I DON’T FIT IN HERE

The Mall was an outdoor market. Men were standing around talking. They took one look at Emery; stopped everything; and went back to talking. Emery didn’t know Somali. Were they saying, “What’s this white dude doing here? Is he a policeman?” This could be a barrier—one these men were taking advantage of. They didn’t need to speak English. That barrier protected them from men like Emery.

He had pictures of the man he was looking for. Emery went into the mall near the food court. He could smell the unique spices. They were getting ready for business. He waved to one of the proprietors as if he knew him. He waved back. His white face betrayed him. “We not open yet. Come back one hour.” Emery smiled and walked toward the man. They talked for a minute, and he went back to walking.

As he walked past the brightly colored scarves stretched out on racks. he could see the men. He took out the pictures of Abdul. As soon as they looked up, he waved the pictures to them. “Subax wanaagsan!” (“good morning”-- the words he had just learned). They all smiled at each other like he was a wobbling child on his feet for the first time. Showing the picture, he added, “Garanayaa isaga?”

“Yeah. That’s Abdul. He in kitchen. That way”, one of the men smiled as he pointed.

As he walked back to the man he just talked to, he could see Abdul diving into a taxi. The owner was smiling. Emery took out the summons and laid it on the counter.

“Make sure Abdul gets this. Thanks for your help”.

As he walked out of the mall, he thought: “I don’t fit in here….yet!”