I remember the first time I heard qaraami music—those lilting Somali melodies that hum like a heartbeat, weaving stories of love, loss, and longing. I was a kid, straddling two worlds, my feet planted in the cracked sidewalks of Detroit and my heart tethered to a homeland I barely knew. That music, those stories, they became my anchor. Years later, sitting at my desk with a notebook full of scribbles and a playlist looping through trap beats and qaraami, I realized I wasn’t just writing a book. I was spinning a mixtape of lives—lives like Ayaan’s, the heart of LIBAAX: Grow Your Roots Where You Land.
Cedric Mu’s Vision for LIBAAX
When I started writing LIBAAX, I didn’t set out to tell a grand tale of triumph or tragedy. I wanted to capture the in-between—the dishwashing shifts that leave your hands raw, the fleeting glances with a stranger who might become home, the way a single vinyl record can hold an entire life’s worth of memories. Ayaan, my protagonist, is a Somali immigrant who lands in Detroit with a civil engineering degree and a suitcase full of dreams. But life doesn’t unfold like a blueprint. He’s scrubbing dishes, spinning records, and riding his motorcycle—named Libaax, Somali for lion—through a city that’s as gritty and resilient as he is. When a last-minute DJ gig thrusts him into Detroit’s underground music scene, Ayaan begins to remix his identity, layering Somali qaraami with trap beats, finding his rhythm in a place that feels both foreign and alive.
The Personal Heart of Cedric Mu’s LIBAAX
This book is personal. I’ve lived the ache of being “almost understood,” of navigating a language that doesn’t quite fit your tongue, of carrying a culture that feels like a secret you’re bursting to share. Growing up between worlds, I saw how immigrant stories are often flattened into stereotypes—either tales of heroic success or relentless struggle. But life isn’t that binary. It’s messy, vibrant, and pulsing with moments that don’t make headlines: the late-night conversations with friends like Ahmed, a reformed pirate with a quick laugh, or Maria, a law student who becomes family. Then there’s the fleeting romance with Isabeli, a bartender whose fire matches Ayaan’s own. And the way a motorcycle’s roar or a perfectly mixed track can make you feel elemental—like “a streak of fire painting sagas on the asphalt.”
Cedric Mu’s Bridge to Immigrant Stories
Writing LIBAAX was like building a bridge. I drew from the resilience I saw in Detroit’s diaspora communities—first-generation youth, former refugees, people piecing themselves together in unfamiliar terrain. I spent hours talking to them, listening to their stories of displacement, joy, and defiance. Those conversations shaped Ayaan’s journey, but they also shaped me. One night, while writing the scene of Ayaan’s first DJ gig, I blasted qaraami and trap mixes, trying to capture the sensory overload of a crowded club—the sweat, the bass, the flicker of lights. It felt like I was there, spinning alongside him, balancing the weight of memory with the thrill of creation. The challenge was staying honest, not romanticizing or pitying the immigrant experience but showing it as it is: raw, complicated, and beautiful.
Themes in LIBAAX
LIBAAX isn’t just Ayaan’s story—it’s a tapestry of themes that resonate deeply with me.Displacement and identity take center stage—how we rebuild ourselves when everything familiar is gone. Music becomes a form of resistance, a way to carry home in your bones. The story explores belonging and rootlessness, capturing the pain and poetry of seeking a place to call your own. It also delves into masculinity and vulnerability, portraying men like Ayaan who dare to feel deeply. And it’s about chosen family—those unexpected connections that anchor us when the world feels unsteady.
Why Read Cedric Mu’s LIBAAX?
This book is for anyone who’s ever felt caught between worlds, whether you’re an immigrant, a dreamer, or someone who loves stories that pulse with life. It’s for readers who crave lyrical prose, emotional depth, and characters who linger like a song you can’t stop humming. Educators, social workers, and students of diaspora studies will find something profound here, but so will anyone who believes in the power of storytelling to build empathy and connection.
What Makes LIBAAX Unique?
What makes LIBAAX unique? It’s not just about surviving—it’s about remixing culture, rebuilding joy, and forging new rhythms in unfamiliar places. The prose shifts like a DJ’s set, sometimes an internal monologue, sometimes cinematic, always immersive. It’s unapologetically poetic, blending the grit of urban fiction with the soul of multicultural literature. I hope it challenges readers to see immigrants not as “others” but as fully human—funny, flawed, fierce, and luminous. For immigrants and their children, I hope it feels like a mirror. For others, I hope it’s a window into lives too often overlooked.
Connect with Cedric Mu and LIBAAX
As I share LIBAAX with the world, I’m thrilled to connect with readers through digital Zoom readings, book club visits, and a book signing at a Detroit indie bookstore this fall. These events are more than promotions—they’re chances to talk about migration, identity, and the stories we carry. Stay tuned for dates and details on my website, cedricmuhikira.com, or follow me on social media for updates. You can find LIBAAX: Grow Your Roots Where You Land on Amazon, and I hope it finds its way into your hands and heart.
Cedric Mu’s Love Letter to Immigrants
This book is my mixtape, my love letter to the immigrant experience. It’s Ayaan’s story, my story, and the story of countless others who grow their roots where they land. I hope it resonates with you, like a beat that lingers long after the song ends.