Shugri Salh is the author of the memoir The Last Nomad and appears in the TV anthology series Little America. Born in Somalia, she spent her early years living with her grandmother in the desert as a nomad. After civil war broke out in her home country, she emigrated to North America. Salh lives in San Diego with her family, where, in addition to writing, she works as a nurse. Here, she reflects on her picture book debut, Suuban’s First Day, current events, and how words have the capacity both to heal and to harm.
As an author, a nurse, and someone who collects human stories, I have expressed my feelings many times through words. It is natural to me. I come from Somalia, a nation of poets. My earliest years were spent as a nomad in a culture built on oral storytelling. I carry that tradition in my DNA. I am an American citizen now and the mother of three young adults who have never been to my home country. I have enriched their lives with stories of my Somali culture, a beautiful culture rooted in hospitality, sharing, and storytelling. When my kids had friends over, who were predominately white, they begged me to tell stories of my life. It was delightful to see these kids, so enraptured by my words and my world, develop a curiosity for another culture so different from their own. As a writer, I tell these stories through books. Words have power. They enlighten, soothe and entertain. They inform and transform. And I have never found myself without them.
But as I listened to the news this month, I was, perhaps for the first time ever, speechless.
“Garbage,” “come from hell,” “they contribute nothing,” “garbage,” “people that don’t work,” “do nothing but complain,” “garbage,” “we don’t want ’em in our country,” “garbage,” “let ’em go back to where they came from,” “garbage.”
To hear myself and those from my motherland being called garbage was haunting and confusing. And these words were coming from the holder of the highest office in the land, one that I had previously respected, the head of this country I love. I was welcomed into this country after first fleeing to Canada as an 18-year refugee from a bloody civil war. I worked hard, going to nursing school while raising my children, chasing that American dream. My Somali culture, rich in storytelling and hospitality, inspired me to become a nurse and an author. But it was America that gave me the freedom to tell my own stories through a memoir and upcoming children’s book. It gave me the opportunity to proudly raise my children to grow up to be good citizens, without the ever-present threat of famine or violence. I have worked as a nurse in this country for 20 years, caring for sick people, even during Covid. In the last four years, I have for the first time been subject to open disdain and blatant racism by some of my patients, echoing the ugly words used by our president.
How could any dignified person utter such words, I wondered. I know the power of words to teach and help. I grew up hearing beautiful stories of my ancestors, weaving survival and resilience into my identity. Words can empower or break a person, a community, a nation. But when we share stories with one another, we are reminded of our shared humanity. My memoir The Last Nomad connected me with wonderful people I never would have met if not for my book, and who, before me, had never met someone from Somalia. And studies show that reading aloud or sharing stories helps kids develop into smart, curious, and engaged humans; it is truly the greatest gift you can give a child.
With my words, I can give back to children through books. I wrote my children’s book, Suuban’s First Day, so kids could see the beauty and richness of the Somali culture, to help them build understanding and empathy for others. Even though Suuban lives a completely different life than children in North America, they can see similarities to themselves. I showed her curiosity, her cleverness, her love for her grandmother and animals, and her playful spirit. Children all over the world can relate to these qualities. Writing Suuban’s First Day filled me with hope, because I could envision children seeking connection with other cultures, not division. Perhaps if our leaders, who are instead forming narrow, short-sided, uninformed opinions of different cultures, could have read books like Suuban when they were young, it could have set the tone for a more understanding world.
Suuban’s First Day: A First Day of Herding Story by Shugri Salh, illus. by Àlàbá Ònájìn. Roaring Brook, $18.99 Jan. 27 ISBN 978-1-2503-4020-7
