Somalia the Playground

I'm not a fan of conspiracy theories. They tend to explain major events with simplistic and cynical reasoning, and I tend to have more belief in the basic good nature of human beings to believe in the vastness of most conspiracy theories.


But then last week Kenya invaded Somalia. This must be the biggest political/military blunder since the Ethiopian military invaded the country in 2006. Somalis, especially those who have a tendency towards conspiracy, are shouting off the rooftops. A pattern has developed, they claim. Every time Somalia shows a hint of stability, some neighbor invades the country, putting the peace process and development efforts back to square one.


Ethiopia invaded Somalia in 2006 with the expressed purpose of fighting "terrorists." The invasion successfully pushed out of power the Union of Islamic Courts, the first governance system to bring stability, rule of law, and safety to the population in over a decade. Business was booming, the diaspora was returning to the country to rebuild homes and the sense of hope was never so high. But with the swift movement of the Ethiopian military, the UIC disintegrated and all that remained was a militia that branded itself al-Shabaab. Ethiopia's invasion helped to create al-Shabaab, and after two years of devastating conflict, Ethiopian troops pulled out of Somalia, leaving the country largely in al-Shabaab's control.


Fast-forward to today: Just as al-Shabaab became weaker than ever, as a consequence of the drought, decreasing finances and overall disillusionment with the organizations authoritarian and draconian rule, Kenya decides to invade. The invasion followed the kidnapping of a French tourist from northeast Kenya's coastal town of Lamu, and the Kenyan government announced that it would not tolerate Somali rebels crossing the border and wreaking havoc in Kenya. But the impact of this invasion will be far-reaching and resounding for  years to come if Kenya does not pull out soon. Already, al-Shabaab is crying out its new rallying cry - to fight the infidel Kenyans that are invading, raping, pillaging and bombing Somali brethren. This was similar to the information campaign launched during Ethiopia's invasion and unfortunately, it will almost certainly resonate with ordinary Somalis who until recently despised al-Shabaab. The insurgent/terrorist group will now be seen as the defenders of the homeland once again.

Bombing

On October 4th, a bomb went off near the Kilometer 4 junction in downtown Mogadishu. The death toll was over 70, and hundreds were wounded - some charred, some in pieces, some still smoldering from the impact. I saw the aftermath on a video that was posted online just a couple of hours after the bomb went off. I regret watching that video and seeing the dead bodies, some clearly young children. This is a rude awakening, reminding us all that while Mogadishu appears to be improving, just below the surface are fundamental problems. Al-Shabaab may have "pulled out" in August but they are far from gone.


The most tragic part of this bombing was the victims: they were mostly young students who were lining up outside the Ministry of Education to receive results from an examination. The Turkish government offered scholarships to Somali students, and these young kids had the smarts and confidence in themselves to try their luck at the chance to study abroad, hoping for a better future. I'm sure their families were tremendously proud of them, but unfortunately this hope and pride was shattered by terrorism.

 Al-Shabaab has become nothing more than a terrorist organization with a bankrupt ideology. With every murder of an innocent individual, more and more Somalis increase their loathing for the organization. Although I may at some time thought al-Shabaab was just a violent political movement, now I believe they are beyond the pale and cannot be dignified with the title of political movement. They are inhuman terrorists. If they cared at all for the Somali people they would not be killing them in such violent ways. The sole purpose of al-Shabaab now appears to be terrorism, and wreaking havoc on Somalia so that no government can establish itself. And it looks like they are succeeding.


This bombing and mass murder of innocent young people will nevertheless backfire on al-Shabaab because terrorism doesn't sit well with Somalis. My hope is that the people are angry enough to mobilize against al-Shabaab following this tragedy, and deal the organization a serious blow.


Somalis have been trapped by fear long enough. At a certain point, fear isn't enough to contain the hope for change.

K'naan NYT article

A beautifully written and powerful article by Somali-Canadian musician K'naan. He clearly still feels nationalism for a land he's long since fled:

ONE has to be careful about stories. Especially true ones. When a story is told the first time, it can find a place in the listener’s heart. If the same story is told over and over, it becomes less like a presence in that chest and more like an X-ray of it.

The beating heart of my story is this: I was born in Mogadishu, Somalia. I had a brief but beautiful childhood filled with poetry from renowned relatives. Then came a bloody end to it, a lesson in life as a Somali: death approaching from the distance, walking into our lives in an experienced stroll.

At 12 years old, I lost three of the boys I grew up with in one burst of machine-gun fire — one pull from the misinformed finger of a boy probably not much older than we were.
But I was also unusually lucky. The bullets hit everyone but me.

Luck follows me through this story; so does my luckless homeland. A few harrowing months later, I found myself on the last commercial flight to leave Somalia before war closed in on the airport. And over the years, fortune turned me into Somalia’s loudest musical voice in the Western Hemisphere.

Meanwhile, my country festered, declining more and more. When I went on a tour of 86 countries last year, I could not perform in the one that mattered most to me. And when my song “Wavin’ Flag” became the theme song for the World Cup that year, the kids back home were not allowed to listen to it on the airwaves. Whatever melodious beauty I found, living in the spotlight, my country produced an opposing harmony in shadows, and the world hardly noticed. But I could still hear it.

And now this terrible year: The worst famine in decades pillages the flesh of the already wounded in Somalia. And the world’s collective humanitarian response has been a defeated shrug. If ever there was a best and worst time to return home, it was now.

So, 20 summers after I left as a child, I found myself on my way back to Somalia with some concerned friends and colleagues. I hoped that my presence would let me shine a light into this darkness. Maybe spare even one life, a life equal to mine, from indifferently wasting away. But I am no statesman, nor a soldier. Just a man made fortunate by the power of the spotlight. And to save someone’s life I am willing to spend some of that capricious currency called celebrity.

We had been told that Mogadishu was still among the most dangerous cities on the planet. So it was quiet on the 15-seat plane from Nairobi. We told nervous jokes at first, then looked to defuse the tension. The one book I had brought was Hemingway’s “A Moveable Feast.” I reached a chapter titled “Hunger Was Good Discipline” and stopped. That idea needed some contemplation. The very thing driving so many from their homes in Somalia was drawing me back there. I read on. Hemingway felt that paintings were more beautiful when he was “belly-empty, hollow-hungry.” But he was not speaking of the brutal and criminally organized hunger of East Africa. His hunger was beautiful. It made something of you. The one I was heading into only made ashes of you.

By now, the ride was bumpy. We were flying low, so I could see Baraawe and Merca, beauties of coastal towns that I had always dreamed of visiting. The pilot joked that he would try to fly low enough for my sightseeing, but high enough to avoid the rocket-propelled grenades.

FOR miles along that coast, all you see are paint-like blue water, beautiful sand dunes eroding, and an abandoned effort to cap them with concrete. Everything about Somalia feels like abandonment. The buildings, the peace initiatives, the hopes and dreams of greatness for a nation.

With the ocean to our backs, our wheels touch down in Mogadishu, at the airport I left 20 years before to the surround-sound of heavy artillery pounding the devil’s rhythm. Now there is an eerie calm. We clear immigration, passing citizens with AK-47’s slung over their shoulders.

It’s not a small task to be safe in Mogadishu. So we keep our arrival a secret until after we ride from the airport to the city, a ride on which they say life expectancy is about 17 minutes if you don’t have the kind of security that has been arranged for me.

Over breakfast at a “safe house,” I update my sense of taste with kidney and anjera (a bread), and a perfectly cooled grapefruit drink. Then we journey onto the city streets. It’s the most aesthetically contradictory place on earth — a paradise of paradox. The old Italian and locally inspired architecture is colored by American and Russian artillery paint. Everything stands proudly lopsided.

And then come the makeshift camps set up for the many hungering displaced Somalis. They are the reason I am here. If my voice was an instrument, then I needed it to be an amplifier this time. If my light was true, then I needed it to show its face here, where it counts. Nothing I have ever sung will matter much if I can’t be the mouth of the silenced. But will the world have ears for them, too?

I find the homeless Somalis’ arms open, waiting for the outside world and hoping for a second chance into its fenced heart. I meet a young woman watching over her dying mother, who has been struck by the bullet of famine. The daughter tells me about the journey to Mogadishu — a 200-mile trek across arid, parched land, with adults huddling around children to protect them first. This mother refused to eat her own food in order to feed abandoned children they had picked up along the way. And now she was dying because of that.

The final and most devastating stop for me was Banadir Hospital, where I was born. The doctors are like hostages of hopelessness, surrounded and outnumbered. Mothers hum lullabies holding the skeletal heads of their children. It seems eyes are the only ornament left of their beautiful faces; eyes like lanterns holding out a glimmer of faint hope. Volunteers are doing jobs they aren’t qualified for. The wards are over-crowded, mixing gun wound, malnutrition and cholera patients.

Death is in every corner of this place. It’s lying on the mattresses holding the tiny wrists of half-sleeping children. It’s near the exposed breasts of girls turned mothers too soon. It folds in the cots, all-knowing and silent; its mournful wind swells the black sheets. Here, each life ends sadly, too suddenly and casually to be memorialized.

In this somber and embittered forgotten place, at least they were happy to see I had come.

Starvation

The horn of Africa is experiencing its first famine in three decades, affecting nearly 12 million people in the region. In Somalia alone, nearly 3.5 million people are at risk of starvation or hunger-related death, which is nearly half of the country’s population. The hardest hit populations are those in al-Shabaab controlled territory because the organization, in one of its so-called moral edicts, banned aid agencies over a year ago, and has actively tried preventing IDPs from moving in search of aid. But al-Shabaab is no monolith, and this crisis has shown that more clearly than ever.

In early July al-Shabaab put out a statement allowing all Muslim and non-Muslim aid organizations into its territory. By all accounts, there was dispute at the top over this decision and a few days later, the organization retracted, stating that only aid organizations that were not previously banned are allowed in. This means some of the biggest organizations that have experience in somalia, including WFP, Care, Oxfam and Mercy Corp, are not allowed in al-Shabaab areas.

I just wonder if al-Shabaab is blind to the crisis in its region, since it continues to get funding from outside extremist donors, or whether it thinks the unprecedented suffering and death toll is not an issue. Whatever the reason, its a tragedy compounded by terrible leadership, and I just hope the more moderate al-Shabaab officials will win out in this internal dispute and allow in more life saving assistance. Ironically, some analysts say by letting in more aid, al-Shabaab will be better placed to maintain control in its territories. I don't know if I buy this theory, but regardless, shabaab isn't known for its long term strategizing.

Kenyan Govt

Apart from al-Shabaab, one of the most shameful actors in this entire tragedy is the Kenyan government, which is refusing to open Ifo two, an extension to a refugee camp in Dadaab. The government claims it is a security threat to open the camp and allow more Somalis to settle in Kenya. But the reality is the government is playing politics, and forcing tens of thousands of starving, weak people out in insecure tents, vulnerable to rapists, bandits and the elements, when a solid camp made for 40,000 refugees sits empty. Kenya is also erecting bureaucratic barriers to getting relief aid into somalia which in recent days has resulted in the turning back of needed assistance at the border.

There is no excuse for this. Its pure politics and is a clear reminder that governments can and do exacerbate suffering during famine.

Media

So once again, starving, emaciated Somalis are all over the media.  This was late in coming since the Rupert Murdoch phone tapping and Norway attack have dominated the media. But today's front cover of the New York Times is a four-column wide image of an emaciated young Somali boy. His entire skeletal outline can be seen through his fragile, thin skin. This image will surely increase interest and hopefully assistance for famine victims. Although I sympathize with the view that showing such tragic, real images of suffering exploits the victims in a way, I also believe such images are unfortunately necessary to get attention to an issue. I just pray the boy in the NYT picture has survived somehow. And I pray that the Somalis, Ethiopians, Kenyans and Eritreans affected by this drought come out of it even stronger than before.

Returning

I was flying over Hargeisa, Somalia on a UN flight along with colleagues from work. It was for them a routine trip into Somalia, but for me it was my first time returning to the country since I left as a toddler. After flying over what seemed to be endless desert and savanna in Kenya and Somalia - not really sure when I crossed the border - I knew I was near Hargeisa when we began to descend and i saw small clusters of houses or aqals, and some property markers. Hargeisa in my mind was a big city, second only to Mogadishu, but it turns out it is much smaller than I imagined. Its also a lot cleaner and more spread out than I thought.


As soon as i stepped out of the airplane, the wind started. It nearly blew my scarf right off a few times. Hargeisa is a city that emerges from a desert, although there is some greenery, so the weather is usually very hot and dry. I happened to come during the right season because the temperature couldn't have been more pleasant. Leaving the airport, we began driving through the streets and I tried to both soak in the city, while also taking pictures every few seconds. I took pictures of the buildings, the advertisements, the goats, the colorful gates - just about everything that caught my eye. My main hope was to get pictures of people going about everyday life but the people were apparently missing from the streets. Only a few people were out and about, and I later found out this is normal because life in Hargeisa begins in the late afternoon.


As we drove, the Somali driver pointed out two small mountains that were just outside of the city, and asked me if I knew what they are called. I did not so he said with a smirk on his face, "these mountains are called naaso hablood, do you know what that means?" I laughed off his question and said "yes, i know what that means." Naaso hablood is Somali for women's breasts - I found the joke a bit crude. It reminded me of a journalist who wrote that Somalia is a country full of comedians and warriors. I found the generalization offensive but of course there is some truth to it.

The highlight of my day was a lunch with some government officials and NGO workers. They were exceptionally nice to me, telling me Hargeisa is my home, and I'm like their daughter. In my mind, I thought Mogadishu is more of a home than Hargeisa, considering that my parents once lived there. But essentially when I hear the word home, all I can think of is Virginia, where I've lived most of my life and where my family resides. Perhaps Hargeisa and Somalia more generally represents an ancestral home.

My Somali hosts asked me if I'd ever eaten camel meat, and when I said no, they called over the waiter and insisted he bring camel meat.  Before I could advise on the amount, he piled the meat on my plate. I was nervous but after taking the first bite, all the men watching in anticipation of my reaction, I smiled and told them its delicious. Camel meat tastes like cow meat but even better. Perhaps the way it was prepared made it more appealing than it could otherwise have been : the meat was cut in thin slices and simmered in a tasty sauce. After lunch, I felt I had a piece of Hargeisa in me and was ready to face the day.


Next we visited an NGO that work in Hargeisa, and I ran into someone who knew me from Boston, and now works at the NGO. I didn't recognize him but he was nice enough to not hold that against me. I was impressed by him and the great work his organization does - an organization that proudly told us they had Somalis from America, Canada, England and Italy working for them, and not only local staff. The return of diaspora to transfer skills and try to make a difference in the country is essential because without their return, the brain drain will be permanent.


The trip was short, not the 'homecoming' I had imagined. It was very much a visit to a foreign country, but one that I knew that I had ties to. What I saw in Hargeisa is a side of Somalia people don't hear about; a beautiful, peaceful and progressing country. Not the war and corrupt politics that people associate with Mogadishu.

Regional Governments Work

Regional governments are working in Somalia. See Somaliland, Puntland, Galmudug. They aren't perfect, but they function more effectively than the central government has in decades. The reason regional governments are working, and will continue to proliferate, is because central governance necessarily brings two men to the most powerful positions, president and prime minister. In a country divide by many clan-families, and with violent clan politics in its near past, there is a high level of distrust in central government. And so regions that are populated primarily by one or two clans make it easy to share responsibility and benefit of office, and lead populations to sense some comfort, however imagined. 

Thus, decentralization of governance is the way forward in Somalia. Not succession or the creation of autonomous states, but rather a federal union. Therefore, the governments in Somaliland, Puntland and Galmudug should share their best practices and work to help those governments at earlier stages in development, so that a stable federated Somalia can emerge. From there, a more representative - but scaled down - central government can develop.  

Somaliland

Somaliland is a politically autonomous region in northern Somalia. It's separateness is based on its colonial history of ocuption by the British, while Southern Somalia was occupied by Italy, and Djibouti by France. In 1992 the region declared independence from Somalia, and since then it has made impressive progress in building a government and beginning to provide services to the population.

The people of the region largely supported independence because of the violent legacy of President Siad Barre, who bombed the main city in Somaliland, Hargeisa, in his attempt to quell opposition movements. With such a tragic experience with central government, its no surprise the people of the region want out of Somalia. Nevertheless, there is some division among Somalilanders about the way forward. One Somalilander told me that he still believes in a united Somalia because he has experienced its benefits, having gone to university in Mogadishu and enjoyed life in the city for decades. But he doubts that the youth, who make up the majority of Somaliland today and have never experienced Somalia as one nation, will ever sense the nationalism he feels.

Its important to note Somaliland isn't the only region to establish its own government; Puntland and Galmudug are two regions that also have governmental structures in place, and also enjoy relative peace. These regions, however, do not seek to succeed from Somalia. The reason for this are complex, but generally the political class does not see benefit in complete separation from Somalia. Somaliland has become so anti-union with Somalia that today, it is political suicide for a politician to be perceived even to make relations with Somalia. If Somaliland is ever to become a functioning region of a stable Somalia, it will have to change the political discourse dramatically.

In the mean time, the vast majority of Somalis do not support the succession of Somaliland. They see a united Somalia as more powerful than a divided nation. The Somali people all share a language, religion and ethnicity, apart from minority groups, and so they see little sense in brothers breaking apart into separate nations. Most ominously, Somalis are suspicious of Ethiopia's intention, as the neighbor appears to support whole heartedly the succession of Somaliland.  Ultimately, Somalis want to see the nation recover from the divisive politics of today, and return to the strength it once had. Somalia was, however surprising, the first post-independence African nation to have a peaceful democratic election and transfer of power. It should be capable, with the right leadership, of establishing a government that represents and supports the entire nation, including Somaliland.