20-July-2024″ From Somalia to south Oregon – how basketball reunites civil war survivors
In 1991, the Somalia national basketball team found themselves in exile.
Decades later, they reunite annually in a small US town Inside the gymnasium at Ashland Middle School, basketballs are bouncing off the backboards and freshly waxed floors, footballs are being kicked between clumsily erected goalposts, and a group of girls is playing ping-pong in the corner.
But it is not a usual school day. Somali music blares from the sound system, and the crowd on the benches sings along.
The gym’s double doors are propped open, letting in the morning sunshine and a steady stream of people with coffee cups in hand from the neighbouring hotel, where most of them have stayed the night.
Despite it being Memorial Day, this group of Somali athletes and their family members have gathered to commemorate their sacrifices.
The blue and white of their national flag serves as a powerful backdrop for the long weekend, its five-point star a symbol of the unity the Somali people have fought so hard for.
Since 2002, former players, coaches, and fans of the once-feted Somali national basketball team have met once a year in this small town for a weekend full of sports and storytelling.
When the Somali civil war and subsequent government collapse took place in 1991, these men and women went from being star players at the height of their careers to refugees in an instant
Many of these people have not returned to their ancestral homes in decades.
Known for its scenic mountain ranges and Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, a small town with a vibrant art scene 26km (16 miles) north of the California border, there is this unlikely setting for one of the longest-running gatherings of the Somali diaspora in North America
Ali Mohamed, who has come to Ashland from his home in Atlanta, Georgia, says when he closes his eyes he can still see the crowds in the stadium and hear the thunder of their applause from his days on the Somali national team
For him, basketball was a family legacy; his older brother had also played for the national team and earned the nickname “The Fox” because of his stealth and quickness on the court. Mohamed followed in his footsteps. “It was something that every kid dreamed of. It was an honour to represent the country, it was an opportunity that few people had.”
When the Somali civil war and subsequent government collapse took place in 1991, these men and women went from being star players at the height of their careers to refugees in an instant.
He remembers Somalia with the same nostalgia that colours his memories on the court. “Mogadishu was the jewel of Africa. It is still the most beautiful place I have ever been. It was a shame to see its destruction.
Forced to start over in new countries, many of these players lost touch for years. But like the champion players they once were on the basketball court, they knew the game was not over until the buzzer rang.
Their greatest victory, they say, has been their ability to rebuild their lives from the ruins and displacement of the past. Once every year, they gather to celebrate what has endured – family and friendship, memories and dreams
No wreckage, no rubble
The annual summer event in Ashland is hosted by Abdiaziz Guled, a goat herder-turned-all-star player who, as the tallest on the national team, played centre. His time on the team ended in 1987 after he was recruited to play for Southern Oregon University a few years before the war broke out in Somalia.
He now works as a youth advocate at Ashland Middle School, where he is affectionately known as “Bubba”.
Unlike the rest of his teammates, his memories of Somalia are unmarred by the tragedy of war. There is no wreckage, no rubble. He became a natural and much-needed focal point for those who endured it.
His warm welcome has transformed Ashland into a second home for all his guests. As one attendee says: “Abdi [Abdiaziz] has roots here. People know him and trust him. It’s like we’re coming to visit a long-lost family member. Here in Ashland, there are none of the stressors of a big city. No traffic or commotion
As word has spread, what began as an informal gathering of just a few friends has expanded to accommodate 75 to 100 people each year. The number of attendees fluctuates. In the 20 years since these players have gathered, elders have died and children have been born. No one knows who will show up each year or what new friends they will bring
Transported to the past
At the start of the civil war, many of these athletes lost their livelihoods, their acclaim, and their country in one fell swoop. Safia Omer, who now lives in Oakland, where she is a mental health professional, and attends the gathering each year with her husband and two sons, was one such player. She was 16 and in her last year of high school when the war interrupted her athletic dreams and changed the course of her life. Here, in Ashland, she is still known by her girlhood nickname. “When I hear Safia Cadey, I am immediately transported to the basketball court, to my past,” she says.