Starred Review We wanted so badly to feel human, writes Abdi in this quietly devastating memoir of life in Somalia. As the first female gynecologist in her country, Abdi is also a lawyer, Nobel Peace Prize nominee, and Glamour's 2012 Woman of the Year. She grew up in the hopeful first postcolonial days and endured a disastrous first marriage as a 12-year old bride; the death of an infant and, later, a grown son; years of loneliness attending medical school in the Soviet Union; and every terrifying moment of her country's wars, famine, and destruction. Her determination to practice medicine in a rural area and build a prosperous farm with her second husband is evidence of her refusal to give up, even when everyone else, including entire governments, are willing to quit. As inspiring as Abdi's story is, however, none of it would be memorable if it was not conveyed so effectively. She packs a robust social and political history of Somalia into her narrative, taking readers deep into the heart of a country that was betrayed by its leaders, military, and far too many of its people. Compelling does not begin to define this story; it is simply, sadly, impossible to put down.

With the assistance of Robbins, Nobel Peace Prize nominee Abdi chronicles the ravages of the ongoing civil war in Somalia and her efforts to establish a safe haven amid the destruction. The author begins in 1960, when, at the age of 13, she witnessed the end of colonial occupation. She describes the first years of independence as a glorious time. After a border war with Ethiopia and severe drought, corruption and civil strife emerged, and people turned to their clans for protection. Violence followed as warlords clashed and rampaged across the land. "An entire generation has grown up without law and order," writes the author, providing fertile ground for Muslim fundamentalism to take hold. Against this backdrop, Abdi's accomplishments are remarkable. Although raised in a traditional male-dominated society, she liberated herself and got a formal education, receiving a scholarship abroad to train as a physician. Returning, she was one of only 60 physicians in Somalia, 35 of whom worked in the hospital to which she was assigned. She married, and she and her husband moved to land on the outskirts of Mogadishu that was owned by her family. Abdi continued working at the hospital while starting a clinic for mothers and children on the property, and her husband farmed the land. As the political condition in the country deteriorated, the farm provided food and a haven for refugees. Despite threats to her safety and her husband's desertion, she stayed and organized support from international organizations. In 2010, the enclave of the farm, which by then sheltered 91,000 people, was overrun and destroyed. She was forced to live abroad, where she continued her advocacy for the people of her homeland. A poignant account of personal bravery, love, and loss and a chronicle of the tragedy of our times.

When Somali human rights activist Abdi was just a girl, her grandmother told her, "You will be the big trees that everyone comes and relaxes under," foreshadowing Abdi's role as physician and human rights advocate at her clinic and camp in rural Southern Somalia. In the 1960s, Abdi received a scholarship and free medical training in the Soviet Union. With high hopes, she returned to Somalia soon after independence from Great Britain and Italy, but quickly learned that change is not always for the better. A 1969 government overthrow set off decades of virulent clan warfare, looting and destruction, cycles of famine and drought. Despite the many accolades she has won (including a Nobel Peace Prize nomination) and the global media coverage of her successes, Abdi's tale is one of personal conflict, inside both Somalia and herself. Her courage remains steadfast in the face of perpetual turmoil: an arranged marriage at age 12, the loss of her beloved mother and grandmother, betrayal by her sisters, abandonment by her second husband, the mysterious death of her son, her clinic's capture by a group of religious fundamentalists. Her bottom-line message explains a stubbornness that transcends the years of violence and pain: "No matter where you have been, your home is still the best." (Apr.)