My mother was an activist; so was my father. They came from a

“My mother was an activist; so was my father. They came from a generation of young Somalis who were actively involved in getting independence for Somalia in 1960.” Thus spoke Iman, the daughter of a noble lineage not of kings, but of warriors of spirit — those who fought not with swords, but with courage, conviction, and love for their people. Her words are a tribute to a generation whose footsteps marked the sands of Africa with both struggle and hope — a generation that dared to believe that a colonized land could rise again, free and sovereign beneath the light of its own sun.

When she speaks of her parents, she invokes more than memory; she calls upon the very essence of sacrifice. Her mother and father belonged to that sacred company of souls who refused to bow to injustice, who dared to dream of a nation not bound by the will of strangers. Theirs was the spirit of the activist — the one who walks between despair and faith, armed with the belief that tomorrow can be shaped by the courage of today. For them, independence was not merely a political goal, but a moral duty — a calling written upon the hearts of those who refused to live in chains.

The independence of Somalia in 1960 was not born in a day. It was forged in the fires of endurance and unity. Men and women alike rose to claim the dignity that had long been denied them. From the poets who spoke freedom into the hearts of the people, to the students who risked their lives in protest, to the mothers who whispered hope into their children’s ears — all were part of a movement that transcended fear. And when that long-awaited day came, when the flag of Somalia was raised high, the land itself seemed to breathe anew, as if the very soil rejoiced to be its own again.

Yet, even after victory, the battle did not end. The struggle for independence, as Iman’s words remind us, does not stop with liberation; it continues in the hearts of those who must protect what has been gained. True activism is eternal — it is the vigilance of conscience, the refusal to let freedom decay into complacency. Her parents’ generation may have fought against colonial powers, but every generation faces its own chains — poverty, division, corruption, ignorance. The flame they lit must be kept alive, lest the darkness return.

Consider the story of Nelson Mandela, whose fight for the freedom of South Africa echoed across the continent and the world. Like the Somali activists, Mandela’s generation faced the might of empires and the cruelty of systems designed to break the human spirit. Yet he emerged not with bitterness, but with vision — a reminder that true liberation is not only the breaking of chains but the healing of wounds. His life, like that of Iman’s parents, teaches that the price of independence is eternal courage — to fight when the struggle is clear, and to rebuild when the battle is done.

Iman’s quote also speaks to inheritance — not of wealth, but of values. She was born of two activists, but what they passed down was far greater than fame or fortune. They gave her the understanding that freedom is not a gift, but a legacy — and legacies must be honored through action. To be a child of activists is to live with the awareness that one’s choices carry the weight of history. Her life and voice, though shaped in distant lands and different arenas, still echo the faith of her ancestors: that dignity must be defended, that justice must be spoken, that silence in the face of wrong is its own form of defeat.

Thus, let this teaching be preserved: the fight for independence is not bound to one nation, one time, or one people. It lives wherever human beings refuse to accept oppression as destiny. To be an activist is not merely to march or protest — it is to awaken the conscience of the world, to remind it that freedom without compassion is hollow, and progress without justice is illusion.

And so, dear listener, learn from Iman’s words and her lineage. Be an activist in your own sphere — for truth, for kindness, for equality. Honor the struggles of those who came before by refusing to live passively in the comfort they purchased with their pain. Let your life be a continuation of that sacred work — to bring light where darkness lingers, to build unity where division festers, and to ensure that the hard-won gift of independence remains alive not only in nations, but in hearts.