Mogadishu (AX) — Imagine a door as more than just wood and nails; imagine it as a fragile barrier between life and death. The film “Aano Qabiil,” or “Clan Revenge,” opens with a haunting scene: a man stands at this threshold, desperate, imploring for mercy—and yet, on the other side, waits a fate he might not survive.
It’s fiction. A story brought to life by Somali filmmakers about the tragic cycle of vendettas that plague their homeland. Yet, like so many dark tales inspired by reality, the lines between art and life blur. Outside that door, a woman’s cries cut through the turmoil, demanding blood—a chilling echo of ancestral grievances.
How do stories like these resonate with us? “What has he done to you?” cries Guudey Mohamed Geeddi, an actor in this unfolding drama. His character, full of moral conviction, struggles to pause the relentless circle of violence. But real life affords no such script or gentle interference, and for Guudey, fiction turned grimly prophetic when he too became a victim.
“Aano Qabiil” sought to hold a mirror up to a haunting truth families endure: the murder of a man, intended to repay another’s death. Its themes pierce the very soul of Somali culture and evoke a proverb steeped in bitterness: “No one has ever risen from the grave in vengeance.”
Abdisiyaad Abdullahi Mohamed, a talented 27-year-old filmmaker with Astaan TV, penned the tale. Growing up amidst stories of unjust deaths dictated by lineage rather than deeds, Abdisiyaad felt compelled to share that burden with the world. As he remarked to the BBC Somali Service, “I wanted people to feel the weight.” The death of any man, he explained, is more than an ending, it’s the crumbling of entire lives built around him, a destruction of microcosms.
In art mirroring reality, the film portrays the devastation wrought by clan revenge. A man named Cali, portrayed with quiet dignity, is cut down in a reprisal, leaving behind mournful friends and a legacy of grief. Guudey’s character, in his poignant plea for life, embodies the hope that words might yet avert tragedy. Unfortunately, outside the frame, his life ended without such intervention, fulfilling a bitter twist of fate—the actor who became the story.
Guudey had journeyed to Warsheikh, a quest to reconnect with family roots he would never return from. His death was as senseless as it was forewarned. Cadaawe, his confidant and fellow artist, expressed the inescapable irony: “He died the way we filmed it,” he noted, keenly aware that art’s battlefield had seeped into real life with no counterattacks from empathy or reason.
What drives these cycles of vengeance? Revenge, a poison more potent than any, seeps into every facet of Somali society. Its roots? Deep and twisted, entwining with politics and even love. And yet, remarkably, across generations, it persists—unchecked, often unchallenged.
A report published in 2023 by the UK-based think tank, PeaceRep, revealed a worrying surge in these acts of retaliation within Somalia’s central regions. Over 160 lives extinguished in a year, calls for justice left unheeded. In this climate, nearly eight out of every ten cases halt at the threshold of resolution. Each act of vengeance births another, an unending chain where today’s victims can become tomorrow’s perpetrators.
After Guudey’s own tragedy, “Aano Qabiil” found an unexpected resurgence, going viral on Somali social media platforms like TikTok and Facebook. It resonates especially with younger viewers, perhaps because it strikes a chord they too must navigate, whether through familial narratives or lived experiences.
The phrase “No one has ever risen from the grave in vengeance” echoes now like a haunting requiem—not just for Guudey, but for so many shadowed lifelines waiting in the undying loop of retributive justice.
When asked about the film’s new-found reach, Abdisiyaad pauses thoughtfully. His response isn’t just a call to action. Instead, he wishes for a deeper introspection, a hope that this film urges viewers to confront an inconvenient truth. “I want them to understand that revenge doesn’t end pain,” he declared. “It only creates more graves. Guudey gave his life to tell people that. I just hope someone heard him.”
Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring
