By Zak Osman

Friday 02.10.04
It was Friday, the day before the Big Day and I finally managed to bring the remains of the money needed to rent the concert hall. I hurrily biked to the concert hall before the staff leaves for the weekend. I entered the small office and introduced myself to one of the three office workers who happened a smiling blonde middle-aged man. He pondered over my information for a moment and started browsing through his PC.

"Osman you said?" he asked flicking files.
I nodd nervously and he tried again in vain.
"Oh!" exclaims a black-haired lady at the next computer. "I think I erased it this morning. The deadline was to pay the deposit was yesterday, you know."
Nodding I glanced over the man´s shoulder and saw that the 2nd of October was still up for grabs.
"I will pay now the deposit," I said hopefully.
"Only if you can pay it NOW,," says the smiling man decisively.
I reached for my fat wallet, empted it and placed the entire content on the wooden table between me and the man. In few minutes I had a signed contract, releifed and smiling.


Saturday
The Big Day has finally arrived. That night was the long waited night. It was almost 17:00 and in few hours it was a showtime at Nørre Alle´Medborgerhus in Nørrebro, KBN. Many Somalis in Denmark who were waiting for the event were now doing their final check up. And I, as the main organizer, was no exception.

I went through the list of to-do´s since the concert hall was now ready. The flyers had been distributed among the Somali community in Denmark, and it had also been posted in www.hiiraan.com, the most popular site Somalis get the information of their pop music and concert dates (though I still didn´t pay it yet).

My guest stars were also ready. Our newly discovered Somali female star from Vejle has arrived Copenhagen yesterday, and I bet she was nervous. The other guest star who is from London also arrived couple of hours ago. The DJs are at the premise and the doormen in place. In short, everything was set and everybody ready.


Inside The Concert Hall
I with my guest star from London home and drove in our rented car about 21:30. As we got closer to the premise I saw a number of Somali youngesters walking past us the opposite direction. As I had no suspecion I took no serious note at them. But as soon as we arrived at the premise driving around the place looking for an empty parking lot I noticed that something odd was underway. It was not the typical night we held Somali concerts where dressed up boys and ladies in mini skirts scattered all over the place joyfully trying to to get into the concert. Instead of going into the hall the youngesters were jumping to cabs driving off. Others were arriving with cabs or private cars but driving off again. We parked the car and walked towards the concert hall. There was no sound coming from it. If I didn´t know better I´d have thought that the party was over. Perplexed we intered the concert hall and there was no doorman at the door. Still surprised we entered and voila!

Instead of pumping music, blinking lights and dressed up youngesters shaking booty, the concert hall was as dead as a nail, cold as ice and quite as a hospital. The blinking disco lights were replaced by white confrence ones. Instead of youthful energetic Somali girls and boys dancing to their favourite tunes there sat, in a large circle, dozens of quite, solem-faced, long-bearded, reserved middle-aged men wearing layers of white Pakistani shalwars. They were sitting on the chairs that I rented for my guests to sit on when they wanna take a break from dancing, or got too drunk. As though I was the Devil himself all eyes were on me as entered the concert hall.
"Remember that we will all die," one of the long-bearded men was saying. "This is a Satan´s work and I am only saying this because I love you."
I was shocked to say the least. I was carying my music equipments so I just passed them by and headed straight to the DJ console. As though that was not enough the console was empty. Still shocked to my pants I wondered where the hell are my DJs. I placed the equipments on the floor and walked back to the circle of people. I noticed that both my DJs and doormen were among the obeying listeners.
"Whats going on?" I asked in awe. "Why on earth are you guys sitting here and who .. ?"
"Shshshshsh," one of the long bearded men hushed me. "We are in the middle of something important."
"Important?" I exclaimed. "Important, my ass!"
"Salamu Aleikum, Brother," said another.
"Dont salamu aleikim meman," I said angrily. "And I aint your brother. Who the hell are you and why are you in my concert hall. I rented this place so I can have a concert."
Two of them stood up intimidatingly.
"We want to talk to you, Brother," said one of them reaching for my shoulder.
"Dont touch me!" I exclaimed shaking him off. "And get the hell outa my hall. By now I already figured out that they were some sort of religious fanatics. "Now!" I added eyeing the entire seated uniformed force in front of me then added, "or I will call the police."
"What do you say if we refund you now and you stop the concert?" sugested an elderly long-bearded dude sitting on my right.
"And why would I do that?" I asked sracastically. "I am here to perform and perform I will."
There was a noisy silence for a moment or two.
"Out," I ordered politely pointing towards the door.
They probably got the point because they all stood up, mumbling threats and insults.
"What if we pay you your expenses PLUS the profit you were gonna make?" asked the same dude stubbornly. I am sure he thought that was a compromise. I smiled and left for the DJ console shaking my head with disbeleive. They started walking towards the door swearing and angry. I didnt pay attention and started to plug my PA system together. My DJ followed me in silence.
"What the fuck is your problem?" I asked the DJ furiously. "I hired you to play music and here you are sitting with those stupid looking dudes listening to their crab!"
He silently started helping me put the equipment together."How long they have been in here?" I asked still agitated.
"About 20 minutes or so," he mumbled.
"This is unbeleivable!" I cried then I saw the doorman I hired going towards the door as the last man in shalwar was stepping out. "And you!" I shouted. "What´s your problem, man? What is this nonsense you guys are doing?"
"I couldn´t do anything," he mumbled. "They were too many and too assertive."

I glanced at the clock on my cellphone and it was almost 22:30. I wrote on the flyers that the concert was starting at 22:00. I looked around the hall desparately. Apart from my silent and quite crew there were few, mainly male, individual customers with no partners. The entire situation was sombre. It was as though we are about to have a funeral rather than a party. Well, I told myself, it is still early and we can still have our concert going.

Well, we got it started right after we connected the PA system together and ourselves together. The DJ started pumping music. The colourful blinking disco lights came to live again. I puffed cigarettes chain-smoking, walking up and down, back and forth the concert hall making sure that everybody was ready and everything in place - again. Only God and myself knew how much time, money and energy it took me to put that show together for my fellow Somalis in Denmark. I know that the majority of the Somali parents donnot aprove their lovely-looking, party-loving, hard-drinking girls and boys to go clubbing like their Danish counterparts in the "normal" Danish clubs. They are only allowed to go to the "Somali" concerts where there is "only" music, sex and alcohol. But I was determined to make that night work both for me and them.

Anyway, I started singing about midnight for a half a dozen of die hard fans scattered in the empty hall. But I couldn´t sing more than a song or two and then the DJ started playing. I grabbed a beer and headed for the backstage room where we, the performers, were suposed to sit. I noticed that one of my clleagues and my only female performer were not yet present. I inquired about their absence and found out that the lady needed escort and my colleague went to her rescue. Fair enough, I remember thinking, since she was from Vejle and didn´t know her way around Copenhagen yet.

Finishing my first beer and thinking of getting me another, the doorman knocked on the door and entered. From the look in his eyes I could see that something was the matter. He motioned to me to aproach him. I stood up and walked towards him putting the empry beer can on the table. My heart missed a beat.
"They are at the gate," he said hopelessly.
I remained silent, trying to contain my anger.
"Them religious dudes!" he snapped. "They are standing at the outside gate blocking the entire road."
I could no longer hide my feelings. I was numb with anger. I took a deep breathe and hurried out of the hall, stumbling over some of the chairs they left in the dance floor, tipping a drink or two over.

Outside The Hall
I came out of the concert hall to asses the situation. What I saw was beyond my wildest imagination. There was a strong crowd of over a hundred, hauling and hollering, scattered all over the road, bloking the main gate and the traffic. It was as though some sort of demonstration was being staged right before my door and I wasnt even aware of it. There were about 70 of them religious dude now. And most of them were new faces. Angry and energetic. Behind them some of my fans were frantically trying to pass through the line of hardliners on their way. Others were trying to reason with them trying to talk some sense to them. Behind all of them stood a dozen of shy Somali ladies in mini skirts and skimpy dresses waiting for the enterance to clear. Some of them were jumping to passing by cabs flailing their arms and fleeing. I felt I was responsible their humiliation. It was not a good feeling, at all. It was nothing short of a shock. It was perfectly scary and humiliating situation.

But I had to hold my ground. I tried not to be intimidated and I think I showed courage under fire. Their argument was that music was Satan´s work and should therefore not be played or listened to. I tried to reason with them but to no avail. I asked them where in the Koran it stands that music is haram. One of them read out a verse that said that people should stay away from "Satan´s work". I told them that I dont agree with their interpretation of the "Satan´s work". After a long serious and scary debate I told them to fuck off and that I was going to call the police if they didn´t leave immidiately. And calling the police is exactly what I did at the end.

I was inside the concert hall performing when the doorman came to me again and told me that the police are here asking for me. I went out and there were two police officers. They asked me if I called for them and what the problem was.
"The problem?" I asked surprised because the dudes who thought they were "religious" were still outside. "They are the problem," I added pointing to the long bearded male chauvanists crowded outside the gate. I was wondering why the police didn´t figure it out by themselves. Then I noticed there other police officers at the gate speaking with the religious dudes. The sight of a female police officer particularly comforted me because I know those in the Pakistani shalwars oppressed women most.
"They are the problem?" asked one of the officers with questioining police eyes. "How? Why?"
"We are having a concert," I started, "and they are bllocking our customers from coming in."
"Blocking?" asked the other officer. "Why?"
"Because they think music is anti-Islamic," I added smiling. "They are preaching the most extreme form of Islam to my customers, intimidating them and harrassing them."
"Are you telling us that those guys are here to preach that Islam is against music and therefore stopping people from coming inside?" asked the first officer.
"Thats exactly what I am saying," I insisted.
"You can´t be serious!" exclaimed the officer surprised. "Are you telling me that these group of men are here not because they wanna enter the concert but stop it for religious reasons?"
"Yeps."
"You can´t be serious!" the officer repeated as though he was running out of words.
He asked me for my CPR-nummer and name and they headed for the crowd as I went back to perform.

To make a long story short, the fanatics were despersed and the police left. Later I found out that they didn´t leave but came back as soon as the police left the premise and started getting on with their business. I was on stage at the time so I asked a friend to call the police again. I also asked the two male Turkish looking staff in the office next door to call the police since they were responsible of the place. They both called for the police and I later found out that the entire neighborhood were full of ploce force dispersing the crowd outside. But the fanatics didn´t exactæy leave but hid in the trees in the park in front of the building. Fans and friends told me the day after that the religious dudes were not only hiding in the trees but also standing, in groups of three to four all the way to Nørrebrogade, stopping Somalis on their way to the concert, harrasing laides clad in sexy garments and threatenning everybody else who opposed them.

Anyway, 90 per cent of my customers were scarried away, intimidated and humiliated when the dudes finally left the premise for good about 2 am. By then it was already too late for us to get our concert going in full swing. Instead of 200 to 300 cusomers we ended up with two dozens of die-hard fans and courageous ladies. Friends, aquantants, fans and lovers were calling me constantly from discotheques, homes and other premises. Some were complaing, some crying, some inquiring and some were trying to soothe me. The truth is - regardles of their good intentions - none of them or their comments made me feel any better. The more they called the more I was furious and sad. But I never stopped singing for the couple of dozens that showed courage and determination that faithful Saturday night. It was heart-breaking to find out later that some of my colleagues and performers were sympayhizing with those hardliners for various reaasons. Some were literarily afraid of them physically as they were intimidated, some were just ignorant about Islam as most Somalis are.

In conclusion, the episode that took place in that Saturday night broke my heart, made me angry to my limit and shocked me beyond my dreams. I am a Somali. I am a refugee. I am a balck man. I am a Rasfari. I am an educated journalist. I am a Muslim. And I am proud of being who I am. But I am not an idiot and will never accept and tolerate these form of religious extremism. As the director of one my schools - The European Film School - once said to us in class "any form of extremism is against democracy. As an educated Somali from the Capital city, Mogadisho, I know for certain that none of our women were dressed up as the Taliban. I also know for certain that we were always free. Boys and girls were allowed to date, go out to concerts and go about their business like decent humans do. But I also know the new trend of "religiousity" that has slowly been spreading among the Somalis everywhere and particularly among those in the Scandinavian countries. This was true for the last 14 years since our entire system collapsed. Now, I undertsand that some of us need to lean on God when they have nothing else to beleive but I neither understand nor accept that they force their confusion and beleif onto others - v´certainly not onto me.

Wether we are Somalis, Danes or otherwise, Muslims, Christians, Jews or otherwise, we all want to be free. This is why we, Somalis, came to Denmark and left our beloved country - to remain free and be safe. My fellow Somalis need to remember that and appriciate it. But if these minority of Somalis want to take my God given right to be free and go about my business which is legal according to the constitution of Denmark, the one of Somalia and - most important of all - according to the holly Koran, I will NOT accept it. If they do not like music they should remain in their mosque in Nørrebro. If they do not like Denmark and will not respect the Danish constitution which the Danish socity was building for hundreds of years, then they should leave. I am sure many of us will be more than willing to help with their airplane tickets. This is not a dictatorship country where a few MEN decide the fate of millions. I will not sing to their extremist hallelujaha tune but to my own Goosta (get kinky) tune for which my fans came from all over Denmark to hear and dance to.