In a time where Danish parents now know the dangers of even taking their child on short vacations outside Denmark, there are parents who really should go to prison. Here is a story from a young Dane who could have returned to Denmark radikalised, but managed to return somewhat unharmed despite the actions of his relatives.
So, story begins when I was 14, my mother planned a vacation to Hargeisa in "Somaliland" for the summer, I was reluctant to go since I hated the heat but she convinced me, so me and my 2 other siblings went there.
Despite my initial hesistance to going, I was excited to explorer the area, I noticed immediately that i was being treated differently, when going to stores, restaurants and such, either people would be very accommodating or the complete opposite, there was rarely a middle ground, they'd either stick their noses up at me and insult me, or they'd be extremly polite. I didn't really get it at first, but my uncle explained it pretty well, while I was of Somali descendant because of my unusually light skin, way of walking, accent while speaking somali and height I stood out, weird thin was that while Somali people in somaliland were very nice to foreigners they seemed to have some type of hatred towards somali people that were born or grew up in other countries, iI didn't think much of it however since I didn't leave the house often, or ever alone. After a month had passed and we were supposed to go back to Denmark my mom told us we were gonna stay to properly learn religion and our culture. I was against it, but it was out of my hands.
My mom went back while me and my sister and brother stayed behind. We were put in Malcaamad to study, it was my first time in a place like that, kids would be beaten frequently and no one would blink and eye, if anyone some would enjoy watching it like it was some type of show, I was never really worried of anything like that happening to me however, while i was never a tough guy, and to that point had only ever been in a single fight, I always thought to myself "If these guys try anything i'll just beat them" since I was physically big, standing at 183 at the time.
After getting in a fight with a teacher about something, I was kicked out of the Malcaamad. My uncle and grandmother who I was living with at the type both shared the sorta racism that was common place in Somaliland, they thought of me and my siblings as spoiled brat foreigners, and me they hated especially since I was stubborn and i'd argue, they said they would put me in a boarding school by force after an arguement we had, and a while after they called soldiers who forcefully took me there, after I was in the boarding they put me chains on my legs to avoid me trying to escape. It was a strange place, felt surreal at the time. I was put in a small room with 4 people, with nearly all of the ground being covered up by the mattresses.
The daily routine was waking up 5 in the morning, praying, then reading Quran until 9, then we'd eat breakfast which would be canjeero, then we'd go back to reading until 12, and we'd get a 1 hour break until lunch including the prayer, which was either rice or pasta, but much more often rice. Then everyone would nap until 15:30 get ready for prayer, after that another reading session until 17:30, then we'd get another break until prayer. After that another reading session until the last prayer of the day, and we'd have dinner and go to sleep, dinner was often beans. In my first day of staying there, the teachers aid immediately had it in for me and coined the nickname "White camel" i'm guessing because I was relatively pale and tall, i didn't think much of it and just sneered at him.
Eventually at some point i was late for the class because of the line at the bathroom, he wanted to lash me for it and told me to put out my hand, I told him to go fuck himself and I got jumped on by him and another teacher, even the students joined in and held me down while they beat me, at that point I was feeling really depressed, isolated and hopeless. I didn't have any contact to the outside, so I couldn't tell my siblings or my mother what was happening to me. I met 2 other students there, who were in there the same way I was, forced to stay in the country and put in the boarding against their wills, one was from Canada, the other from England, we got along greatly as we were the outsides everyone else in the boarding school hated, there was about 60 people in total, in a small area. It was a 5 room house, no bigger than the average house in Somalia, but they somehow fit all those kids in there.
I was in that boarding for a year, I took frequent beatings, both physically and mentally, but in the time I got my hands on a Quran that was translated to english from one of my friends there, I learned a decent amount about the religion, and as I kept learning the less and less sense it made, I would sometimes ask people about some questions that plagued me, they'd dismissive me assuming I was trying to start some type of arguement when they couldn't answer, after a while of researching I became agnostic.
After a visit from my aunt who was from Germany saw how I was being treated in the boarding she pulled me out immediately, I spent the next 2 years essentially waiting to turn 18 so I could renew my passport, since my parents shared custody and my father was nowhere to be found. In the meantime I spent most of my time at a nearby internet café, since if you brought your own laptop you'd only have to pay a dollar for the whole day, I'd download shows and vidoes to keep myself entertained. I tried not to leave my house often, but everytime I did i would get in some type of altercation, because of I looked i stood out, and was easily spotted even from a distance for being "Dhaqan celis" (I don't know if i spelled that right) I'd usually try to ignore them unless they tired to physically attack me, at which point I'd fight back. They seem to think of somali people that grew up elsewhere to be weak and spoiled brats they can push around or threaten as they please, which was probably one of the reasons I was a prime target for them whenever I ventured outside my home.
I got in more fights than I can count, eventually I taught myself how to box, I went online to study all the basics, found a gym near by with a sandbag, and I'd practice all the basics, I got competent enough to defend myself, most people on the streets had no actual idea on how to fight beyond pushing and grabbing, so it went pretty easy, I was pretty hostile in my last year there, since I was really fed up with the country and everyone there, I'd call out people that gave me weird looks, I'd yell back and insult people that would sneer at me or insult me, and I'd be the first to throw a punch if they had anything to say about it. It's not all bad, a lot of people i met there were also curious, and would approach me to ask me questions, like were are you from, and how is it where you're from, mostly I was people around mid 20's university students, I was always happy to carry a conversation with them, a lot of them would speak english very well and seemed to like trying it out on me, I had a lot of bad experiences, I was robbed for my phone and stabbed in the arm, I was shoot at by soldiers trying to stop a riot, I've been grouped up on and beaten several times, I've broken my hand twice, sprained my wrists more times than I can found, and broken 4 fingers in total. Has anyone had similar experiences?
I'd honestly love to hear. Thanks for reading this long ass wall of text.
The text was slightly edited in order to make it more easy to read. The source can be found below
My experience in an islamic boarding school and 3 years of being in Somaliland (Reddit message board)
So, story begins when I was 14, my mother planned a vacation to Hargeisa in "Somaliland" for the summer, I was reluctant to go since I hated the heat but she convinced me, so me and my 2 other siblings went there.
Despite my initial hesistance to going, I was excited to explorer the area, I noticed immediately that i was being treated differently, when going to stores, restaurants and such, either people would be very accommodating or the complete opposite, there was rarely a middle ground, they'd either stick their noses up at me and insult me, or they'd be extremly polite. I didn't really get it at first, but my uncle explained it pretty well, while I was of Somali descendant because of my unusually light skin, way of walking, accent while speaking somali and height I stood out, weird thin was that while Somali people in somaliland were very nice to foreigners they seemed to have some type of hatred towards somali people that were born or grew up in other countries, iI didn't think much of it however since I didn't leave the house often, or ever alone. After a month had passed and we were supposed to go back to Denmark my mom told us we were gonna stay to properly learn religion and our culture. I was against it, but it was out of my hands.
My mom went back while me and my sister and brother stayed behind. We were put in Malcaamad to study, it was my first time in a place like that, kids would be beaten frequently and no one would blink and eye, if anyone some would enjoy watching it like it was some type of show, I was never really worried of anything like that happening to me however, while i was never a tough guy, and to that point had only ever been in a single fight, I always thought to myself "If these guys try anything i'll just beat them" since I was physically big, standing at 183 at the time.
After getting in a fight with a teacher about something, I was kicked out of the Malcaamad. My uncle and grandmother who I was living with at the type both shared the sorta racism that was common place in Somaliland, they thought of me and my siblings as spoiled brat foreigners, and me they hated especially since I was stubborn and i'd argue, they said they would put me in a boarding school by force after an arguement we had, and a while after they called soldiers who forcefully took me there, after I was in the boarding they put me chains on my legs to avoid me trying to escape. It was a strange place, felt surreal at the time. I was put in a small room with 4 people, with nearly all of the ground being covered up by the mattresses.
The daily routine was waking up 5 in the morning, praying, then reading Quran until 9, then we'd eat breakfast which would be canjeero, then we'd go back to reading until 12, and we'd get a 1 hour break until lunch including the prayer, which was either rice or pasta, but much more often rice. Then everyone would nap until 15:30 get ready for prayer, after that another reading session until 17:30, then we'd get another break until prayer. After that another reading session until the last prayer of the day, and we'd have dinner and go to sleep, dinner was often beans. In my first day of staying there, the teachers aid immediately had it in for me and coined the nickname "White camel" i'm guessing because I was relatively pale and tall, i didn't think much of it and just sneered at him.
Eventually at some point i was late for the class because of the line at the bathroom, he wanted to lash me for it and told me to put out my hand, I told him to go fuck himself and I got jumped on by him and another teacher, even the students joined in and held me down while they beat me, at that point I was feeling really depressed, isolated and hopeless. I didn't have any contact to the outside, so I couldn't tell my siblings or my mother what was happening to me. I met 2 other students there, who were in there the same way I was, forced to stay in the country and put in the boarding against their wills, one was from Canada, the other from England, we got along greatly as we were the outsides everyone else in the boarding school hated, there was about 60 people in total, in a small area. It was a 5 room house, no bigger than the average house in Somalia, but they somehow fit all those kids in there.
I was in that boarding for a year, I took frequent beatings, both physically and mentally, but in the time I got my hands on a Quran that was translated to english from one of my friends there, I learned a decent amount about the religion, and as I kept learning the less and less sense it made, I would sometimes ask people about some questions that plagued me, they'd dismissive me assuming I was trying to start some type of arguement when they couldn't answer, after a while of researching I became agnostic.
After a visit from my aunt who was from Germany saw how I was being treated in the boarding she pulled me out immediately, I spent the next 2 years essentially waiting to turn 18 so I could renew my passport, since my parents shared custody and my father was nowhere to be found. In the meantime I spent most of my time at a nearby internet café, since if you brought your own laptop you'd only have to pay a dollar for the whole day, I'd download shows and vidoes to keep myself entertained. I tried not to leave my house often, but everytime I did i would get in some type of altercation, because of I looked i stood out, and was easily spotted even from a distance for being "Dhaqan celis" (I don't know if i spelled that right) I'd usually try to ignore them unless they tired to physically attack me, at which point I'd fight back. They seem to think of somali people that grew up elsewhere to be weak and spoiled brats they can push around or threaten as they please, which was probably one of the reasons I was a prime target for them whenever I ventured outside my home.
I got in more fights than I can count, eventually I taught myself how to box, I went online to study all the basics, found a gym near by with a sandbag, and I'd practice all the basics, I got competent enough to defend myself, most people on the streets had no actual idea on how to fight beyond pushing and grabbing, so it went pretty easy, I was pretty hostile in my last year there, since I was really fed up with the country and everyone there, I'd call out people that gave me weird looks, I'd yell back and insult people that would sneer at me or insult me, and I'd be the first to throw a punch if they had anything to say about it. It's not all bad, a lot of people i met there were also curious, and would approach me to ask me questions, like were are you from, and how is it where you're from, mostly I was people around mid 20's university students, I was always happy to carry a conversation with them, a lot of them would speak english very well and seemed to like trying it out on me, I had a lot of bad experiences, I was robbed for my phone and stabbed in the arm, I was shoot at by soldiers trying to stop a riot, I've been grouped up on and beaten several times, I've broken my hand twice, sprained my wrists more times than I can found, and broken 4 fingers in total. Has anyone had similar experiences?
I'd honestly love to hear. Thanks for reading this long ass wall of text.
The text was slightly edited in order to make it more easy to read. The source can be found below
My experience in an islamic boarding school and 3 years of being in Somaliland (Reddit message board)