This is an op-ed I wrote a few months ago. Its still relevant today, unfortunately, because not much progress has been made in Somalia.
Cleaning the Slate for a New Somalia Policy
The US recently threw its support behind Somalia’s newly appointed president Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed, the former chairman of the Islamic Courts Union. Yes, the same Islamic Courts Union that the US-backed Ethiopian army toppled two years ago. What’s with the change of heart?
The Obama administration appears to be making the desperately needed changes to US-Somalia policy, a policy that has been disastrous for both Somalia’s stability and US objectives. Human Rights Watch recently blamed the US-backed Ethiopian occupation and the subsequent insurgency for causing the humanitarian catastrophe that Somalia now faces. The report criticized the Bush administration’s policies for “breeding the very extremism that it is supposed to defeat”. The report went on to say “The new administration of US President Barack Obama should urgently review U.S. policy in Somalia and the broader Horn of Africa and break with the failed approach of his predecessor.”
What are the failed policies that HRW is criticizing? Primarily the support of Ethiopia’s two year long occupation of Somalia. It’s hard to believe the US and Ethiopia thought it possible to impose an unpopular government on the Somali people. Nevertheless, the Bush administration did just that by supporting the installation of the Transitional Federal Government of Abdullahi Yusuf. Because his government was brought in by foreign forces, it fell apart as the Ethiopian army withdrew.
The Bush administration also appeared to follow a policy of state building as a tactic in counter-terrorism in Somalia, a disastrous policy for many reasons. US policy was working off the assumption that failed states are potential safe havens for terrorists, hence the need for state building in Somalia. State building is important to help stabilize the country, but it must be a Somali-led enterprise, and any US engagement should be diplomatic rather than military. Robert Pape’s research revealed suicide terrorism is most common in response to perceptions of foreign occupation. This reveals the potential for military occupations to antagonize and radicalize populations, as it did in Iraq and Somalia.
Establishing a stable, successful government is no easy task for President Sheikh Sharif. Divisive clan-based politics, beginning in the colonial era, has resulted in Somalis being extremely wary of having a leader other than one of their own clan members, for fear of being marginalized or persecuted. Sheikh Sharif will have to work hard towards creating unity and garnering trust from the population.
Sheikh Sharif also faces opposition from multiple factions vying for power within the country, and one particularly troublesome group is the radical group Al-Shabab, a militia which grew strength fighting Ethiopian troops for the past two years. Sheikh Sharif has already been in contact with Al-Shabab leadership, trying to gain their support and avoid unnecessary conflict. The best way for him to alienate extremists and create a stable government is to bridge the divisions among Somali clans, businessmen, civil society and religious leaders. There must be a mechanism for reconciliation and power sharing among the different clan leaders as well as other political groups, and the US can play a role in facilitating such reconciliation.
There is much hope among Americans and Somalis that the Obama administration will have a more intelligent Africa policy in the coming years, one which recognizes the mistakes of the Bush administration so that the failed policies are not repeated. The support of Sheikh Sharif is a positive step, and now we must wait and see if the Obama administration cleans its slate of failed policies, or goes back to the failed policies of the previous administration.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
another poem
I've started looking online for more poetry about Somalia and/or conflict. I found an amazing poem by Francis Duggan, an Australian writer, on http://somalipoets.blogspot.com/
This poem really puts our lives into perspective. We might not be as rich as the 'Mr. Big' referenced in the poem, but we know that we can give more to those suffering daily in Somalia and around the world.
Out there on the plains of Somalia a young woman on the ground lay
Her three babies have died of the hunger and death from her not far away
For weeks on end she has been starving in a land for years ravaged by drought
And Mr Big in his ferrari with his wife is driving about.
Out there on the plains of Somalia the sun baked earth is cracked and dry
And it hasn't rained for six months there and sun blazing in the blue sky
And poor woman dying of starvation lay huddled listless on the ground
And flies who smell death in their millions above her keep buzzing around
And Mr big and his wife in a posh restaurant with their wealthy mates are out to dine
One hundred dollars a plate for dinner and two hundred for a bottle of wine
Whilst out on the plains of Somalia the vultures circle in the sky
The smell of death is in their nostrils as they wait for a woman to die.
Out there on the plains of Somalia the river bed dry as a bone
And a young woman dying of thirst and hunger she's even too weak for to moan
And Mr Big and his wife and two children are having a great holiday
In a high class resort by the ocean six thousand for two weeks he pay.
Out there on the plains of Somalia in the searing heat of mid day
A young woman dying of thirst and hunger the life from her ebbing away
The vultures are circling above her and the flies of death buzzing around
And Mr Big in his ferrari to his company board meeting bound.
This poem really puts our lives into perspective. We might not be as rich as the 'Mr. Big' referenced in the poem, but we know that we can give more to those suffering daily in Somalia and around the world.
Out there on the plains of Somalia a young woman on the ground lay
Her three babies have died of the hunger and death from her not far away
For weeks on end she has been starving in a land for years ravaged by drought
And Mr Big in his ferrari with his wife is driving about.
Out there on the plains of Somalia the sun baked earth is cracked and dry
And it hasn't rained for six months there and sun blazing in the blue sky
And poor woman dying of starvation lay huddled listless on the ground
And flies who smell death in their millions above her keep buzzing around
And Mr big and his wife in a posh restaurant with their wealthy mates are out to dine
One hundred dollars a plate for dinner and two hundred for a bottle of wine
Whilst out on the plains of Somalia the vultures circle in the sky
The smell of death is in their nostrils as they wait for a woman to die.
Out there on the plains of Somalia the river bed dry as a bone
And a young woman dying of thirst and hunger she's even too weak for to moan
And Mr Big and his wife and two children are having a great holiday
In a high class resort by the ocean six thousand for two weeks he pay.
Out there on the plains of Somalia in the searing heat of mid day
A young woman dying of thirst and hunger the life from her ebbing away
The vultures are circling above her and the flies of death buzzing around
And Mr Big in his ferrari to his company board meeting bound.
A poem
A young Somali brother wrote this poem. He's only in high school but based on his writing, he is wise beyond his years and more motivated than most adults to be a positive change agent in Somalia someday.
Apathy, A Pity
It seems the rain falls in sync with my emotional content
It’s not the dark clouds, the loud sounds, nor the branches bent
I don’t think about me, think about money, or waist time with superficiality
Because in my heart I’ll always see none other than the poor man’s reality
When Somalia’s name is mentioned on the news, on T.V., why must we turn a blind eye?
When there was once a time when our people needn’t cry, nor die
The time has arrived not to forget the past, rather to reconstruct it
Keeping in mind our potential, our future, please, don’t be reluctant
Somalia will someday, inshallah, become the greatest of nations
Home not just to us but to beige, blue and Asian
Because you see, discrimination is the purest form of hatred
And in your heart I hope lies only good, purity, and cupid
Go ahead, go to Starbucks, have a cup of coffee, chat
But the next time you spend that 5 dollars, just remember that-
The day Somalia rises is the day the Diaspora stand up
The day we raise our standards, give back, no hands up
You see we all want to help, we can claim we do, or claim we don’t
But keep in mind, the suffering extends beyond your family, your tribe, your old home
So instead of thinking about the problems, dreaming solutions, and clinging on to your apathy
Remember, you can make a difference, you can save a life, you can truly help.
I try, and I’m just six-teen
Apathy, A Pity
It seems the rain falls in sync with my emotional content
It’s not the dark clouds, the loud sounds, nor the branches bent
I don’t think about me, think about money, or waist time with superficiality
Because in my heart I’ll always see none other than the poor man’s reality
When Somalia’s name is mentioned on the news, on T.V., why must we turn a blind eye?
When there was once a time when our people needn’t cry, nor die
The time has arrived not to forget the past, rather to reconstruct it
Keeping in mind our potential, our future, please, don’t be reluctant
Somalia will someday, inshallah, become the greatest of nations
Home not just to us but to beige, blue and Asian
Because you see, discrimination is the purest form of hatred
And in your heart I hope lies only good, purity, and cupid
Go ahead, go to Starbucks, have a cup of coffee, chat
But the next time you spend that 5 dollars, just remember that-
The day Somalia rises is the day the Diaspora stand up
The day we raise our standards, give back, no hands up
You see we all want to help, we can claim we do, or claim we don’t
But keep in mind, the suffering extends beyond your family, your tribe, your old home
So instead of thinking about the problems, dreaming solutions, and clinging on to your apathy
Remember, you can make a difference, you can save a life, you can truly help.
I try, and I’m just six-teen
More Images from Dadaab Refugee Camp
As tragic as the situation in Dadaab is for the refugees, its painful to remember that the living conditions of those who were unable to escape Ogaden or Somalia are much worse. At least the refugees in Dadaab receive food rations, however insufficient they may be. And at least there is relative security in Dadaab, a peace that many Somalis have never seen in their homecountry. Dadaab still feels like an open-air prison, but at least food is served in prison.
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.
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