The most affectionate man, most loving, and caring. After seven years ofbeing away in Saudi Arabia,I still have the love and tenderness for him.
My father Osman Hagi was born in Somali Mogadishu on January first 1960. He was the fourth of nine brothers and eight sisters of which three girls and three boys died. Now as 63 years old, my father remembers most of his childhood years as a time of family and a great experience of life. At the age of four, Osman’s mother died. Even though there were six boys and five girls left to raise, Osman’s father Mao Hagi, refused to remarry. He didnt want to createa conflict within his family and with his children.
He felt that a new mother would cause turmoil and jeopardize the relationship he had with his children. The family struggled because there wasn’t anyone to cook or prepare meals because in our culture, men didn’t do women’s work and Osman sisters were too young to do the work. Life was tough and difficult. With only a father who owned a little grocery store, trying to provide for his family, it was not enough to support the family. Along the way, was when a close family member decided to help the family out with their struggle through life’she did all the cooking and cleaning.
While the children went to school she was there for them. When my father turned five he started Islamic School. As the tradition of the Somali, each child was supposed to attend Islamic School before Public School. At the age of six Osman completed the Islamic school.
By the age of seven he started Public school. No matter what age you were, you had to start from first grade. At the time Somali was ruled by the government of Italy. As a corporal punishment, the languages thought in school were Italian and Arabic. The Somali language was not official.
School was very hard. There was no freedom. Any mistake you made, you had to face continues of spanking, from the behind, hands, and legs. The rules in school were strict. There was no fun and freedom. Everything was based on learning the hard way.
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