September 16, 2001

Memory is a strange beast. I remember every detail of September 11, 2001 up to the moment I got home several hours after the attacks. But other than Hassan’s call on the 12th, I remember very little of the remainder of the 11th, the 12th, 13th, 14th, or 15th... just moments, some small some large, gleaned from the television reports I felt compelled to watch and private moments of grief and anger shared with my wife and friends. I remember forcing myself to immerse myself in work. That, and desperately wanting a cigarette for the first time in three years. I remember not wanting to listen to anything other than Bach’s St. Matthew Passion and, strangely, Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska.

I should remember that phone call from Hassan on the 12th better than I do. I don’t know why I don’t. What I do remember very clearly is the sorrow and the fear in his voice. Hassan is the President of the Somali Community of Ohio, and I do remember him sounding beside himself that day. All he could do was keep saying how horrible it all was and how sorry he was that this should happen. We talked for awhile, but I can’t really remember for how long or what about. All I remember in any detail is a small part of the closing phase of the conversation:

“We’ve closed the offices. Should we keep them closed?”

“Yes.”

“Are we safe?”

“Keep the women inside. The men are OK.”

Amongst the Somali men, Western dress is virtually universal, and given that they are basically indistinguishable from African-Americans. A very few wore the benadiry kufia (a sort of knitted or beaded cap), and even then the benadiry kufia was similar enough to the caps worn by some African-Americans that I didn’t feel it was an easy marker of ‘Otherness’. Somali women are another story. In the five years I’ve dealt with them, I’ve only met one Somali woman who dressed in the Western manner. All other dress in traditional garb, a guntiino (a full length dress of brightly colored cloth) and head scarf, both of which are distinctive and very non-Western. They could have been easily identified as Muslims.

After our telephone call ended, I had the sense I was going to receive another call very soon. I had the strong sense I was going to be asked to come to the Association’s office to answer some questions. This wasn’t terribly unusual. In the previous eight months I had been questioned, both formally and informally by Hassan and countless other Somalis, on a whole range of topics. For most, they had little meaningful contact with ‘real’ Americans (language being a serious barrier at that time), and when they did it was with people they didn’t know in settings less than conducive to dialogue.

My instincts proved me right, for on the 15th, Hassan called and asked me to come down to the Association’s offices the next morning. I knew I was going to quizzed, because he didn’t ask for anything business-related – payroll checks or whatever – to be brought.

When I arrived that morning, there wasn’t a Somali in sight. At that time, the Association was awash in federal TANF dollars for immigrant services, so on any give day there were hundreds of Somalis either in the offices or milling outside in the parking lot. But not on this day. The front door was unlocked, and I walked in feeling I was in a ghost town; there wasn’t a soul in sight. The Association’s offices consist of a first floor classroom used for ESL (English as a second language) classes and a second floor suite that includes a waiting/intake area, three small offices, a computer class room and another class room used for ESL classes. When I came through the door and into the second floor offices I had still not seen anyone.

But evidently Hassan had heard me. The door to his office opened and he stepped out into the hallway to greet me. Hassan is a tall man, easily 6’2”, and thin as a rail. On any normal day his handshake would be accompanied by a wide, toothy smile and an easy laugh. But not that day. That day Hassan was very solemn and very quiet when he took my hand.

“I am glad you have come,” he said as he motioned to his office, “There are people here who wish to ask you questions.”

I walked into Hassan’s office to find ten Somali men in the room. Most sat in chairs along the wall or along the back of Hersi’s desk. Two remained standing, their backs against the office wall. There was a single empty chair in front of Hassan’s desk, which was for me. Other than Hassan, the only two men I recognized were Hersi and Abdi. Both were young (20s), well educated, and fluent in English. The remaining eight men, none of whom I recognized, were all older (late 50s to late 60s) and obviously Elders.

Somali society is organized around the clan and the family. I had read a lot about it, and talked to Hassan about it at length, but I’m not even close to understanding the ins and outs of Somali society. Whenever I really try to figure it all out, I end up feeling like Jack Nicholson’s Jake Gittes in Chinatown; I might get close to understanding the surface of things, but I’ll never come close to getting to what is really going on. What I do understand, though, is that if you want to get Somalis to do something, you need to convince the Elders that it’s a good idea first. Elders are the community’s movers and shakers; they represent their Somalis within the larger Somali community, and act as a conduit of information and opinion.

So it was immediately evident that these eight men would take every word I said and relay it across Central Ohio to every Somali within the community. Not that I was the only source of information for them, mind you, but it still made me uneasy; I’m a shoot-from-the-hip kind of guy. Now I was going to have to try and weigh and measure every word I was going to say...

Hassan introduced me to each of the eight Elders. They all shook my hand and nodded, but said nothing. While I sure some of them didn’t understand English, I was also sure at least a few of them did. Nearly all Somali men speak at least two languages and a significant number of them speak either three or four: Somali, usually Arabic, and often either English, Italian and/or another African language. For whatever reason, a lot of Somali men, especially the older men, prefer to act as though they cannot understand English, even when they can.

After I had been seated, a very handsome young man named Hersi began the proceedings by offering a long and sincere expression of sympathy for the death and destruction of September 11. In this it was clear that he was speaking for all in the room, as well as for the Somali community at large. It was clear that he wanted it understood that the Somali community was as shocked and outraged by the actions of the terrorists. As he spoke, Abdi translated into Somali for the benefit of the Elders. When Hersi stated, emphatically, that the events the events of September 11 were the work of “false Muslims” who “profaned Islam and outraged all Muslims”, the Elders nodded their heads in agreement.

To be honest, I hadn’t really been prepared for Hersi’s disavowal of September 11 in religious terms. I was expecting him to cut to the chase, which was simply, “What is going to happen to us?” While I was trying to figure out what to say, Hersi continued on, and in the process he shocked me.

“You know,” he said, “We have bombs going off in Somalia all the time.”

Then he waved his hand in an obvious gesture of distain.

“Just little bombs that kill eight or ten people.”

Then he leaned over in his chair and gazed intently at me.

“We’ve never suffered anything like what you have...”

Understand that Somalia has been in a state of anarchy since 1991. During nearly all the years since then Somalia was in the throes of a vicious civil war... a war that cost between 350,000 and 500,000 lives in a country of 8,000,000. But because Somalis only died eight to ten at a time, their suffering was insignificant to ours. That shocked me.

I managed to express my gratitude to them, and to tell them that I did not believe that September 11 was the work of those who believed in the word of God, be they Christian, Jew or Muslim. Once Abdi had translated this, the Elders shook their heads again and looked at me, and then to each other. There were several small smiles of what I took to be relief.

From here, Abdi took over the conversation, saying that the Elders wished to ask me some questions about the government. Abdi was a young Somali refugee I’d known for about five months, and he was a very intense individual. We’d talked quite a bit over those months about Somalia, America and his refugee experience. At first I had taken him to be negative on America, but over time it started to dawn on me that what Abdi was doing was testing limits with me. He’d say something provocative to see how I’d react... to see what I’d say. But today was different. He was just as intense as ever, but without his usual self-confidence. He knew I’d tell him what I thought to be the truth, and this one time I sensed the idea of that scared him.

Abdi, who was seated directly in front of me, turned to several of the Elders and said something in Somali. One of the Elders replied at some length. When the Elder had finished, Abdi turned to me.

“Do you think the government will blame the Muslims for what has happened here?”

By this I took it he meant Muslims in general, and Somalis in particular, when he said "Muslims".

“No, I don’t think the blame will be placed on Muslims. But understand that many people will be angry that the terrorists were Muslims. They will be angry that there are those who will claim that this has been done in the name of Islam.”

Abdi translated my answer. None of the Elders spoke. None betrayed any emotion.

“Do you think it is safe for us to go out?” Abdi asked.

“I have not heard of any attacks on Somalis in Columbus. Have any of your people been attacked?”

“No. No attacks.”

“Good. Then I think it is probably safe. Most people here understand that your people had nothing to do with the attacks. But make sure your people are careful. Do not let the women go out without an escort.”

Abdi translated this, and my answer seemed to bring a moment of relief. Then one of the Elders looked at me and then turned and said something to Abdi. Several other Elders then chimed in, and for a moment there was an animated discussion. By the time it was done, the facial expressions and the body language told me that the Big One was now coming... they were going to ask what they thought was the critical question.

Now it was my turn to worry; I thought I’d just answered the Big One. What was it they wanted to know? Abdi hemmed and hawed for a moment, searching for the right words.

“What do the American people think about the Japanese?” he finally asked.

The first thing I felt was confusion. The Japanese? The second thing I felt was each of the Elders leaning slightly, ever so slightly, forward... waiting for my answer. I had literally opened my mouth to say, “I don’t understand” went it hit me:

He was asking me what Americans thought about Japanese-Americans being placed in internment camps during World War Two.

Jesus! They think they are going to be sent to internment camps!

All I could think was, “Lord, let me say this Right.”

“I think that the American people have come to the understanding that putting the Japanese-American in camps was wrong. I think most Americans understood that before our government admitted it had done a bad thing.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“Do you think they will send us to camps?”

So my September 16, 2001 came down to this... to talking to ten worried men – ten men terrified, if not for themselves, then at the very least for their families – ten men trying to find out if they were going to be put in a prison camp in their new country.

“No. I do not think they will send you to camps. The American people understand that you did not do this. The American people understand what was done to the Japanese-Americans was wrong.”

With that Abdi jumped from his seat, grabbed my right hand with both of his and pumped it hard.

“You are a wise man!” he said in a half-shout.

And with that, the tension broke. Abdi never did give the Elders a translation. He just kept shaking my hand and thanking me for being a wise man. The Elders began talking amongst themselves, each had a smile of relief on his face. Abdi’s handshake told them all they needed to know.

That, for all intents and purposes, ended my meeting with the Somali Elders. There were handshakes and expressions of thanks (mostly in Somali) and smiles as I left. I didn’t go back to the Association for a week, and when I did I posed the one question I had about September 16 to Hassan.

“Where there Somalis who were really worried about being sent to camps.”

Hassan grew very serious.

“Many people... they were in panic,” he said quietly, “Many people were very afraid.”

“Are they afraid now?”

“No. Not so many,” he said.

“But some still are?”

“Yes. But only maybe a hundred. They will hide for a while longer.”

"A hundred?"

"Yes."

And with that I let the subject drop.

Comments

[Sam]

Outstanding stuff.

It's easy for people (like me) to wish the "Muslim street" would declare itself more strongly against terror. I forget sometimes that many of them are strangers in a strange land, fearful not only of the terrorists but of OUR unfamiliar culture.

There's an article by Clifford May about the current "cartoon intifada" with a good quote:

"Militant Islamism is least of all about religion. It's mostly about power."

URL: http://www.defenddemocracy.org/in_the_media/in_the_media_show.htm?doc_id=355703

Keep showing the human side of the Islamic population, warts and all. God bless.

[DavidS]

Thanks for this. It's so good to have people writing on blogs about things that really happened to them - rather than just yada yada about what they happen to think about things.

[wxjames]

If it were me, I would have told them to become Christians and urge other Muslims to also become Christians. Not because I have a thing for Christians, I'm an agnostic. However, I do have a thing for Muslims. It's about time they awaken to the facts. Far too many people are murdered now in the name of Islam for peaceful folk to remain a part of that faith. They should abandom Islam and let it wither on the vine. Since they won't, we will have to pluck that grape and squash it. Random bombings and beheadings across the world cannot be tolerated.

[Scott Ferguson]

"If it were me, I would have told them to become Christians and urge other Muslims to also become Christians."

You're just the sensitive and compassionate type, aren't you, wxjames.

[Mark A. Flacy]

And here it is over 4 years after the fact that this story comes out.

Or maybe it did in Ohio. Did anyone talk to a newspaper?

[Steve G.]

Very interesting; I wonder how many different Muslim immigrant groups in different cities had the same sort of meeting (and I hope they all had their questions answered the way you did it). Can't remember our local news outlets in MN covering anything like this, but they tend to condescend enough that all the stories about immigrant communities are either meant to generate pity or stir up controversy.

Mahadsanid, Dennis. [Yeah, I had to look up how to spell it, but I actually learned how to say it from my wife, who had many Somali patients at her previous office -- she's a dental hygienist -- and learned a few words from her interpreter and patients.]

[Bob]

"Far too many people are murdered now in the name of Islam for peaceful folk to remain a part of that faith."

No religion is without a history of persecution. Dismissing all billion Muslims as suspect misreads human nature. Isn't that what the Bush doctrine is about?

[wxjames]

Scott, nobody was ever born with a religion. Religion is drilled into the head of small children. It's not necessary to have one, no less to keep a religion that guarantees trouble in your future. Considering the religion of Islam is like a yoke around the neck of the Muslim, throwing off that yoke seems like a fine idea. It just takes more courage than most people can muster.
Courage, Scott, not sensitivity.

[D.E. Cloutier]

Good story, Dennis.

[Scott Ferguson]

Without even addressing wxjames' ignorance of the religion itself: I find it stunning how some people, with smug rectitude, expect others to shed the faith of their birth and put on another one like some suit of clothes. Moreover, it's disgusting that people make blase demands of others that they most certainly would never make of themselves in similar circumstances.

I suppose from a self-styled agnostic's viewpoint, religion is a social convention; which is why you presume to be able to authoritatively recommend one faith over another; but dude, it makes you look like a total goofball. Obviously you have no idea what faith is like if you've never had any yourself.

For you to be lecturing anybody about courage is silly to the point of dementia.

[ch2]

Bravo!

I'll await your next installments.

As Steve Gilliard says:
It's all about being a good writer.

[richard mcenroe]

You bring out a useful point, Dennis: that an act of terror terrorizes both the victims and also the people it allegedly supports. It's something I have to remind myself of when I face my morning urge to wish this country's foreign policy was run like a Frazetta poster.

[wxjames]

Scott, you are correct, I have long realized that religion is a manmade attempt to use the unknown to control the masses. Therefore, I consider the possibility of changing religions about as real as changing political parties.
Remember, there has never been one iota of proof that God exists. Not one. Yet, many of you would fight to the death in God's name.
That's a lot of faith to put in men who had dreams or visions centuries ago, but some people must believe in a higher power. Maybe we all believe in a higher power. Then why is one higher power pleased by violence, and another pleased by charity ? Why does one higher power suggest dhimmitude, while another recommends loving thy neighbor ?
My answer ? No man has yet to make contact with the higher power and report what that power wants from us. Never happened. Maybe never will.
And, I have shed my former beliefs in some other era's religion. When I found out that the pope of the time made it a mortal sin to eat meat on Friday to support the fishing industry, I realized that he didn't believe in God either.

[Green Zone Cafe]

Reminds me of a story I heard from a Somali who has a green card. I've known this guy for awhile, I have no reason to disbelive him.

His brother, with the unfortunate name of "Jihad" was snatched up in the days after 9/11. After being held for some weeks, he was flown out of the country in handcuffs until he ended up on a U.S. Navy ship in the Arabian Sea/Gulf of Yemen.

He was just put in a boat and driven to some deserted beach near Mogadishu, and left there, just a few months after he lived in Minnesota.

[prozacula]

you are a good writer, and I have read many of your posts with amusement.

that said, you sound like a pompous ass who is just as full of himself as you claim glenn greenwald is. 'you are a wise man'. oh so humble you sound - and since these furiners asked your opinion as the representative of America you must feel so cool. does that make your opinion more valid now, since you know muslims? check out blackpeoplelikeus.com for an example of what you look like to me.

[prozacula]

oops - that's blackpeopleLOVEus.com. plus, html links don't work the way I expect them to here.

[Steve G.]

"...I consider the possibility of changing religions about as real as changing political parties."

But people do that all the time. It's a slow process (or a sudden one that happens after a shock), but it happens.

[DennisThePeasant]

prozacula-

The fact that you couldn't get the site name right takes a bit of the sting out your criticism... if you know what I mean. And I'm pretty sure you don't.

The site is pretty funny, though.

[prozacula]

ah yes, my argument is weakened by my egregious error, since the crux of my argument was based on whether black people like me, or LOVE me...and I'm sure I know what you mean, but my critique still stands. your glennholes post seemed like grandstanding in the 'libertarian' vein - i.e. I'm a libertarian, so I am free to say everyone sucks and I'm right. reminds me of o'reilly, really.

thank you for following the (corrected) link tho.

[DennisThePeasant]

No problem, Bro.

[Dustin R. Ridgeway]

Really well written. I admit, sometimes I even let myself get too caught up in this "Clash of Civilizations" mess.

Prozacula, you're a douche.

[prozacula]

yes, I am a douche - in the sense that I flush and clean the stinkholes hidden where the sun doesn't shine.

but if that was meant to insult me, I don't understand what makes me a 'douche'. the fact that I pointed out that dennis sounds all haughty and grandstandy when he tries to point out that two bloggers are just grandstanding assholes?

I agree with a large majority of what mr. peasant writes here. if the fact that I don't agree with his glennholes post makes me a douche, then fine, uncap me, shove me in and I'll douche away.

[Sam]

prozacula -- Dennis is PRESENTING himself as a self-involved asshole. It's his on-site personality.

[panasianbiz]

I stumbled across your blog while I was doing some online research. I think many of us have had similar experiences; while we vividly remember 9/11, the following days are somewhat of a blur.