sˈæmæɾɚ spˈɛnt hɪz ˈɜːli jˈɪɹz ɪn ɐ noʊmˈædɪk ɛnvˈaɪɹənmənt, wˌɛɹ hiː ɹˈaɪts ðˈæt "sˈiːzənz ʌv plˈɛnti" wɪð "fɹˈeɪɡɹənt flˈaʊɚz blˈuːmɪŋ ˈɔːl ˌoʊvɚ ðə fˈæloʊd fˈiːldz, ɐbˈʌndənt mˈɪlk ænd mˈiːt" ˈɔːltɚnˌeɪɾᵻd wɪððə "pəɹˈɛnɪəl θɹˈɛt ʌv stɑːɹvˈeɪʃən dˈʊɹɹɪŋ dɹˈaʊts, mɚɹˈɔːdɪŋ ɡˈæŋz ʌv ˈɛnəmi klˈænz bˈɛnt ˌɔn mˈɜːdɚ ænd mˈeɪhɛm, stɹˈɪpɪŋ juː ʌv jʊɹ lˈaɪvstɑːk, ðɪ ˈɛvɚpɹˈɛzənt dˈeɪndʒɚɹ ʌv ɹˈævənəs pɹˈɛdəɾɚz.
Samatar spent his early years in a nomadic environment, where he writes that "seasons of plenty" with "fragrant flowers blooming all over the fallowed fields, abundant milk and meat" alternated with the "perennial threat of starvation during droughts, marauding gangs of enemy clans bent on murder and mayhem, stripping you of your livestock, the ever-present danger of ravenous predators.