I wonder sometimes how my life would have been if I grew up in Somalia, the civil war never happened and I grew up a privileged girl in the north. My dad tells me we come from a long line of sultanates so technically I'm a princess. Though I think diva suits me more!
His face lights up whenever I ask about Somalia. The memories of Somalia's golden years emblazone his face. My dad is somewhat a wanderer. Never stays in one place too long. A constant flow of odd jobs. I think when he remembers his childhood is when he visibly looks more grounded. Otherwise his eyes are listless and wondering aimlessly. I don't know him deeply though I get the sense that he's mostly a shell. Mostly because he's always playful which through experience I've learnt is usually a cover for emptiness or pain. He calls himself a family man so I wonder if it was not being a family with us that has made him this way. I don't know.
I remember a conversation we had on the bus due to a chance meeting. It also happened to be when he first saw me in public without a headscarf. He lectured me, taking out photographs of me in the past wearing a niqab (face covering). Lamenting over his 'lost' daughter. He told me that he could accept me but that we couldn't be seen in public together. Also he wouldn't let people know I exist by not mentioning me when he talks about his kids. The thing is if it was so important to him why didn't he put up more of a fight? Why was he quick to disown me? And so casually. This just makes me think he doesn't care about me just his reputation. He didn't even ask me why.
I would of understood curiosity. Hell I was expecting it. I went from extremely religious (face covering, burkha, memorising the koran) to non religious seemingly overnight. That part is not true it was brewing in me for a while.
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