At the request of the Somali community in Minnesota, the U.S. Department of Health did a study last month that concluded Somali children are in pre-school programs for autism spectrum disorder at two to three times the rate of other children. Researchers couldn't pinpoint why.
In the Swedish study, involving 17 children, the prevalence of autism was found to be three to four times higher in the Somali community than the non-Somali one. The paper, published last year in the journal Developmental Medicine & Child Neurology, suggested epigenetic factors could play a role.
Ms. Hassan and other Somali immigrants in Toronto remain convinced the condition is overrepresented among their own.
"Some of them think it is their fault for immigrating here," said Ms. Kediye.
Many Somalis in Canada, who number 37,000 in all with about half living in Toronto, arrived as refugees and face language and cultural barriers.
Jonathan Alderson, a Toronto autism expert, said Somali families may need more specialized treatment to address a range of issues particular to children of immigrants, including the change in their traditional diet and family structure, cultural differences, and difficulties in getting a correct diagnosis.
In their own worlds
On a recent rainy Friday afternoon, Ali, now 12, and his brother Abshir, 11, stand around a foosball table inside a McDonald's playground. With their closely cropped hair, lanky frames and sweet smiles, the brothers resemble one another.
They are joined by Mohamed Ali, who is 11 and also autistic. The trio exchange the occasional look, but remain for the most part locked in their own worlds, unable to converse or interact in any meaningful way. They squeal sometimes in delight at some private, hidden amusement until finally the playground's ambient noise and fluorescent lights start to bother them. Flapping their arms and shouting, they make their impatience clear.
"I am used to people staring at Mohamed, but I don't care. I take him everywhere," says Idman Roble, Mohamed's mother, an economist who immigrated 18 years ago. She and Ms. Hassan met through the Somali Parents Support Group. Their priority is to raise the profile of the condition - and to lobby for access to more services.
The media, they say, often publish stories of white, middle-class autistic children who have made progress through intensive therapy.
Actors Jenny McCarthy and Jim Carrey, for example, attribute the improvement in their son's health to his special diet and applied behaviour analysis. (They also subscribe to the theory - now discredited - that early childhood vaccines may cause autism.)
Ms. Hassan can barely afford organic food, let alone speech therapy. Ali and Abshir attend special education classes at a public school - but it's not enough.
Mohamed has 300 words, says Ms. Roble, and there are specialized communication devices with visual cues that could help him communicate. "But he needs one-on-one teaching, and we cannot afford it."
She, like Ms. Hassan, must wash, dress and feed her son, hold his hand when they walk down the street, and watch him at all times. What will happen when these boys turn 18?
The stress of caring for two autistic children and one learning-disabled child already pushed one Somali mother over the edge. She had a nervous breakdown and had to temporarily relinquish her kids to the Children's Aid Society.
Ms. Hassan and Ms. Roble vow to fight on. "We can't regret what we have. There are always others who suffer more," says Ms. Hassan. "But we need help."
