Columbus Alive
July 6, 2006
by Tracy Zollinger Turner
Many residents of Columbus know that the city is home to the country’s second-largest American population of Somali refugees, but their knowledge of the group’s history, traditions and daily realities may end there.
Forlorn In Ohio, a poignant photography exhibit at Kiaca Gallery, is an introduction to the faces and stories of the local Somali population.
Alongside the crisp black and white portraits, there are brief narratives about each subject, from the dire obstacles they confronted in the wake of the ousting of the Siad Barre regime in 1991 to the daily challenges they now experience in the United States.
The Message
The faces of elder Somalis like Hassan Mine are accompanied by the remarkable tale of his family’s survival in the desert as they made their way to a refugee camp, and eventually to the States.
Although they have faced extraordinary violence and survived, he and the show’s other subjects, including many who are younger, face a different set of paradoxes in their new land. Photographer Tariq Tarey’s goal was to show some of the economic and social realities of Somali immigrants after their arrival in the U.S.
Locally, immigrants must have a residence for 30 days before they can qualify for assistance, but they have no money for shelter during that period. When established family and friends take them in, everyone risks eviction.
Some children spend years in Somali refugee camps with no schooling whatsoever before coming to the U.S. When they arrive, they’re placed in public school according to age, sometimes facing algebra class before they’ve even begun to learn the alphabet.
Work is hard to find, and even when it is found, the commute can take as long as a part-time job and leave a family with less than $700 a month to live on.
“I wanted to tell Americans that there is no free ride in the United States,” Tarey said, pointing out that even the cost of the ticket to get here must be repaid to the government. “I can’t solve problems, I’m just trying to get the problems out there so everyone can see them.”
Meanwhile, history, while revered in Somali culture, is largely carried through oral tradition. Tarey wanted to document it more permanently. “They say when a Somali elder dies, a library dies, because that’s how we pass on our information,” he said.
The Photographer
Born in Mogadishu, Tarey spent his young adulthood in Syria, where he earned a bachelor’s degree in political science. Like many of the subjects in the exhibition, when he first immigrated to the U.S. in 1998, he was sent to another city, but he soon moved to Columbus.
The attraction to central Ohio was twofold: The cost of living is substantially lower than other places, but more importantly, there was already a tight-knit community of cousins and old friends that would help him to learn English and find his economic footing.
“It’s a classic Somali story, really,” he said. “You arrive and everyone helps you and gives you shelter and tells you who will hire Somalis. When I first got here I worked as a security guard for a while.”
He also worked as an accountant before eventually landing a job as a coordinator for Jewish Family Services’ Refugee Employment Program, which helps connect local Somalis with companies that are hiring.
By 2002, Tarey also began to nurture a newfound love of photography with the help of mentor Abdi Roble, a fellow Somali immigrant and respected local photographer. Together with writer Doug Rutledge and photo editor Stanley Kayne, the two men work on the Somali Documentary Project, an archival record of the Somali Diaspora.
In conjunction with the exhibition, a panel discussion about Somali refugees in Columbus will take place at the gallery this Saturday, July 8.
Source: Columbus Alive, July 6, 2006
