SOMALIA COVER STORY SEPTEMBER 2001
Somalia is rising from the ashes!
Peter Kimani, one of our Kenyan
correspondents, recently returned from a trip to Somalia. Though life is still hard, he
saw enough to gladden the hearts of the optimists.
In the popular imagination, Somalia is hell
on earth. In fact, the images still haunt: armoured cars, machine guns, dead American
soldiers being dragged in the streets of Mogadishu, total anarchy, collapsed state
structures. This June, the American weekly, Newsweek, named Somalia as one of “the
worst countries in the world”, a survey which also named Britain as “the dark
island” on account of “the darkness of the sky — night and day are too
nearly of a colour.”
So when I was asked to tour Somalia recently, I was utterly revolted to the whole idea.
“Is there water to drink?” a Kenyan friend asked.
“What food do they eat?”, another posed, reminding me of the past famines. A
colleague warned me not to take my camera or anything valuable “since they would be
looted anyway”.
As I ascended the creaky stairs of the waiting United Nations’ Common Air Service
plane at the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi, doubts crept in if I would
ever make the return journey.
Two hours later, a red mast suddenly appeared in the clear-blue sky, synchronised with the
pilot’s announcement that we were about to land in Baidoa, Somalia’s breadbasket
that the media christened the “City of Death”. I steeled myself, ready to tread
on the “blood-soaked” soil and be overwhelmed by the smell of death.
“Welcome to our peaceful Baidoa,” said Mohamed Ali Aden, the 58-year-old
governor of Baidoa. “You will not be held hostage or your property looted,” he
added for good measure.
Baidoa, of course, is no longer what it was six years ago, when rival militias clashed
over its control.
A brave new world
Having personally relied solely on TV for news about Somalia, the coming 10 days would be
a period of great discovery as I realised the other side of Somalia — the side that
you never see on TV.
Somalia, the country the world wants to forget, is rising from the ashes. It is a brave
new world where people are determined to jump-start the collapsed institutions and make a
contribution to build the edifice that shall be the future Somalia.
While scores of international agencies have played big roles in the reconstruction of
Somalia, the real heroes are the ordinary men and women who, armed with nothing but a
steely resolve and fierce patriotism, and the trust that they can make a difference, are
slowly shaping the future of their country.
Dr Abdi Ali is the quintessence of selfless devotion. The 39-year-old surgeon, who
graduated from Mogadishu University in 1989, is the only doctor in the Bay/Bakool and Juba
regions, serving about 225,000 people.
He never considered leaving Somalia through the decade of turmoil. “If we all leave,
who shall help my country?” he asks with fierce fervent fervour.
Some of those who fled, such as Dr Abdullahi Said, who lived in Sweden for 15 years, have
returned to make their contribution to the reconstruction of the country. The
Soviet-trained gynaecologist now heads Bossaso district hospital, the only hospital in
Puntland to the north.
“Somalia needs me more than Sweden,” says the half-Swede, half Somali.
Volunteerism is Somalia’s clarion call: Doctors attend to patients for free at
Bossaso hospital in the morning and rush to their private practices in the afternoon.
This is replicated at the Isha Human Rights Organisation, aptly titled as “Isha”
meaning “eye”. From their one-room office in the heart of Baidoa, they watch
over the rights of the citizenry.
A rickety Olympia typewriter, the only equipment in the office, spurs to life as Isha’s
chairman, Mohamed Aden Maalim, punches the keys spiritedly, writing another play to
sensitise people about their rights. The group, which comprises 16 volunteers, uses
theatre to educate the people, while documenting human rights abuses in Baidoa.
Divided they stand
On the political front, a ray of hope is beckoning. And the land, forever depicted as dry,
acrid and grim, is in fact rich and productive. Farmers are soiling their fingers to tend
the tender tendrils.
And surprise, suprise! The people usually portrayed to be in the throes of permanent
starvation, are today exporting livestock to the Gulf, and providing revenue to run the
government and support many social services.
Yes, the shoe-shaped nation that Siad Barre ruled with an iron fist for 22 years, till
insurgents defeated his army in 1991, stands divided. There are four “states”
within it that claim autonomy.
To the northwest lies Somaliland, the break-away republic and the most advanced of the
four, thriving on a livestock-based economy. It is led by President Mohamed Ibrahim Egal,
it has a functioning parliament, and recently held a referendum to declare its autonomy.
To the northeast, lies Puntland — “punt” means “sweet scent”
— which also has a thriving livestock-based economy. It is on the way to developing
its fisheries, according to Ali Ismail Abdi Gir, the fisheries, ports and marine transport
minister.
The Bossaso port, constructed by the Italian government in 1989, is the gateway to
Puntland’s foreign exchange, relying heavily on livestock exports to Dubai, Abu Dhabi
and the United Arab Emirates.
Puntland, just as Somaliland, suffered a serious set-back last year when Saudi Arabia
slapped a ban on its livestock on suspicion that livestock from East Africa suffered from
the Rift Valley Fever.
“We lost 45% of our national earnings in the past year,” Gir revealed,
explaining that this marked a $20m drop.
Thankfully, the United Arab Emirates lifted the ban this May. An average 15 ships and 40
dhows leave the Bossaso port every month, a number that could easily rise with the lifting
of the Saudi ban.
Puntland is undertaking an experiment only rivalled by South Africa and Nigeria: It has
privatised provision of water, and so successful is the programme that electricity is
being privatised too.
“It’s a very exciting experience,” says Sven Jonsson, UNICEF’s Water
and Sanitation Project Officer. “Trying what has not been tried elsewhere. We call it
public oversight, private management.”
This concept has seen UNICEF drill three boreholes and install generators and pumps at a
cost of $1.5m to supply water to the community, but encourage private companies to invest
in the project and recover their money through water sale.
Within six months only, 600 of a possible 6,000 families in Bossaso, the Puntland capital,
have been served with piped water, under the management of the Golden Utility Management
Company (Gumco).
“We have a long way to go, but we are getting there,” says Ahmed Musa, the Gumco
project manager.
Already, the 30-km Bossaso Water Project has been extended to outlying towns of Gardo and
Galkayo. Electricity is on the way to privatisation, with Khalif Nur Ali, chairman of the
Bossaso Water Board, volunteering to lay the groundwork for electricity privatisation.
Bossaso is leading in education as well, with the University of East Africa nearing
completion. It will be the only university in Somalia once inaugurated. Mogadishu
University, once the only university in Somalia, shut its doors after the war broke out.
Mogadishu
To the east, the city of Mogadishu is still being fought over. The seaside city —
which means the seat of sheikhs — has four sheikhs fighting over it.
To the south of the city, is the Somali National Alliance led by Hussein Aideed; to the
north is the Somali Salvation Alliance led by Ali Mahdi Mohammed. There are two more
“sheikhs” — Osman Ali Hassan Atto operates in south Mogadishu, and Musa
Sudi Yalahow is trying to get by.
The four warlords split from the original United Somali Congress and the Somali National
Alliance. Today, each of them is determined to get a foothold in Mogadishu, the capital
that Said Barre, who impoverished the country with his “scientific socialism”,
invested 85% of the country’s negotiable assets.
The Central and Southern parts of Somalia are held by the Rahanweyn Resistance Army (RRA)
led by Dr Hassan Mohamed Nur, better known as Shati Gadud.
Baidoa is the RRA’s stronghold, and is being groomed as the future capital of the new
state.
“The prolonged period of statelessness and insecurity in southern Somalia since 1990
has destroyed much of the agricultural infrastructure, deprived pastoralists of access to
veterinary services and weakened other productive sectors,” explains a UNICEF report.
But this “state” is being changed by farmers like Salim Hussein Kassim, 37.
“I have been farming all my life,” he says. He grows fruits and vegetables that
he supplies to stores in Baidoa. “I have never left the farm,” he continues.
He inherited his farm from his father a decade ago. He engages three farm hands to help
grow food to feed his nation, and his extended family of 20.
The sweet smell of ripe guava, lettuces and tomatoes burn the nostrils as we tour his
two-hectare farm. He gave us a basketful of fruit as a parting gift.
But Kassim’s stoicism and optimism is not reflected in all the people. It is true the
guns have fallen silent in most parts of Baidoa, but the memories of war still linger.
“On 6 June 1999, we became the happiest people in the world,” says Faduma Isaak,
55, the chairperson of the Baidoa Women’s Group. “It was a Sunday and that was
when the last fighting took place in Baidoa,” she adds.
That was the day the RRA repossessed Baidoa. It is a day that is now marked with great
solemnity by the residents, to celebrate the RRA’s recapture of the town, after a
five-year occupation by the Aideed faction. The RRA leader, Dr Hassan Nur, is determined
to create a federal state modelled on Nigeria, despite the region’s fragile
agro-based economy.
Peace reigns in Baidoa and sport is one of the ways of promoting peace. We join enthused
youths at Dr Ayub Stadium, on the fringe of the town for a game of football. The match
today is between local teams, El Khaleel and El Awan. The stadium, we are told, is named
in memory of Dr Ayub, a UNICEF doctor who was assassinated in 1999.
“He was a very popular doctor in the Bay/Bakool region,” reveals Abdulkadir
Shariff Hassan, the chairman of the Olympics Committee. A tournament is held every year in
Dr Ayub’s memory. UNICEF rehabilitated the stadium and provided jerseys for local
teams.
So great is the spirit of the game, this perhaps explains why sports have been integrated
as part of the demobilisation process and peace promotion.
‘The sweat of your brow’
In downtown Marka, a coastal outpost whose decaying buildings are rankled with beauty and
splendour, we meet members of the Muruqmaal Fishing Cooperative. Muruqmaal means “the
sweat of your brow,” and the 49 members, all former militia men, literally eat from
the sweat of their brow. They are fishermen, having surrendered their guns for boats and
fishing nets. The ex-militiamen are drawn from different clans.
Last Christmas, the local NGOs, Iida and Cosv, gave them gifts they shall forever
treasure: two 8.5 metre-long sailboats. These are now their lifeline.
Elsewhere, more ex-soldiers are being demobilised at the Elman Peace Centre in Mogadishu,
established in memory of a slain philanthropist. And sports and vocational training are
being used to rehabilitate the 120 ex-soldiers, who include 20 women.
“We are very optimistic,” says Ibrahim Ali Oker, a consultant at the Centre for
Research and Dialogue in Mogadishu, which promotes dialogue, openness and forgiveness in
conflict resolution.
Forgiveness
“People forget. That’s God’s gift to mankind,” Ibrahim Oker continues.
“I know forgiveness is not easy. How can we sit together if you killed my son and
raped my daughter, and your son is holding my house. But you cannot turn back the hand of
time.”
Eleven thousand militiamen and women have been demobilised since the Transitional National
Government (TNG), which is attempting to form a unitary government under the leadership of
Dr Abdiqassim Salad Hassan, came to power eight months ago.
The target is to demobilise 75,000 militiamen and women in the next three years. The
challenge is daunting as it is estimated that one million assault rifles and
rocket-propelled grenade launchers are in civilian hands.
Radio is the other crucial thing that has been used to promote peace. Radio Baidoa, barely
two years old, is asserting its presence in the region.
The brainchild of Hussein Sharif Roble, Radio Baidoa is a modest investment of $1,000. The
set is anything but sophisticated: just a radio cassette player that transmits a menu of
entertainment and special programmes aimed at promotion of peace, health and education.
Other radio stations include Somaliland’s state-run Radio Hargeisa, the Puntland’s
Radio Galkayo, and Mogadishu’s — it has the lion’s share — Radio
Banadir, Voice of Civilians (the mouthpiece of Hussein Aideed), Somali TV and Horn Afrik
Radio/TV.
Schools
In the seaside town of Marka, southeast of Mogadishu, is the Iida elementary school with
its whitewashed classrooms and bright-faced children. They are all orphans, sad reminders
of the civil war in which one million people are estimated to have perished.
Teaching the children about nationalism, and instilling a sense of pride in the
multiplicity of their identities, is one of the deliberate efforts that educationists have
undertaken to foster peace and reconciliation in Somalia. “They must learn to live
with one another,” explained UNICEF’s education project officer, Abdirizak
Mohamed Ali.
Fortunately, even the decade of war could not destroy all the glue that held the society
together. All the children are absorbed in the extended family system. They have a home to
return to in the evening.
School enrolment has improved dramatically. In three short years, the number of primary
schools rehabilitated at the parents’ initiative has shot from 550 to 850. Puntland
has 155 primary schools, with a pupil population of 26,219 under 847 teachers.
Baidoa town alone has 69 primary schools, all run by volunteer teachers for the second
year now.
“Education is still cherished,” said Mohammed Yahya Hussein, PhD, a
California-trained educationist who coordinates education in the region. “The main
challenge is to provide salaries for the teachers.”
The majority of the teachers engage in part-time businesses to make ends meet. To many of
them, teaching is a labour of love and an expression of their deep love for their country.
School ennrolment is still sluggish at 35%, with 99% of the children opting to attend
Koranic schools, which imparts religious studies only.
Great expectations
There is no gainsaying that great challenges lie ahead in the reconstruction of Somalia. A
central bank, for instance, is crucial to control the amount of money circulating in the
economy.
Billions of Somali shillings printed in Canada and Indonesia by certain warlords six
months ago, considerably watered down the value of the shilling, currently exchanging at
Sh20,000 to $US1.00.
More needs to be done to improve on security too: Armed militiamen had to escort us in the
South, casting a shadow of doubt on the gains achieved so far.
Sadly, the stigma attached to Somalia has blinded the world from realising its strengths:
Somalia has one of the lowest HIV infection rates in the world at 0.8%, and perhaps the
cheapest telephone rates. A local call by landline is free of charge in Bossaso, while a
local call by mobile phone is four US cents per minute. An international call is $1 per
minute.
The crowning in my 10-day sojourn in Somalia was a walk at sundown along the Bossaso
Public Beach. Watching the sun recede behind the mountain range, I shut my eyes and
drifted away, listening to the gentle roar of the ocean waves, as the warm blue waters
caressed my feet.
This was another Somalia, different from the one on TV!
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