The “Darling of Asmara” Finally Rests in Peace!

On a summer day in Cairo, I went to the zoo in the Giza area with my older sister, Fatima, and her three children. While we were wandering in the zoo, we reached the horse-riding area. The norm for the visitors was to ride the horse with the assistance of a worker and to proceed under the worker’s supervision. However, my sister Fatima seamlessly pulled a horse and jumped onto its back effortlessly. One of the workers came towards her, yelling at the top of his voice, “Be careful, ma’am!” My sister just ignored him and confidently moved forward with the horse, leaving the worker in utter shock. The poor worker did not know that the one he was calling “ma’am” was, in the 1960s and 1970s, a horse champion in the official horse racing competitions in Eritrea, appearing on the front pages of newspapers and having a reputation reminiscent of renowned celebrities.

Last Thursday, in the stillness of a dark night, my sister Fatima quietly departed from this world, far from her birthplace, in her residence in Denver, USA. Fatima was distinguished not only in horseback riding but in various aspects of her life. Before the 1960s, girls in Eritrea did not go beyond elementary school, but Fatima broke the norms by becoming one of the few women who reached university level. She graduated from Asmara University – Faculty of Law – with a thesis titled “The Quran as a Source of International Law.” She was fluent in Arabic and English, in addition to learning French and Italian, and in total she knew around eight languages.

Fatima had a keen desire to learn every skill; she excelled in all kinds of sports, including swimming, karate, basketball, table tennis, racquetball, and others. She rode her bicycle on the streets of Asmara at a time when it was rare to see a woman cycling, except for Italian women. In addition, she was skilled in women’s handicrafts and was an active member of the YWCA women’s club. She had an acute interest in public issues, and at university, she was a prominent voice, often at the forefront. She was the face of student protests at the university and was arrested and imprisoned but was shortly released, thanks to prompt intervention from the Italian university administration. Fatima was bold and daring, never hesitating to express her opinions, including dissenting views against the emperor’s government. She used to publicly taunt those who succumbed to the will of the emperor and sold their homeland by calling out at them, “Faranco”—meaning “I signed away my country.” She was probably the only one who did not bow her head to the king when she received her university diploma from him.

After her father’s death, Fatima married Prince Mohammed, the son of Sultan Ali Mirah, the Sultan of the Afar region of Awasa. Their wedding in Asmara was a momentous occasion, unmatched in grandeur. Fatima did not stay long in Asmara after her marriage, as a military coup against the emperor occurred in Ethiopia in 1974, followed by a campaign of terror and systematic killings in Asmara. She and her husband fled secretly, leaving their home with all its new furniture and cars, which were all looted by government soldiers. Since Sultan Ali Mirah was also threatened by the new military regime, he moved with his entire family and entourage to Saudi Arabia, which welcomed them and granted them political asylum and open residency for all who came from their side. Fatima was a good intermediary in Saudi Arabia, facilitating residency permits for many people. After some time in Saudi Arabia, she and her husband moved to America for study, then returned to Cairo, where they settled. Her husband died in Cairo, leaving her to struggle alone in raising their children until they grew up, after which she moved to America again and settled there.

In America, she engaged in various jobs, including translation. One of the amusing stories she told me was that one day she was invited to translate into Saho for an Eritrean family. She sat in the waiting area next to that family without knowing who they were. When she heard them speaking Saho, she started talking to them. Given her fair features, which made her look like a typical Egyptian woman, the man stood up in disbelief and exclaimed, “Where did you come from? Who taught you, Saho?” She replied, “I am an Eritrean Saho speaker.” The man couldn’t believe it and kept saying, “Are you sure? I thought you were Egyptian or Mexican!”

Fatima loved the poor, the marginalized, and the oppressed. I remember she met a political refugee from Rhodesia—now Zimbabwe—at Asmara University named Elias, with whom she sympathized and supported his cause. She took him around and introduced him to everyone she knew, explaining the discrimination and oppression Africans faced in their country at the hands of the white settlers and how he fled from his country because of that. One of the people she introduced him to was our uncle, Hamid, who came from a remote village in the “Nebkadi” mountains. She told him about the injustices faced by Black people, and my uncle was greatly moved and sympathized with Elias. He said to her in the simple sentiment of a farmer, “My daughter, tell him: If things were good for us as they were before, we would have taken you with us to our village and made you our shepherd!” Fatima continued to care for Elias until he was fully adjusted to his new environment, married a Yemeni woman, and graduated from university; he always held her in high regard.

Some of her classmates at university had psychological issues, including a student named “Hadish,” who would become violent during his episodes. Fatima was the most capable of calming him down. I remember his parents coming to our home at dawn from far away, seeking Fatima’s help to soothe their raging son. She went with them without hesitation, and this happened several times. She was in the habit of regularly conversing with the doormen she met on her way. I remember her meeting one of the doormen she knew, an elderly Christian man, who joyfully said to her, “My dear, I received my salary today, and I am going to the pub to drink ‘sewa’—homemade alcohol.” Fatima replied with great politeness, “Uncle, alcohol is harmful to you; it’s better to stay away from it, and if you must, don’t drink too much.” Even in Cairo, I found her familiar with all the doormen in the neighborhood; they liked her and greeted her, and typically she would give them whatever tips she had. During my visit to her in Cairo, an Egyptian woman in the neighborhood came by but hesitated to enter. Fatima told her, “Come in, he is my brother.” They talked for a while, and after she left, Fatima said to me, “This woman suffers from a husband who beats and humiliates her and does not provide for her; she always comes to me seeking help, and I assist her and console her as much as I can.”

Fatima was very sociable, with a wide presence, even in diplomatic circles and foreign missions. She had many friends from all nationalities and faiths. She personified the tolerant, multifaith, and multicultural outlook of Asmara. She was in the process of writing a booklet about the biographies of her friends and acquaintances. One of the many people she met was a Swedish visitor who came for research purposes. Fatima took her to museums and important places. After a while, the Swedish woman asked Fatima to take her to a nightclub for some drinks, to which Fatima responded, “I am an observant Muslim; I don’t go to such places. Look for someone else.” Due to her fame, an American organization offered her a scholarship at the American University in Beirut or another university in London. Strangely, the offer was made to her through the Governor-General of Eritrea, Asrate Kassa, who presented it to her father. However, her father was suspicious of this request and its motives, as his relationship with the Governor-General was strained due to the prevailing political situation, so he ignored the offer and did not pursue it.

Fatima was close to her father and served as his scribe. He used to dictate his works to her, which she would write in her own handwriting. He would typically listen to her; sometimes he disagreed with her but engaged her in gentle discussions. I remember that after she received her first salary, she approached our father and said: “Dad, you always wear the same shoes to every formal occasion; you must have a second pair.” Despite our father’s hesitation, she drew a picture of his foot on a piece of paper and bought him a new pair of shoes that he only wore for a few months before his passing. On the day our father died, she insisted on giving him a final look, even though it was not customary to allow women to do so. She defied everyone and entered the room where his coffin was, taking me with her to bid a final farewell to our father. His face bore an astonishing tranquility, as if he was in a peaceful afternoon nap.

Fatima was the one who taught me how to ride a bicycle, attempted to teach me horse riding, and various sports. She tried to enroll me in a sports club in Asmara. She instilled in me a sense of nationalism, a hatred for injustice, and pride in my identity. My sister Fatima passed away in a place where not many knew about her past, far from her homeland, where she inspired many and was greatly admired. She departed without a return to her beloved city, Asmara, where she was referred to admiringly as “the horse rider” – በዓልቲ ፈረስ – and “the bicyclist” – በዓልቲ ቢሽከለታ.

May God have mercy on her, bless her and her father, and grant them both a place in the abode of ever lasting peace.