Maxaa Kaa Maqan?” Anisa Hagi poignantly navigates the chasm between generations in understanding mental health. Through the lens of a child’s heartfelt response, the poem reveals the complexities of emotional struggles that persist despite the fulfillment of physical needs. As the younger generation seeks peace, acceptance, and belonging, the poem challenges the notion that material security alone equates to well-being, emphasizing the importance of acknowledging and addressing mental health issues.
Maxaa Kaa Maqan?” is a poignant poem by Anisa Hagi that explores the generational gap in understanding mental health. In her reflections on the poem, Anisa notes that when older generations inquire about the mental health struggles of the younger generation, their initial response is often to ask, “Maxaa kaa maqan?” which translates to “What is missing from you?”
They typically check off a list of basic needs—shelter, a warm bed, food, and various material possessions—believing that if these essentials are met, there should be no cause for concern. However, parents often fail to comprehend that mental health issues may persist even when physical needs are fulfilled. The poem underscores the disconnect between these generations, highlighting that a full stomach or functional senses do not necessarily equate to a healthy mind.
The poem starts with the question: Maxaa kaa maqan? and then the child responds:
Waxaa iga maqan: I am missing
peace of mind.
A respite from overthinking,
of resting at night, like others,
and entering the garden of dreams.
Instead I lie awake regretting what was before,
anxious of what is to come,
As the present continues to elude me.
Waxaa iga maqan:
a mental burden, lifted.
I carry the expectations,
of achieving dreams, unfulfilled,
of crossing boundaries, un-navigated,
attaining accolades and diplomas,
of carrying the torch of hope
with my bare hands.
of not wincing, not complaining,
As the fiery flames of this forced role
engulf me, completely,
leaving no residue of who I was,
or what I could have been.
Waxaa iqa maqan:
belonging. To feel at home,
in my own home, in my own bones.
Not too black for this crowd,
too white for the other,
too foreign for this circle,
too western for the other.
How can I identify,
when all that I identify with rejects me?
I am a nameless, faceless ghost,
longing for and seeking out,
familiar leaves,
friendly waters,
founded foundations,
something to call my own.
Waxaa iqa maqan,
acceptance.
That depression is not a myth,
A conspiracy of gaalo,
A break from tradition,
A rebellion against religion,
A coup,
Overthrowing all that you know,
Disregarding all that you do,
It’s an illness,
A dark cloud,
A swallowed pain,
A bottomless well of emptiness.
Waxaa iqa maqan:
honesty.
That you too hurt,
that in the wrinkles beneath your eyes,
and between the gaps in your teeth,
on the calluses of your palms,
that you carry pain
that traveled miles with you.
That you too, are hurting.
That bloodshed can be washed from your hands,
though not so easily from your mind.
That you feel alone,
that you feel without a home,
that you lie awake many nights,
worrying about what has been,
and what is yet to come.
That I put a name to your pain,
that I put a name to my pain,
that I put a name to our pain,
that together, we can overcome.
Here is the link to watch Anisa reciting the poem at a community event.
