Monday, August 24, 2009
Images from Dadaab
Monday, August 3, 2009
Kibera slum
After living in Nairobi for nearly 2 months, I finally got a chance to visit Kibera. I was given a tour by Jeff and Musa, two young men who work with Children of Kibera.
The slums of Kibera are like no place I've seen before, and I don't think i'll ever forget it. The people who live there are Nairobi's poorest and most vulnerable people, living in extreme poverty. They create shacks from random scraps, and there is no water and sanitation. The muddy streets smell of garbage and sewage at every corner, and I saw toddlers playing atop mounds of garbage. There is a small stream that runs through the slum, but the water is dense and gray, and I shiver to think what could result if someone were to drink it.
After carefully walking with my guides through the narrow twisting mud paths (regretting that I wore sandals) we entered a gate and into a small courtyard. There were a few narrow buildings and we entered one of them. I found myself in front of a class of smiling primary school students in warm red sweaters. They began singing a song together, which turned into a name game. They went around the room pointing at each other as students sang their names, and finally the fingers were pointed at me and I said my name and where I came from. I also told them to keep up the hard work. What I wanted to tell them was that seeing them in a classroom, and not out in the muddy streets doing God knows what, made me feel comfort and hope for their futures.
I discovered that Children for Kibera, which funds the primary school i visited, does the kind of work that I hope to get involved with someday. This particular organization provides funding and support to three schools- two primary and one secondary. The amazing part is that the funding is mostly gathered in the US from elementary school students and other private donors. A Georgetown professor who himself grew up in Kibera does the fundraising. He also recuits American high school and college students to spend the summer teaching in the schools.
This strategy appears to be working, and it looks as though young people are the best advocates for their peers in Kibera slum. American elementary school students do all sorts of fundraisers and provide books and resources to the schools in Kibera. It astonishes me that these little kids comprehend the fact that they can make a difference in the lives of kids in Kenya. It takes a certain amount of sympathy mixed with optimism to make that happen, and it makes me regain some hope in America's culture and education system. These kids clearly know something me and many adults don't: that we can all make a difference. The pictures of some of these American kids were hanging in the office of the primary school I visited, near a shelf full of donated books.
There are 15 million people- according to Jeff- who live in this sprawling informal settlement. The Kenyan government completely ignores Kibera, as if it doesnt exist. Consequently there are no public schools or services provided to this impoversished population. I truly believe these such counter-intuitive policies are the reason slums like Kibera erupted during the post election violence in early 2008. Clearly the people of Kibera were looking for a regime change, and rightfully so.
The millions in this slum and in the slums around the world rely on good will combined with personal motivation to help them improve their lot. And I walk away from Kibera knowing I can make a difference and do something positive for them. Lets all do something positive, and learn from the example of the elementary school kids.
This is not to say we are all morally obligated to give so much of our time and money that we would ourselves be left with little- as Peter Singer proposed. But what we should do is look at the luxuries we enjoy each day, and ask whether that money may go further and be more meaningful if it were given to the millions of organizations like Children of Kibera that do great work for the world's poorest.
The slums of Kibera are like no place I've seen before, and I don't think i'll ever forget it. The people who live there are Nairobi's poorest and most vulnerable people, living in extreme poverty. They create shacks from random scraps, and there is no water and sanitation. The muddy streets smell of garbage and sewage at every corner, and I saw toddlers playing atop mounds of garbage. There is a small stream that runs through the slum, but the water is dense and gray, and I shiver to think what could result if someone were to drink it.
After carefully walking with my guides through the narrow twisting mud paths (regretting that I wore sandals) we entered a gate and into a small courtyard. There were a few narrow buildings and we entered one of them. I found myself in front of a class of smiling primary school students in warm red sweaters. They began singing a song together, which turned into a name game. They went around the room pointing at each other as students sang their names, and finally the fingers were pointed at me and I said my name and where I came from. I also told them to keep up the hard work. What I wanted to tell them was that seeing them in a classroom, and not out in the muddy streets doing God knows what, made me feel comfort and hope for their futures.
I discovered that Children for Kibera, which funds the primary school i visited, does the kind of work that I hope to get involved with someday. This particular organization provides funding and support to three schools- two primary and one secondary. The amazing part is that the funding is mostly gathered in the US from elementary school students and other private donors. A Georgetown professor who himself grew up in Kibera does the fundraising. He also recuits American high school and college students to spend the summer teaching in the schools.
This strategy appears to be working, and it looks as though young people are the best advocates for their peers in Kibera slum. American elementary school students do all sorts of fundraisers and provide books and resources to the schools in Kibera. It astonishes me that these little kids comprehend the fact that they can make a difference in the lives of kids in Kenya. It takes a certain amount of sympathy mixed with optimism to make that happen, and it makes me regain some hope in America's culture and education system. These kids clearly know something me and many adults don't: that we can all make a difference. The pictures of some of these American kids were hanging in the office of the primary school I visited, near a shelf full of donated books.
There are 15 million people- according to Jeff- who live in this sprawling informal settlement. The Kenyan government completely ignores Kibera, as if it doesnt exist. Consequently there are no public schools or services provided to this impoversished population. I truly believe these such counter-intuitive policies are the reason slums like Kibera erupted during the post election violence in early 2008. Clearly the people of Kibera were looking for a regime change, and rightfully so.
The millions in this slum and in the slums around the world rely on good will combined with personal motivation to help them improve their lot. And I walk away from Kibera knowing I can make a difference and do something positive for them. Lets all do something positive, and learn from the example of the elementary school kids.
This is not to say we are all morally obligated to give so much of our time and money that we would ourselves be left with little- as Peter Singer proposed. But what we should do is look at the luxuries we enjoy each day, and ask whether that money may go further and be more meaningful if it were given to the millions of organizations like Children of Kibera that do great work for the world's poorest.
Dadaab Refugee Camp
Last week I went to Dadaab, Africa's largest refugee camp. Its predominately occupied by Somalis but has a minority of Ethiopian and Southern Sudanese refugees as well. It was a challenging and eye-opening experience.
The conditions in Dadaab are shocking poor. Just to give you background, the camp was designed to hold 90,000 refugees but currently holds nearly 300,000. Each refugee family upon arrival is given a plot of land and sometimes a tent, but often they are left to use scraps, sticks and random material to create a hut. The camp is full but cannot expand because the government of Kenya refuses to provide anymore land, primarily because of some vocal MPs- with an unusual level of influence- from the region.
The UNHCR essentially runs the camps, registering people and administering land and food rations. The refugees get enough food to stay alive, but not many nutrients in a diet of grains and corn. The people cant work to earn money because its against Kenyan law, nor can they move freely in the country. One woman I spoke to called it an open air prison, a reference that reminded me of how Palestinians describe Gaza.
The school system in the camp is so poor that their is almost no opportunity for advancement for young people. This leaves them spending most of their day hoping and praying to be resettled in a new country- preferable in Europe, the US or Canada. Like in most of the world, unfortunately, the women in the camps have it hardest. On top of the obvious struggles in the camp, they also suffer from domestic violence, rape and FGM.
What really affected me about this trip was the chance to see with my own eyes the conditions in the camps, and hear first-hand the stories of the refugees. Hear about their arduous journey to cross into Kenya, the loved ones they lost back home and the struggle they endure each day to keep their family alive and together. It was initially very depressing because as an ethnic Somali, I saw myself in the refugees. It could just as easily have been me sitting there, recounting my harsh life to a disconnected westerner. I also saw people who could have been my family lying on floor mattresses in makeshift huts. Life suddenly became more tenuous. The people of Dadaab have beautiful faces, but when I looked into their eyes, I saw a glossed-over, depressed gaze. I saw a plea for help, and I knew I couldn't just walk away from the camp and do nothing.
Although most of what I saw was depressing, I was also surprisingly inspired. One woman named Muraya, a member of the Women Together organization, told me that as refugees, they know education is the key to escape Dadaab. She told be about the schools in the camp- how the classes are overcrowded with students who want to learn, but how the teachers often have no more than a primary school education. She told me the story of how she and a group of refugees were so upset about the lack of secondary schools in the camp, that they put together what little resources they had and created a new secondary school with an all-volunteer staff. This was inspiring, and i realized that I had no right to feel hopelessness for the refugees if they themselves had hope enough to work for their children's futures. They saw their fate as God's will, but also prayed to God for a better future for their families.
I was also inspired by the humanitarian aid workers who are living in Dadaab, with credentials that could have given them a cozy job and life in any western nation. Instead they chose to work in this desert location, providing training, working in hospitals, registering refugees or creating stoves for the women to use. I was impressed by the work done by Care, GTZ, Norwegian Refugee Council and International Rescue Committee, so much so that I want to come back someday and work with one of them. They do what they can, given the circumstances and their limited resources.
Seeing Dadaab also shed light on the reality of life in Somalia. I haven't seen the country since I was a young child, but I hear stories about it. I know about how peaceful and prosperous it once was. But going to Dadaab, and seeing that people would rather live in the horrible camp conditions rather than return to their homeland, made me realize just how dire the situation is back in Somalia. Many refugees told me of their desire to return home and get back to working for their families, but they all fear violence. I hope and pray that someday soon the refugees in Dadaab will be able to leave the camp and return home. They also await that day, but having seen Somalia recently, they seem less optimistic about how soon that day will come.
The conditions in Dadaab are shocking poor. Just to give you background, the camp was designed to hold 90,000 refugees but currently holds nearly 300,000. Each refugee family upon arrival is given a plot of land and sometimes a tent, but often they are left to use scraps, sticks and random material to create a hut. The camp is full but cannot expand because the government of Kenya refuses to provide anymore land, primarily because of some vocal MPs- with an unusual level of influence- from the region.
The UNHCR essentially runs the camps, registering people and administering land and food rations. The refugees get enough food to stay alive, but not many nutrients in a diet of grains and corn. The people cant work to earn money because its against Kenyan law, nor can they move freely in the country. One woman I spoke to called it an open air prison, a reference that reminded me of how Palestinians describe Gaza.
The school system in the camp is so poor that their is almost no opportunity for advancement for young people. This leaves them spending most of their day hoping and praying to be resettled in a new country- preferable in Europe, the US or Canada. Like in most of the world, unfortunately, the women in the camps have it hardest. On top of the obvious struggles in the camp, they also suffer from domestic violence, rape and FGM.
What really affected me about this trip was the chance to see with my own eyes the conditions in the camps, and hear first-hand the stories of the refugees. Hear about their arduous journey to cross into Kenya, the loved ones they lost back home and the struggle they endure each day to keep their family alive and together. It was initially very depressing because as an ethnic Somali, I saw myself in the refugees. It could just as easily have been me sitting there, recounting my harsh life to a disconnected westerner. I also saw people who could have been my family lying on floor mattresses in makeshift huts. Life suddenly became more tenuous. The people of Dadaab have beautiful faces, but when I looked into their eyes, I saw a glossed-over, depressed gaze. I saw a plea for help, and I knew I couldn't just walk away from the camp and do nothing.
Although most of what I saw was depressing, I was also surprisingly inspired. One woman named Muraya, a member of the Women Together organization, told me that as refugees, they know education is the key to escape Dadaab. She told be about the schools in the camp- how the classes are overcrowded with students who want to learn, but how the teachers often have no more than a primary school education. She told me the story of how she and a group of refugees were so upset about the lack of secondary schools in the camp, that they put together what little resources they had and created a new secondary school with an all-volunteer staff. This was inspiring, and i realized that I had no right to feel hopelessness for the refugees if they themselves had hope enough to work for their children's futures. They saw their fate as God's will, but also prayed to God for a better future for their families.
I was also inspired by the humanitarian aid workers who are living in Dadaab, with credentials that could have given them a cozy job and life in any western nation. Instead they chose to work in this desert location, providing training, working in hospitals, registering refugees or creating stoves for the women to use. I was impressed by the work done by Care, GTZ, Norwegian Refugee Council and International Rescue Committee, so much so that I want to come back someday and work with one of them. They do what they can, given the circumstances and their limited resources.
Seeing Dadaab also shed light on the reality of life in Somalia. I haven't seen the country since I was a young child, but I hear stories about it. I know about how peaceful and prosperous it once was. But going to Dadaab, and seeing that people would rather live in the horrible camp conditions rather than return to their homeland, made me realize just how dire the situation is back in Somalia. Many refugees told me of their desire to return home and get back to working for their families, but they all fear violence. I hope and pray that someday soon the refugees in Dadaab will be able to leave the camp and return home. They also await that day, but having seen Somalia recently, they seem less optimistic about how soon that day will come.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The case of the missing Somali-American boys
Its not surprising that a handful of Somali-American boys went missing, and have since turned up fighting in Somalia. Unfortunately these boys, in their search for identity and a cause, were pulled into a distant conflict. An event as huge as the Ethiopian occupation was necessary to mobilize a handful of them to leave the relative comfort of the US to defend, as they saw it, their country and culture.
Many non-Somalis do not realize the anger and sense of tragedy that haunted Somalis, in the country and in the diaspora, when Ethiopian troops entered the country in late 2006, and didn't leave until early 2009. The subsequent widespread destruction and chaos politicized many Somalis, but only these few boys felt compelled enough to go to the war torn country and fight. Shabaab, as radical and undesirable as they were and are, was the only force fighting the Ethiopian troops, and so the young boys saw it as a natural militia to join.
The boys were not fighting for Shabbab, they were fighting against Ethiopian occupation. Hence no boys have gone missing since the Ethiopian troop withdrawal from Somalia. It shouldn't surprise anyone that occupation can created the anger and emotions necessary for an insurgency. And because of the interconnectedness of the Somali diaspora to the mainland, it doesn't surprise me that this emotion and movement reached people in distant places. These Somali's were not the first or last Americans to go fight in their country of origin. At this point I'm just praying these boys get a fair trail.
Ken Menkhaus of Davidson College described the situation well:
"First, recruitment of Somali-Americans into the Shabaab is very recent, correlated with politics in Somalia since 2006, not with Al Qaeda’s 9/11 attacks and the subsequent war on terror. The agenda which appears to have initially inspired Somali recruits into joining Shabaab was primarily about Somalia, not global jihadism.
For many Somalis, Al Shabaab was an entirely justifiable liberation movement against Ethiopian occupation, not a terrorist group.
Second, it is important to recall that the Shabaab was not designated a terrorist organization by the U.S. government until March 2008, by which time many of the Somali-Americans in question had already been recruited into the movement. For many Somalis, Shabaab was an entirely justifiable liberation movement against Ethiopian occupation, not a terrorist group.
In addition, the recruitment of Somali-Americans into Shabaab is a reflection of the “diasporization” of Somalia. Roughly one million Somalis, about 15 percent of the total population, now live abroad. The diaspora plays a leading role in every aspect of Somali life. Most leaders of the Transitional Federal Government in Somalia hold citizenship abroad, as do many of the top Islamist opposition figures, business people and civic leaders."
Menkhaus is a legitimate scholar of Somali issues, almost as insightful as ethnic Somali scholars like Abdi Ismail Samatar of the University of Minnesota. Others who have chimed in on the issue, such as Thomas Sanderson of CSIS and Bruce Hoffman of Georgetown University, have proven completely ignorant of the reasons for the boys' disappearances.
See NYT article: http://roomfordebate.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/07/13/ways-to-detect-jihadist-threats/
Pundits like them simply don't get Somali people or politics. Their narrow-minded jihad-talk is dangerous and anti-intellectual, reminiscent of Bush-era rhetoric. After years of failed Somalia policies- no one suffering more than the Somali people themselves- its time to move towards a more nuanced and complex understandings of the issues.
Somalia faces a highly complex conflict which requires mastery of the culture, traditions, history and contemporary condition of the country to even begin to grasp whats happening. Its depressing to see how few real scholars of Somali affairs are out there, especially when they are so desperately needed.
Many non-Somalis do not realize the anger and sense of tragedy that haunted Somalis, in the country and in the diaspora, when Ethiopian troops entered the country in late 2006, and didn't leave until early 2009. The subsequent widespread destruction and chaos politicized many Somalis, but only these few boys felt compelled enough to go to the war torn country and fight. Shabaab, as radical and undesirable as they were and are, was the only force fighting the Ethiopian troops, and so the young boys saw it as a natural militia to join.
The boys were not fighting for Shabbab, they were fighting against Ethiopian occupation. Hence no boys have gone missing since the Ethiopian troop withdrawal from Somalia. It shouldn't surprise anyone that occupation can created the anger and emotions necessary for an insurgency. And because of the interconnectedness of the Somali diaspora to the mainland, it doesn't surprise me that this emotion and movement reached people in distant places. These Somali's were not the first or last Americans to go fight in their country of origin. At this point I'm just praying these boys get a fair trail.
Ken Menkhaus of Davidson College described the situation well:
"First, recruitment of Somali-Americans into the Shabaab is very recent, correlated with politics in Somalia since 2006, not with Al Qaeda’s 9/11 attacks and the subsequent war on terror. The agenda which appears to have initially inspired Somali recruits into joining Shabaab was primarily about Somalia, not global jihadism.
For many Somalis, Al Shabaab was an entirely justifiable liberation movement against Ethiopian occupation, not a terrorist group.
Second, it is important to recall that the Shabaab was not designated a terrorist organization by the U.S. government until March 2008, by which time many of the Somali-Americans in question had already been recruited into the movement. For many Somalis, Shabaab was an entirely justifiable liberation movement against Ethiopian occupation, not a terrorist group.
In addition, the recruitment of Somali-Americans into Shabaab is a reflection of the “diasporization” of Somalia. Roughly one million Somalis, about 15 percent of the total population, now live abroad. The diaspora plays a leading role in every aspect of Somali life. Most leaders of the Transitional Federal Government in Somalia hold citizenship abroad, as do many of the top Islamist opposition figures, business people and civic leaders."
Menkhaus is a legitimate scholar of Somali issues, almost as insightful as ethnic Somali scholars like Abdi Ismail Samatar of the University of Minnesota. Others who have chimed in on the issue, such as Thomas Sanderson of CSIS and Bruce Hoffman of Georgetown University, have proven completely ignorant of the reasons for the boys' disappearances.
See NYT article: http://roomfordebate.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/07/13/ways-to-detect-jihadist-threats/
Pundits like them simply don't get Somali people or politics. Their narrow-minded jihad-talk is dangerous and anti-intellectual, reminiscent of Bush-era rhetoric. After years of failed Somalia policies- no one suffering more than the Somali people themselves- its time to move towards a more nuanced and complex understandings of the issues.
Somalia faces a highly complex conflict which requires mastery of the culture, traditions, history and contemporary condition of the country to even begin to grasp whats happening. Its depressing to see how few real scholars of Somali affairs are out there, especially when they are so desperately needed.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Best policy option for Somali peace
As much as I want to start writing about ideas and potential for economic development in Somalia, I can't. Not when the country is engulfed in war and a humanitarian crisis. All I can think about is the need for basic necessities- like food, water and shelter- regardless of how the provision of these goods harms long term development goals.
The political situation is simply frustrating, and as an American i'm further frustrated by our governments inability to comprehend that funding one side of the conflict simply fuels the conflict. Guns cannot end this battle. Rather what is needed is mediation and compromise on all sides.
The best policy option for the US and other nations to do at this time, if they truly seek a stable and safe Somalia, is to help improve the livelihood of the population. By improving the standard of living, young boys wont turn to piracy and insurgency. By showing people tangible ways in which the internationally backed government improved their lives, the government will gradually gain legitimacy and support.
But beyond the government, the international community can work with any local legitimate entities to help them provide for the population. The world should not approach Somalia as a project in state-building or they will fail. They must focus on peace-building. An important way to foster peace is to create opportunities and livelihoods for the population so that people are not driven to criminal or insurgent activity. Whether or not a central government exists, there can be investment in education, economic development and improving livelihoods.
The country may not be a democracy, but the Somali people have a strong voice in determining who they allow to govern them. (Hence the fourteen failed warlord-led attempts at establishing a government) Somalis are tired of conflict and are desperate for peace. The next leadership to provide them with peace and positively impact their lives will be rewarded with supporters. The US and international community must play a role to help foster that peace so as to salvage their image, an image greatly harmed by support for the brutal Ethiopian occupation.
Now is the time to foster peace not fuel war.
The political situation is simply frustrating, and as an American i'm further frustrated by our governments inability to comprehend that funding one side of the conflict simply fuels the conflict. Guns cannot end this battle. Rather what is needed is mediation and compromise on all sides.
The best policy option for the US and other nations to do at this time, if they truly seek a stable and safe Somalia, is to help improve the livelihood of the population. By improving the standard of living, young boys wont turn to piracy and insurgency. By showing people tangible ways in which the internationally backed government improved their lives, the government will gradually gain legitimacy and support.
But beyond the government, the international community can work with any local legitimate entities to help them provide for the population. The world should not approach Somalia as a project in state-building or they will fail. They must focus on peace-building. An important way to foster peace is to create opportunities and livelihoods for the population so that people are not driven to criminal or insurgent activity. Whether or not a central government exists, there can be investment in education, economic development and improving livelihoods.
The country may not be a democracy, but the Somali people have a strong voice in determining who they allow to govern them. (Hence the fourteen failed warlord-led attempts at establishing a government) Somalis are tired of conflict and are desperate for peace. The next leadership to provide them with peace and positively impact their lives will be rewarded with supporters. The US and international community must play a role to help foster that peace so as to salvage their image, an image greatly harmed by support for the brutal Ethiopian occupation.
Now is the time to foster peace not fuel war.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Eastleigh- a window into Somalia's potential economic power
Eastleigh is a bustling commercial center in Nairobi, but walking through it you'd think it was a city in Somalia.
The residents, shop owners and visitors to Eastleigh are predominantly ethnic Somalis- some from Kenya and others refugees from Somalia. No where in Nairobi can you find such a concentration of commercial enterprises. Kenyan's travel there from the countryside because its "the best shopping in town," with amazing prices on all sorts of goods- from flat screen tv's to a diverse array of clothing. Money is constantly changing hands, men are pushing past with boxes full of products, cars along the road move at a snails pace, women call you into their stores, and you dont know which way to turn next or what shop to look into. You could spend an afternoon just exploring one mall- Garissa lodge, Amal, Bangkok, Hongkong, Baraka- or you could avoid the indoor malls altogether and shop along the roads. I've been to Eastleigh four times since arriving in Nairobi and everytime I leave with many more bags of goods than I intended to purchase.
For me, walking through the streets of Eastleigh has a personal significance. I'm Somali-American but have never seen the country so visiting this somali enclave is a sort of homecoming, a place where I am surrounded by the somali culture and language, and a people who looked like me! But it can also be alienating. Never have I felt so un-Somali as when I am surrounded by Somalis in Eastleigh. They know almost immediately that I came from abroad- perhaps by the way I dressed- although I thought I would fit in. If not by my appearance, my poor Somali language skills made my foreign-ness certain.
Once, while getting lunch with two friends in the heart of Eastleigh, I suddenly felt a burst of confidence in my language skills and decided to test it. "Walaal" I called the waiter, "I'd like the rice and fish." He began writing, then turned to me and asked "which type of fish?" At this point I began mumbling in broken somali, not sure what the different types were called. He soon realized that I was struggling with the language. "Oh no", he began to lecture, "you forgot your mother tongue? Where are you from". I said Virginia, feeling a new sense of comfort in my Virginian identity, as if it gave me an excuse, or perhaps it simply was a more accurate description of who I am. He went on with several reasons why its important to keep your mother tongue, with the oddest reason being that I can "make a lot more money knowing Somali." That's questionable, but he was right about one thing. Its pretty embarrassing not knowing the language well.
Aside from my personal discoveries in Eastleigh, it provides great insight into the potential Somalis have as businesspeople. Right now the economic power of Somalis is enjoyed by Dubai, Nairobi and other cities around the world, but these same businesses are on stand by, waiting for the chance to invest back in their homeland.
As soon as peace returns to Somalia, commerce will naturally follow, and I predict many will be in awe of how rapidly the economy grows into a powerhouse in East Africa.
The residents, shop owners and visitors to Eastleigh are predominantly ethnic Somalis- some from Kenya and others refugees from Somalia. No where in Nairobi can you find such a concentration of commercial enterprises. Kenyan's travel there from the countryside because its "the best shopping in town," with amazing prices on all sorts of goods- from flat screen tv's to a diverse array of clothing. Money is constantly changing hands, men are pushing past with boxes full of products, cars along the road move at a snails pace, women call you into their stores, and you dont know which way to turn next or what shop to look into. You could spend an afternoon just exploring one mall- Garissa lodge, Amal, Bangkok, Hongkong, Baraka- or you could avoid the indoor malls altogether and shop along the roads. I've been to Eastleigh four times since arriving in Nairobi and everytime I leave with many more bags of goods than I intended to purchase.
For me, walking through the streets of Eastleigh has a personal significance. I'm Somali-American but have never seen the country so visiting this somali enclave is a sort of homecoming, a place where I am surrounded by the somali culture and language, and a people who looked like me! But it can also be alienating. Never have I felt so un-Somali as when I am surrounded by Somalis in Eastleigh. They know almost immediately that I came from abroad- perhaps by the way I dressed- although I thought I would fit in. If not by my appearance, my poor Somali language skills made my foreign-ness certain.
Once, while getting lunch with two friends in the heart of Eastleigh, I suddenly felt a burst of confidence in my language skills and decided to test it. "Walaal" I called the waiter, "I'd like the rice and fish." He began writing, then turned to me and asked "which type of fish?" At this point I began mumbling in broken somali, not sure what the different types were called. He soon realized that I was struggling with the language. "Oh no", he began to lecture, "you forgot your mother tongue? Where are you from". I said Virginia, feeling a new sense of comfort in my Virginian identity, as if it gave me an excuse, or perhaps it simply was a more accurate description of who I am. He went on with several reasons why its important to keep your mother tongue, with the oddest reason being that I can "make a lot more money knowing Somali." That's questionable, but he was right about one thing. Its pretty embarrassing not knowing the language well.
Aside from my personal discoveries in Eastleigh, it provides great insight into the potential Somalis have as businesspeople. Right now the economic power of Somalis is enjoyed by Dubai, Nairobi and other cities around the world, but these same businesses are on stand by, waiting for the chance to invest back in their homeland.
As soon as peace returns to Somalia, commerce will naturally follow, and I predict many will be in awe of how rapidly the economy grows into a powerhouse in East Africa.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Pirates as a symptom of a larger disease
Piracy has brought international attention to Somalia, more than the humanitarian crisis that has existed for years. I dont want to diminish the serious threat it poses to intenrational economic stability, but the piracy issue is being approached backwards.
Pundits and "professionals" of all stripes are claiming piracy must be stopped, but few people care to look on land- where the "pirates" live- to figure out why they do what they do. Rampant piracy is a new development off the coast of Somalia, growing as an industry alongside the degrading political and socio-economic conditions on the mainland. Piracy is a symptom of the greater problems facing Somalia- instability, impunity, poverty, and the greater humanitarian catastrophe that has existed for years now. Trying to fight poverty is important, but if you are trying to end piracy, that requires a lot more time and committment to foster good governance, stability and economic growth in Somalia.
The young boys who become pirates do so out of desperation. They risk their lives to make money, the only way they know how. The desperate economic condition in somalia has made piracy the only viable option for many families. Meanwhile, the extremely weak government can do little to curtail this growing crime because it has little to no control over the population. My recommendation to anyone interested in stoping piracy is to focus on creating conditions on the mainland that will not necessitate or create pirates. Invest in social and economic development intiatives and support good governance.
The world- and international media- seems to ignore the tragic conditions faced by Somalis today. It seems time and again that no one wants to look at the root causes of a problem but rather put a cheap bandaid on it. Unfortunately for Somalis, that cheap bandaid means they will continue to suffer in the dark unless the world's policymakers realize that the fight against piracy is a fight for a better Somalia.
Pundits and "professionals" of all stripes are claiming piracy must be stopped, but few people care to look on land- where the "pirates" live- to figure out why they do what they do. Rampant piracy is a new development off the coast of Somalia, growing as an industry alongside the degrading political and socio-economic conditions on the mainland. Piracy is a symptom of the greater problems facing Somalia- instability, impunity, poverty, and the greater humanitarian catastrophe that has existed for years now. Trying to fight poverty is important, but if you are trying to end piracy, that requires a lot more time and committment to foster good governance, stability and economic growth in Somalia.
The young boys who become pirates do so out of desperation. They risk their lives to make money, the only way they know how. The desperate economic condition in somalia has made piracy the only viable option for many families. Meanwhile, the extremely weak government can do little to curtail this growing crime because it has little to no control over the population. My recommendation to anyone interested in stoping piracy is to focus on creating conditions on the mainland that will not necessitate or create pirates. Invest in social and economic development intiatives and support good governance.
The world- and international media- seems to ignore the tragic conditions faced by Somalis today. It seems time and again that no one wants to look at the root causes of a problem but rather put a cheap bandaid on it. Unfortunately for Somalis, that cheap bandaid means they will continue to suffer in the dark unless the world's policymakers realize that the fight against piracy is a fight for a better Somalia.
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