In London’s Kensington, British‑Somali graduates turn caps and hopes toward a shared future
On a mild Sunday in the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, blue-and-white ribbons—echoes of the Somali flag—fluttered outside a packed hall as families streamed in, clutching bouquets and camera phones. Inside, as the names of new graduates were called, ululations rose, and elders lifted their hands in prayer. This was the 5th British‑Somali Global Graduation Ceremony, a community rite of passage that has grown into a showcase of achievement, ambition, and belonging for a diaspora straddling two worlds.
- Advertisement -
The event, held in one of London’s most storied boroughs, brought together students from leading UK universities, political leaders from multiple parties, and Somali professionals from across the country. It was both celebration and signal: a sign of how far a once-marginalized community has come, and a reminder that success here can ripple across the Indian Ocean, shaping lives in Mogadishu, Hargeisa, Garowe—and every postcode in between.
A ceremony that feels like home
It’s easy to understate the power of a graduation. But on this day, the podium carried years of struggle: parents working multiple jobs, newcomers navigating language and systems, first-generation students learning to be first in everything. Several graduates took the microphone to share how they balanced lectures with caretaking, dissertations with weekend shifts, and deadlines with family commitments. The audience nodded in recognition. For many, education isn’t only personal—it’s communal infrastructure.
“Our achievements are shared,” one speaker said, echoing a theme that ran through the afternoon. “We stand on our families’ sacrifices and our community’s faith in us.” Along the aisles, younger siblings watched with quiet intensity, the next in line.
Honouring a telecom that stayed close to its roots
This year’s ceremony carried an added layer of symbolism. Graduates received awards sponsored by Hormuud Telecom, Somalia’s largest telecommunications firm and a long-time supporter of education and community development in the Horn of Africa and its diaspora. The company, synonymous with Somalia’s mobile money revolution and digital resilience, was itself honoured with a Special Award for Educational Support and Philanthropy.
The award was presented by Joe Powell, the Member of Parliament for Kensington and Bayswater and a Minister at the Department of Justice, who has hosted the ceremony in his constituency for five consecutive years. His office framed the recognition as both a thank-you and a call to deepen UK–Somalia educational and cultural ties.
Somalia’s Ambassador to the United Kingdom, Abdulkadir Hashi, congratulated Hormuud, calling the honour “a step towards building a stronger relationship between our two countries,” and pledged to enhance cooperation “in education, innovation, and institutional development.”
From the company’s side, leaders spoke directly to the diaspora. “The partnership between the two countries will be stronger than ever,” said Abdirashid Ali Ainanshe, Hormuud’s Chief Communications Officer. Abdalla Ahmed Ali, the company’s Chief Finance Officer, said Hormuud felt “honoured to be part of such an inspiring celebration and to continue investing in education for a better future.”
Politics, policy, and the promise in the room
The presence of British political figures underscored the ceremony’s evolving heft on the civic calendar. Kensington’s mayor, Councillor Tom Bennett, attended, alongside Councillor Kasim Ali, leader of the borough’s Labour Group; and James Small‑Edwards, a member of the Greater London Assembly and Chair of Planning and Regeneration.
Small‑Edwards praised Hormuud’s sustained commitment to youth empowerment, while Kasim Ali commended the company’s steady backing since 2019, noting it “truly deserves this honour.” In a notable gesture of reciprocal learning, Councillor Ali accepted Hormuud’s invitation for British‑Somali political leaders to visit Somalia and share their expertise with institutions there—an exchange that could provide a rare public-sector bridge between local governance in London and state-building in the Horn of Africa.
Why this matters beyond the gowns
British‑Somalis form one of the UK’s most active transnational communities, with deep roots in London, Birmingham, Manchester, Bristol, and Cardiff. Over the past decade, as access to higher education widened and representation in professional sectors expanded, community-led graduation ceremonies like this emerged as spaces of affirmation. They are places where academic success is framed not as assimilation, but as contribution.
There is a larger context, too. Remittances sent by Somalis abroad—often by families like those in Sunday’s audience—remain a lifeline to the Somali economy, estimated in recent years at over a billion dollars annually. Education, meanwhile, is becoming the diaspora’s next big investment. Scholarships, mentorship programs, and institutional partnerships are proliferating, with private sector actors like Hormuud lending muscle to efforts once carried by families and faith groups alone.
As Somalia navigates climate stress, security challenges, and technological change, the skill sets on display at Kensington—engineering, medicine, law, computer science, education, public policy—are precisely what fragile states need from their global citizens. The graduates celebrated here may never work in Mogadishu, but many will contribute in other ways: building research links, advising startups, supporting NGOs, or shaping UK policy that affects Somalia and the wider region.
The texture of an afternoon—and a community
Between the citations and handshakes, there was laughter—the kind that comes when cousins reunite and aunties compare who cried first. One could hear Somali and English interweave with ease, testimony to a generation as comfortable in London libraries as at family gatherings. It’s a fusion that has defined the British‑Somali story since the days of seafaring lascars docking in British ports a century ago.
Diaspora graduations have a unique aesthetic: the tassels compete with finely embroidered dirac and tailored suits; the orderly roll call gives way to spontaneous songs; and the future, often spoken about in policy documents, is suddenly here in front of you, in mortarboards and shy grins.
Questions that linger—on both shores
As the crowd spilled onto the street, the questions felt as relevant as the celebrations. How can UK institutions better recognize the contribution of diaspora communities—not only culturally, but in research, innovation, and economic development? What policies will ensure that graduates from backgrounds like these find pathways into leadership across sectors? And how can partnerships—between London boroughs and Somali municipalities, between universities and Somali startups—move from symbolic to structural?
These are not rhetorical musings. They are the basis of tomorrow’s exchange programs, procurement decisions, grant guidelines, and corporate strategies. If the UK wants to strengthen ties with a region of critical geopolitical importance, and if Somalia wants to harness the potential of its global citizenry, then Sunday’s ceremony offered a practical starting point: invest in people who already live in both places at once.
From celebration to blueprint
The organizers—British‑Somali Global Graduates, in collaboration with the Baraka Community Association, an educational charity based in Kensington and Chelsea—are pushing that agenda forward. Their events stitch together a fabric of mentorship, networking, and visibility that can translate into jobs and joint ventures. From the dais, the message was clear: this is not a one-day celebration; it’s an annual checkpoint on a long, collective journey.
In a year when debates about migration often calcify into slogans, here was a different picture: families applauding, public servants listening, a Somali telecom honored for knitting together classrooms in London with ambitions in Mogadishu. The applause eventually faded. The promises, one sensed, would not.
By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.
