Sahra Halgan interview: “I want to show the world how strong our country’s women are”

Just how did Sahra Halgan discover the therapeutic qualities of her voice? The Somaliland musician pauses, her eyes cloud and her hands tense over her shawl. “It was back in the late 80s; I was a self-taught nurse in the liberation war against Somalia. I was at the side of our injured resistance fighters. We had run out of all medication and they were in intense pain, especially at night. So, I started singing our traditional Isaaq songs to take their minds off their suffering. It calmed them down, they asked for more.”

And the 52-year-old hasn’t stopped singing since. Not only in her home capital of Hargeisa but worldwide, including a standout concert at last year’s WOMAD. Now, she is releasing the third album by her Sahra Halgan trio, through a tour which will include the UK at the end of the year. Once again, the album features a counter-intuitive crossover between Halgan’s modern classical Somali qaraami melodies, Maël Salètes’ distorted rock’n’roll guitars and the West African percussion of Aymeric Krol. The band added the electronic keyboards of Régis Monte for the eight-day recording in Lyon’s Rumble Inn Studio last November which gave birth to the 12 tracks on Hiddo Dhawr. “We really worked hard to find a common ground,” Halgan says. “Unlike our previous recordings, we spent months forging a métissage which never erased our respective musical identities. By the end, I felt there were no frontiers between us.” Sitting opposite us in Radio France International’s waiting room, where they just finished a session for Laurence Aloir’s long-running Musiques du Monde weekly, Krol chips in: “We’re permanently seeking a consensus which can be tough at times. The quarter tones of the Oriental oud, for example, need to be transposed to Salètes’ electric guitars and Monte’s well-tempered keyboard. But it also gives our music a strong identity. Ours is a little family that works well together.”

That family came together in a circuitous way in Lyon in 2010, reflecting Halgan’s long journey from the Horn of Africa. This mother of five comes from Somaliland’s Sa’ad Musa community, a subgroup of the Isaaq clan which dominates the country’s northern capital Hargeisa, known by Somalis as ‘The Mother of Somali Arts and Culture’. “My community frowned on the notion of women singing. But with the onslaught by Siad Barre’s Somalia in the 80s, they had other worries on their mind. And I came from a tolerant family with a rich poetic heritage, including my grandfather, the bard Hilaac Dheere. So, I began singing at 13.”

Hargeisa’s flattening by Barre in 1988 (with a death toll estimated between 50,000 and 200,000) forced Halgan to flee to Europe. By then, she had adopted the stage name of Halgan: “I had joined the Somali National Movement (SNM) and they had a radio called Halgan, which means ‘struggle.’ They started playing my songs, so someone gave me the name, and I’ve kept it ever since.” At 22, Halgan set off alone for London to join her family and a strong community of Somalilanders (which includes a certain Mo Farah, who has been known to hoist the country’s tricolour flag on victory laps). “But, in France, I couldn’t get through [UK] border control with my papers.” So, why Lyon? “You know, it was the military who chased me out of my country, someone with the same colour of skin, same language, same religion. And in Lyon, a man welcomed me into his home. He was white, Christian and spoke a language foreign to me, but opened his home to me. And I told myself: ‘Humans still exist on this Earth.’ So, I stayed.”

Her first album, 2009’s solo Somaliland, did not receive the traction she hoped, and she survived through menial jobs. It was only after the Rhône Alpes authorities organised a meeting between refugee artists and local musicians that Sahra’s career took a turn for the good. “Aymeric was there. He was more familiar with Mandingo [also spelt Mandinka] music, having founded the Malian band BKO Quintet, but he has a fantastic sense of adaptation. We added the distorted guitars of Maël and started to explore our respective worlds. Five years later, we brought out our first album, Faransiskiyo Somaliland, followed by Waa Dardaaran in 2020, both doing really well. That’s the kind of rhythm I like, an album every four to five years.” Her songs spoke of love and rebuilding a nation unrecognised by the international community (despite peaceful transitions and multi-party politics since its creation in 1991, Somaliland remains the world’s largest unrecognised state). Many of the lyrics were penned by her former husband, the poet Maxamed Cadaani, who continues to collaborate with the singer to this day.

The gaps between her records and tours also allow Halgan to develop a project dear to her heart, which has given her the name of her latest album. “I returned to Hargeisa in 2013 and hardly recognised it. It had been razed to the ground 25 years earlier and totally rebuilt. But one thing hadn’t changed: a thirst for culture and music, yet no space for women artists. So, I set about changing that.” Since moving back, she has steadfastly built a space called Hiddo Dhawr (Promote Culture), a centre mirroring the city’s burgeoning cultural scene. “This is a musical oasis, especially for aspiring women artists,” she says proudly. “Everything you see in this venue was made by women. I want to show the world how strong our country’s women are.” Hiddo Dhawr currently employs 20 people and Halgan has shown sharp entrepreneurial acumen to consolidate it as the country’s premier music centre. Now, she is spreading the word through the album of the same name. Through the dozen songs of her latest album, she describes her love for her homeland, its fertile land and generous people. But some also point to the divide between the sexes: in ‘Lamahuran’ Sahra subtly criticises men who forget that women are their mothers, sisters, confidantes. “It’s a contradiction that everyone ignores,” she laments.

Does she ever imagine plunging into politics, to iron out such contradictions, I ask? She tuts, shaking her head: “If you become a politician you must respect protocol, the party project thingamajig. Not for me. I want to remain a free artist and say what I want to say to those ministers. I don’t want to be trapped.” Her message echoes the song ‘Dardaaran’ from her previous album, in which she warns current Somaliland president Muse Bihi Abdi that the power is not his alone, he must work for all the people. Or, as she told reporter Megan Iacobini de Fazio recently, ‘the people can take back that power.’

This article originally appeared in the May 2024 issue of Songlines. Never miss an issue – subscribe to Songlines today