SAHRO'S STORY
“Every day they would show me a video of some small child they caught and killed.”
I come from Somalia, and I was born in a small town, where I grew up. My father I never even saw. I was staying with my mother and step-father. My mum had seven kids other than me.
One day when I was seven years old, as I was coming home from Madrasa, there was a man standing outside our door. I asked him, “what’s going on?” He had a gun. He told me, “you want to know what’s going on? Come, sit here”. I thought he was going to tell me. But he told me “I killed your sister and I want to kill you too. You have to be with me”. When my sister, who was from another mother, was 22 years old he asked my mum to give her to him. She said, “I will never give her to you, you will not tell me to marry my daughter to you”. He said, “if you don’t want to give me your daughter, I will kill her now”. He killed her. He told me “I did that, now I want to do it to you”.
He put the barrel of his gun against me. My mum came out, and said “you killed my daughter, and now you want to kill this one?” He put a bullet in her leg, and ran away. All the neighbours came out. From that day we couldn’t come out of our houses. There were bombs all the time, so you couldn’t come out. My mum said, “you have to go to leave this country”. I told her, “mum, I can’t leave”. My mum’s sister stayed in another place, so I went there. There was no Al Shabaab there at that time. When I got there, I was caught and put in jail for almost one month. My aunty, my mum and everyone was asking what I had done. They said, “she came from another place, she has to be let out”. One day when I came out, the fighting had started. You couldn’t even see anything, just blood and bombs everywhere.
I went to a village for almost two years to stay with my grandmother. When I was almost 10 years I went back to stay with my mum. When I went back, they killed my uncle in front of my eyes. Me and him were going somewhere to buy something for the house. When we were there I saw something coming at him, and he died. Another two guys came, and they shot him until all the bullets were finished. I was in shock, I was not talking, I was just quiet. My big sister who was in Zambia came to Somalia, and when she came, she said “I want to take Sahro, I want her to come with me to Zambia”.
Then Al Shabaab arrived. They told my mum at 3:00 am at night, “take out your daughter”. They took me to a place, and blindfolded me. I couldn’t see anything. My hands were tied for five days. I was just inside, and no one was coming for me. I was just sitting, I couldn’t hear any voices, I couldn’t move, day and night. And then they took off my blindfold and untied my hands. I was inside a room, with no window, and the door was closed. It was too dark. I was inside three months. They gave me food once a day, in the afternoon. They were just giving me porridge. Every day they would show me a video of some small child they caught and killed with a knife. I was in shock every day. I told myself, “Sahro you will never get out here, maybe just your body when you die”. They told my mother “your daughter died, you will never see her again”. All my family forgot me, they thought I died.
After three or four months they took me out. There’s a place they took me, and they told me to go wherever I want. I thought I would die, that I would never get out. I was feeling happy when I came out. There was a guy selling things outside at a small table. I went to him and told him my mum’s name, but I don’t know her number. He said he knows someone staying where my mum is. He called that guy, who called my mum. She said, “are you still alive?”. Yes I’m alive. She took a car and came for me. When they released me they told me to get out this country in 24 hours. They never said why, I just said “Thanks to God they’re letting me go”. That day, I left with my family and my sisters. The next day I took a car and left for Kenya.
“One day my mum told me “you have to go South Africa, there’s a man there who’s your husband. You have to see him”. I didn’t know him, I’d never seen him”
When I arrived in Kenya, my sister came from Zambia to take me there. I was in Zambia for seven years. I started going to school there. I had a permit for Zambia. When I started school I was given a student card and after two years I had a permit. One day my mum told me “you have to go South Africa, there’s a man there who’s your husband. You have to see him”. I didn’t know him, I’d never seen him. He was my cousin. My sister brought me to South Africa. He was in Durban. She had to leave because her baby was due. I went to stay in Johannesburg, with another lady.
When my husband and I moved in, he changed. I had scratches on me. When we moved to Port Elizabeth, he started beating me, telling me “you will never survive this”. Almost for two years he was beating me in PE, so I ran away. I had many scratches. I started working in Germiston, cooking food. He was here, but he was not calling me. For six months he didn’t say anything. Last month I came back to this house, and when I came back he asked me “do you want to live your life or do you want die?” I said I want to live my life. He said, “Ok you have to look for work, and you have to leave your job in Germiston”.
“When my husband and I moved in, he changed.
I had scratches on me. When we moved to Port Elizabeth, he started beating me, telling me “you will never survive this”
I’m staying with him because there’s nothing I can do, it’s my mum who brought me to him. I wish to leave the marriage, and everything. UNHCR just said go to police station. I went one day, and they said that if I want to open a case, first I have to go to a family court, and after that they will open a case for me. If I do that, I know I will lose my life. Even if it’s not him, other people can do it.
Sahro's story, like many others, is unfinished. There are a host of organizations like the ACTION Support Centre working hard to enforce the rights of refugees, abused women and the disadvantaged so their stories may enter a new chapter of peace and hope.
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