FIA is waiting

The waiting is long and its hard to not to be able tp plan the future. Many practical things have to be done. But even as simple thing as visiting the mother-care center became an obstacle. The american stole her passport and id-card, and we still did not get the new ones so a less flexible nurse  refused to talk to her as she could not show up an id-card, and she would have to wait at least 3 weeks more for a new appointment. The same nurse had said when i called the center the first time that Fia will need a special allowance from the Socialdepartment. I told her the baby would come out some day whether she got the special allowance or not! 

We just happened to get a nurse who maybe was able to hear but not to listen.  And who immediately made some quick medical test, as her hemoglobine had been alarming low.

Now we have found another center with people who do listen better. The baby will arrive in August and the little one takes allmost all Fias time and thoughts. Besides Monir ofcourse.  Fia is sad that Monir was not there to feel the first kicks. Not to hear the heartbeats. Not to see the ultra-sound pictures. She is afraid Monir will not be here when she gives birth. Sad because she cant plan where to live. Worried about money. Monir should be here working for their living. He has a job to return to. If he comes soon. If he doesnt come soon he may loose his job. On the other hand - what kind of shape is he when he comes. If he comes.

Fia answers a lot of questions from humanrightorganisations. Almost daily. Or reads reports and articles trying as much as possible see to that all the details are right. Like that the cages were of solid steelplates, not chicken-wire cages as some jourmalists misunderstood her. (Because she called them like chicken-cages, referring the size of the cages and the humiliation of the prisoners).

The only light-sources in the cages were the little chinks by the door and the roof. Daytime the cages were burning hot and at nights icing cold. It was raining and thundering often – as it was winter. One stroke of lightning  could have killed all the men in cages – as the cages were joined together. She saw Monir twice a day – when they gave him food. They used to open the door then to let some light in the cage. She could see he was backbound and only let to have hands free when eating.  She tried to pass the cage everytime they opened the door to get a glimpse of him. And to let him get a glimpse of her.

After it was obvious that some prisoners were to be released they became a little more "carefull" as Fia says.  They let the prisoners arms be bound in front. And they let them twice a day to the toilet.  

A radio programme claimed that the women were sitting in a tent. This is not true. The women were kept in locked cells – but let go out sometimes on the yard – to toilets or to go and get their food out on the yard. (This is how she could see Monir sometimes, sitting in his cage, eating.)

The interrogations were held in a house 20 min drive away from the prison. It was a civil buidling. A detached house. Furnished as any normal home! With sofas – and people (the foreign interrogators) sitting and relaxing. But it was here the men were tortured. It was here the women heard the men under interrogation cry and scream.

Just as i was worried about my daughters mental and physical health we now worry for Monirs mental and physical health.

I dont habe to mention my daugher was not offered any kind of help now that she is back.  But I have been sitting with her long nights and working the day after still thinking about what she tells. About little 9 y o Mohamed who dissappeared in the jungle. How he gave her flowers and berries when she was very sick. About kool-aid he was keeping for his (already dead!) mother – when they would meet again at the American Emabssy in Kenya as he thought. How she hold and tried to protect the 4-year old american girl from american soldiers weapons.

About the floodwater with frogs she had to drink to keep alive. How she herself had to operate her infected arm – in the prison in Mogadishu. About the stones and the bugs in the ”food” in Mogadishu. About the deadly poisoneous snake that one day was dangling over her head and she was too sick to give it more attention than a tired glanse. Abuot the ants beetles that covered the ground. How hard she was tied and backbound during the flights and transports – till she did not anymore feel her arms. How wonderfull it was to once get a bite of an apple. How she got offended by the ethiopian soldier and ”gave back” with even more emphasis… till he told her he would go and get Monir and let her watch all the night what they did to him. About the wounds on Monirs neck and arms a legs. About the gross american-jamaican who used to beat up the men. About that she had preferred to stay where Monir was better than come home. She thought she could maybe protect him from the worst.

And so much more. Everything in total disorder as it comes into to her mind and memory. Sometimes so sad things – sometimes horrifying, sometimes killingly funny about how stupid the questions she got were… and so on.

But I know I have a very special daughter. With a lot of inner strength.

So she is not that much upset  when she realises that Foreign deparment – or society in general – or the health care dont function that well anymore. Not even that she realises she is not concidered to have same worth as a  human being as non-muslims here do have.  When she heard that the Swedish embassy in Etihiopia asked me where she really was from as her surname is not swedish, to wihich i countered well she comes from Karolinska (a maternity ward in Stockholm) she just said ”well if they know where that place is…”

Shes gonna make it. All by herself. In the future when she almost inevitably will be discriminated because of her ”foreign” surname or something else, she will look down upon them thinking of what she survived and think they are really namby-pamby people.

I dont know if that is good. Maybe in short term, for her. But it is not a good signal of where we are heading.

About why she went to Somalia at all, she says that they would not have gone if she knew the situation of Somalia better.  But the she says in her totally annoying and mother-maddening teenager way; ”But i cant get it! Why would I not be free to go anywhere I want to in the world!!!! I just cant get it!!!!!! Even if Somalia was a disaster, it cant be CRIMINAL to go to Somali! What on earth does anyone have to do with where I travel?????  Umm…..

… well…yea… ok…you maybe …  mum…” Comes then a little more agreeably…