Escape from the World's most Dangerous Place

Samira Hashi

is a 21-year-old model.

I love modelling. It's just so fun,

Really exciting.

You can really enjoy yourself,

and rock on and frock and roll.

Samira was born in Somalia, East Africa.

She came to Britain when she was three years old.

Growing up in London has been fantastic for me.

It literally has made me believe that

I can achieve anything in the world.

But much as she loves the UK,

Samira has begun to feel cut off from her roots.

As I've grown older,

I've started to realise that there is a part of me that's missing.

Everybody seems to say to me, "You're British."

I'm like, "What do you mean I'm British? I'm Somali."

And they're like, "No, you're British."

I'm confused.com.

I'm so confused.

Now Samira is going back to Somalia

to find the answers she's looking for.

But how will the girl from London

cope in the most dangerous place in the world?

Somalia has been in a bloody civil war

for as long as Samira has been alive.

With no stable government for over twenty years,

it's chaos - a breeding ground, for warlords, pirates,

and fanatical Islamic terrorists.

Al-Shabaab, now joined to al-Qaeda, control much of Somalia.

I am bloody scared.

There's fighting going on there, as we speak.

Samira will retrace her mother's footsteps

as she fled the brutality of the war.

And she'll meet the people left behind.

Why did they do that?

She'll travel back to the refugee camps where she spent

the first two years of her life, and see first-hand

a desperate battle for survival.

It's so hard I just want to, I just want to come home.

And after eighteen years apart, she has an emotional reunion.

Dad!

Will her journey be everything she hopes?

I'm home! Look how beautiful that is!

Or will she discover horrors she never imagined?

They're going to mutilate a six-year-old.

Does that not make anybody physically sick?

It's a week until Samira leaves for Somalia,

and she has a modelling interview to prepare for.

Oh, look at my pimple!

Modelling maybe Samira's dream,

but her revealing poses

have brought her into conflict with her Muslim religion and her mother.

She's very thin. I don't like thin.

I like a little bit chubby.

You look like broom!

You look like broom! Cheers(!)

Those trousers are banging tartan. Grey leather jacket, amazing!

Oh, my god! It's heart-breaking.

You know our culture and our religion, it's not our dignity.

There's worse things that I could be doing, basically, in London.

I could be taking drugs.

I could be a prostitute. Or modelling for Vivien Westwood.

I will pray for Samira. I will pray for Samira for changing her life.

Her mom hopes the trip will bring Samira closer to her religion,

but she knows only too well

the dangers her daughter will face in Somalia.

And it wasn't settled 21 years ago, either.

Clutching ten-day-old Samira and her four sisters,

she ran from their home in Mogadishu as the war broke out.

They escaped to a refugee camp where they spent the next two years.

Everything Samira knows about Somalia

she's heard from her mum, or seen on the news.

Now, she wants to see it for herself.

But there isn't a more dangerous destination she could be going to.

All I know of Somalia is the war, the violence, famine, drought.

No government, no system, no law,

so, I'm like, "Oh, my gosh! Where am I going?"

Despite her fears, Samira wants to go back

to understand what her family went through,

and to see how different life would be if they'd stayed behind.

-But she needs reassurance.

-I want to here more about it.

I haven't even thought about it, cos I don't want to think

what I'm going to see, you know?

Because if I think about it and I'll just be put off.

You have a chance to go back to your home country,

to a place that is suffering.

It's going to make you a stronger, more in-depth person, as well.

I think you're going to learn a lot about yourself,

but if anyone can handle it, you can.

I don't think so. Samira is emotional like.

She watches X Factor and she cries.

The day of departure has arrived.

Sun-lotion, I've got that. Can't wait for the sun.

It's not just the risks Samira needs to prepare for.

She will also be meeting her father,

who's come and gone throughout her life.

He wasn't with them when the war began, or in the refugee camps.

I got my dad something.

1 Million. I love this perfume.

And though he did join the family in London,

he abandoned them for good when Samira was only three years old

She hasn't seen him since.

It's been 18 years since I've seen my dad. I don't know what a father is.

Every child would love to have a father,

it would change their household,

but my mum raised me the best way she did,

but I know our house would be better.

Quite sad.

Her mum is worried that the reunion

won't live up to Samira's expectations.

It won't close.

It needs to close. Close!

Auntie's going.

-Where?

-Somalia.

Samira is hoping her trip to Africa will not only answer her questions

about who she is,

but also explain why her father left them eighteen years ago.

So, before going to Somalia to see

how two decades of war have affected her homeland,

she'll be stopping off at her father's home town

of Dire Dawa in Ethiopia.

I'm excited to see my dad,

and to see my country.

After a sixteen hour journey,

Samira catches a glimpse of the continent where she was born.

I can see mountains and it just looks so beautiful out there.

For the first time in eighteen years, Samira is back in Africa.

It's a huge culture shock.

It's just crazy.

I don't know how I'm going to last three weeks.

The city of Dire Dawa is home to a hundred thousand Somalis,

who have fled from the chaos in their own country.

It's one of the poorest areas in the region,

with an average salary of one pound per day.

I'm quite shocked there are so many people lying on the floor.

There are so many kids out. Shouldn't they be at school?

But for Samira, coming here is the first step

in understanding her roots.

She's minutes away from the most important reunion of her life.

I can't wait to see him but I feel quite emotional.

Because I haven't seen him in years.

I have vague memories but it's really hard to remember

what he actually looks like.

This is the moment Samira feared would never come.

Dad! Ahhhhh.

No. You look very different.

Yeah.

Her dad has a new family - a young wife, and three sons.

Do you know I'm your sister?

So weird how you look so different, but you do look good.

No, you look good, for your age, yeah.

-Sorry, but I'm a huge Arsenal fan. I had to get you Arsenal.

-Arsenal?

After travelling nearly four thousand miles,

Samira wants to savour every second of having a father back in her life.

But she has eighteen years of questions she needs to ask.

I didn't think I'd see you again.

Why?

-Because it's been so long.

-Yeah.

So, why did you leave, anyway?

You were in London in the first place. Why?

-Didn't like it?

-What?

-You didn't like it?

No.

Is that the only reason?

-Got married?

-Yeah.

Samira and her sisters have always suspected

that their father was never truly happy with a family of girls.

Traditionally in Somali culture, the birth of a son is celebrated

but the birth of a daughter can bring disappointment.

Did you want boys?

Is that why you got re-married again?

Is it to continue the family name, Hashi?

Yeah.

Really? Bloody hell.

My name is Hashi.

I could have done that for you.

It's difficult for Samira to accept that her father considered them

second best when he left them behind in London.

It was hard.

-Because of mum.

-Yeah.

A lifetime apart, and the reunion lasts just an hour.

Is that how you're going to... give me a shake?

Yeah.

I kind of knew it.

He'd rather have a son than have a daughter.

And, obviously, he's got boys

and he said he's going to make two more.

So, it's like, five girls, five boys, that's my dad for you.

But...

..me and my sisters are more than blessed in London.

My mum's my mum and dad.

As she leaves Dire Dawa,

Samira's got some of the answers she was looking for.

But the journey to understand her birthplace is just beginning.

I'm used to big planes like, you know, British Airways, easyJet.

This, me? No.

And things are about to get a lot tougher.

She's travelling to a refugee camp like the one her family escaped to

just ten days after she was born.

Samira's heading south to the camps near Dolo Ado

on the Somalia-Ethiopian border.

But the weather conditions have made it impossible to fly direct.

The last leg of the journey will be by road.

Over half a million Somalis are living in refugee camps,

and more arrive every day.

They're still fleeing the brutal war,

and this year's drought has gripped the nation.

It's a humanitarian disaster.

The journey to Dolo Ado will take eight hours,

and will be along some of the worst roads in Ethiopia.

We are going on the most bumpiest journey.

I feel like my intestines are going to explode.

Accidents are common,

and with no medical facilities for hundreds of miles,

a small injury can be fatal.

What's down here?

As she nears the Somali border, the road becomes impassable.

The bridge is broken.

After months of drought, heavy rainfall has finally arrived,

but that's also caused problems.

It doesn't look like it's coming out

and it doesn't look like we're going in.

No RAC here!

With only an hour of sunlight left,

Samira needs to reach the camp before dark.

This region is known to be occupied by the Islamic terrorist

group al-Shabaab, and travelling at night can be dangerous.

Al-Shabaab control large parts of Somalia,

and has imposed its own form of strict Islamic law.

Westerners are targeted.

I've decided to wear a headscarf just to show a bit of respect.

My mum never really forced us.

She said it was our choice.

My sister wears a headscarf. All my aunties, my mum wears a headscarf.

It's just something that didn't happen with me.

I love my hair and I want to show it.

Finally Samira makes it to her accommodation -

a UN compound in Dolo Ado.

Earlier this year,

al-Shabaab kidnapped two aid workers from a refugee camp.

So, for her own safety,

Samira will be sleeping in the security of the compound

a couple of miles from the nearest camp.

Everyone who arrives is made aware of the risks.

The UN and the international NGO's face a number of threats,

armed conflict and terrorism being two of those threats.

There's a large military presence in the area.

The Ethiopian National Defence Force,

generally fighting with al-Shabaab.

You're only a kilometre and half from Somalia,

where the Kenyan military were ambushed

in the middle of a town, three days ago, and at least

one person's been killed and 11 badly wounded.

I didn't realise how dangerous this place is.

It's actually really dangerous to be here.

There's barbed wires everywhere.

Checking cars before they come in.

There's armed police officers outside.

I could imagine a bomb being thrown into this compound

and just blowing it all up.

And we're going to be here for a few days, which is quite scary.

Living in the compound means no hot water,

no electricity, and sharing a tent.

There's so many bugs, they're massive.

Yeah, run away from me now, but when I'm sleeping they'll be all over us.

Tomorrow, Samira will experience, for herself, the conditions

her family faced in a refugee camp.

I think it will be very emotional

because it'll remind me of what

my mum and my family went through.

It'll be hard because I'll be like, "Oh, my gosh!

Did mum actually go through this?"

The day breaks for the hundred and fifty thousand refugees

spread across the five camps at Dolo Ado.

As a child, Samira and her mother spent two years

living in a camp like this one.

It's the size of 700 football pitches,

and there are people everywhere.

All these people are waiting to be registered, everyone?

Everyone around here.

Everyone here is running from the chaos in Somalia.

Many fled the threat of starvation.

Others run from the terror of al-Shabaab.

They killed his children.

In front of you?

Like Samira's mother,

the refugees here left everything they owned behind them.

They're forced to rely on handouts and whatever they can find.

A new home made out of sticks,

or a tent to share.

How many people live here?

They're literally sleeping on top of each other.

The camps provide a sanctuary for the refugees,

but many die on the journey to get there.

And they all arrive hungry.

Just now we've got four kids and they don't have parents.

They lost their dad and mum and they walked for up to two weeks.

Aaaaaw!

The boy looks like he's been through a lot.

They are traumatised and it's a bit difficult for them to open up.

You'll make sure that they find something or somewhere?

Yes, yes, yes, of course.

Life in the camp couldn't be further away

from the glamour of the catwalk.

But Samira is finally starting to understand

exactly what it's like to be a refugee.

It's a huge thing for these people to actually be somewhere safe,

first and foremost.

These people, here, are either running because they're scared,

or running because they're starving.

And it's, like,

that black and white.

Samira's presence in the camp has created a stir amongst the children.

The kids are so cute.

They've got no entertainment, so the camera, to them,

is the most exciting thing.

Samira is visiting the camp's makeshift hospital,

a half-hour-drive away.

It's where the most dangerously ill refugees are treated,

including countless children.

I feel like I need to be strong.

If I can't be strong for myself,

I need to be strong for them but I don't know how it will affect me

because I've never seen a dying child.

The hospital is run by the aid organisation,

Medecins Sans Frontieres.

This year alone,

they have treated more than 25,000 patients.

Malnutrition is the killer.

More than half of the children entering the camps

are dangerously ill,

and up to 200 die every day.

So, this is the intensive care unit.

Pretty much, the very sick children are admitted to this unit.

Caroline is one of the doctors.

This is a child who was admitted yesterday morning and ever since

-with real difficulties breathing.

-How old's the baby?

It's 6 months old,

Its 3.2 kilos, at 6 months old,

so that's the weight of a new born in Europe.

The malnourished children are fed Plumpy'nut - a high-energy,

protein-rich paste, that's vital in helping them recover.

But it's also a valuable commodity, and has a high black-market price.

Some mothers are secretly selling their child's supplies

to buy other necessities.

They buy clothes, soap, other food.

It's a matter of them sometimes not understanding

-the value of Plumpy'nut.

-Yeah.

They're not highly educated, so it's difficult for them

-to understand that this package is medicine for the child.

-Yeah.

So, the child suffers.

All the family suffer.

Everyone suffers.

It's a desperate act, but for those with nothing,

it's the only currency they have.

I was raised in a country where you could go to your local 24-hour shop,

if you get thirsty or dehydrated or hungry at 3, 4 in the morning.

There's people here that don't have food for sometimes weeks and months.

In the 21st century you'd think that everyone would have food

and shelter but it doesn't really work out like that.

It's been a tough first day.

But just when Samira thinks

she's got through, she meets a mother with a sick child.

It's too much.

Two-year-old Kawsar is the same age Samira was

when she was last in a refugee camp.

-Stop, crying. It's OK.

-I can't.

Stop it.

Kawsar is suffering from an illness that can be treated

with the technology of a fully equipped hospital.

But here, his chances are slim.

Stop it.

Samira.

But the baby's in pain.

Samira's first day at the camp has been difficult,

and she needs to speak to her mum on a satellite phone.

Mum, hoo, it's so hard out here.

It's so hard.

I don't know how these people do it.

How do people live like this?

I don't know how you did it!

It's so hard. I just want to...

I just want to come home.

She's only been in Africa a few days,

but the experience is already making her think about her life

as a model in London.

I was so focussed on one thing that I forgot what was happening around me.

I was so in tune with my fashion and my modelling.

I had a goal, I was chasing it. I couldn't care about anything else.

And then I come here and I'm just like,

"Oh, my gosh! That's really not that important!"

This morning Samira is travelling to a refugee camp called Kobe,

two hours' drive from the UN compound.

Every trip is potentially dangerous, but today,

the stakes have been raised.

Al-Shabaab have heightened the UN targeting.

UNHCR who we're staying with at the moment

are top of that list

so we are actually the top targets at the moment as in UNHCR.

So we're at a place where that could potentially be attacked?

Yes, definitely.

Oh, my gosh!

Scary.

The rest of the trip is a nervous one.

Anything out of the ordinary is a worry for her security team.

That's odd, isn't it?

There's an abandoned lorry straddling their side

of the carriageway,

and it could be a trap.

That's a classic ambush thing.

There's something in the road there and so you have to drive round it

And there's a bang.

That's the kind of thing they do.

Oh, my gosh! Guys, don't scare me.

Samira is risking her life being here,

but it's only for a short time.

The aid workers on the Somali border live under constant threat.

Dolo Ado is a fairly high risk area.

There's always what they call an abstract threat

where something could happen.

We're very close to the border.

We tell our base every time we leave

and every time we come back

or every time we arrive at another location.

So, they know what vehicle we're in

and where we are at any given time,

we don't move around in the dark, at all.

They're only providing humanitarian aid,

but to terrorists, they're not welcome.

Al-Shabaab wants its own people

to be in its own country.

It doesn't take kindly to people fleeing the country

and organisations

that offer asylum and assistance

to people who are running away are therefore not well-received.

It's over 40 degrees in the camp.

And there's no escape from the sun.

But life goes on.

And while Samira's family were able to leave,

most of the people who come here never will.

After 21 years of war,

going home is not an option

With makeshift schools and shops,

they're building a new kind of normality.

-Maria.

-Maria.

-Maria.

-Maria.

-She is.

-She is.

-She is.

-She is.

But as Samira takes it all in,

she realises something else she hadn't expected.

The more time I spend in the refugee camp,

the more time I realise that there are so many women and children.

And there's like, hardly any men.

I want to know why. Where's all the men?

If everyone's fleeing, where are the men?

Where's your husband?

When he married you,

shouldn't he have looked after you and the children?

I just think it's not right, shouldn't happen,

They're abusing the religion.

He got married to you.

You guys have children.

He should be here.

In Somalia a man is allowed to have four wives,

but he must be able to look after and support them all.

Nearly 90% of this camp is women and children.

It's wrong because it's like, "Yeah, have sex with you,

"create four or five babies.

"Bye, see yous, wouldn't want to be yous."

It just reminds me of my mum,

because she was in a refugee camp,

and dad wasn't there

and my mum had to go through this without dad,

It's really sad.

Without their husbands at the camp, many women are preyed on.

Hodan, from the woman's association,

has asked to speak to Samira urgently.

Oh, my gosh!

Oh, my gosh!

Hodan says this is the fourth incident of rape this month.

The victims are traumatized.

Have you guys gone to the hospital?

Not all local Ethiopians want the refugee camps on their doorstep,

and rape can be used as a weapon against the women.

People need to understand that these people don't choose to be here.

They don't choose to be in a tent

sharing with 20 people.

They come from somewhere.

They all come from homes.

Whether it's a mud hut, whether it's a house, they come from somewhere.

What they've gone through is not by choice.

After ten days here, it's time for Samira to leave

and move on to the next stage of her journey.

But the camps have left a lasting impression.

Somalian women are just, like, so strong it's crazy.

The women are the ones that go through everything,

They're the ones fleeing the war, fleeing the drought,

raising the children, and they're still getting abused.

It's made me look at strength in a completely different way.

Next, Samira will see what the refugees are running from.

A majority of these people are here because

of the issues in Mogadishu and I'm going there,

so, every time I say to someone, "I'm going to Mogadishu,"

they're like, "Really?

"Do you know what you're saying?"

Quite excited. It feels quite gangsta!

She's going back to the capital of Somalia, Mogadishu,

for the first time since she was ten days old.

It's 21 years since war broke out,

and Samira's mother escaped the city leaving everything but her children.

Two decades of lawlessness,

up to a million dead,

and millions more still running.

Mogadishu has earned itself the title

of The Most Dangerous City In The World.

Samira's plane touches down to a sharp reminder

of exactly why they left.

There's a security alert.

-How many of there are you?

-Three.

A suicide bomber has attacked the centre of Mogadishu,

walking distance from the airport, and five people are dead.

I am bloody scared, because of al-Shabaab

and there's fighting going on there, now, as we speak.

And anything can happen at any time.

For security reasons, Samira will be restricted

to the army compound, a mile from the airport.

The sound of gunfire is constant,

and known locally as the music of Mogadishu.

For the first time in over twenty years the battle for control

of Mogadishu is being won by the pro-government troops.

But they're under constant attack.

How safe is this area?

We expect anything at anytime.

In the last three days we have had like five explosives.

You can see the dust from here.

What has happened outside can happen here.

It is really scary being here. We are actually in the heart of war.

I don't want to let al-Shabaab win and make me scared.

If we're scared then no-one will fight against them,

so I've chosen to be strong.

This is a war where young people are on the front line.

Many of the victims are brought to the compound for treatment.

How old is he?

He is...

But in a war that's entering its third decade,

young people are not only victims.

By recruiting the youth, al-Shabaab are hoping

that the future of Somalia as a hard line Islamic state is assured.

Al-Shabaab are ruining the country.

They're ruining the future of the country

and they're ruining the future generation, the youth, children.

They're ruining everything.

I feel quite silly because I'm Somali

and I knew that this was happening

but I didn't really pay much attention to it.

In her mom's stories about Mogadishu

it's not all about war

and al-Shabaab.

She's been told about the beautiful places her mother played as a child.

Look how beautiful that is!

This is my home!

I want to just jump in.

My mum left this.

She had to.

She had no choice and now I'm here.

It feels like an achievement.

But danger is never very far away.

The gunfire is getting louder.

Al-Shabaab are close by.

It's Samira's second day in Mogadishu,

and despite the danger,

she's still keen to see more of the city she was born in.

But to do so, she's risking her life,

and all precautions are taken.

That's probably about right. OK?

For the troops, it's a routine tour of the city,

but for Samira, it's stepping into the abyss.

The destruction is worse than Samira expected.

The city has been reduced to a pile of machine-gun-chewed bricks

ripped apart by violence.

The killing goes on.

Suicide bombs, RPGs, beheadings,

medieval-style stonings -

all are common place in this city of terror.

Like Samira's family, most people have run from the city,

but Samira wants to find out what it's like for those

from her generation left behind.

Even though it looks absolutely devastating now,

I could imagine what this would've looked like.

Before the war, Mogadishu was known

for its classical Italian architecture, and its sandy beaches.

Idyllically set on the Indian Ocean,

Mogadishu was once full of holidaymakers.

Really?

Samira has come to meet Abdi,

a 29-year-old translator.

He has spent his whole life in Mogadishu,

and is part of the lost generation of Somalis.

How has the war affected you?

-For me?

-Yeah.

This country's too beautiful to waste.

It's too beautiful to just say, "This is it."

Samira had hoped to visit the house she was born in,

but has been told it's too dangerous.

Instead, she gets a chance go to the ruins of a football stadium...

..to meet Shukri, born in the same year, the same month,

and in the same district as Samira.

How's your life been here?

But it's hard.

She said, "Take me now. Take me to London!"

Samira has always wondered how her life might have been

if she'd stayed in Mogadishu,

and talking to Shukri gives her a chance to find out.

For girls of the same age, their lives are poles apart.

Samira has just started her modelling career,

whilst Shukri was married at 15

and had her first child a year later.

But it's Shukri's experience of war that Samira finds difficult

to come to terms with.

I can't. Why did they do this?

The thought that, actually,

this is how my life would be if me and my family stayed

or whether I would be alive or dead.

I don't really know.

I feel very frustrated and angry

that nobody's stopping this torture and suffering.

Oh, gosh!

Samira has just got back into the compound when some news comes in.

There's been a skirmish at the stadium.

-The stadium's just been hit.

-Where we were?

Are you serious, the stadium that we were just at has been hit?

Oh, my gosh!

What about Shukri? Is she OK?

No one knows what has happened to Shukri.

It's the next morning, Samira's last day in Mogadishu,

when the news finally comes in that Shukri's alive and well.

Oh, thank you.

As she leaves Samira learns the true extent

of al-Shabaab activity during her stay.

There's about five suicide bombs.

And loads of civilians were, obviously, killed and injured.

It's mad, cos I got out of it but people are still there.

Somali people are still there and they're in the middle of all of this.

Before Samira goes back to the safety of Britain,

she's got one more stop.

Hargeisa, the main city of Somaliland.

One of the very few regions that hasn't been devastated by the war.

It's a place where you can forget about the chaos

and the rest of the country.

Or, at least, almost forget.

Oh, I like that one.

Somaliland has declared independence from the rest of Somalia,

and has a blossoming economy.

It's busy! I like! Everyone making money and doing things,

which is great.

I haven't heard no gunshots and I haven't heard no explosions,

so that is hope already.

But the city has its own horrors

deeply rooted in Samira's culture.

And that's the reason she's come here.

Because although she looks similar to the other women in Hargeisa,

there's a difference.

Nearly all the woman here have been deliberately mutilated.

To Samira, it's another war -

on woman by woman.

Once known as female circumcision,

the procedure now referred to as FGM, Female Genital Mutilation,

is considered by the UN to be a violation

of human rights.

But it's legal in many parts of Somalia.

Over 90% of Somali women have had it done -

some when they were just four years old.

You literally get your clitoris removed

and your vagina sewn together,

and they create a little hole for you to wee out of.

It's that brutal.

Like many women brought up the west,

Samira is outraged by FGM -

a practice that was nearly forced upon her.

My mum, she wanted us to go through FGM

and my grandma, the life saviour, said no.

My mum, I just can't believe she'd want that.

Maybe it's because, I'd say brainwashed

cos of the community, society and people made her believe

that that that is what

has to done or we'd probably go crazy or have sex out of marriage.

Samira's mum wouldn't have carried out the procedure herself.

She'd have gone to the women known as Cutters.

They circumcise thousands of young girls every year,

and have no medical training.

Samira wants to understand why they do it.

They're a bit scary.

Knowing that they've done it to. loads of other girls bothers me.

But to these women, it's as normal as getting married

and having children.

Before being allowed to marry,

the bride-to-be is inspected by the mother-in-law

to ensure that the stitching is intact

and the girl is still a virgin.

Only then will the stitching be removed.

I'm sure you know you're causing these girls further complication

in the future.

Don't you guys think it's wrong

you're removing what god gave to a women?

Samira is offered the chance to make up her own mind.

Tomorrow, one of the women is circumcising her daughter.

She's six years old.

Fuck off, man! Six years old!

I can't! I can't! I can't!

They're going to physically mutilate a six-year-old.

Does that not make anybody physically sick?

Please just stop fucking filming me.

She's horrified.

Samira has niece of a similar age,

and she can't stand back and let it happen

She reluctantly goes to the Cutter's house in search of the girl.

I'm shocked to see that it still happens

and I'm shocked that you think it's OK

for it to happen to your six-year-old daughter,

Don't you think she's too young?

What do you leave? A hole to wee?

A little hole the size of your nostril

Are you OK?

Are you look scared?

She looks frightened.

As a Muslim, Samira prays everyday.

But today's prayer has a special intention.

The little girl just looked so innocent.

She had no clue what's going to happen to her.

Tomorrow is going to be a really traumatic experience for her,

but I feel like I should go for the sake of the little girl.

It's Samira's last day in Somalia.

And at first light, she gets to the young girl's house.

Where's the little girl?

She's too late.

The operation has already been done.

Oh, my gosh!

Is she in pain?

Oh, oh, gosh!

Samira has seen why the procedure is done

but she'll never agree with it.

The girl seems OK.

It's still not right.

This part of the Somali culture, I will never accept and understand.

I just think it's abuse

rather that culture.

I feel so happy that I haven't had that done to me.

After four weeks in Africa,

it's time for Samira to go back to Britain.

In her time here, Samira has seen all kinds of suffering,

some of which has its roots in her culture,

but the bulk of the destruction has come from 21 years of war.

I'm going back to London.

There are Somalis that are going through this daily struggle,

poverty, the refugee camps, the women, the malnourished kids.

People in Mogadishu can't rebuild their lives

because they're still living in war.

Every single day Somali's are dying.

The experience has answered many of her questions,

but it's affected her more deeply than she'd ever expected.

She now realises how lucky she's been.

I can see what my mum went through,

and that will definitely change my relationship with my mum.

When I get back, I don't think I will ever appreciate her more.

The whole journey has changed me in terms of the religion

and in terms of the way I dress.

I probably would

think about the type of modelling I do,

and try and go to the modest pathway into modelling,

cos I think you don't have to take all your clothes off to be a model.

Mama!

Aww, Mum,

Oh, Mum. It's been too long.

Are you all right?

Yeah, I am.

I'm so glad, to come back.

Aww mum, it's so good to be home.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd