Mogadishu (AX) — In the heart of Adado, Hawo Mahamud Farah, better known as Hawo Jookar, shattered barriers by steering a Bajaj (auto-rickshaw) through the town’s lively streets. Not only did she face the grim realities of societal backlash and road hazards, but she did so to ensure a stable life for her five children, daring to defy entrenched gender expectations.
Hawo’s adventure in the Bajaj driver’s seat began under challenging circumstances. “I got hitched young,” she explained. “Later, I was left alone to fend for my five kids with zilch for support.” Pressured by these dire consequences, she set out on a quest to find a means of income, determined to sustain her family.
With a foundation in education, Hawo initially volunteered at a local hospital. She hoped the stint would translate into a permanent job. But when the time came, she was side-lined, a regressive gut punch that made her realize she needed to think outside the box for survival.
When her search for traditional jobs hit a brick wall, Hawo decided to challenge the status quo. The notion of driving a Bajaj—a role dominated by men in Somalia—crossed her mind. She mustered the courage to inquire about renting one, but the rental service owner was skeptical and hesitant. He only agreed after Hawo promised to secure a family member as a guarantor. “His jaw nearly dropped at my request,” she laughed. Her family, however, echoed society’s biases and initially refused to support her due to rumors suggesting she sought the job for social media fame. “My uncle, my last hope, advised me to find another job in town,” she recounted.
After much perseverance, Hawo finally navigated the narrow lanes of societal expectation and managed to rent the Bajaj. Facing whispers and curious looks, she stayed resolute. Her presence incited a medley of reactions: shock, criticism, and respect. “Some folks laughed, but others cheered me on,” Hawo mentioned.
Steering the Bajaj provided financial liberation, albeit with perilous encounters. As a woman defying traditional male roles, she faced threats from thieves and those disgruntled by her audacity. Recalling a particular harrowing incident, she said, “Three men requested a ride to the outskirts. I kept a wary eye on them.” Suspicion confirmed, they cornered her mid-journey. “Two flanked me while one stayed in, demanding my phone number for fare transfer,” she narrated.
Knowing she was in danger, Hawo made a split-second decision to leap from the Bajaj. Carrying a concealed pistol given by a cousin, she fired a warning shot. “That’s how I wriggled out of their trap,” she breathed.
After hustling for over 18 months, Hawo scraped together enough dough to buy her own Bajaj, thanks to a turnaround in family support. However, the relentless jostling on Adado’s rocky roads took a toll, causing her kidney pain. She sold the Bajaj and bought a small car for taxi services. Eventually, she sold the car to purchase land and a small drill for stone pit excavation.
“Ladies, we can tackle any job that men do,” she declared emphatically. “I implore women to stand up and get to work,” she added.
