Amal Issa and Sahra Kaahiye grew up in Edmonton during a time when there were only a few hundred Somali families in the city and everyone knew everyone else.
“We were raised here and raised in this community and it did everything for us,” said 21-year-old Kaahiye, a recent graduate of the respiratory therapy program at the Northern Alberta Institute of Technology.
“It was very tight-knit,” said Issa, 22, a recent University of Alberta graduate and youth support worker.
Now Kaahiye and Issa help run an empowerment workshop for Somali teenage girls in the city.
“As we grew up, we took over the leadership roles,” Kaahiye said. “Now we want to do something for the community.”
Earlier this summer, Issa, Kaahiye and another woman, Aurelia Uarsama, got together to begin brainstorming about initiatives they could launch for Somali youth in Edmonton.
The women realized there was a void that needed to be filled for young girls in Edmonton.
“The girls started talking about their experiences in high school, and they said they had no leaders and mentorship programs to enrich their lives,” Uarsama, 40, explained. “It just came up so naturally. We never thought that we would go so far with it. It was really a success.”
Uarsama, Kaahiye and Issa, developed the workshop in June, putting in hours of unpaid, unfunded efforts to get the project off the ground. By July they had identified about a dozen girls between the ages of 12 and 16 for the one-month workshop that met twice a week. The acronym for their initiative, Individual Distinctive Youth Leadership Program, IDYL, carries another meaning in Somali — complete, or whole.
“The junior-high aged girls, it’s a really critical time in their development. It’s when they form their identity and their values. It’s a way of starting really early and not only dealing with the effects of the choices they make, but trying to influence them to make positive choices from the very beginning,” Issa said.
Over the month, the women watched the girls come out of their shells. Most of the girls hadn’t met one another before the program. A first workshop was filled with icebreaker activities designed to get the girls to open up. By the end of the month, the barriers were down, many girls forging new friendships and becoming more vocal.
The community can be isolated and marginalized, Uarsama said, which is why reaching out to young people is so crucial. Often, young Somalis only interact with other Somalis, and much of the programming available isn’t specifically for girls.
“What we wanted to do with this program is really tell them, ‘Hey, you’re part of this social fabric. You’re 100-per-cent Canadian. You need to be aware of your civil role and the civic entitlement that you have,’ ” said Uarsama, a U of A Masters student whose research focuses on what it means to be a Somali woman in higher education.
“We talk about being Canadian because a lot of the community can be marginalized.”
During one Thursday night session, they were tasked with learning about their names — what it means and who they were named for.
“My name is Intisar and it means successful,” said one girl, clad in a long flowing head scarf. Her mother told her she was named for her grandmother, she said.
Uarsama showed the girls photographs of Somali women going back more than 100 years. The intention was to relay to the girls the important role women play in Somali society.
“We wanted to show them that they come from a strong African, Somali background. And with that, they need to feel privileged about having immigrated here,” she said. “We want them to fulfil their role in education and make something for themselves, to be able to help their society here and the country back home.”
Throughout the seven workshops the girls also learned life skills like budget balancing and goal setting. They talked about stereotypes and empathy, using skits to mirror real-life situations they might face over the next few years.
“We wanted them to know they wouldn’t have to put themselves in one role and accept it,” Kaahiye said. “We didn’t want them to put themselves in a box.”
They’re hoping funding will be renewed.
Their workshop is just one of several programs in the city designed for at-risk or immigrant youth. Some are grassroots. Others are run by Edmonton Public Schools, the City of Edmonton and social assistance agencies such as the Edmonton Mennonite Centre for Newcomers.
At Balwin School, for instance, in the city’s northeast, a summer camp gives youth, many of them Somali, a safe place during summer break. The camp, with a sports program and academic help, is run by Edmonton Public Schools with the support of a handful of city agencies.
“A large number of kids who attend are from ethno-cultural communities in the area and there are lots of Somalis living in the neighbourhood,” said Ann Nicolai, community co-ordinator for the Schools as Hubs program.
“Many of the families here are working pretty hard for their needs. If you’re working all the time you may not have the resources to enrol your children in another program.”
About 80 kids from Kindergarten to Grade 9 arrive at Balwin daily. On a late July afternoon, kids from Kindergarten to Grade 3 screeched while playing games in the school gym while other, older students bedazzled clothing using feathers and beads. The smell of fresh Bannock wafted from the school’s kitchen and a group of children played soccer outside.
The summer camp is an extension of an after-school program at Balwin and Boyle McCauley schools also implemented by Edmonton public school board.
After meeting with Somali parents worried about their children’s education, the board started a five day a week after-school program, says spokesperson Karen Bardy. The program combines homework help, recreation and language training. Also, “cultural coaches” — two young Somali-speaking men — are brought into the schools as mentors.
Many students have had their education interrupted at some point in their lives and need extra help.
“If you’ve been living in a refugee camp ... getting ongoing education can be a real challenge for families,” said Nicolai
The idea, she explained, is for the school to become a natural destination, a place students will look forward to attending daily. “If you have a really good program where kids are being engaged, kids like to come to school,” she said.
Having Somali role models and mentors is crucial, says Uarsama.
“We tried to use a very holistic approach, because they need Somali people telling them they are important,” Uarsama said.
“It’s very important to know where you come from. They’ve realized they come from a strong society and they’ve become more confident,” she said. “It’s like they found what they are looking for.”
The City of Edmonton is also about to launch a new program to target the younger set, kids 12 to 18, says Harry Oswin, who works in community building in the city’s community services department.
The program will focus on four fronts, teaching kids life skills and getting kids involved in sports and recreation facilities. That also means getting more sports aimed at girls, he said. The program will include leadership training and career development, including public speaking, interview skills.
A fourth aspect will involve setting up a “ community corps” to get Somali and other immigrant kids involved in volunteer projects, from helping at the food bank to Habitat for Humanity, said Oswin.
“Often children of immigrants don’t know the opportunities out there,” he said.
Oswin says he’s impressed with the vibrancy of the Somali community and it’s important to remember that the vast majority are not touched by crime, he says.
“I see a lot of young people who want to make a difference, who want to get along,” said Oswin.
Mana Ali, a community spokesperson, says the community is very grateful for the city’s support for these initiatives that will help vulnerable youth.
“We are very grateful to Mayor Stephen Mandel who has taken so much interest,” she added.
mibrahim@edmontonjournal.com
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Source: The Edmonton Journal
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