charlotteobserver In a two-bedroom east Charlotte apartment and at the Islamic Center just down the street, Eza Omar’s childhood filled with memories of her uncle. She’d sit at his feet and look up as he and her parents went back and forth “just talking… talking, talking, talking,” Omar told The Charlotte Observer in a recent interview. Omar was maybe six years old, and her big brother and little sister were probably on the floor with her, she said. Above, her mother’s brother, Abdullahi Mohamed, cradled a cup of tea in his hands and talked to her parents about their Central Avenue community, the news of the day and the global events that dominated the early 2000s. That scene, she said — the tea, the living room, the hours of talking — reflected their Somali culture. But for seven weeks toward the end of last year, talking wasn’t an option. At a routine check in with Immigration and Customs Enforcement in October, agents took Mohamed and revoked the terms he’d lived under for 20 years. He seemingly vanished. And about month after he was taken, federal immigration agents swarmed Charlotte and the very neighborhood that held Omar’s cherished memories. “His community here,” Omar said, “was suffering the same way that he was.” Read more From Julia Coin at the🔗 in bio. View all 59 comments