshop work and other
casual unskilled labour (the kind of work that most
men refuse to do). For both men and women,
even when it seemed that a previous profession
would be a passport to present employment, the
problem of qualifications gained outside the UK
constitutes a serious problem. These are often not
recognised - teachers, doctors, and lawyers find
that they are unable to practise, while courses to
retrain or to adapt their experience to the UK
remain insufficient. Apart from the frustration this
causes, the British economy and public services are
deprived of valuable contributions.
Several of the reasons for downgrading
overlap with those for high Somali rates of
unemployment in general. Some are attributed to
what is euphemistically called ‘the host society’
- institutional racism and discrimination by
employers. Then there are standard requirements
of employment which may be hard to meet - the
demand for a National Insurance number, for
example.Young people who have not yet claimed
benefits on their own behalf, or have not yet held
a job, may not be able to obtain this, while papers
such as recommendations by previous employers
may well have been left behind when travelling.
Other factors concern the refugee community
itself. One is length of residence; the longer the
residence in the UK, the higher the likelihood of
being in work. A critical issue here is asylum status.
Legally, those with leave to remain (i.e. refugees
and those with exceptional or indefinite leave
to remain) have permission to work. Since July
2002 those awaiting the decision on their asylum
claim (including those on appeal) can no longer
work while they wait and may only seek voluntary
work. But for all those without full refugee status,
uncertainty about the future both discourages
employers and deters asylum seekers from planning
a career in the UK.
Another critical issue is language. Studies show that
the higher Somali refugees’ educational level is, the
better their command of English is likely to be, and
the more likely they are to be in work (Bloch, 2002;
2003). But, for many, inadequate language skills put
them at a disadvantage in a competitive job market.
Somalis also mention their lack of references and
contacts, and their unfamiliarity with interview
techniques and the whole culture of employment
in the UK.
It also may be that skills acquired at home - such
as herding or farming - may not be relevant in a
British context. Even commercial experience may
not weather diaspora conditions. Travel and trade
have always been part of Somali life, and in the UK
today both men and women go on international
expeditions to buy gold, cloth, and other items
for resale in the Somali community. A US Somali
economist recently wrote to a researcher
supporting her theory of ubiquitous Somali
commercial activity and Somalis’ ability to establish
businesses wherever they find themselves:
The Somali is inherently a trader.… [with]
strong entrepreneurial skills: livestock is
primarily used for trading in the nomadic
Somali society. Unlike other recent ethnic
immigrants, the Somalis in Minnesota, many
of whom come from the [Kenyan] Dadaab
refugee camps, have managed to establish
their own child care centres, laundry facilities,
tax preparers, restaurants, department and
grocery stores, sewing, mini shopping malls
etc….This must be unique to Somalis….The
Somali nomadic background primarily explains
41
this strong sense of kinship networking, high
mobility and dispersing of investments….There
is something nomadic about our genes.
(Horst, 2002: 11)
But there is a puzzle here. Whereas many other
ethnic communities have established a lively retail
sector, commercial activity has only recently been
part of the Somali experience in the UK. The older
community of seafarers did not set up shop - even
today there is still only one Somali store in the
Toxteth area of Liverpool, an historic area of Somali
settlement. One deterrent to entrepreneurial
activity has been the commercial context - whereas
at home, as one Somali man said, ‘anyone can
open a shop’, in the UK there are many more
regulations to contend with, besides the problem of
86
obtaining capital. But more relevant may be the
relationship of different generations to the UK. The
seafaring community always imagined themselves
to be transitory, and their income was sent home
rather than invested in London or Liverpool. Now,
the establishment of Somali services speaks of an
intention to remain. Commercial enterprise may
relate to circumstances of settlement rather than
genes.
But now the Somali community is more familybased, Somali trading is increasing. In London’s
Wembley, inhabited by Somalis for a decade,
Somalis are launching their own shops, restaurants,
and businesses. Sarah Cox, working in the area,
mentions Wembley to a local Somali woman:
She laughs and says: ‘Yes, all the men, they’re
standing around talking. In Mogadishu there
are the bars where they can sit outside and
talk (because in Somalia it’s hot). Here they do
it in Wembley, and there are the shops.You can
buy all the Somali things, Somali clothes and
everything’. (Cox, 2003: 37)
The same pattern is discernable in selfemployment. Many refugees were self-employed
in the country in which they were living prior to
seeking asylum, but this pattern has not hitherto
been duplicated in the UK (Bloch and Atfield,
2002: 34; 39). Today, uncertainty about permanent
residence still acts as a deterrent, but for confirmed
42
refugees, self-employment is now becoming an
option. As their asylum claims are resolved and
transfer of qualifications still remains problematic,
it is likely that more Somalis will become
professional as well as commercial entrepreneurs:
I graduated from Somali National University
as a journalist and I also qualified at the
Department of Commerce, specialising in
Accounting and Management. I started work
in Somali Radio as a broadcaster in the Arabic
and English Department and also worked as a
part-time lecturer in the Institute of Accounting
and Management….
I came to the UK in 1991 and.… I was
unhappy with the way in which my educational
qualifications were evaluated. I wanted to use
my skills and knowledge to do something; I had
never liked to be on the dole but I had to wait
six months before immigration would give me a
work permit.
The authorities who evaluated my qualifications
decided that they were not compatible with
the UK standards and I had to start all over
again to become a chartered accountant. I
have now done an MSc in Accounting and
Finance from a British university. It was hard to
go back over what I had done ten years ago.
I am now practicing accounting and I run an
office for chartered accountants, as well some
[sic] projects for refugees…. I am now training
about 50 refugees who are former qualified
professionals; I give them work experience in
my company and I think this way, they will get
jobs at the end of the day.
(Lukes and Bell, 2002: 107-108)
Entrepreneurial activity, however, is not sufficient
to replace opportunities for employment with
British enterprises or the public sector. The nature
of the Somalis’ insertion into the economy has
repercussions both on British society and on
the refugee community itself. The overwhelming
proportion of Somalis without work increases
the nation’s benefits bill, and encourages popular
perceptions of ‘asylum seeker scroungers’. At a
time when public services such as the NHS and
schools badly need staff, particularly staff who
can deal directly with other members of their
own community, potential workers sit idle. For
Somalis, on an individual level, unemployment
breeds poverty, alienation, depression, and lack of
self-esteem. The community is marginalised and
deprived of an avenue into British society, with
damaging results especially for young people.
Reports on the Somali community have for some
time reiterated the problems around employment
and recognised their impact on other aspects of
Somali experience in the UK. But despite local
initiatives, a central programme to tackle the issue
has yet to be established.
Education87
without any, or with very few, GCSEs”. But the
Liverpool community has its own estimate. It is
said that of the 300 Somali boys who have taken
89
GCSE since 1997, only three have passed. Even
if this is an overly negative guesstimate, the trend
90
is clear. In the London borough of Camden,
Somalis now make up nearly 10% of the school
population. But in spite of particular programmes
to tackle underachievement of refugees and
asylum seekers in a couple of schools, plus local
education authority support, these children are not
reaching their full potential. Figures are misleading
as numbers involved are small: the 3.1% gaining A*C represents one pupil. But table J does indicate
underperformance compared with other groups.
Somali mothers and fathers, like all parents,
know that the key to their children’s future lies
in their education. Education is high on the list
of community concerns, and Somalis organise
homework clubs and after school programmes
to help their children achieve. And many do. But
there are also scores of young Somalis who leave
school with no qualifications, or the accompanying
confidence to look for work.
As in other areas there are few statistics. While
some schools audit the progress of their Somali
pupils in order to assess their policies, not all
school and local authorities keep records on
Somali children - or even on the numbers of
pupils from particular ethnic groups in the school
population. Figures are also often contradictory.
For example, although it is agreed that Somali was
the second most spoken language in schools in the
London borough of Camden (not counting English)
in 1998, one source stated that this represented
88
2.4% of the school population, and another, 7%.
The same problem applies to an assessment of
Somali pupils’ achievement. In Liverpool, Stokes
(2000: para. 16.4) was unable to find statistical
confirmation of his conclusion that “with a few
exceptions most Somali students will leave school
86. Interview, Ahmed Farah 24.3.03.
87. Secondary sources on education include: Hassan (1994); Daycare Trust
(1995); City of Liverpool (1996); Xifaras (1996); Kahin (1997); Farah and
Smith (1999); Ali and Jones (2000); Stokes (2000); Lukes and Bell (2002);
Robertson (2002); Cox (2002; 2003); Hannan (2003).
88. Ali and Jones, 2000: 5.
89. Interview, Saeed Farah, City Resources Unit, Liverpool Council 19.3.03.
90. For factors contributing to the academic underachievement of Somali
pupils see Kahin, 1997: 63-81.
43
Table J: Achievement of Somali pupils in Camden schools
No. of pupils
% achieving 5+
A*-C
% achieving
1+ A*-G
Average number
of entries
Average
points score
Bangladeshi
139
28.1
95.7
8.6
32.8
Black African
118
26.6
89.0
8.0
29.5
Somali
32
3.1
81.3
7.0
17.4
Refugee
89
21.3
88.8
7.5
25.8
1635
47.7
93.5
8.2
37.6
All pupils
Source: Ali and Jones, 2000: 46
As might be expected, those Camden Somali
pupils who had been in school since year seven
did marginally better than the Somali cohort as a
whole. The same applies to the total school career.
The little evidence we have suggests that children
who are born in the UK and have therefore gone
through the British educational system have a
better chance of success than Somalis coming
into school from elsewhere. In Liverpool, the City
Council’s report on Somali young people found
that of their seven British-born respondents, three
had done well, three were still in education, and
only one was unemployed (1996: para. 4.4).
The real problem is to integrate children who
come into the system from Somalia at late primary
or secondary level, who have had a very different
system of education, probably disrupted by war, or
who have never been to school at all. The Somali
education system has been a major casualty of
political events. It was only in 1972 that Somali
orthography was devised, and the language put
into Latin script. This was part of Siad Barre’s early
period of reform - a successful national literacy
campaign was launched, and compulsory education
introduced. But mismanagement and shortage of
resources began the decline which the war was
to finish. In 1986 the literacy rate was still only
40%; half of primary age children were in school,
but only 7% of young people were in secondary
91
education. By the end of the 1980s the whole
system had collapsed through the devastation of
armed conflict, and though some still struggled on
in the north, most schools were shut down.
44
This means that many Somali refugee children
arriving since the late 1980s may have had no
experience of formal schooling apart from
Arabic Koranic classes, which depend on rote
learning of the scriptures. Landing in inner city
comprehensives, they are lost. Many have been
deeply affected by their early experience of war,
they cannot speak English, have no understanding of
school culture, and no space to explain themselves.
In answer to one researcher’s questions about this
topic, Liverpool Somali respondents said:
Children are sitting around school
corridors as they cannot compete.
Some of those who have difficulty
in competing are wrongly assessed
as abnormal.The language barrier
and the trauma these children have
experienced requires specific attention
to cater for their needs.
Children are often in shock when they
come to Britain.They have travelled
from a war zone country and entered
Britain, a totally different environment
and culture.The majority of these
children came from rural areas.
Before they can recover from shock,
they are thrown into school.They are
often bullied because they come from
another country and cannot speak
English.
Youngster’s [sic] are behind in
education, due to the language barrier.
They are reluctant to pursue further
education due to the feeling of
hopelessness, which dictates their lives.
(Xifaras, 1996: 50)
There are several issues raised here concerning
both the education system and the problems of
the pupils themselves. There is also the question of
parental participation.
When discussing education, Somalis always mention
a crucial difference between the Somali and
British systems: in the former, children are graded
according to their educational level, while in British
schools children are assigned to classes according
to age. This means that Somali children with few
basic skills can be placed with students coming up
for GCSE - an impossible situation. Parents may
also be misled, thinking that their child’s promotion
in September is due to their achievement.
As in every area of Somali experience in the UK,
language is another critical factor. Until the early
1970s, post-primary schools in Somaliland taught
in English because of the colonial connection, with
92
Italian being used in the south. In Barre’s
period of early reform, English was phased out,
except for those university and college courses
that were conducted in English or Italian. However,
the collapse of the education system means that
some young refugees arriving in the UK are barely
literate in Somali. Some will be able to read and
write in Arabic through attending private Koranic
schools. These classes of religious instruction begin
teaching children to read and recite the Koran
from the age of four, and may continue through
childhood. But Koranic pupils are not necessarily
literate - many of those who have learned to recite
the Koran may not be able to write it. So Somali
children may arrive in school with little formal
education, or one limited to rote learning, while
speaking no English. Unless the school can provide
special provision, they can spend hours sitting
in class, understanding little. Schools have to be
inventive. Apart from highlighting the necessity
for ESOL classes, recommendations on education
stress the importance of promoting and utilising
the Somali language. In London’s Institute of
Education there is a range of attractive children’s
books in Somali, incorporating folk tales and
children’s experience. In Haringey, north London,
the White Hart Lane school is teaching maths
and science to Turkish and Somali pupils in their
mother tongues until they master English (The
Independent, 17.06.02).
And this they must do if they are to integrate
academically and socially into a school environment.
Special provision has to be made for English, as well
as other subjects, if the incomers have not reached
the required standard. This places a great strain
on schools. Somali parents often allege that their
children experience bullying and discrimination,
not only at the hands of other children, but also
by teachers. There may well be racism in the
classroom as well as in the playground, but teachers
also suffer from a lack of information about the
background and situation of their Somali pupils. In
addition, schools often do not have the resources
to meet the language and basic educational needs
of children who are completely out of their
depth. The effect of the presence of refugees and
asylum seekers on schools is a contentious issue.
But negative comments of ‘swamping’ made by
government ministers and in the media should
not obscure the real problems that schools
- and therefore the children - face. With the
dispersal system, refugee children may arrive in
schools already trying to cope with high levels of
deprivation. One such is Victoria Park Primary in
Smethwick, West Midlands, where Somali is one of
the 33 languages spoken in the school. The head
teacher stresses that “the children themselves
are very rewarding, and, given time, can achieve
excellent results” but a consistently high refugee
intake “stretches our resources to breaking point.
The children arrive from nowhere, many speaking
no English, often with no documentation, and we
just have to take them in” (The Sun, 07.02.03).
Reports reiterate that even where schools and
local authorities promote language and other
programmes, this is seldom sufficient.
91. Ali, 2001: 80
92. For the Somali educational system, see Hassan (1994); Kahin, 1997:
19-21; Ali, 2001: 77-81; Hannan, 2003: 39.
45
The difficulties experienced by Somali children
can lead to a stereotype of lack of ability, and
therefore of low expectations by teachers. This
may be compounded by problems arising from
past trauma and present stress. Children escaping
the civil war may have witnessed horrors, “things
children should never see” as one man put it. Even
if they have little direct experience of conflict or
refugee camps, the effects on their families will
impact on children. Home circumstances may be
insecure or upsetting, and the children, especially
boys, may react with uncooperative or violent
behaviour - although the Camden report maintains
that in the schools researched, the stereotype of
the aggressive Somali boy was unfounded, and that
appropriate support can do much to help the child.
A teacher gave an example:
A late arrival had no primary education in
Somalia but he was literate in Arabic due to his
Koranic education. He had an exclusion due to
threatening to stab another boy with scissors.
A guest speaker came to the school to talk
about Islam and she spoke in Arabic. He was
so proud of his knowledge the Koran that he
volunteered to read from the Koran in Arabic.
The whole class applauded…. His self esteem
was raised and other pupils were amazed at
his knowledge. Schools need to promote mother
tongue activities to boost pupils’ self esteem.
(Ali and Jones, 2000: 13)
Nevertheless, although we have no comparative
figures, exclusions of troubled Somali children
are said to be high. This raises the vexed question
of discipline, one of the many areas where
misunderstanding can arise. Many Somali parents
are accustomed to a stricter regime which includes
corporal punishment to enforce respect for
authority. They complain on the one hand of severe
measures such as exclusion, but on the other, of
the liberalism and laxity of British schools and
society which, as they see it, hinders learning and
allows children to get out of control. Teachers, on
the other hand, have to tread a fine line between
respecting cultural difference and parental control
and condoning forms of discipline they see as
abusive.
46
Another such area is the education of girls. In
Somalia, the education of young women, destined
to be wives and mothers, was not seen as a priority,
and most dropped out after primary school. In
the UK, with compulsory education, there is a
range of attitudes. Many parents are keen that
their daughters learn. “Some teachers [in Camden]
claimed that Somali girls were more motivated
[than boys], have better concentration and are
aware of the value of education” (Ali and Jones,
2000: 12). In conversation, young women complain
that their responsibility for household chores
keeps them from their schoolwork, and that they
do not have the freedom that their brothers enjoy.
But Cox (2002) sees something positive in parents’
assumption of girls’ domestic competence. She
bases her dissertation around the question of why
the girls in her Wembley and Harlesden nursery
class seemed to “fit so easily and successfully into
school” (ibid: 2), whilst some boys “found it difficult
to settle in the nursery, lacking independence
and initiative, seeming less mature….” (ibid: 1).
Her interesting conclusion was confirmed by the
comments of a Somali friend:
You must look at the child rearing practices.
From the very beginning, Somali girls are
expected to be responsible, strong, brave and
intelligent. Somali boys are just expected to …
[pause] … eat (ibid: 2)
From Cox’s knowledge of the children and their
families, she concludes that in Somalia, girls acquire
domestic competence at an early age. In the UK
this may be at ten or eleven years old rather
than six or seven, but this domestic education
fosters a girl’s self-confidence even as it reinforces
the gendered division of labour. Although open
defiance of male authority is not tolerated,
female intelligence, wit, and resilience are highly
valued - characteristics that serve women well
when adjusting to life in the diaspora as single
mothers (see below). In turn, this strength helps
to shape their daughters growing up in the UK.
In conversation, young women often mention
their mothers with great respect, admiring their
fortitude and independence.
Attitudes to girls’ education by Somali parents
clearly differs widely, but many feel that after the
age of eleven or twelve, daughters should be kept
apart from boys. There is therefore still an intense
mistrust on the part of some parents for coeducation, not only for their daughters, but also
for their sons, whom they feel will be distracted
by a female presence. As Muslims, many parents
will go to great lengths to get their children into
single-sex schools at secondary level, even if these
are Catholic or Anglican. If this proves impossible,
they may go so far as to keep their children out
of school altogether, or, where finance allows,
send them abroad. Their ideal would be Muslim
education, but few can afford private Muslim
schools. The question of faith schools is a difficult
political issue. As for some parents the question
of gender segregation seems to override religious
considerations, one way around the problem might
be for the establishment of more single-sex schools
in relevant areas, which would go some way
towards meeting Somali preference.
There are other contentious issues between
parents and schools, but involvement in their
children’s education is recognised as a crucial
factor in combating underachievement. While some
parents do keep a keen eye on their children’s
progress, others have no understanding of their
work, no connection with the school, and therefore
do not know how to offer support. Parents
- often single mothers - may themselves have a
low level of education and command of English,
and feel intimidated and confused by the school
environment. In 1997 there was an attempt by the
Somali community to establish a forum to deal with
common problems - this subject produced one of
the most heartfelt appeals:
Fellow Somalis, two decades of multicultural
education have not delivered equality of
education for our pupils. Parents need to fight
back! We need to nurture the potential of our
children, foster their educational values, and
ensure the involvement of the whole community.
We must take responsibility for our children, as
their elders…. Let us challenge the problems,
and give our support to our children…. (Evelyn
Oldfield Unit, 1997: 11)
Among the many strategies offered by reports
to tackle the problems outlined above, the
recommendation to improve the communication
between home and school is always paramount.
Somalis are being brought onto the governing
bodies and even if permanent Somali staff are rare,
sessional workers and interpreters are hired. Some
of the best results have been obtained where a
linkworker as been appointed to liaise between
school and parents.
The earlier this contact can start, the better. The
importance of early education and play for child
wellbeing and later educational achievement is well
93
documented in the literature. But Somali parents
may have little concept of its significance, coming
from an environment where a child would not
have started school until six or seven years old, but
would be surrounded by kin and neighbours of all
ages. Recent research in the London borough of
Enfield, which provides an under fives home school
liaison service, found a low take-up of sessions by
Somali parents. Mothers (the main carers, either
as lone parents or through the customary division
of labour), were often hampered by their own
language difficulties, and did not understand the
system. They also might be deterred by the fear of
racism, or too preoccupied with sorting out other
aspects of refugees’ life to make this a priority.
Only sustained outreach work, preferably by a
Somali speaker or community group, is likely to
improve access to the service, as it has in Tower
Hamlets and Haringey (Robertson, 2002: 57).
Given the variety of influences on a child’s
education - family background, character of local
environment, quality of school - generalisations
about Somali schooling are difficult. It does seem
true that many children are not reaching their full
potential, yet education is an area where reports,
committed to the identification of problems, can
present an imbalanced picture. There is another
side to the story. The Camden researchers
emphasise that “most teachers who have refugee
pupils in their classes do not see them as problem
pupils. Individual refugee pupils, like individual
non-refugee pupils, may have various learning and
93. See overviews in Robertson (2002); Cox (2002).
47
other educational difficulties and needs, but refugee
pupils also bring into the classroom a range of
opportunities and perspectives that can enrich the
learning and understandings of all who are working
there” (Ali and Jones, 2000: 6). A teacher told them
that:
A year 11 Somali girl is a talented
singer performing at the Royal Albert
Hall. Somali pupils are achieving
at GCSE and going on to further
education. A Somali girl took her GCSE
maths in year 9 and achieved an A
grade…. (ibid: 9)
To talk to a group of Somali teenagers in a north
London youth club, all of whom came to England
when they were small, is to meet a bunch of
articulate young people with positive experience
of school, close friendships with children from
all ethnic groups, and plans for their colleges and
94
careers. There are problems, but also great
potential.
Youth
Hibo Aden has no problem with being the only
girl who regularly attends the Horn Stars Somali
youth club near the Stonebridge estate, Harlesden.
Surrounded by teenage boys, she is as much at
ease with the table tennis and pool as she is on the
football pitch when she plays for the club. Football
is an obsession for many young Somali men, but it
is more unusual to find a young woman with the
same passion. Her success is celebrated in a local
magazine:
16-year-old Stonebridge teenager, Hibo Aden,
has been picked to play for Queens Park
Rangers ladies team.
She was spotted by talent scouts when playing
for a girl’s [sic] football team at Brent Summer
University last year, and is her new team’s
youngest player.…
Hibo came to Stonebridge with her family
from war-torn Somalia nine years ago, and
is taking nine GCSE’s [sic] at John Kelly Girls
City Technology College. Her favourite subject
48
is maths – football is not in the curriculum.
But as a sporty all-rounder she enjoys playing
basketball, netball and rounders at school.
Hibo thinks the quality of life on Stonebridge
is getting better as old buildings come down
and new ones go up…. ‘Things are already
improving here. It will be good when the new
community centre is built, so there will be more
places for kids to go’.
For young people, there are, she says, already
‘lots of opportunities out there’ – from playing
sport to getting qualifications. ‘If you want to
achieve something, it’s better to have a go
rather than just lying around waiting for things
to happen’.
Hibo arrived in the UK as a refugee, but now
has full citizenship and relishes life in London. ‘I
know more about Britain than I do the country
I was born in, which is not surprising really. I’m
very happy here. Life’s quite good for me on
Stonebridge. I don’t plan on leaving.’
As for ambitions, Hibo is keeping her options
open, knuckling down to her studies to get
qualified, making time for sport, hobbies and
friends.
But she has one goal clearly in her sights
this season – putting a good few balls past
the opposition’s goalie. (Chat, Stonebridge
Housing Action Trust, February 2003: 12)
One of eight children, Hibo left Mogadishu when
she was two, before eventually coming to the
UK with her mother.Yet despite this apparent
integration into British society, and her ignorance
of her birthplace, her Somali identity is important
95
to her. For Hibo this means two things: firstly,
signalled by the scarf wrapped tightly round her
head, it signifies religion. Secondly, the family.
Despite being separated from her father, she has
a close relationship with her mother. The trust
on which this is based allows her considerable
freedom, while the security of a tightly-knit family
enables her to enjoy her independence. She has
planned her A-level courses, and aims to study
psychology at university.
It is the family that she identifies as the critical
area for Somali experience in the UK. The main
problem for Somalis, she maintains, is not racism,
but missing family members - families divided by
the circumstances of war. Hibo had to manage
without her father, and there are others who arrive
in the UK with no parents at all. In a significant
and comprehensive recent report, Lucy Hannan
(2003) investigates the plight of the separated
Somali children arriving in the UK with only a “gap
in their hearts” where friends and family should
96
be. Their parents have scraped together up to
US$10,000 to send a child from the dangerous
chaos of Mogadishu or Hargeisa to Europe or the
USA, believing that there would be opportunities
for education and a safe life unavailable at
home. Somalis are among the largest groups of
unaccompanied children entering the UK; Home
Office statistics show a growth from 53 young
Somalis aged seventeen or under entering in 1992
to 198 in 2001. But these figures only include those
seeking asylum - many more enter undetected and
therefore have no official existence.
The outcome of their journey is often very
different from the dream. At the mercy of
smugglers (illegally transporting youngsters for
profit) or traffickers (who have an explicit purpose
of exploitation) the children are often abandoned
once they reach their destination. They may then
be claimed by clan or kin, and put in the care or
‘relatives’, real or fictitious. The lucky few are
taken in by a caring family; others are exploited
97
for domestic labour, benefit fraud, or, at worst,
prostitution and crime. The welfare benefits they
receive may be sent home as remittances rather
than used for their own support. Some young
people are forced to adopt new identities, lying
about their history and their age in order to claim
the local authority services open to the undereighteens.
Caught between the demands of two cultures, the
psychological effects of the experience on children
94. Interviews, Horn Stars Somali Youth Club, Harlesden, London 4.4.03.
95. Interview, 4.4.03.
96. Gap in their hearts:The experience of separated Somali
children was commissioned by Integrated Regional Information Networks
(IRIN), and is also available on IRIN’s website
who may be already traumatised can be devastating.
In boys this may manifest itself in aggression,
contributing to the stereotype of violent Somali
youth. At school they may suffer bullying and
isolation, with little emotional support outside.
Such was the experience of Lee, a young Somali
war orphan who arrived alone in the UK, speaking
no English, at the age of thirteen. Placed in a hostel
with other refugee teenagers, he had to fend for
himself:
I was missing my family and the people were
all different from me and not settled….There
were people from all different countries living
with me and we had to try to learn how to talk
to each other.We developed a little bit of sign
98
language as a way to express our emotions.
Few separated youngsters succeed educationally.
99
“Success stories are few” and those that do
gain qualifications are often plagued by emotional
difficulties. Failure and instability may result in
the young person being returned to Somalia to
100
face a raft of new problems. For those who
stay, among the most negative destinations are
psychiatric or juvenile detention units. Suicides
are not uncommon. Others manage to hang on to
their sense of self - but compare Hibo’s optimistic
verve with this sad account of Ahmed, driven out of
Mogadishu in 1999 by militia activity:
I travelled on the plane with my fixer.…[who]
came with me on a bus to central London and
took me to a phone box, where he phoned
some family friends…. He just told them I was
here and they should come and collect me. He
left me in the phone box. I was very nervous. I
didn’t know what would happen to me. I waited
for some time, then someone did come, and
took me to their house….
The mother was nice to me, but the children they had been here a long time, and they didn’t
like me. I was from Africa; everything about me
was different.They were abusive and said very
97. See Waris Dirie’s account of her treatment at the hands of wealthy
elite Somali relatives in London (1998).
98. Independent on Sunday 15.6.03.
99. Hannan, 2003: 45.
100. Ibid.: 54-62
49
abusive things to me.
I lived with the family for about one year,
but couldn’t get on with them, and was very
unhappy. It was very difficult.The family
would talk to each other, and laugh, but I
was separate, and I didn’t understand any of
them….. My other problem was at school. I had
been to secondary school, but I had a language
problem. I sat in the class, but there was a lot I
didn’t understand….
Ahmed then went to social services, but this
resulted in a string of moves from area to area,
being shunted between social services, the
homeless persons’ department, and community
organisations. He ended up in a hostel, living on
“a tiny amount each week”:
I miss my family a lot. I don’t know how to
contact them. If I had money, I would go - I
hope eventually to find them. It was not a good
idea to come here; I should have stayed with
them whatever was happening. Sending your
children away is a disastrous idea….There are
social services, but it is full of empty promises.
I go to see social workers…. [but].… I am
always dealing with different people who don’t
know me or anything about me. Life is very
101
lonely.
The contrast between Hibo’s story and those
of Lee and Ahmed illustrate the danger of
essentialising ‘Somali youth’ and generalising about
experience. While some flounder, others are doing
well. But there are regularities in young people’s
accounts which point to significant factors affecting
their short lives. Of primary importance, as Hibo
indicates, is the security of family background.
The difficulties of many separated children stand
in stark contrast to the possible stability of those
with strong family support.
But the presence or absence of a parent is not
the only factor here. Much depends on the past
history of the family, and the emotional, social, and
financial state of (most often) the mother. One
interesting and unusual report by Farah and Smith
(1999) has recorded and evaluated the work of a
Somali support initiative, set up to assist access to
50
services. Using schools to identify potential clients,
in this case troubled youngsters, information on
45 households is presented, incorporating the
children’s and carers’ own words. What emerges
from these case studies is a picture of family life
disrupted by war and displacement with many
women struggling to care for large numbers of
children on their own. Many of the women identify
the change in family relationships, the global
dispersal of the extended family, and the absence
of a strong male figure in the UK as contributing
to their own and their children’s problems. Often
there are financial strains related to lack of work
and a marked drop in employment status. All these
factors rebound on the parent-child relationship
and the stability of the young person. Disruptive
children, wayward teenagers, and young Somali
males caught up in a street culture of drugs and
petty crime may well have caring parents at home.
Cultural conflict
Parents and carers often ascribe young people’s
disturbed behaviour to their past traumatic
experiences and previous educational vacuum.
They also recognise the cultural conflict in which
the children are caught, and the intergenerational
difficulties this causes. A mother comments that:
Children have more liberty in the UK than
in Somalia. Teenage rebellion is very high in
Somali children these days; they question their
culture and the authority of the parents.The
children want to adapt to the way of life of the
children in their classes. In Somalia children
belong to the whole community and therefore
can be told off by anybody who knows the
family and has witnessed the child doing wrong.
That does not happened in England. I once….
saw a Somali girl with friends of Asian origin
walking down the road swearing and shouting
at each other. I told her if her mother knew
what she was up to she wouldn’t be happy.
She simply told me to mind my own business.
This could not happen in Somalia. (Farah and
Smith, 1999: 97)
There are pitfalls associated with both integration
into contemporary urban life and isolation from
British peers. Writing of the “cultural confusion”
confronting Somali teenagers, Hannan (2003:
35) argues that adults may react with “extreme
traditionalism”, countered by “obsessive
‘assimilationism’ in the young”. Whilst parents seek
security in their own culture, their children strive
to adapt, and in doing so gain a superior grasp of
the wider society. Somalis often point out that it is
children who may provide the bridge between their
elders and officialdom - dealing with paperwork
and translating at the surgery and social security
office. These roles conflict with the ‘traditional’
authority of the adult.
Many of the older generation, mourning the
dilution of Somali mores, attempt to redress
assimilation into popular youth culture by involving
their children in ‘Somali’ activities. The report on
Somali Culture to the Somali Community Meeting
instigated by the human rights organisation
Liberation and Jeremy Corbyn MP (29.04.03)
warned that:
….I feel that the Somali children are in danger
loosing [losing] their culture and tradition.
We have very strong culture and tradition such
as our own singing, dancing, dressing, food,
cooking, poems and many others. In this
respect, in order to save our culture and
tradition we would need to set up our own
centres to carry out workshops assembles
[assemblies], teaching, holding cultural fashion
events… This would enable us to orientate
our children to prevent, drugs, thefts and bad
attitudes in public… These children have
difficulty to go out alone because they afraid
racism attacks but if there would be cultural
centres that they could entertain during their
102
spare times would help them.
But ‘culture’ is as ‘culture’ does. Culture is the
fabric of actual lived experience, not a static
heritage that can be meaningfully reproduced in any
context. If the children on stage at a Somali event
seem a little lacklustre, it is because their dance is
not an integral part of their daily lives. The problem
is complex: whilst a celebration of ethnic identity
is significant for both young and old, it cannot in
itself provide an instinctive moral framework which
will inevitably override external influence. In the
view of one confident and successful young woman,
Ubah Egoh, the attempt to corral youngsters into
the Somali fold with after school and weekend
cultural events is counterproductive, breeding
resentment and encouraging wild behaviour in
103
the comparatively free atmosphere of school.
Ubah also pointed out that when parents feel
powerless in other areas of their lives, they may
try to exert control over the only thing they can
- their children. But strict discipline at home along
accepted Somali lines can lead to duplicity and
non-communication between child and parent.
Attempts to insulate children are also doomed to
failure - ‘culture’ is communicated by the media,
advertising, daily contact in shops and streets. As a
Somali youth leader put it, neither homes nor even
faith schools can be ‘waterproof’ against the wider
society.
In order to manage daily life, young people must
feel comfortable with the culture of their peers.
When Ahmed arrived in the UK, he felt isolated
not only from British youth, but also from the
other Somali children in the family who had grown
up in London. The older children are when they
land in the UK and the less education and the
more trauma they may have experienced, the wider
the cultural and linguistic gap between themselves
and other young people is likely to be. For younger
arrivals it will be less difficult to negotiate the
demands of home, school, and street. Teenage boys
in the Horn Stars Somali youth club who came to
London when they were small say that their Somali
identity is significant. Some are proud of belonging
to a family ‘tribe’ that can trace relationships back
for generations, and all express the feelings of
solidarity that exist inside the community - feelings
which spill over to any Somali, wherever he or she
may be encountered. But they also see themselves
as part of British society. They describe themselves
as ‘a Somali British citizen’ or ‘a black British African
Somali’ and claim that they can fit into school life as
104
well as into their own Somali organisation.
101.
102.
103.
104.
Ibid.: 53.
Halim Mohamoud, Somali culture in UK. Reproduced as written
Interviews, 18.3.03.
Interview 4.4.03.
51
In the amalgamation of popular youth culture with
Somali traditions of family relationships and
religious precept which some youngsters achieve,
specific Somali associations can play an important
role. The key here is the extent to which they
reflect the interests of young people who identify
with the different environments of both home
and school. Another contributor to the Somali
community meeting pointed out that mainstream
youth clubs, besides exhibiting racism and
discrimination, “do not understand the cultural
105
needs of Somali young people”. This ethnic
antagonism and cultural dissonance can apply to
relations with other black youth as well as white.
While some young Somali men are drawn to
African-Caribbean music and street style, there
also exists tension between Somalis and both other
African and African-Caribbean communities. In
2002 a young Somali, Kayser Osman, was racially
insulted and knifed to death outside the Acorn
youth club in Harlesden. His assailant was also
black. The1996 Liverpool City Council survey on
the development needs of Somali young people
found that nearly all the young participants saw the
establishment of their own Somali youth centre
as essential. Rather than promoting a ‘heritage’
culture, this was envisioned as a recreational and
educational centre, where young Somalis could
pursue their interests in a familiar social and
linguistic setting.Young men in Leicester, hanging
out in parks and public places, wanted the same
106
thing.
In Liverpool, no such meeting place yet exists. In
the Merseyside Community Centre, young men
lounge about the steps and sit around in the
front room. They would like a pool table upstairs,
but the older generation feel this might cause a
disturbance. Unemployed, undereducated, unskilled,
there is nothing for them to do. They are bored,
but do not feel easy in what few facilities exist
for youth in the city. Unlike more recent Somali
settlements, shaped by younger refugees who feel
more at home in mainstream society, these boys
inherit the particularly isolated world of seafarers
who have formed a community apart. But yet they
do not identify with their parents, with whom they
are often at odds. In the report to the April 29th
2003 Somali Community Meeting in London, the
52
youth group concluded that “Somali young people
do not have a role model that they can imitate in
every aspect of their life. This community is very
new to this society and up till now there are no
successful stories that we could tell the young
people”. The older seamen’s settlements are not
so new, but the vicious circle of lack of education,
joblessness, and poverty repeats itself through the
generations.
The confidence of Hibo, Ubah, and countless
other young people encourages the hope that this
present lack of role models will, in time, give way
to a generation of parents who have negotiated the
dissonance between Somali and Western culture,
and feel secure in their own identity as British
Somalis. At present, despite outstanding individuals,
the community as a whole expresses a lack of selfconfidence, betrayed in an overriding concern with
Somali youth, ‘the future of the community’.
105. Mohamoud Ahmed Nur et al:Youth report presented to the Somali
Community Meeting 29.4.03.
106. Daahir and Duale, 2002: 41-43.
Health
Despite the importance of the issue, there are as
yet comparatively few recent studies that focus
107
exclusively on the topic of health, which also
receives somewhat cursory treatment in regional
108
When the
studies of the Somali community.
health group reported to a session of the Somali
Community Meeting hosted by Jeremy Corbyn
MP at the House of Commons (29.03.03) the
document mentioned the high rate of infectious
diseases - hepatitis, tuberculosis - and the
prevalence of chronic conditions such as cancer,
hypertension, and diabetes. It also expressed
concern over the growth of HIV/AIDS. There
is little here which is Somali-specific.Various
conditions associated with a western lifestyle,
such as the growing incidence of obesity, are not
yet mentioned in research as a problem. On the
contrary, according to a Somali health advisor
at Oxford House, a Tower Hamlets community
centre, the danger is more one of malnutrition,
exacerbated by poverty and the practice of sending
money back to families at home (Green, 2001:
B3). But other conditions, asthma for example,
are making their appearance, and the basic profile
of physical health is shared by many deprived
communities, both indigenous and refugee.
The contributing causes of ill health are wellrehearsed. Poor housing is one. Local authorities
have an obligation to house those with refugee
status and leave to remain, but the social housing
stock is dwindling, and refugees often find
themselves in the oldest accommodation, plagued
109
by damp and vermin. Asylum seekers without
leave to remain will be housed in temporary
accommodation which includes hostels, bed and
breakfasts and short-life property. There are also
problems associated with more recent housing
- when lifts in tower blocks break, families with
107. Exceptions include Marianne Green’s report on Somali health needs
in Tower Hamlets (2001), and Kate Harper-Bulman’s thesis on Somali
women’s experiences of West London maternity services (1997). See also
Mohamed (1993), Musa and Marks (1996) and Mullock and Duale
(1999).
108. E.g. the brief overview of the problems in accessing health provision
for Somalis in Leicester in Daahir and Duale, 2002: 33-35.
young children are confined indoors. Somalis
also suffer a particular problem of overcrowding.
Through restrictions on birth control and a cultural
emphasis on the procreative capacity of women,
Somali Muslim families tend to be large - to have
six or seven children is not unusual. In addition,
new arrivals often have difficulty finding somewhere
to live, and take advantage of norms of family or
clan obligation to move in with relatives. British
housing is not designed for large households, and
the health of members inevitably suffers.
Access to health care is another problem, common
to many groups of refugees. In his study of the
needs of Somali and Eritrean women refugees
in Haringey, Bernard-Jones (1992) found that
this was a particular site of stress. In theory, all
asylum seekers and refugees are entitled to the
same NHS care as the indigenous population, but
what is required is a basic understanding of the
system which Somalis often lack. They also need
ready contact with a GP, and good communication
with health professionals. But many face an initial
problem of registering with a doctor - in areas
with a mobile population and a high proportion of
refugees, doctors may be reluctant to open their
lists. This is both because of perceived pressure
of numbers (Green, 2001: 24) and also because of
communication - arranging translators presents
a severe financial and logistical problem to the
present NHS. In April 2002 a Dr McAvoy, with a
dedicated Sheffield practice, explained his reasons
for closing his doors. His 6,100 patients speak
37 languages between them – including Somali
– and a third have little English. Translators are
sometimes available in person or by phone, but the
consultation will then take from twice to ten times
110
as long. For the patient, lack of good translation
can sabotage their health care. In Harper-Bulman’s
study of Somalis and west London maternity
services (1997), language and communication
109. For Somali housing conditions in Liverpool see the survey by the
Granby Toxteth Community Project, 1993: 41-49. Holman and Holman
(2003) have researched housing conditions in the London Borough of
Hackney, whilst Cole and Robinson’s recent report (2003) is the most
thorough investigation of Somali housing experience to date.
110. Drinkwater, James, The Guardian 25.04.02
53
emerges as the most significant factor in Somali
women’s experience.
Mental health
But the area of health does not only cover disease
and management of life cycle events. ‘Health’
refers to a state of wellbeing, in which physical
and psychological aspects are intertwined. Mental
disturbance is often somatised - anxiety and stress
expressed in aches and pains. Both mind and body
need attention, but it is sometimes easier for
busy doctors to dole out medication. As a Somali
refugee in Liverpool commented:
The doctor does not give me enough time
to explain my symptoms. Before hearing me
out, he gives me painkillers. I am always given
painkillers as a solution. (Xifaras, 1996: 43)
Significantly, there is more material on mental than
111
physical problems. In her study of the health
needs of refugees in Tower Hamlets, Green (2001:
26) found that it was the Somali community that
had the greatest mental health requirements. In
discussing health, Somalis themselves speak of
the prevalence of mental suffering, ranging from
symptoms of stress to the alarming increase in
112
This
suicide, especially among young men.
is borne out by studies. Farah and Smith (1999:
110; 115-116) found that 46% of the 56 children
referred to the Somali Support Initiative in east
London schools had health problems. Roughly
categorised, 23% had physical symptoms, and 37.5%
mental conditions. The psychological difficulties
ranged from autism and severe conduct disorder
and/or severe learning difficulties to behavioural
problems and traumatic reaction to stress.
In a two year project, Somali Mobility and Mental
Health Research (SOMMER), researchers at King’s
College and Queen Mary, London, are measuring
the prevalence rates of common mental health
problems, levels of geographical mobility and health
service utilisation among Somali refugees living
in the London boroughs of Tower Hamlets and
Lambeth. Preliminary findings, which are based
on a population sample of 143 Somalis, show that
depression, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD),
54
and anxiety disorders are the most common
mental health problems among this community. For
some, geographical mobility and constant changing
of address are also associated with depressive
113
disorders.
Hermione Lovell and Zeinab Mohamed’s ongoing
study of Worries and well-being in the Somali
community in Manchester illustrates the diversity of
the Somali community both in its experience and
interpretation of mental distress. The high levels
of depression which they found appear to have
different roots according to generation. Older
people are laid low by the comparison between
their British reality and their memories of Somalia
- isolation compared with sociable communality;
grey skies, cold, and rain in contrast to the warmth
and brightness of Somali sun. The preoccupations
of their children, with little or no recall of their
homeland, have more to do with the conflict
between their home environment and the culture
of school and peers.
Class and generation are further factors affecting
the level of vulnerability. Elite urbanites may have
suffered the effects of war, but will not feel as lost
as a rural refugee with a nomadic background,
accustomed to the slow rhythm of herding rather
than the rush of cities. Such a transition can
generate a corroding fearfulness, not understanding
how to handle novel situations, alarmed at the
changes in their children, and, as one young woman
114
put it, “afraid of what they don’t know”. For
the more educated, it is the loss of status and selfesteem that undermines their confidence.
Cross-cultural diagnosis of mental illness is
famously difficult. Part of the problem is translation.
This is reflected in practice, in the surgery or
consulting room, where, as is most often the case,
practitioner and patient do not share a common
tongue. A friend, relative, or child may be brought
along to interpret, but the lack of privacy can
inhibit discussion of intimate matters or emotional
states. But there are more fundamental problems
of language which go beyond command of English.
Diagnosis is culturally determined, and many of
the categories of western medicine and psychiatry
have no Somali equivalent. Marian Bullivant and
colleagues, in a study of Somali mental health
in Liverpool (1995), point out that indigenous
explanations for psychological states tend to
involve physical, moral, or spiritual realms. There
is as yet little research either on the content
of Somali aetiology or the persistence of these
understandings among Somalis in the UK. But
the study’s attempt to find Somali translations of
western psychological terms (ibid: 19-23), graphic
though the descriptions of symptoms may be,
illustrate the difficulty of finding a shared lay frame
of reference in the absence of a common body of
recognised equivalents. For example:
Aggression: Gardarro/ lacking justice.
Nervous breakdown: Cudur dadka u keena
murugo iyo werwer daran/ an illness that
causes people to be miserable and [have]
severe worries.
Confusion: Isku-darsamid. Isku-buuq/ being
mixed up. Being shouted at from within
one’s self.
Without a thorough grasp both of a patient’s
understanding of mental illness and the
circumstances that have provoked it, the risk of
misdiagnosis is high. Cultural factors also have to be
taken into account - beliefs and practices that are
intrinsic to the religion and practice of one society
may be deemed irrational or unbalanced in another.
Gabriel and Ritchie cite the case of a patient who
confirmed that God did indeed speak to him (2002:
30). The psychiatrist understood that the man was
‘hearing voices’ until an advocate explained Muslim
convictions concerning prayer. Conventional
western diagnosis is also on shifting sand, and the
evidence confused. A 1997 evaluation of Daryeelka
Maanka, a project for Somalis with mental health
problems in Tower Hamlets, found that 14% of
clients were suffering from schizophrenia (Smith,
1997). Four years later, a follow up study of the
same project put the percentage at 54 (Gabriel and
Ritchie, 2002: 8). Does this reflect a real increase in
111. E.g. Bullivant et al (1995); Dialogue 195; Gabriel and Ritchie
(2002); Karim (1995); Karim et al (1997); Rehman et al (1993); Smith
(1997).
112. See F.O. Mohamed’s article (2003) on Depression and suicide
the condition, or developments in diagnosis? In any
event, given that the general schizophrenic rate for
the UK population as a whole is 1-2%, this figure
seems unrealistic, and we do not know enough
about the comparability of the two samples to
reach conclusions. Post-traumatic stress disorder
(PTSD) has no exact indigenous counterpart,
but is often cited in connection with Somalis.
Nasir Warfa, who is currently completing a PhD
thesis on mental health problems among Somali
refugees living in London and Minneapolis, reviewed
research studies from the USA which showed that
the incidence of PTSD is higher among US soldiers
in Somalia than among indigenous fighters. Are
syndromes, let alone the causes, culturally specific?
Apart from the problem of translating medical
terminology, and patients’ poor English, individuals
may lack the concepts with which to capture
experience and communicate their condition to
professionals. For those born into a large extended
family in Somalia, surrounded by generations of kin,
‘loneliness’ is not part of their vocabulary. There
is no word for ‘depression’ in Somali. Beset with
unfamiliar feelings that they can neither encompass
in words nor share with others, refugees’ sense of
isolation can become intolerable.
Meeting the needs of the emotionally vulnerable
is not easy. There is currently much debate
around the relevance of introspective methods
of treatment for members of societies who
are not familiar with the Western tradition of
individualism and the popularisation of Freud. The
harsh, nomadic conditions of Somalia have bred a
culture of endurance - value is placed on fortitude
and self-reliance, and ‘weakness’ or apparent selfindulgence is stigmatised. Farah and Smith asked
the 41 parents or carers of children involved in
their outreach Somali Support Initiative whether
they would now consider talking to a psychiatrist
about their problems. 66% said they would. Several
pointed out that this role was once fulfilled in
Somalia by the extended family, but, as one said,
“with the breakdown of that there has to be
another offloading channel” (1999: 83). But this was
among male Somali immigrants.
113. Interview with Nasir Warfa, 25.3.03.
114. Interview 18.3.03.
55
‘now’, after an encounter with counselling. Bringing
people to the point of seeking this culturally
unfamiliar process is another matter. Even after the
experience some were negative:
I do not see the benefit of talking to a
psychiatrist about problems. I thought
psychiatrists saw mad or mentally ill people.
(ibid: 84)
I am not sure whether talking about worries is
useful to refugee people who have other major
difficulties in adapting to a new country. (ibid:
82)
What will the specialist do to take away all the
problems we have? (ibid: 83)
Individuals differ in their reaction to counselling
- younger men and women with more exposure
to western preoccupations with emotions and
relationships may be more receptive. For their
parents, with so many practical problems to face,
talking may seem to be beside the point.Yet the
psychological effect of daily realities is the first
of two areas identified by Gabriel and Ritchie
in their informative overview of Somali mental
health in Tower Hamlets (2002). The issues already
raised in previous sections - language, housing
(including homelessness), unemployment, racism,
social benefits and poverty - all can contribute to
115
insecurity and stress. Uncertainty about leave to
remain is a major cause of anxiety, as one Somali
man emphasised:
The government should give quick decisions for
asylum seekers about their immigration process:
the longer the decision takes, the more they will
be demoralised and pushed to drugs.The minds
of refugees can’t be settled unless they get a
decision. (Lukes and Bell, 2002: 67)
An individual may have a lurking propensity for
mental instability, and a serious practical problem
may push the worrier over the edge. Difficult
material circumstances also contribute to a sense
of social exclusion; the experience of living on
the margins of society has profound psychological
repercussions.
56
The second, and related, area is cultural difference.
Social problems are not the preserve of Somalis,
but the attempt to deal with their effects is
more successful when made by a member of the
community:
I can only have the confidence of contacting a
specialist if there is someone who will help with
the language.Without communication you feel
like the whole world is closed from you. (Farah
and Smith, 1999: 84)
Somali health professionals can share both
the language and the client’s mindset. They will
understand that faced with the offer of counselling,
Somalis want to start with discussing concrete
concerns rather than their psychological effects.
Somali practitioners have often undergone the
refugee experience themselves, and maintain
that by addressing the practical problems first,
trust is established, stress reduced, and the client
encouraged to ‘open up’ about their nightmares
and powerful emotions. Abdirashid Gulaid, a
Daryeelka Maanka caseworker, finds that he is
accepted into Somali homes where the door has
116
Yet
been shut on a British psychiatric nurse.
the majority of Somalis like Abdi who work in the
field of health come from the voluntary sector.
In statutory bodies there are few - there is no
Somali doctor in his borough of Tower Hamlets,
only three Somali health care assistants in hospitals,
117
one counsellor and one trainee student. This
is unfortunate. Only a Somali practitioner can
truly appreciate the effects of war which have
touched every Somali refugee - whether the
terror of torture, rape, and the threat of death,
the experience of abandoning home and fleeing
Somalia, the grief of bereavement, or the fear for
family and friends left behind. The war wounds and
physical disabilities inflicted by the war have their
psychological equivalents. “According to a Somali
advocate for mental health”, writes Green (2001:
26), “there are more cases of persistent traumatic
mental stress than settlement related problems
among the Somali community”. Memories lock
people into the past, and rumours of current chaos
generate an anxious malaise and stop them moving
on:
I have been here since 1983 and the war
effects [sic] everyone in some way, when I think
about what is happening I can’t sleep or eat,
you feel sick.Your body is here but your brain
is not… When people came here they were
expecting a better life and they have not got it.
(Bullivant et al, 1995: 14)
Understanding these problems from the inside,
much of the work around mental illness is being
undertaken by Somalis themselves. Published
118
research is still thin on the ground, but several
projects are under way, such as the SOMMER
and Manchester studies mentioned above. Other
reports authored by British researchers rely on
119
Somali interviewers. Until now, the bias in
Somali health research has been towards areas
such as Tower Hamlets which, although it has a
refugee population, is based on the older settler
communities. It is to be hoped that investigation
will also take place in the area of more recent
arrivals from the Somali diaspora. As we have seen,
needs change with generation and circumstance.
Both projects also provide help with accessing
services. One fact that emerged from Gabriel
and Ritchie’s study in Tower Hamlets is the
overrepresentation of Somalis in psychiatric wards,
with a high incidence of sectioning (2002: 23).
While this could be related to institutional racism
in the mental health sector, it also may reflect the
lack of access to preventative measures and early
treatment. There are several factors that inhibit
contact with the appropriate services. Apart from
patchy provision, Somali refugees may not know
what does exist nor understand its potential
relevance to them. They may not have sufficient
command of English to approach professionals, or
access to an advocate to speak on their behalf. The
cultural factors operating within the community
have been already mentioned - the stigma attached
to mental instability, especially for men, means that
admission of psychological problems may carry a
high social risk. In addition, asylum seekers worry
that a demand on services might affect their claim.
But the East End of London also enjoys an
outstanding base for research in the practical
service provided by Daryeelka Maanka, (‘Support
for the Mind’) a MIND in Tower Hamlets project
which provides drop-in information, a lunch
club, and social activities, besides individual
support work and advocacy for those with
mental problems, so acting as a bridge between
120
the community and statutory services. The
Manchester team is also taking practical action
to deal with ‘worries’ and promote ‘wellbeing’
- assisting with capacity building, advising on how
to keep warm and healthy in the cold and wet, and
creating links with Cumbrian farmers to provide
halal milk and meat for the Somali community. As
with counselling, with the combination of problem
solving and therapy action research provides an
effective forum for collecting data.
Even more difficult is to ensure that young
Somalis with emotional problems have access to
appropriate help before descending into a spiral of
despair. The most severe cases of trauma are found
in those who have had first hand experience of
violence. The children interviewed in the Minority
Rights Group’s report on the impact of war on
children refers specifically to members of minority
clans, but found that other Somali children in
London similarly suffered nightmares and other
signs of trauma six years after leaving Somalia
(MRG, 1997: 26). Other particularly vulnerable
children are those sent over to the UK alone
by their parents in the hope that they will be
121
educated. The effects of separation are often
compounded by abuse; this testimony of a Swedish
psychologist working with separated children also
applies to the UK:
115. Over half of the Somali enquiries at the Hillingdon Citizens Advice
Bureau April-September 2002 concerned benefits; nearly a quarter were
about housing. Both categories were higher for Somalis than other clients
(Elmi and Brown, 2002).
116. Interview, 22.7.03.
117. The project staff are campaigning around this issue, which is also
being addressed elsewhere, such as by refugee-run employment projects in
West London. See Lukes and Bell, 2002: 99.
118. E.g. Bullivant et al (1995).
119. E.g. Gabriel and Ritchie (2002).
120. Interview with project workers Muna Ismael and Abdirashid Gulaid,
22.7.03. For details of these services see the evaluation by Gabriel and
Ritchie (2002).
121. See above p. 57
57
I would say that every unaccompanied
child experiences problems of some
sort: it’s just the degree of severity
– inability to sleep, nightmares, and
anxiety about parents, loneliness,
self-preoccupation. Some suffer posttraumatic stress and depression. Among
the boys, we see many of them ‘acting
out’ their problems – getting violent at
school. (Hannan, 2003: 32)
In his study of the educational experiences of
Somali refugee pupils, Hassan asserts that the
majority of children in detention originally arrived
122
in the UK unaccompanied by their parents.
As with other troubled youngsters, they may
well suffer from a lack of schooling. Both these
disadvantages contribute to the high proportion
of Somali youth in Feltham and other detention
centres for juveniles, many of whom suffer from
mental instability.
Khat
If still out on the streets, these youths are particularly
susceptible to the overuse of a Somali stimulant
123
– khat.
Khat refers to the leaves and stem tips of a shrub
grown widely in highland areas of Kenya, Ethiopia,
and Yemen. When chewed, it gradually produces
feelings of wellbeing, alertness, and sociability, due
to its content of cathine and cathinone, chemicals
which produce effects similar to but less strong
124
than amphetamine. Islam forbids the use of
alcohol, but for many years khat has been an
intrinsic part of male social culture in Somalia. Men
from all backgrounds gather at the end of a day’s
work to sit, talk, relax - and chew. The habit has
followed the Somalis to the UK. The leaves have to
be fresh, but supply networks operate to deliver
khat to Heathrow and thence to the provinces
within 24-48 hours of harvesting. Although banned
in some other countries - including Norway,
122. Cited in Hannan, 2003: 41; 48-53
123. Khat has a variety of spellings including qat and quat.
124. Muna Ismael is researching the pharmacology of khat for her
doctorate at King’s College, London. Other sources include: Ahmed (1994);
Griffiths (1998); Saleh (1995); Smith et al (2001). See also Stokes (2000);
Bullivant et al (1995); Alasow (2002).
58
Sweden, Canada, and the US - chewing is legal in
the UK.
There is, however, a strong move among sections
of the community to make khat illegal. Once a
recreational occupation, chewing is now taking
over some men’s lives. Unemployed, depressed,
isolated, men may spend a large proportion both
of their time and money in escaping from reality,
chewing all night, and sleeping by day.Young men,
even fifteen and sixteen year olds, are imitating
their seniors. Not all fit the stereotype of school
dropouts. Some have left school with qualifications,
but have no desire to look for menial work. Bored,
without anything else to do, they gather in back
rooms, listen to music, drink tea and coffee, and
125
chew khat for eight to ten hours at a stretch.
But the immediate after effects can include
depression, while in the long term khat suppresses
appetite and can lead to malnutrition and lethargy.
As it is a stimulant, some users turn to alcohol to
help them fill the rest of their time with sleep - so
becoming increasingly isolated from society. As one
young man said in answer to a survey:
[A]s we spend more time chewing
together, we don’t make any impact on
the system and fail to integrate with
the local communities. (Smith et al,
2001: 50)
Although abuse results in psychological
dependence rather than addiction, as with similar
drugs more familiar in the West, long-term overuse
can have deleterious effects including depression,
lack of motivation, and mental problems. The
subject of khat, both as a symptom and cause of
psychological disturbance, is a major issue among
Somalis. Much of the research on khat is Somali126
led, and in the preparation of reports for the
Somali Community Meeting at the House of
Commons in 2003, a whole paper was devoted
127
to the subject. Some of the objections listed in
this report were social: chewing “outside normal
125. Interview with Carlo Angeli, researcher on khat for Black Women’s
Health and Family Support, 28.3.03.
126. See footnote 124.
127. The problems of khat and the Somali community in the
United Kingdom: Somali Community Meeting reports 2003
social parameters” is detrimental to education and
employment, a drain on income, and destructive of
family relationships. In addition:
Excessive khat use is also associated in
some cases [with] psychotic disorders,
paranoia, and hallucination, which can
lead to clinical depression and mental
health problems, particularly in those
who have experienced the trauma of
civil war. (ibid)
A recent development is the increasing use of
khat by women, who rarely chew in Somalia.
Somalis suggest that this is connected to the high
proportion of single mothers in the community
who feel trapped by poverty and social isolation
and seek the company of other women. But they
also allude to the increasing freedom of women
and their new independence from men in the
changing circumstances of the UK.
Women and gender roles
I remember living a medium life. Me,
my husband and eight children. I
remember my baby calling, “Mama,
mama”. Quite normal.… But the war
breaks.We fled. Far away to south
Somalia....Two months on. Everything’s
out of hand.We run away from the
civil war. Me, my husband and eight
children.… And we go from Somalia
by boat towards Kenya. But suddenly
the boat is sinking.The boat is
overloaded….The boat broke.Water
breaking into us…. I can’t swim.The
boat sinks.Who will rescue us?....
200 people are dying, drowning. I’m
losing my family to the sea. Five of my
daughters are lost…. And my eldest
son, he’s just begun his life, he’s finished
university. He’s lost.That makes six of
128. Page 8 of Breaking the silence script, kindly given to me by Ruqia
Hersi.
129. For two other collections of short testimonies by women, see Somali
Women’s Association (1987/8) and Hassan (2000). Secondary sources
my children. Dead in the sea, in one
day.… Suddenly, an Italian tourist boat
is passing.… people come to rescue us.
They grab my baby, who I’m holding.
And another child of mine…. All the
time my baby’s calling “Mama, mama.”
Suddenly, I am hauled into the boat like
a baby myself…. I am crying. My whole
body. Crying.… Do you hear me?…
I cannot forget that day. Although
I’m here before you today, you can’t
have imagined the life of one Somali
woman.… am breaking my silence.
The world should know my life, my
baby calling “Mama, mama”.The world
should hear this life.
Quadra was not there herself to tell her story
in the small Soho theatre where Somali women
were Breaking the silence in June 2003. She found
it too painful to be present, and a friend spoke
128
her words on her behalf. Other testimonies
of war - suffering hunger and violence, witnessing
rape, torture and death, surviving flight and refugee
camps - were recounted by the performers. Somali
is an oral culture - storytelling was once part
of everyday life, and it is from Somali women’s
personal accounts that we have the most vivid
129
pictures of Somali experience. Having less of a
public voice than men, women are eloquent on the
events of their lives.
The ten women on the platform were of all
ages - from a great-grandmother to schoolgirls representing different stages of immigration. Older
women who arrived in the UK before Quadra had
a more benign experience of arrival. In the early
days, Somali seamen, lodging in port areas since
the nineteenth century, left their wives with kin
at home to bring up the children and tend the
herds in what was then the British protectorate
of northern Somalia. Many Somalis had also been
living in Aden, where British ships would dock,
but in 1967 the country gained its independence
consulted for this section include: Ali (2001); Berns McGown (1999); Castley
(1991); Cox (2003); Dirie (1998); El-Solh (1993a; 1993b); Farah and Smith
(1999); Griffiths (2002); Harper-Bulman (1997); Polese (2001); Sales &
Gregory (1996); Summerfield (1993).
59
from the UK, Somalis were expelled, and women
began to join their husbands. In the early 1980s the
beginnings of armed conflict in the north initiated a
trickle of refugees, but it was the beginnings of allout civil war in 1988 that encouraged women such
as Quadra to flee. The ensuing chaos in the south
after the overthrow of President Siad Barre in 1991
provoked the major exodus, and the often tortuous
and traumatic journey to the UK. Not all women
came accompanied by men. Some were widowed,
some left their husbands fighting, and so, during the
late 1980s and the 1990s, the majority of Somalis
reaching England were single mothers with their
children. The latest phase of Somali immigration
from third countries is also composed of relatives
of those already here, some who originally fled the
war, and some who were born elsewhere.
Generation and date of arrival crucially affect
experience in the UK. As with all members of the
Somali community, generalisations about women
must be read with the proviso that they do not
form a homogenous group. The teenagers in
the Breaking the silence team also testify to the
devastation of war, but do not share their elders’
nostalgia for home: “There are opportunities for
me. I will stay here forever”; “I have a home and
friends. And I am happy now”; “…I like the other
130
people here. I like it here”.
But one critical difference, that of social class, may
not be apparent to an external eye. Ruqia Hersi
told the audience that:
Most Somalian [sic] people want to go back.
The only thing stopping them is the war.
And here, they feel like they’re nothing.
131
The lowest class.The bottom of society.
Ruqia herself, besides being a mother, has a
Master’s degree in chemical engineering. Educated
and professional women face the same problem as
their male counterparts - the difficulty of obtaining
work commensurate to their qualifications. They
suffer the same loss not only of earning power, but
also of status and self-esteem. Sales and Gregory
(1998: 19) quote Fatima, who had been a nurse in
Somalia:
60
My work was very important in my life. Now,
when we go to a hospital here, they think we
are nothing, we don’t know anything.
Fatima embarked on a health promotion course,
but, like men, professional women have difficulty
in retraining or converting their skills in order
to equip themselves to continue their career.
There is also the problem of expense: if a wouldbe student does not yet have refugee status, she
would be required to pay overseas students’ fees
- way beyond most women’s pockets. Even with
status, she must fulfil the three years’ residency
requirement before being eligible for grants and
student loans on an equal footing with home
students. As do men, women like Fatima often
turn their energies to voluntary work within the
community.
Many women have arrived in the UK with no
qualifications at all, but even those with skills have
been prepared to undertake the kind of menial
work - cleaning or low paid work in service
industries - that Somali men reject. But the feeling
of being at the bottom of society is not only
generated by the workplace, but by experience in
society at large. After Ruqia’s contribution came an
extract written by Ayan Farah:
When I came to Europe, it was a cold period,
Snow and ice everywhere,
I was very cold….
Two day [sic] after arriving I tried to go out….
I had nowhere to go, no one to speak to.
I took the bus to an address I knew
I asked an elderly lady if she knew the place I
was looking for.
She gave me a dirty look, and replied, ‘Don’t
ask me, ask the bus driver. I’m scared of you!’
The bus was full of people.
An old man said, ‘Why have these refugees
come to our country?’
I was embarrassed.
Everyone was staring at me, as if ‘refugee’ was
132
written all over my face….
Racism is experienced by both women and men,
but the feeling of isolation with which this extract
opens is high on the list of women’s problems,
such as those listed in the documents compiled
for the Somali Community Meeting at the
House of Commons. The reason given there for
133
women’s isolation is “lack of family network”
- the children, husbands, in-laws, kin, and clan
members surrounding a woman in Somalia. If still
alive, many of these erstwhile companions are
scattered around the world. Anxiety about their
wellbeing and sadness at separation compounds
the loneliness. Somali women were used to
outdoor activities at home. In the UK, obstacles
to an extra-domestic life - the weather, distances,
public transport - may confine a woman to her
home, which may be far from shops and friends or
family. Even when a number of people live at the
same address, one woman may be responsible for
their maintenance, burdened with chores that in
Somalia would be shared by other women in the
household. Older women face particular problems,
feeling estranged both from their own country
and the younger generation growing up in the UK.
The social context for the respect afforded to
elders, the social status and family support they
would have enjoyed at home, is missing in England.
Some grandmothers are cherished by their families
with whom they live, but others feel lonely and
134
redundant.
and voluntary services, including RCOs, to offer
136
English classes for refugee women, but demand
greatly exceeds supply, and provision has suffered
with the decline in adult education institutes
during the 1990s. Uptake is most successful when
there is some provision for travel costs and, most
importantly, for childcare. Given the size of families,
and the scarcity of good childcare facilities that
they can afford, it is hard for many women to take
time out for themselves. Part-time, intermittent
classes do not provide an adequate solution, and
further problems arise when varying ability levels
are taught together. A study in Leicester found
that women also feel uncomfortable in learning
137
alongside men.
Elderly Somalis - especially women - may be
illiterate, and unless they come from the former
British protectorate in the north, are likely to speak
135
little English.
Top of the Community Meeting’s
list of women’s principal problems is ‘language’ - an
issue that appears over and over again in reports,
studies, and personal accounts as the main barrier
women have had to face. Inability to understand
or communicate inhibits their participation in the
wider society, hinders their access to services, and,
as we have seen in the case of health, prevents
communication with professionals. Faced with
uncomprehending women, health staff may
form the impression that Somalis are “stupid,
unresponsive and rude” (Harper-Bulman, 1997: 24).
Poor English also stands in the way of employment,
not only because a good command of the language
will be required for the job, but also because of the
resulting barrier to confident self-presentation.
Housing is another item on the Community
Meeting’s list of women’s problems. As we saw
above, poor living conditions and overcrowding are
significant factors in the deterioration of mental
health. Many women are on their own and are
therefore responsible for accommodation - of the
45 households in contact with the Somali Support
Initiative in east London schools, nearly two thirds
138
were headed by a single parent or carer.
There have been many initiatives by statutory
Even with knowledge of the language, it is hard
enough to grasp the codes and structures of an
unfamiliar society. Somali women often say that
their greatest drawback is in not understanding
the system. They quote examples: the majority
of women depend on benefits of various kinds;
when reaching the age of eighteen, the benefit
for a child will stop, but the mother may be
unprepared. A family has a Housing Association flat,
falls into arrears, but has no understanding of the
implications of the debt.
130. Breaking the silence: 13-14. 131. Ibid.: 11. 132. Ibid.: 12.
133. Report on Somali women and children refugees in the UK presented
to the Somali Community Meeting, 29.4.03.
134. Polese, 2001: 50-56; McCarthy, 1995: 16.
135. English was the medium of instruction in northern schools until 1969,
but older nomadic women had little formal education.
136. Language support may also be a component of other courses, such
as the childcare training offered by the Daycare Trust (Sherriff, 1995).
137. Daahir and Duale, 2002: 40-1.
138. Care must be taken about generalising from any one set of figures.
This is a survey based on children with problems at school.Taking a sample
of both men and women across seven cities contacted largely through Somali RCOs, Bloch and Atfield (2002: 12) found that nearly a third of women
with children were single parents, while 41% of households contained three
or more children.
61
Over 80% of these families contained from three
to thirteen children, and housing was considered a
contributing factor to the child’s problems in over
a third of cases (Farah and Smith, 1999: 108-110).
But what is also interesting is the women’s own
comments included in this report concerning the
sharp contrast between their past and present
accommodation. They do not necessarily come
from the top elite of Somali society, but from the
comfortable middle class - the “medium life” of
which Quadra speaks:
Things are very different and difficult here
compared to Somalia.We had an import/export
business in Somali dealing in leather goods
from Italy….We had 3 houses in Somalia and
our children went to private Italian school, but
here we live in a council flat on income support.
(ibid: 101)
We had a good life in Somalia, owning a
farm and a shop, giving us the privilege
of both country and city life.We lived in a
six-bedroomed bungalow, far from a three
bedroom council flat in Tower Hamlets. (ibid:
101)
In Somalia we lived in the south where we
owned a hotel and restaurant in the city.We
lived in a five bedroom villa and had servants to
work in the house. (ibid: 103)
Both men and women are affected by changes
in domestic circumstances, but as women are
confined to the home more than men, the impact
of change falls heavily on their shoulders. A pleasant
and spacious environment is replaced by a tower
block flat, designed for a nuclear family. Solitary
housework and childcare come as a shock for
those accustomed to living in an extended family
where chores are shared among the women. The
issue of servants is crucial here - in common with
many developing countries, lower as well as uppermiddle class women are cushioned from the effects
of the domestic division of labour. Cooks, maids,
cleaners, and nannies, or poorer relatives, deal
with many of the domestic chores, freeing their
employers for other pursuits.
62
Men are not expected to lift a finger in domestic
tasks. They can argue that it is “dishonourable and
un-Islamic for a man to be sullying himself in this
way” (Farah, 2000: 69). But women’s toughness
and flexibility can serve them well in the refugee
situation, and their testimonies echo Sarah Cox’s
observations on the self-sufficiency of little girls in
nursery school (see above, p. 54):
In Somalia, where there are boys and girls in
a family, the mother all the time trains the girl
– clean up, wash the dishes, cook the food, give
your brothers food.The boys don’t even take the
food from the pan, the girl has to take it to him.
But so she becomes stronger.When she is 14
or 15.… she can do everything a woman can
do. So the lady, nobody stops her. She becomes
independent, she’s got the ideas, she becomes
139
cleverer than the man.
Gender roles - conflict and change
It is interesting that despite the stereotype of the
subservient Muslim female, much of the material
we have on Somalis shaping their own lives in the
140
UK focuses on women. In the Somali context,
this competence is exercised in the context of male
dominance. Rural women had a crucial productive
role in the nomadic economy; men were often
absent, and it was the women who herded the
sheep and goats as well as handling domestic tasks
such as fetching water, preparing food, and caring
for children and dependents. In towns, women
often contributed to the family income, whether
in unskilled or professional employment. But
responsibility for maintaining the family still lay with
the man, and a Muslim wife or daughter remained
141
under his formal control.
In the UK, men are losing their dominant role.
This process was already under way in Somalia
with the break-up of families during the fighting,
and the flight of women and children into refugee
camps and exile. Single motherhood became the
norm - men were lost in the war, left behind in
another part of the world, or discarded along the
way. Although a girl’s marriage, as a union between
two families, was - and often still is - beyond her
autonomous control, divorce is not difficult for a
woman. Summerfield (1993) goes so far as to argue
that the lack of social stigma attached to divorce is
a critical factor in Somali women’s mental health, as
opposed to other communities where women do
not have this freedom.
Khadra Hassan was the oldest participant in the
Breaking the silence performance; a strong, beautiful
face despite her considerable age; a powerful
singing voice. Another young woman, Shadia Ismail
Mohammed, tells her story:
Believe this! My great aunt has been married
37 times!… 37 husbands! It is possible in
Somalia….The reason? No baby!… She makes
a contract with these men. She says, “If I am
not expecting in three months, I will divorce
you!… And always they respond, “Okay….”.
She’s very strong. She acts like a man! After 23
marriages, she has one daughter, who lives in
England. Quite a woman, my great aunt!
(2003: 4)
The exact truth or otherwise of this is beside the
point; it illustrates Shadia’s introduction:
We are strong. In Somalia, we women don’t
ever doubt that we are strong!
We can divorce! It’s our choice.
We are very lucky in Somalia.
We don’t look down on women who divorce.
(ibid)
So, in the UK, divorce they do - the rate is high. If
a man is unemployed, brings in no income, spends
what his wife earns or receives from social security
on khat, will not help with domestic chores, and
colludes with nagging in-laws – then a woman may
feel better off without him. In contrast to Somalia,
if she divorces, she can still keep the children, and
stay in the marital home. Even when she is still
with a man, she may choose to present herself as
a single mother for the purposes of social security
139. Somali Women’s Association 1987/8: 39.
140. El-Solh’s article ‘Be true to your culture: Gender tensions
among Somali Muslim in Britain’ (1993), Rosemary Sales and Jeanne
Gregory’s Refugee women in London:The experiences of Somali
women (1998), Hazel Summerfield’s chapter on Patterns of adaption:
benefits which she can claim independently. The
extended family is no longer always nearby to help
settle disputes, and more heavy-handed methods
of maintaining male control familiar in a Somali
context are classified in the UK as domestic abuse
- a woman can exercise what is known as the ‘999
option’ and appeal to the police.
The male side of this story is demoralisation, loss
of face:
The problem is now…. because they have
no work [women] don’t see men as any
longer responsible.… for family income….
That was the role that men used to have, the
breadwinners and the head of the family. But
now they no longer have that role. So women
are saying, “you have no right to shout at me, to
tell me what to do. I am being looked after by
the British government, so what the hell are you
controlling me for?”… The other thing is that….
being refugees, and not working also has an
effect on men.They no longer see themselves
as important at home.They feel they are
redundant, they are not needed, they are not
wanted. (Ali, 2001: 147-8)
The speaker, a Somali teacher in her late twenties,
is careful to add that “It is not all of them. It is not
every family, just some people”. But the whole
scenario of female-headed households is explored
in every study of Somali gender relations, and
preoccupies Somalis themselves. Not that there
is a united view in the community - there is a
consensus on lack of strong male role models
for youth and on the problem of underoccupied
men. But some men will also dwell on the welfare
state as eroding the patriarchal family, undermining
the traditional role of men as providers. As one
complained to Griffiths, “…. when [Somalis] come
to this country, one marriage is from social security,
one marriage is from the woman and the man.
The important one is the marriage for the social
security, because.… the man.… doesn’t provide
Somali and Bangladeshi women in Britain (1993) - all stress women’s resourcefulness and resilience.
141. See the vivid examples of male dominance described by Waris Dirie
in her second book (2002), describing her return to her home village.
63
anything, for her or the children” (2002: 110).
Other men take a more pragmatic stance, arguing
not only for more employment opportunities, but
for a better deal from the welfare state, and look
to take advantage of the benefits on offer (Dench,
1994: 35-40).
Neither is there a clear female response. There
are those older women who lament what they see
as the lack of respect for men in British culture
as a recipe for family breakdown - much younger
women brought up in the UK may think less about
the importance of male control. But an interesting
study by Emua Ali (2001) shows that there is no
neat fit between educational level and views on
gender relations. In her study of 50 women, some
highly educated women resisted the concept of
their equality with men. In practice, familial control
of marriage is diminishing, and Ali found that those
with further and higher education tended to
support women’s independent choice of partner.
Nevertheless, ambiguity remains: the 38% of the
sample who argued for arranged marriage included
all educational levels, from illiterates to graduates,
and the majority of women seeking more
autonomy had little formal education.
British culture can influence but not override,
and Somali norms still heavily influence marriage.
Women will not marry as young as they might in
Somalia where teenage brides are common. But
single women over thirty who have chosen to
devote their time to their career say that their
chances of finding a husband are now virtually
closed. As for the selection of a partner, in the
British context of a dispersed community and
fragmented families, parental choice of spouse may
be reduced to necessary approval, but complete
independence in this matter has not replaced family
arrangements. It is not acceptable in Islam for men
and women to mix freely together; only a small
minority of young people interviewed by Berns
McGown (1999) would go clubbing with their
British peers. Somali Nuptials is an introduction
agency which recognises that “in our community
we lack meeting places or events where we could
meet a potential partner (religion being among
142
one [sic] of the reasons)” . But at the same time
independent romantic courtship is condemned.
64
Dating or:
Going out with one another for a period of
time is quite haraam [prohibited] in our religion
(Islam). Somali Nuptials does not condone
long term relationship (dating without the
intention of marriage) after meeting with one
143
another.
It might seem surprising that in Ali’s sample the
majority of those who disapproved of boyfriends
had higher education, and therefore potential
access to employment. But in tackling the question
of how far emigration has been a liberating
experience for Somali women, we must think
beyond the western model of a congruence
between economic independence and freedoms
of sexuality and style. ‘Autonomy’ amounts to a
woman’s control over key aspects of her life, and
these will be culturally specific. A choice to wear
the hijab (headscarf) and observe Muslim prayer
times can evidence confidence and self-assertion
as much as would a decision to reject them. In
Breaking the silence (2003: 15) Safya says:
I’ve seen both sides of this life from when I left
Somalia. I’ve seen life from inside my Western
clothes and short skirts.Those Western clothes
gave me an advantage here. I blended in…. I
dress differently now. I go into my Hijabo, and
I see a different side of life. I study the Islamic
viewpoint. I dress modestly, with a long skirt….
People are suspicious of me now. People look
down on me. I’ve been rejected for jobs since
having the Hijabo. I’m sure rejection comes with
my change of dress.… I don’t care. I’m facing
the world now….Your judgement won’t change
my life! I accept my own struggle! What’s
important is my faith. I feel stronger now I have
the Hijabo. My thinking does not divide me. I
am strong.
Here, Safya has traded convenience for the security
of existential integrity. In her study of Muslims
in the diaspora (1999), Berns McGown found
many young Somali women in London are turning
towards their religion to confirm their diaspora
identity. This does not mean a retreat into rigid
rules or an Islamic ghetto, but a constant “weaving
together [of] their birth and their adopted
cultures” (1999: 7), a renegotiation of faith in
the context of their life in the wider community.
This is an active process, an individual enterprise
which again belies the image of Muslim female
144
passivity. The resulting pattern of life regarding
dress, personal morality, friendship and family
relationships is one forged by each woman to suit
her own circumstance. This personal balance may
also be flexible, adapting to the particular social
context at any one time. “At school you have the
English, western culture, and at home you have the
Somali culture”, a teenager told Ali; “I know both
worlds well” (2001: 177).
Female genital mutilation (FGM)
There is one Somali practice, however, which
has done more than any other to promote an
image of female oppression, and that is female
genital mutilation (FGM) - also known as female
circumcision. Until recently, every girl, sometimes
as young as six, endured the operation in which
all or part of her genitals were cut away. In the
most extreme version, that of infibulation, the
clitoris, labia minora and much of the labia majora
are excised. The sides of the wound are then
tightly stitched together, leaving a hole the size
of a matchstick at the lower end of the vulva for
the escape of urine and menstrual blood. With
clitoridectomy, it is the clitoris and part of the labia
minora which is taken out, while the least severe
form, Sunna circumcision, removes the clitoral
hood, or inflicts a small cut to the clitoris sufficient
to draw blood. In urban areas in Somalia, the
operation may take place in hospital, so avoiding
the worst infections that can result from traditional
excisers, using blunt unsterile instruments. But the
long-term effects of infibulation - the potential
complications surrounding urination, menstruation,
pregnancy, childbirth and a variety of other health
hazards, are the same, whilst all forms of FGM
radically affect a woman’s sexuality.
Women are seen as the repositories of family
honour, and the rationale for FGM, beyond the
weight of ‘tradition’, is the preservation of a young
woman’s purity - her virginity and her symbolic
cleanliness. Although serving a patriarchal system,
FGM is perpetuated by women themselves. An
uncircumcised girl would have been unable to find
a husband and so become a social outcast – a fate
any mother would want to avoid. The practice is
now being questioned in Somalia, but is still near
universal (McGown, 1999: 148).
In the UK, research indicates that there are still
Somali mothers or grandmothers who feel that
the daughters of the household should be excised
- 36% of Emua Ali’s sample of women defended
the practice (2001: 200-202). She estimates that
this has affected some 5% of girls (ibid: 28), who
have been circumcised either at the hands of an
operator in the UK or whilst on a visit to Somalia.
Tradition dies hard - in spite of the pain it causes,
generations of women have seen circumcision as
intrinsic to their adult identity and they resent an
important part of their culture being branded as
child abuse. But now this taboo topic is beginning
to be broached in public, and many Somali women
and men in the UK say that the practice should
be abandoned, particularly in its most extreme
form. McGown (1999: 150-151) found that 52 out
of her 60 interviewees of both sexes said that the
procedure should be stopped. A key argument by
campaigners is that contrary to popular belief, FGM
is nowhere sanctioned by the Koran. It is not a
religious obligation. Although few would dare admit
it, this knowledge has encouraged some infibulated
single young women to have the operation
reversed, while many will now seek surgical help
before their wedding night.
In 1985, the Female Circumcision Act made
the practice illegal in the UK, and in 1991
directions for the implementation of the 1989
Children Act authorised investigation by local
authorities in suspected cases. On the 3rd March
2004 the Female Genital Mutilation Act 2003
(Commencement) Order 2004 was enacted,
142. Somali nuptials flier.
143. Ibid.
144. Berns McGown’s study is based on interviews with an equal number
of both men and women - but women’s voices seem to predominate.Whilst
this may reflect the interests of the female author, her material suggests
that women are often more proactive than men in their new situation as
refugees. Also see El Solh (1993a).
65
which “makes it an offence for the first time for
UK nationals or permanent UK residents to
carry out female genital mutilation (FGM) abroad,
or to aid, abet, counsel or procure the carrying
out of FGM abroad, even in countries where the
practice is legal. To reflect the serious harm that
FGM causes, the Act also increases the maximum
145
penalty from 5 to 14 years’ imprisonment”.
But still more effective than legislation is the
hard campaigning that lies behind both legal and
community change. In contrast to some western
feminists’ condemnation of this ‘barbaric practice’,
organisations such as the Black Women’s Health
and Family Support (BWHAFS) take a holistic
146
approach to Somali women’s problems. A
promotional CD-ROM launched in the summer of
2003 explained that “We believe in empowering
women, through education and consciousnessraising, and locating the issue of FGM within the
147
context of black women’s rights”. BWHAFS
offer a range of support services to women,
including advice on FGM. Through contact with
health, education, and social work professionals,
together with religious leaders, they carry out
an educational programme on the topic, and by
means of research, literature, conferences, official
representations, and outreach work, they aim to
influence not only a British but also an international
audience.
The energetic director of BWHAFS, Shamis Dirir,
is but one of a number of women who have
founded Somali organisations in the UK. She has
retained her position - in some other groups, men
have taken over leadership, and women have been
relegated to lesser ranks or voluntary workers. But
in whatever capacity, women as well as men have
sought to better their community through Somali
associations. As a Somali proverb says, ‘you can only
quench your thirst by lifting water with your own
hands’.
Self-help and fragmentation: RCOs and
the politics of clan148
The role of Somali RCOs, as those of other ethnic
minorities in the settlement experience has been
well documented by Griffiths (2000). Associations
such as BWHAFS are therefore not confined
66
to service delivery, but encompass research and
documentation. Tied into the local community,
they also offer courses and social events which
encompass other ethnic groups. Then there are the
small organisations which may have had as their
initial impetus the employment predicaments of
the founder. Somali RCOs range from longstanding,
well-organised institutions to the ephemeral
inspiration of one individual, with continual
inauguration and demise. There are, for example,
some 100 Somali organisations in London alone,
with scores more throughout the country.
One explanation for the lack of official Somali
representation, expressed both by authorities
and by Somalis themselves, is that the community
is fragmented and divided and therefore difficult
to involve in democratic structures. This has
been particularly marked in Tower Hamlets
where the original community of seafarers was
swollen by new arrivals in the 1980s and 1990s.
Griffiths (2000) relates this vacuum in unified
organisation to previous political life in Somalia
- the absence of a cohesive Somali political project,
inexperience with bureaucratic structures, and
the lack of independent participation in the public
sphere. British voluntary and statutory agencies
feel frustrated at the proliferation of Somali
organisations and at the lack of representative
bodies with a solid base through which to channel
funds and assistance. In one of the first discussions
of the Somali Community Meeting (25.02.03) on
the formation of a coordinating committee to liaise
with British organisations, the awareness of disunity
constantly surfaced: “How can we select a steering
group if we don’t work together? First we must
learn to be more united”.
Behind this plea lurks a consciousness of what is
said - both by Somalis and observers - to be at
the root of Somali discord: clanship, or, in more
derogatory terminology, ‘clanism’ or ‘tribalism’.
This is an extremely sensitive subject Somalis resent questioning, assumptions, and
commentators’ conclusions about this complex
social formation (Griffiths, 2002: 101).
They take exception to published pie charts
calculating the numerical strength of each clan
149
family which could be exploited for political
purposes. The same might be said of the map
reproduced above which could be taken to
reinforce the notion that clans are tied to territory.
Originally the relationship to land was fluid - it is
often said about Somalis that it is not where you
start with an explanation of its role in the country
150
of origin.
A clan-based form of social structure is familiar
from other African pastoral societies in which
kinship forms the basis of social, political, and
are from which is significant, but whom; family not
place of birth. Clan overlaps with region, but it is
genealogy not geography that determines alliances.
However, one of the effects of Barre’s regime was
to tighten the territorial connection, so as conflict
does arise over land, such schematic statements
could exacerbate claims to terrain. The map is
included here to show the rough geography of clan,
which has been politically significant (and also to
indicate the extent of territory inhabited by Somali
speakers of various groups which lies outside the
national boundaries and has been the focus of
extended conflict). Although a difficult topic, the
question of clan has to be confronted in
any discussion of Somalis in the diaspora, and must
economic life. A common term for this type of
organisation is ‘segmentary’, as each clan family can
be broken down into its constituent segments of
clan, which in turn divide into subclans, lineages,
and, at the bottom of the pyramid, the extended
family and finally the household. Each unit bases
its identity on the claim - albeit mythic - to be
descended from a common male ancestor. Women,
even after marriage, remain members of their
natal lineage, but descent is not traced through the
female line. The lowest level of kin group which
is politically significant is the diya-paying group
(the kinship unit responsible for settling blood
feuds), whose members will be able to trace their
ancestry back some four to eight generations.
145. Home Office circular 10/2004, available at http://www.homeoffice.gov.uk/docs3/hoc1004.html.
146. There are several other organisations both in London and round the
country dedicated both to education and personal support on FGM, such as
the Agency for Culture and Change Management in Sheffield.
147. The CD-ROM also includes sections on the history of Tower Hamlets
and the Somali community besides information on BWHAFS and on FGM,
with bibliography. It is obtainable from BWHAFS, 1st Floor, 82 Russia Lane,
London E2 9LU.
148. Sources for this section include: Abdullahi (2001); Griffiths (2002);
Lewis (1999 [1961]); Samatar (1988); Stevenson (1995).
149. As reproduced on website: http://www.lib.utexas.edu/maps/africa/somalia-_ethnic_grps_2002.jpg.
150. Griffith’s analysis of the significance of clan in the Somali community
(2002: 94-127) is prefaced with an historical account (ibid: 27-46).
67
Several of these units will make up a lineage,
calculating its descent from an ancestor some six
to ten generations ago. The genealogical depth
of the clan is some twenty generations, while an
assiduous clan family member will be able to cite
the names of thirty ancestors or more (Lewis,
1999: 4-7). Personally, lineage membership is a
primary factor in identity. Politically, clan has been
the basic component of indigenous organisation.
Cohesion and conflict within and between clan
segments depends on context. Whilst diya-paying
groups may be set against each other after a
murder, they may unite against other lineages in the
struggle over land, or against an external enemy,
even if these two events are contemporaneous.
Alliances, therefore, are forever shifting and
variable, and identities are multiple. Although the
system has space for the individual voice within
the group, it does not operate according to
notions of western democracy - it is not a form of
political organisation that transmutes easily into a
centralised nation state. This has led some analysts
to equate it with ‘anarchy’. But this term carries
inappropriate connotations of chaos from western
political discourse. The role that clan has played in
recent political disintegration must not be confused
with the sophisticated political and socio-economic
regulation of segmentary societies when free from
external pressure. In local disputes, it was the
clan elders who would broker peace. The colonial
regimes began institutionalising indigenous leaders,
but autonomous household heads and clan chiefs
with only nominal power were more relevant
authority figures for shifting pastoralists than the
overriding authority of a king or a centralised
chieftaincy.
But thereby hang many of Somalia’s current
woes. As has been described above (p. 22) the
nation state was a foreign form, imposed during
the nineteenth century colonial carve-up of the
region, and reshaped in socialist guise at the start
of Siad Barre’s regime. Barre initially legislated
against public displays of clanism. But from the
late 1970s he was faced with opposition from
parties identified with particular clans, and from
an assortment of clan-led rebels. Attempting to
hold onto power, he resorted to a ‘divide and
68
rule’ policy of manipulating clan politics. But the
tactic of setting clans against one other only
exacerbated violence, and contributed to the
demise of his regime in 1991. The ensuing struggle
was conducted in the idiom of clan, and the new
political significance which clans had assumed
intensified with their access to developing military
technology. The shifting alliances typical of a
segmentary society were also politicised - after
Barre’s fall previously united clan families splintered
into opposing clans. With no central state to
impose order or retain a semblance of civil society,
Somalia fragmented.
The saliency of clan in the analysis of Somali
politics put forward by Lewis and others has not,
however, gone unchallenged. Ahmed I Samatar
(1998) argues that the overriding political
significance of clan is a recent trend, associated
with the rise of a competitive petite bourgeoisie
in the developing class stratification of the
country; the idiom must not be confused with
the substance. Not all political factions have been
wholly clan-based. It is also certainly true that the
strong ideological weight of clanship is open to
manipulation by politicians and entrepreneurs with
their own agendas, which can mask the relevance
of other interests in the conflict. In the present
situation, this is often the self-aggrandisement of
petty warlords and freewheelers. The brutality of
the conflict is not only due to the clan structure
itself, but also to the climate of violent lawlessness
established by Barre’s regime.
Another contentious issue in the analysis of clan
is the balance between conflict and cohesion, two
sides of the clan coin in segmentary societies. Over
the last seven or eight decades, when transposed
to a modern urban context, clan structures have
been used to recruit members both of armed
militias and of political parties. They have fomented
violence but also provided a haven from it, as coclan members offer mutual assistance and help
one another to survive. This dual role is illustrated
by the position of small minority clans. They are
not major political players, but neither are they
able to muster military weight to protect their
members. So they become extremely vulnerable to
aggression.
Although operating in a very different context,
where the meaning assigned to clan is subject to
a process of change, clanship in the UK involves
similar complexities, and analysis is fraught with
pitfalls. In his study of Somali refugees in London,
Griffiths (2002: 94-125) emphasises the factors
affecting the significance of clan in individual lives
- gender, age, and class among them, to which may
be added personal details such as education, war
experience, previous country of domicile, and so
151
on. While those from a rural background may be
more tightly linked to clan networks, urbanites may
have had more experience of clan factionalism in
daily life. Whatever their previous experience, every
Somali will not only know their own clan affiliation,
but those of others.
The implications of conflict and support also arise.
Co-clan members have an obligation to help a new
arrival, and clan membership can provide a readymade network of assistance, both informal and
organised in community centres and associations.
But for some of the older generation, memories of
interclan hostility, fuelled by rumours of the Somali
scene, also prevent co-operation with members
of certain other clans. El Solh (1991) argues that
in Tower Hamlets, other markers of identity have
been subsumed under clanship which has been
reactivated in the refugee community. Griffiths
found that the progression of the Somali war
assumes much greater importance in their lives
than local east London events (2002: 97). But it is
important not to generalise from specific contexts.
Both these researchers were mainly speaking to
Isaaq, who fled during the 1980s from the terror
inflicted by Barre’s Darod-dominated forces, and
made for the London area of longstanding Isaaq
settlement. Contemporary arrivals from the south
travelling via other points in the diaspora have had
a different history in relationship to particular clan
aggression, and although Somalis will travel across
London to meeting points of co-members, the
London boroughs with Somali populations contain
members of various clans.
Some young Somalis have, however, inherited clan
hostility from their parents. Alex McBride (2003)
reports on the gang violence in Woolwich, east
London, which flares up not only between Somalis
and African Caribbeans, but also between Somalis
of different clans. But other Somali youth, especially
those born in the UK or brought here at an early
age, express impatience with this preoccupation of
their elders. A Somali identity, based on religion and
the mother country of their parents, is important
to them, as is the family - but family as in the
extended unit of known relatives, not the more
abstract co-membership of clan. The clan elders,
they say, are out of touch with the reality of young
people’s lives - a decline in authority that Griffiths
(2002: 123-124) connects to the loss of male
status in the home.Yet there is still evidence of the
persistence of the peacemaking role of elders, such
as in settling matters between the rival Woolwich
gangs, so avoiding the British courts (McBride,
2003). This type of action would reinforce the
opinion of some young Somalis that clan loyalties
are relevant only as a reinforcement of mutual
support and solidarity. They dismiss the antagonistic
element in clanship as ‘ignorance’ and ‘nonsense’,
and reject researchers’ emphasis on the relevance
of clan as ‘out of date’. There are also many Somali
refugees in the UK of all ages who resist notions
of clan exclusivity and conflict. As one said to
Nuruddin Farah: “In Somalia…. I am born into a
clan. In Britain, I am a Somali” (2000: 109).
How far clan remains a potent symbol in the
psyche of Somali refugees, and the extent to
which it takes on new meaning in the diaspora,
will depend both on their experience of the UK,
and political developments in Somalia. Successful
settlement in the UK will weaken links to ‘home’,
and encourage identities founded on local
connections rather than natal affiliations. If
recent attempts to re-found a Somali nation state
progress, this may encourage dreams of return,
but to a society where clan is not the determining
factor in public and private careers.
Whatever the objective conditions in the UK
or the Horn of Africa, it will still be impossible
to generalise as to the persistence of a clan
ideology amongst Somalis. As has been repeatedly
emphasised throughout this report, they are not a
homogenous group, and factors of gender,
151. See also Griffiths (1997).
69
generation, class and personal experience will bear
upon identification with this complex aspect of
Somali culture.
70
Conclusion
Despite the seeming difficulty in overcoming
divisions etched so deeply by history and personal
experience, Somali representatives constantly
affirm the need for unity to confront their
predicaments. A single voice would speak louder
than sectional appeals. Hopefully, as collaboration
increases between Somali organisations, and
the younger generation assumes positions of
responsibility, demands will be made for policies
framed by the community itself, and therefore
implemented with more determination. To return
to where we began in this report - the production
of knowledge on Somalis - it already seems that
as more Somalis become trained researchers,
they will undertake investigation on topics they
identify for themselves. This could also correct the
balance of problem-oriented research, towards
an appreciation of what the Somali community
already brings and potentially can contribute to
the UK. In this endeavour to make the Somali
community more visible, and confirm its presence
as part of British society, the active participation of
local authorities as well as national voluntary and
statutory bodies is essential. It remains to be seen,
for example, whether Liverpool, the new City of
Culture, will celebrate the ethnic diversity in its
midst, and whether the Somalis’ own voice will be
heard.
A prerequisite for a higher profile for Somalis
is accurate numerical data on the population.
Pressure must be exerted at a local and national
level for the availability of statistics on Somalis on
which to base both policy and future research.
There are also areas where little research has yet
been carried out, such as on the second generation
and young people born in the UK. Then there are
the recent arrivals - communities change, and the
relationship with the UK alters as the diaspora
widens and Somalis arrive in the UK from all over
the world. Their particular needs and perspectives
need to be considered. And what of men? Much of
the best research is focused on women, yet these
accounts also point out the loss of male status and
esteem that affects men’s roles and rebounds both
on the community and women themselves. This is
a complex problem in which women’s developing
confidence potentially clashes with familiar cultural
patterns. The perspectives of both Somali women
and men need to be heard. What we also lack, in
spite of the length of the Somali presence in the
UK, are longitudinal studies - comparative research
carried out over a period of time which would
help identify factors that make for a successful
resettlement experience, and those that hinder
integration.
In terms of the perennial problems such as service
provision in employment, health, education, and
housing, existing material needs collating and
more use made of what information already exists.
Although only a few pieces of research have been
mentioned here by name, they illustrate the wide
range of sources that tell us what we know about
Somalis. Limited though some of the work may
be, and neglectful of the Somali voice, we know
a great deal - enough to inform policy decisions
on this significant refugee population. Although
generations and geographical areas differ, there is
enough repetition in available material to analyse
the major areas of concern. There sometimes
appears to be an unwritten assumption both
inside and outside the Somali community that
more research will somehow solve the problems
so documented. Is this so? One useful enquiry
might be into the career of the reports already
produced. What happened after their publication?
What policies ensued? What are the mechanisms
necessary to translate research into result? One
conclusion that can be drawn from this present
report is the need for evaluation. We might suggest
that where the purpose of research is a series
of policy recommendations, the original funding
should include the requirement - and the budget
- for an independent evaluation of outcomes after
a stipulated period of time. This would determine
to what extent the recommendations have been
implemented, what has resulted, what problems
have been encountered in meeting objectives, and
what lessons can be learned from the process of
transforming proposal into practice. For what is
needed is concrete action to end the feeling of
exclusion among the Somali community in the UK.
71
Publications
Somali diaspora in the UK
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# held by ICAR
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72
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returning home project newsletter
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Foundation for Civil Society
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Griffiths, D. (1997), ‘Somali
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Kurdish refugees in London, Ashgate
#*
Griffiths, P. (1998), Qat use in
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sample of Somalis in London, Home
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Boulton, I., and Harrison, M.
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the Somali community in the city
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Centre for Social Action, De
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Haan Associates, SOMRA
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*
Haan Associates, Educational
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Hallsworth and Ritchie (2001),
Needs assessment of young people
living in Tower Hamlets
Hamm, T. (1999), The education,
training and employment needs of
the Somali community in Sheffield,
Policy Research Institute, Leeds
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documentation, no information:
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Somali women’s experience of the
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unpublished MA dissertation,
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information pack for teachers and
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76
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77
Audio-visual
Taken from the Black Women’s
Health and Family Support
Group’s CD-ROM (2003)
BWHAFS
First Floor
82 Russia Lane
London E2 9LU
[email protected]
Britain my Britain 2 & 4 (2003)
BBC2 Prod. Zoe Hassid
Documentary dealing with
the experience of two Somali
single fathers living in London,
including the impact of khat and
unemployment
BWHAFS (2003)
CD-ROM on the BWHAFS,
with information on the Somali
community in the UK including
female genital mutilation (FGM)
Change without denigration (1994)
Video of the International
Conference about FGM held in
London
London Black Women’s Health
Action Project (LBWHAP)
[now BWHAFS]
Safe in another country (1994)
Prod. Daniel Stonier
Video of refugee children’s
experiences, including Somalis,
in north London, narrated by
themselves
Silent tears: Female circumcision
(1994)
LBWHAP [now Black Women’s
Health and Family Support,
London]
78
Somali lives: culture in exile (n.d.)
available from Arts Workshop,
Oxford House, Derbyshire
Street, London E2 6HS
Video of Somalis talking
about their lives, culture, and
contemporary experience of
London with footage of Somali
dance, poetry and song
Photographic exhibition on
Somali social, political and
cultural life also available for hire
from Arts Workshop, Oxford
House, Derbyshire Street,
London E2 6HS
79

The Somali community in the UK

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