One morning early in his freshman year at Cornell University, Ahmed Ahmed got a writing assignment back, flipped it over and stared at the letter in shock: C+.
He went to his biology class, where the professor displayed a large graph showing the distribution of the grades for the exam, for which, like the writing assignment, Ahmed had studied really hard. The average was 85, with a very small deviation.
He got his exam, turned it over: 69.
He walked quickly to a lake near campus, wiping away tears. Even with his always-laughing, perennially optimistic personality, Ahmed couldn’t help but realize that despite everything he had done to earn a spot at Cornell, and how much a degree from the Ivy League school could transform his own life and his family’s, hard work might not be enough.
It happens every year to freshmen, not just at Cornell but also all top universities, said the school’s former president, Hunter R. Rawlings III; the students were all-stars in high school, and both the competition from classmates and the expectations from professors are so much more intense that there’s often a midterm punch in the gut.
But few have as much at stake as Ahmed.
He didn’t talk about his past until sweeping rhetoric from the campaign, and President Trump’s executive orders on immigration, pulled him up short. Many Americans support Trump’s efforts to tighten border controls, targeting certain countries including Somalia, as a means to keep radical Islamist terrorists out of the country.
For Ahmed though, it hit home. “To place this broad, encompassing stereotype or narrative on a whole group” didn’t make sense to him, he said. “I know how unique every individual story is.”
Ahmed said he suddenly felt it would be a injustice — as a black man, as a refugee, as a Muslim, as an immigrant — not to tell his own story.
Ahmed’s family fled Somalia during the country’s bloody civil war. Their home had been targeted repeatedly by robbers, the last time by a group of men who stormed in wearing black ski masks and carrying AK-47s.
Ahmed was born in a refugee camp in Kenya, his parents’ eighth child and their “lucky baby,” as they called him: After his birth, they were granted asylum in the United States.
It was the greatest gift, his mother later told him. They could live in a country that prided itself on liberty and freedom.
“It was this beacon of hope,” he said. “Here you could come and if you worked really hard, you could pursue any idea you had.”
They rented a tiny apartment in Riverdale Park, Md., putting mattress pads down on the living-room floor each night to sleep, then putting them away in the morning. His parents each worked two jobs at factories in Baltimore and told the children to come directly home from school and stay inside; they wanted to shelter them from the drugs and crime that were common in the neighborhood at that time. They told them education and hard work would change their lives.
When his parents got divorced, he moved with his mother to Rochester, Minn. He felt like an outsider there, for the first time; many of his classmates’ parents were engineers at IBM or doctors at the Mayo Clinic.
He was living with a single mom who was working as a hotel maid. In his first seven years, they moved six times.
And he felt that expectations from teachers for minority students were low. But his mother kept telling him, “You can do anything you set your mind to.”
When he was in seventh grade, his father fell ill on a trip to Africa and died — a death Ahmed felt could have been prevented with better medical treatment.
When his mother injured her back at work, his sister, a senior in high school, got a job on a factory assembly line.
She would work from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m., take her siblings to school, then go to class.
Seeing that kind of determination and sacrifice every day made Ahmed all the more committed to working hard, to learning more.
When he was 16, he began working at a nursing home to help his family get by. He enjoyed the feeling of turning someone’s day around with a smile. Soon the work sparked an interest in biology and medicine, and he began to dream of becoming a doctor. His grades were top-notch, and he shadowed doctors at the Mayo Clinic, awed by their dedication to their patients and the discoveries they were making.
With all of that behind him, and so much possibility ahead, facing the prospect of failure at Cornell was terrifying.
After the tears that day in October 2013, he emailed the two professors and asked for help.
In the writing seminar, he learned he hadn’t honed his thesis well enough to leave an indelible idea. After talking with the professor in his evolution class, he realized that the way he had studied — reading the textbook carefully, focusing on all the details that hadn’t been covered in lectures, memorizing everything — left him missing the big picture. In the exam, the professor manipulated variables, posing different scenarios and asking students what would happen with those changes.
Suddenly, he understood: As a researcher, he would need that kind of mind-set, trying to discover new things, not just storing away information that was already known. He had to think hard, and creatively, with a true understanding of the ideas in the class.
“That was my ‘Welcome to Cornell’ moment,” Ahmed said, laughing.
He didn’t forget it. He took those unexpected grades to heart, using them not only as a spur to improve his own studies, but also as a lasting reminder to help others do the same.
In his organic chemistry class sophomore year, he and hundreds of other students watched as Geoffrey Coates, the professor, held up a glass flask and tested a solution for a chemical compound.
It was a class of 600 or so students, mostly pre-med, talented students all competing to get the best grades. There’s always a high level of anxiety at that point in the semester, Coates said. “A lot of tears have been shed on the front steps of the chemistry building,” he said.
Ahmed watched, amazed, as the reaction in the solution deposited a silver mirror on the inside of the flask until it was entirely coated with silver, gleaming. It almost seemed like alchemy, Ahmed said, seeing the power of organic chemistry.
Coates gave him the flask as a keepsake: On the last exam, of the 600 students, Ahmed had received the very top score.
And he asked Ahmed if he was interested in research — far from a given, since most pre-med students are necessarily focused on getting top grades in the intensive required courses. Ahmed was.
And so began Ahmed’s research into polymers, never an area he had expected to delve into, but one that he has found fascinating. They were working to find a way to make one of the most commonly used plastics without relying on fossil fuels.
“This is very, very high-level research with Geoff Coates, one of our very top chemists,” Rawlings said.
“I love the problem-solving aspect of it,” Ahmed said. “You’ve got this initial starting material, here’s your end, and you have to design a multistep synthesis to get there.” He liked the extra challenge of having to prove it in the lab after he had “solved” it on paper; he laughed at some of his early ideas, which worked in theory but required incredibly expensive, or potentially dangerous, chemicals.
In the spring, Ahmed designed a catalyst that lets them use vegetable oils to create the plastic. “I’m excited to get back in the lab and work on this — oh, man!” he said, jumping out of a chair to sketch out the chain reaction on a whiteboard. “This happens within milliseconds, it’ll reattach … now, boom, boom, boom, your double bond is now here.”
It still needs work, Ahmed said, but he expects it to result in publishable work.
“It’s a really important advance for the Center for Sustainable Polymers,” Coates said this week.
Over the years at Cornell, Ahmed was also making time to volunteer, including with emergency medical technicians on campus, and a mentoring group formed to improve graduation rates for black men.
With some really high-achieving students, you can get a sense that they’re checking all the boxes they need to check, said Steven Strogatz, a professor of mathematics at Cornell. But with Ahmed, he said, “it’s really heartfelt.” He remembered an essay Ahmed wrote about shadowing doctors treating a young man with gunshot wounds, and wondering what separated him from the patient: Not much, really.
Ahmed could see how much impact his time could have on younger students struggling to fit in on campus. He would give them advice on when to apply for internships, how to ask for extra help, suggestions on study skills.
“He’s just really an amazing individual,” Coates said, combining intellect, discipline, and an ability to handle intense pressure with grace. “He’s fun to talk to. He makes everybody around him happy and excited.”
“There are just people who, when they walk into the room, grab you. They have that charisma,” Strogatz said. “He’s got this sunny, upbeat attitude,” one that’s infectious, and that makes even something that might sound corny ring true. The example Strogatz gave: Ahmed keeps a gratitude journal and writes in it every day.
“So when I’m having those tough days where I feel emotionally drained,” Ahmed explained, “I just flip back through my gratitude journal and read through all that I am thankful for, and it goes a long way.”
Ahmed graduated this weekend, with his family joining him at Cornell for the first time, meeting his friends and professors, enjoying it all.
He’s still hoping to go to medical school. He hopes to work in communities that need more doctors, one day, and find ways to improve access to care more broadly. He remembers how his older brother had to live with pain in his teeth and his stomach until it became acute. He remembers his father’s death.
But first, he’s going to Britain: Ahmed will be a Rhodes Scholar.
Rather than studying organic and medicinal chemistry at Oxford College, as he initially planned, he will pursue a master’s degree in higher education. He’s going to study the barriers that can keep students whose parents didn’t go to college, students from low-income families, and minorities, from higher education.
It bridges to his interest in medicine, he said, because care will improve in underserved communities if medical professionals are more familiar with the issues their patients face.
While Rawlings worries that top students, such as Ahmed, will be snapped up by other countries, such as Britain, if the United States is unwelcoming, Ahmed is full of gratitude.
“I feel like my story would only be possible in a few other countries — if any,” he said. He and his family are all U.S. citizens now.
The United States has been the beacon of hope his mother promised: “This country has been amazing for us.”
When he called his mom to tell him he got the Rhodes, she said, “What? … You’re leaving the country?”
From Refugee Camp, Young Somali Lands Spot at Princeton
Last August, Asad Hussein boarded the back of a truck in Dadaab, Kenya, sitting with other passengers among sacks of beans being transported to Somalia’s capital.
The truck headed east across the desert over the Somali border and deep into territory controlled by al-Shabab, the violent extremist group, on its way to Mogadishu.
The 700-kilometer trip, which Hussein wrote about in The New York Times,represented a chance for him to see where his father grew up. Now, he’s preparing for a new journey after being accepted by one of the world’s most prestigious universities.
The 22-year-old refugee plans to join the class of 2022 at Princeton University, in the eastern U.S. state of New Jersey.
Life in a refugee camp
Hussein was born in Dadaab, one of the world’s largest refugee camps, in 1996. His parents and older sister had fled the war in Somalia five years earlier in search of a new life. Dadaab was meant to be temporary, but it became home.
Hussein’s sister, Maryan, immigrated to the United States in 2005 with her husband and son. Only 11 years later did the siblings reunite, when Maryan returned to Dadaab on a visit that Hussein also wrote about in The Times.
“The life in Dadaab is basically stranded,” Hussein told VOA’s Somali service in a phone interview Monday, after tweeting about his admission a couple of days ago. “You are not allowed to work or to do anything just as a refugee, and the word ‘refugee’ comes with so many restrictions.”
Despite those limitations, Hussein said, people were determined to make lives for themselves. They had escaped war, and they were bound to keep fighting.
The key, people told Hussein, was education.
“I was always told that, you know, ‘You need to go to school and do something,’ and things like that. And that’s my childhood.”
The sprawling Dadaab camp’s infrastructure includes schools. Hussein said he finished high school in 2014, “and for three years I have been trying to get into university.”
Meanwhile, Princeton – which admitted just 5.5 percent of all applicants for the class of 2022 – has been among some U.S. colleges and universities trying to diversify their student bodies. That includes welcoming academic high achievers who, like Hussein, may not have the financial means independently. Hussein said he’s been offered a full scholarship to Princeton, which estimates that tuition, room, board and fees will total $70,010 for the next academic year.
In the university’s 2021 graduating class, 13 percent are international students – with representation from 11 African nations.
Founded in 1746, “Princeton has depended since its inception, and depends today, on the talent and contributions of newcomers to this country,” its president, Christopher L. Eisgruber, wrote last month in an annual letter to the campus community.
Last week, Princeton joined 30 other colleges and universities in challenging the Trump administration’s proclamation to restrict immigration from several Muslim-majority countries. The university filed a brief with the U.S. Supreme Court to support the state of Hawaii’s challenge, it said in a news release.
An ‘incredible achievement’
Ty McCormick, the former Africa editor at Foreign Policy, about President Donald Trump’s travel ban after reading his work in The Times.
“He’s an extraordinary young man: brilliant, focused, and driven to better himself and those around him,” McCormick told VOA.
“Although I have become a mentor of sorts, I think it’s fair to say I’ve learned more from him than he has from me. All of the credit for this incredible achievement belongs to him. He overcame tremendous obstacles to get where he is – obstacles most of us can’t fully comprehend. My hat is off to him,” McCormick said in a written response.
I have been accepted to @Princeton (Class of 2022) and it feels surreal. Many people, in Dadaab and beyond, made this possible and I am indebted to all, but it was my sister Maryan who first let me dream and tended to my life as one would for a seedling. Thank you, Maryan. pic.twitter.com/O8HYQ1pLO6
— Asad Hussein (@asadhussein_) March 31, 2018
‘People who can do something’
Hussein wrote about the frustrations of camp life for Foreign Policy early last year: “The words I write may travel all around the world, but I am confined to the refugee camp where I was born. I can’t move freely in Kenya; I need a permit to leave Dadaab. My whole life, it seems, I’ve been living the American dream. I just don’t know how much longer I can bear to live it outside of America.”
Hussein hopes his achievement will change people’s minds about what refugees can accomplish.
“When we hear of refugees, we always think of people who are a liability, people who want something,” he told VOA. “… So I’m glad that my story shows that refugees are actually people who can do something.”
Now, Hussein’s journey will take him to the same campus that produced theoretical physicist Richard Feynman, former President Woodrow Wilson and first lady Michelle Obama.
Hussein, an avid fiction reader, said he wants to study English and history. And, for the first time since he was 9, he will live in the same country as his parents and sister.
Somalia: Turkish foundation’s school hosts 500 students
Turkiye Diyanet Foundation (TDV) on Tuesday said the Sheikh Sufi Imam Hatip High School in Somalia’s capital Mogadishu, which it restored six years ago, currently hosts 500 students.
According to Turkey’s religious services consultant in Somalia Ahmet Akturk, numerous students were orphans. TDV said 270 of these students are boarders.
”All of the students’ costs are covered by TDV and the foundation will make sure the students continue their university studies,” he added.
Turkey began to set up various projects in Somalia in 2011 when President Recep Tayyip Erdogan launched an initiative to help the East African country, which was undergoing a famine due to drought.
The initiative later grew to other humanitarian activities and educational projects, according to the statement.
Sheikh Sufi Imam Hatip High School, which has existed in Mogadishu since 1960, stopped functioning in 1991 due to civil war.
According to TDV , a new protocol signed with the Ministry of Education of Somalia in 2012 led to the resumption of educational activities.
Approximately 2,000 students apply to the school every year but only a hundred are accepted due to quota restrictions.
Eleventh grade student Muhammad Hasan said the school was a “great opportunity” for all students there.
“We get a combination of scientific and religious knowledge, we learn in the best way,” Hasan added.
According to Leyla Sherif, another student, the school provides not only education but safety and health services too.
“Our school is one of the best schools in Somalia. We learn both religion and science and my favorite course is Turkish,” Leyla added.
Since 2011, TDV has built centers for the disabled, hospitals, and orphanages in Mogadishu.
Somali graduates praise peace, harmony and good social development in Malaysia
SINTOK: Despite the unrest in some parts of their country, two Somali graduates from Universiti Utara Malaysia (UUM) are keen to return home to serve the people.
Abbas Mohamad Mahdi, 28, and Ahmed Derow Isak, 32, from Mogadishu, are determined to return home and work in their home country after completing both their Bachelor and Master degrees in Information Technology.
The duo received their Master of Science (Information Technology) from UUM Pro-chancellor Tan Sri Osman Aroff today.
Abbas said as the second of six siblings, he wanted to support his younger siblings to further their education.
“My father passed away when I was eight years old and my mother raised the family by doing odd jobs.
“I was able to further my studies here thanks to my elder sister and a younger brother who helped me financially,” he said when met.
Abbas said he chose to come to UUM after he heard about it from friends who had furthered their studies at the university.
He initially planned to further his studies in Sudan but when he came to know about the peace, harmony and good social development enjoyed by Malaysians, he decided to come here to study.
Ahmed Derow said life in Malaysia was better than Somalia but he would still return home to work in his own country.
“My wife is there and so are my siblings who have helped to finance my studies here.
I will use the knowledge and experience I gained in this country to give back to my people back home,” he said.
Ahmad Derow said although his mother has migrated to United Kingdom and he could further his studies there, the cost that he need to bear was too high.
He said Malaysians should be grateful by the various benefits that they enjoy especially in the furthering their studies locally.