Samira Ahmed - From Abuse to Abundance

Snellville resident Samira Ahmed, originally from Ethiopia, moved to Clarkston on July 12, 1995.  

Part of her story was featured , including her transition to life in America and the challenges she and her family faced.  The most challenging event, though, was what she left behind, or rather, who.  

Abuse and Pregnancy
Ahmed converted to Islam when she was just 16.  Her mother, a devout Christian and mother of six, did not support her decision.  Shortly thereafter, she met a man who she believed would change her life for the better. 

“He said he would make sure I got an education and a good life,” she said.  “That wasn’t the case.” 

He was a doctor, and the son of a very well-to-do and prominent Ethiopian family.  Ahmed quickly became pregnant, but did not even realize she was carrying a child until she was four or five months along.  Once she realized it, she told Aziza’s father. 

“He wanted to kill us,” Ahmed recalled with horror.  “He hit me, tried to find any way to abuse me.  He squeezed my stomach until I couldn’t breathe.  He found reasons to beat me.”  

He wanted her to abort the baby, and determined to perform the surgery himself.  By the time he cleared his schedule, however, the Ethiopian government collapsed, bringing any semblance of order to a halt.  The hospital he worked at was a military hospital and felt the effects strongly.  Once things were back in working order, she was already seven months along.  

When she went into labor, the doctor on call asked if she had been abused, but she denied it, since Aziza’s father was in the room the whole time.   

Flight to Djibouti, East Africa
Once Ahmed returned home from the hospital, the abuse continued for a year.  She tried to leave and find work, but no one would hire her with a baby.  When Aziza’s father brought home another woman, Ahmed was relegated to sleeping on the floor and cooking and cleaning.  She feared for her life.  There was no end in sight in regards to the abuse, and she made the most difficult decision of her life. 

She left.  

“I felt like, at least she would have a home,” she said, describing those first few months without Aziza.  “I had no where to go and no one would take me, especially with a baby.” 

She called neighbors every day to find out how Aziza was doing.  Her neighbors told her to never come back, because he would kill her.  She was able to find passage into the small island of Djibouti in northeast Africa through the kindness of a stranger, but she cried so much for her daughter every day that her tears left deep stains on her cheeks.  

Aziza’s grandparents, who did not even know the child was their granddaughter, quickly discerned the truth of what happened. They raised Aziza until she was four.  

Ahmed met her current husband on the island, and together they were selected to come to America as immigrants.  Years went by before she was able to speak to her daughter.  

Reconciliation
Aziza was under the mistaken impression that the woman living with her father was her mother, until the day she heard the woman on the phone with a neighbor. The new wife was planning to leave Aziza’s father, and wanted to find her real mother in order to reunite them. 

Eventually, when Aziza was eleven, the pair reconnected over the phone.  Ahmed was at work at the time, and was shaking once she got off the phone. 

“I just spoke to my daughter!” she told curious co-workers, tears running down her face.  “For the first time in eleven years!” 

When Aziza turned 13 she came to the states to live with her mother.  

“She had a good life there,” Ahmed said, “but she needed her mother.  She told me that every time a stranger walked by, she would think, 'Is that my real mother?'"

Ahmed’s life changed for the better once Aziza arrived. 

“When Aziza came, she became my best friend.  We talk a lot, no matter how busy I am.  We talk about anything and everything,” she said.  “She changed my life in a great, great way.” 

this fall and plans on entering Emory's pre-med program. 

Looking back, Ahmed sees a supernatural hand in the events of her life. 

“I really believe that God won’t give you something you can’t handle,” she reflected.  “He gave it to me, and knew I could handle it.  He gave me the strength, the patience.  I didn’t have a lot of money, but I had money to feed my kids.”  

Hardship was always a part of Ahmed’s life, but she conquered it. 

“When I left my mom, I was 16 and worked as a housekeeper in my friend’s house,” Ahmed said.  “If we changed it to American dollars, it was maybe $2 per month.  I worked in my young age really hard physical jobs, then had a baby at an early age.” 

She believes her hardships have made her stronger. 

“No one can take advantage of anybody if I am around,” she said.  “I came from nothing, to where I am today.  Most girls my age back home are dead from HIV.  I am so lucky.” 

Future Plans
And now, her children give her an even greater hope for the future. During Aziza’s graduation party, she stood with all five of her children.  

“That night, standing with my five kids at Aziza’s graduation party, was the best thing in my life by far,” she said.  “I want my kids to be whoever they want to be, and to dream.  I know they will have a good life.  One wants to be a doctor, another wants to be a web designer.  Everybody has a dream, and I can’t wait for them all to reach their goals.” 

Ahmed is now the seafood team leader at Whole Foods, a job she is very proud of and enjoys.  She is the only female seafood manager in the region.  

Ahmed is writing a book about her experiences and hopes to inspire women who are in abusive situations to get help.  

Ahmed believes that all women are strong and should not have to suffer at the hands of anyone that would try to hurt them.  

An organization called Tapestri, based out of Atlanta, was created specifically to help abused refugee women. They are dedicated to ending violence and oppression in refugee and immigrant communities, “using culturally competent and appropriate methods.”  

If you or someone you know is a victim of abuse, call 1-800-33-HAVEN (4-2836) or 1-800-799-SAFE.