The beginning of a new year is always promising and full of hope. We spent much of December and beginning of January planning the dreams and aspirations we hope to achieve in the new year. I for one had a very fulfilling 2012 and so my only real goal for 2013 is to try and stay on course.
I was very lucky to have been able to travel to Somalia last year and play a small part in the political changes the country was going through as well as help highlight some of the developmental challenges that still plague many regions. One of the main issues that weighed heavy on my heart, and that I wish to focus on in this brief note, is the haphazardness in the way many people were operating and this is largely due to people meddling in areas that are outside their skill-sets. It sounds very elementary but chaos certainly rises from people trying to do jobs they are not equipped to do. And this is across the board from politics to media, education and humanitarianism, I saw people young and old with lots of enthusiasm and zeal but zero clue of what ought to be done. I sadly also noticed how many people are in it for the wrong reasons, seeking praise and recognition without putting in the hard work. This is an underestimated and overlooked issue that can be costly if it is not addressed.
That being said, I remain inspired by the few that are the exception to the above issue, especially the youth both from the diaspora and within Somalia that put their degrees and professional experience to good use in places where they are really needed.
It's these kinds of efforts that need to be sought out, empowered and promoted. The youth really can make the necessary change, if equipped with the right guidance and support as their hearts are often clean from the traumas of clannism.
This is the time where the older generation needs to put their differences aside and come together to inspire the next generation of leaders and in order for that to come to fruition, older generation need to start reflecting on the kind of influence they have on their youngsters and whether this can bring positive changes in the long run.
More than anything,sincerity and a revival of moral conscientiousness needs to take place among all that wish to work towards the rebuilding of Somalia.
May this year be the year she starts to shine.....
Friday, January 4, 2013
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Somalia's women
Much of the political rhetoric surrounding Somalia in the last few months has seen a reoccurrence of one debate; women's participation. I was in Mogadishu when the roadmap milestones were met with the approval of the draft constitution and selection of parliament. But whilst these milestones were being celebrated, particularly because for the first time it was held in Mogadishu, many women were galvanising one another to push for more female political participation. Whilst at the constitution conference, outburst of women voicing their perturbance kept happening. I spoke to some of them then and the key concern seemed to be the fear of not getting their 30% quota in the parliament.
They didn't get their quota and since then, many presidential candidates including the current president included this issue as a priority into their campaign. I waited to see if any of these discussions and promises would bear fruit and, going by the street talk of Mogadishu in the last few days, the new cabinet, when announced, might be taking a key step into the forward movement of this debate in the form of a female foreign minister.
If this does become true it might be a cause for celebration but what lingers in the back of my mind is the fact that Somali women had always as far back as history depicts been part and parcel of Somali society, unlike our Arab and Western counterparts. They were highly active and held many key posts within government, including ministerial, as well as leading other areas and institutions of the Somali country and society. One of the fond memories I have as a child in Mogadishu is going with my mother to her university, whose department was led by a female professor.
And then when the civil war broke out, women took an even greater social responsibility upon their shoulders and became the backbone of society and initiators of survival. So I wonder when did this backward moving shift occur where women have now got to ask for inclusion, as if they're second class citizens? Till this day most women are the breadwinners of their households and leaders of their communities but them advocating for a minority inclusion defeats the mountainous role they always held.
It is a topical issue, one that can certainly not be concluded in a mere blog post but I just wanted to shed light into the need to properly examine and engage with somali women with regards to the roles they played, engage them on an equal platform as men and then look into developing their
participation, rather than having minority quotas and the odd ministerial position allocated.
They didn't get their quota and since then, many presidential candidates including the current president included this issue as a priority into their campaign. I waited to see if any of these discussions and promises would bear fruit and, going by the street talk of Mogadishu in the last few days, the new cabinet, when announced, might be taking a key step into the forward movement of this debate in the form of a female foreign minister.
If this does become true it might be a cause for celebration but what lingers in the back of my mind is the fact that Somali women had always as far back as history depicts been part and parcel of Somali society, unlike our Arab and Western counterparts. They were highly active and held many key posts within government, including ministerial, as well as leading other areas and institutions of the Somali country and society. One of the fond memories I have as a child in Mogadishu is going with my mother to her university, whose department was led by a female professor.
And then when the civil war broke out, women took an even greater social responsibility upon their shoulders and became the backbone of society and initiators of survival. So I wonder when did this backward moving shift occur where women have now got to ask for inclusion, as if they're second class citizens? Till this day most women are the breadwinners of their households and leaders of their communities but them advocating for a minority inclusion defeats the mountainous role they always held.
It is a topical issue, one that can certainly not be concluded in a mere blog post but I just wanted to shed light into the need to properly examine and engage with somali women with regards to the roles they played, engage them on an equal platform as men and then look into developing their
participation, rather than having minority quotas and the odd ministerial position allocated.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Mogadishu chronicles
My longing to see the city I was born in which I harboured for many years, finally came into realisation on the 20th of July 2012. I went for an assignment to moderate the Somali draft constitution conference. Prior to this trip, last time I was in Mogadishu was in 1989 as a 6 year old. As my flight lowered on to the ground ready to land, I noticed the beautiful blue ocean, its waves flowing serenely onto the crisp white beaches. Right next to it, there is a sea of makeshift tents scattered across the city, filled with displaced people. I was about to come face to face with my birth city, a city torn forlornly by war.
I made my way into the airport and had to queue in the 'foreigners' line for immigration. I was a foreigner in my native soil. I had to buy a visa to enter my homeland. It was a bitter pill to swallow. On my way to the hotel, bullet holes and destroyed buildings decorated the streets. People built makeshift tents in the old government ministries which were now destroyed beyond recognition. Every moment or so fresh gunshots would sound in the faint distant. My city was a city of conflict.
The first few days at work were haphazard and chaotic. The conference was being held at the former police academy and countless security checkpoints were put in place. More than 800 people from across Somalia were assembled to approve the draft constitution and hundreds of staff were hired to facilitate the conference during the 9 days it would last.But given the lack of coordination between those working there, minute tasks became impossible to accomplish. Security personnel weren't adequately trained so they would search people in the most inappropriate ways. Additionally, senior dignitaries and government officials were present most days which made circumstances extremely volatile. Whilst there, a mortar attack aimed at where people go through security and two suicide bombings were carried out. The suicide bombings were particularly frightening as they occurred just outside of the building where the conference was being held. The explosion shook the entire building and part of the ceiling came off. A security guard got injured and another one died. We all hurriedly ran towards the door and as I walked outside, I saw bits and pieces of the limbs and other body parts of the suicide bombers, dispersed across the ground.
Back at the hotel, most evenings would be filled with similar anxiety. Mogadishu keeps you on your toes. Every night, I would hear a varying number of casualties that had been killed either by roadside bombs or targeted assassination. Leaving the hotel was unimaginable.The sound of gunshots in the night were so regular that eventually it became the background music of my city. Strangely, I got used to hearing them after some days but would still have the occasional flinch.
When the work was done, I had a few moments to drive through the city. I was lucky enough to see the ward of the hospital where I was born, Medina hospital. I also went to the beach and played with its sand, a rare moment of tranquility amid chaotic circumstances. The city was beloved to me, it still is but its heart had been pierced and shredded and it pained me. I felt like I was driving through a ghost city. Very few buildings were in tact and the people looked like they had been to hell and back.
I took a moment to mingle with the people and noticed despite living in a city ravaged by war and having lived through it, they were remarkably hopeful and ambitious. I met several youngsters who were eager to educate themselves doing degrees and diplomas consecutively whilst having a part time job. The local business people were full of creative ideas. The entrepreneurial spirit of the people was alive and thriving. It was then that it dawned on me that the people of Mogadishu had moved beyond fighting with one another. There was no sign of clan animosity. They were ready for peace and stability but their leaders weren't moving in the same speed...
The city gave me a good sent off on the day I was flying out. The guards at the security checkpoint at the entrance of the airport struggled to get people to form a line. Instead of telling them to queue up, they fired gunshots in the air whilst standing right next to us. This was clearly the main form of communication but I remain optimistic and hope the next time I am there, the language of humanity would be there to greet me.
I made my way into the airport and had to queue in the 'foreigners' line for immigration. I was a foreigner in my native soil. I had to buy a visa to enter my homeland. It was a bitter pill to swallow. On my way to the hotel, bullet holes and destroyed buildings decorated the streets. People built makeshift tents in the old government ministries which were now destroyed beyond recognition. Every moment or so fresh gunshots would sound in the faint distant. My city was a city of conflict.
The first few days at work were haphazard and chaotic. The conference was being held at the former police academy and countless security checkpoints were put in place. More than 800 people from across Somalia were assembled to approve the draft constitution and hundreds of staff were hired to facilitate the conference during the 9 days it would last.But given the lack of coordination between those working there, minute tasks became impossible to accomplish. Security personnel weren't adequately trained so they would search people in the most inappropriate ways. Additionally, senior dignitaries and government officials were present most days which made circumstances extremely volatile. Whilst there, a mortar attack aimed at where people go through security and two suicide bombings were carried out. The suicide bombings were particularly frightening as they occurred just outside of the building where the conference was being held. The explosion shook the entire building and part of the ceiling came off. A security guard got injured and another one died. We all hurriedly ran towards the door and as I walked outside, I saw bits and pieces of the limbs and other body parts of the suicide bombers, dispersed across the ground.
Back at the hotel, most evenings would be filled with similar anxiety. Mogadishu keeps you on your toes. Every night, I would hear a varying number of casualties that had been killed either by roadside bombs or targeted assassination. Leaving the hotel was unimaginable.The sound of gunshots in the night were so regular that eventually it became the background music of my city. Strangely, I got used to hearing them after some days but would still have the occasional flinch.
When the work was done, I had a few moments to drive through the city. I was lucky enough to see the ward of the hospital where I was born, Medina hospital. I also went to the beach and played with its sand, a rare moment of tranquility amid chaotic circumstances. The city was beloved to me, it still is but its heart had been pierced and shredded and it pained me. I felt like I was driving through a ghost city. Very few buildings were in tact and the people looked like they had been to hell and back.
I took a moment to mingle with the people and noticed despite living in a city ravaged by war and having lived through it, they were remarkably hopeful and ambitious. I met several youngsters who were eager to educate themselves doing degrees and diplomas consecutively whilst having a part time job. The local business people were full of creative ideas. The entrepreneurial spirit of the people was alive and thriving. It was then that it dawned on me that the people of Mogadishu had moved beyond fighting with one another. There was no sign of clan animosity. They were ready for peace and stability but their leaders weren't moving in the same speed...
The city gave me a good sent off on the day I was flying out. The guards at the security checkpoint at the entrance of the airport struggled to get people to form a line. Instead of telling them to queue up, they fired gunshots in the air whilst standing right next to us. This was clearly the main form of communication but I remain optimistic and hope the next time I am there, the language of humanity would be there to greet me.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
a noble concept
As I left Cardiff last week on my way to Leicester, I wanted to discover the walking route to the Cardiff central train station. I normally catch the inner city train from my neighbourhood. Armed with directions on my iPad I went on my way but was soon lost given my habit of being directionally challenged! I asked some local policemen and as they were explaining the walking route, a passer-by overheard our conversation and when I began walking in the direction the police had pointed towards, the passer-by told me he was going in the direction of the train station and could show me.
Since we live in a paranoid-state-of-mind environment, I instinctively took a step away and looked him up and down, checking for the presence of any weirdness but then I thought not everyone has to have an ulterior motive to be nice and I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He led the way and as we walked through the town centre and I explained I was still getting to know Cardiff, he informed me of all the buildings we walked passed, told me their history and when they were built, pointed where the cheapest shops were and local markets where the freshest fruit and veg could be found. I had a guided tour and as we arrived at the train station, he wished me well and went back to work. It was during his lunch hour that he showed me the train station when most of us would think 'I only have an hour, where is the nearest place I can grab something to eat?'
The instinct to help another person when you can has become a dying commodity. In fact we are so used to individualism that we often assume there is a catch when someone offers to help, as I did.
Whilst on the train, I was overwhelmed with a sense of appreciation but I also couldn't help but feel guilty. Guilty that my first thought was one of suspicion as the gentleman offered to help. Guilty for not expecting niceness of humanity in the first instance. We should assume good of people until one is proven otherwise, innocent until proven guilty so to speak but I'm guessing we've become hardwired, engulfed in this tit-for-tat lifestyle of self-centredness.
This encounter was a lesson in humanity for me. Our society is made up of all sorts of people and for every rotten apple, there is a rose in bloom, somewhere...
Since we live in a paranoid-state-of-mind environment, I instinctively took a step away and looked him up and down, checking for the presence of any weirdness but then I thought not everyone has to have an ulterior motive to be nice and I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He led the way and as we walked through the town centre and I explained I was still getting to know Cardiff, he informed me of all the buildings we walked passed, told me their history and when they were built, pointed where the cheapest shops were and local markets where the freshest fruit and veg could be found. I had a guided tour and as we arrived at the train station, he wished me well and went back to work. It was during his lunch hour that he showed me the train station when most of us would think 'I only have an hour, where is the nearest place I can grab something to eat?'
The instinct to help another person when you can has become a dying commodity. In fact we are so used to individualism that we often assume there is a catch when someone offers to help, as I did.
Whilst on the train, I was overwhelmed with a sense of appreciation but I also couldn't help but feel guilty. Guilty that my first thought was one of suspicion as the gentleman offered to help. Guilty for not expecting niceness of humanity in the first instance. We should assume good of people until one is proven otherwise, innocent until proven guilty so to speak but I'm guessing we've become hardwired, engulfed in this tit-for-tat lifestyle of self-centredness.
This encounter was a lesson in humanity for me. Our society is made up of all sorts of people and for every rotten apple, there is a rose in bloom, somewhere...
Thursday, June 21, 2012
on the slow train, steadily going upstream..
Since commencing my PhD last October, I have often felt that I've been thrown in the deep end, at times thinking perhaps I've bitten more than I can intellectually chew. I started my journey with a set agenda instead of embracing that seeking knowledge is a limitless process without boundaries nor an end. I'm very fortunate to have realised this notion quite early on and it has made every piece of new knowledge that I've acquired since immensely fascinating. The irony that comes out of this process is how limited the human intellect really is, compared to the wealth of knowledge that is available and how we can't grasp most of it. Many a times I dropped several books because I just didn't get their theories but a few months later when I revisit them, they make sense. I even feel silly for not 'getting' it before and laugh. It is a humbling experience but you feel yourself growing and making remarkable progress at the same time, both academically and personally.
Last week I finalised my theoretical framework and research title after nine months of literature review. My research aims and methodology are taking shape and I feel quietly in control, something I haven't felt for many months! The natural storyteller in me is peeking through and I feel a story is coming out of this process on which I can confidently put my thumbprints on. The greater struggle is still ahead but as I look up, the journey to the finish line is looking to be a sweet one to enjoy.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Trekking through the fields...In between beauty and catastrophe
Last month I was fortunate enough to have had the opportunity to visit some of the famine affected areas of Somalia. As most people know by now, Somalia faced the worst drought in 60 years in 2011 and by August, the United Nations declared famine in six regions of Somalia, threatening the lives of over 250,000 Somalis and requiring urgent humanitarian assistance for millions of people across the Horn of Africa. In February 2012, the UN declared the end of the famine but of course the needs of the people were still ever present.
I wanted to see what the conditions on the ground were post-famine and how the lives of those displaced by the famine were.
A group of us traveled to Mandera and crossed the border to the cities of Beledhawo, Dolow and the small villages in between. Before arriving in Mandera, we stayed in Nairobi for a few days where on the first night I was greeted by the buzzing sounds of mosquitoes. Last time I was in Africa was during a work trip to Ghana some 8 years ago so mosquito music had gone to the back of my head! Needless to say the mosquitoes had a feast biting me. Last time I was in Nairobi was also a long time ago, 14 years to be exact. Much has changed. One senses the city has indeed become a global hub for all things Africa. But what I was happy to encounter to not have changed is the humility and friendliness of the Kenyan people. Eastleigh is of course still 'Eslii' but the neighbourhood's businesses are booming more than ever. If one can bear with the dirty streets and rubbish piles, you'll find the nicest 5 star hotels, complete with a sewage view...
At 5.30am on the second of April, we arrived at Wilson airport to fly to Mandera. Mandera was hot, humid and dusty and tension was in the air. Just a mere few days earlier, clashes between the local tribes occurred which led to many of the residents fleeing into Somalia or the rural areas. Luckily things had been settled between the people by the time we arrived but schools were still closed and the city did not have the usual buzz of life. Soldiers guarded the streets by day and silence by night. I was keen to see Somalia, mingle with the people. I found them to be amazingly at ease with whatever their lot was. In Beledhawo, on the outskirts, there is an IDP camp called Tuulo-Amin. This camp holds between 1800-2500 displaced people and most of them fled from the Bay, Bakool, Mid and Lower Shabelle regions which were all affected by the famine last year. I met a beautiful young lady at the camp, Sulekha. She told me she fled her village in Bakool with her six younger siblings, leaving behind both her parents as they were too weak to walk. She also has children and a husband of her own. She is only 20 years old. These are the silent heroes of strength bearing the real burdens of responsibility.
In Beledhawo, there is a dire need for the rebuilding of basic infrastructure. The city has been engulfed by constant warfare and people are scared to invest. This means basic healthcare, primary education and adequate sanitation facilities are in dire need.
Some 35 km away from Beledhawo is the city of Dolow. There is a vast contrast between the two cities. Dolow has not been affected by the conflict as much as Beledhawo has so one will find Dolow to be more built. There is an airport where aid agencies can deliver aid directly, the town centre has some healthy businesses and people's basic needs seem to be met. Here too, there is a large IDP camp populated with over 2000 people, mostly from the same regions as those in Beledhawo. Because these people look to be of African descent, the other local Somalis discriminate harshly against them. This often affects the way food is distributed in the camp.
Outside of Dolow, in the rural areas, population has grown dense and pastoral people do not move around anymore. The famine wiped out all of their livestock and although it has rained, people have nothing to move with and can therefore not rebuild their lives. Walking through the rural areas, it is immensely dry. The greenery of the land has vanished. The rain that fell between September and December last year did not make much of a difference to that part of the country and this speaks of the magnitude of the effects of the drought. The rain actually brought a surge in waterborne diseases such as diarrhea, cholera and malaria and without adequate healthcare coupled with lack of hygiene, people continue to die in the thousands.
I flew back to Nairobi and back home with a heavy heart and much to ponder on. For one, I was happy to find that the security conditions in South Somalia were gravely exaggerated. People were all but advising us against going there but I firmly believe we as a people will never be able to bring effective change if we continue to be scared, watching from the sidelines. I found the most pressing need in that area at this moment to be healthcare rather than food aid. Although food is immensely needed, local aid agencies as well as some international ones are actively distributing food on a regular basis, albeit in short supply. Also many Somalis have relatives abroad that send them remittances.
With regards to healthcare, the whole region shares 4 doctors, two of whom are private and people cant afford to pay for healthcare and the other two, who are meant to be based in the Beledhawo hospital are instead in Mandera, citing 'security issues'.
Alongside healthcare relief, methods to move people from emergency relief to development for them to be self-sufficient again should be put in place. In addition to the human catastrophe, environmental degradation and deforestation have robbed the country of its life. All these elements combined, the likelihood of another famine becomes unfortunately inevitable.
A group of us traveled to Mandera and crossed the border to the cities of Beledhawo, Dolow and the small villages in between. Before arriving in Mandera, we stayed in Nairobi for a few days where on the first night I was greeted by the buzzing sounds of mosquitoes. Last time I was in Africa was during a work trip to Ghana some 8 years ago so mosquito music had gone to the back of my head! Needless to say the mosquitoes had a feast biting me. Last time I was in Nairobi was also a long time ago, 14 years to be exact. Much has changed. One senses the city has indeed become a global hub for all things Africa. But what I was happy to encounter to not have changed is the humility and friendliness of the Kenyan people. Eastleigh is of course still 'Eslii' but the neighbourhood's businesses are booming more than ever. If one can bear with the dirty streets and rubbish piles, you'll find the nicest 5 star hotels, complete with a sewage view...
At 5.30am on the second of April, we arrived at Wilson airport to fly to Mandera. Mandera was hot, humid and dusty and tension was in the air. Just a mere few days earlier, clashes between the local tribes occurred which led to many of the residents fleeing into Somalia or the rural areas. Luckily things had been settled between the people by the time we arrived but schools were still closed and the city did not have the usual buzz of life. Soldiers guarded the streets by day and silence by night. I was keen to see Somalia, mingle with the people. I found them to be amazingly at ease with whatever their lot was. In Beledhawo, on the outskirts, there is an IDP camp called Tuulo-Amin. This camp holds between 1800-2500 displaced people and most of them fled from the Bay, Bakool, Mid and Lower Shabelle regions which were all affected by the famine last year. I met a beautiful young lady at the camp, Sulekha. She told me she fled her village in Bakool with her six younger siblings, leaving behind both her parents as they were too weak to walk. She also has children and a husband of her own. She is only 20 years old. These are the silent heroes of strength bearing the real burdens of responsibility.
In Beledhawo, there is a dire need for the rebuilding of basic infrastructure. The city has been engulfed by constant warfare and people are scared to invest. This means basic healthcare, primary education and adequate sanitation facilities are in dire need.
Some 35 km away from Beledhawo is the city of Dolow. There is a vast contrast between the two cities. Dolow has not been affected by the conflict as much as Beledhawo has so one will find Dolow to be more built. There is an airport where aid agencies can deliver aid directly, the town centre has some healthy businesses and people's basic needs seem to be met. Here too, there is a large IDP camp populated with over 2000 people, mostly from the same regions as those in Beledhawo. Because these people look to be of African descent, the other local Somalis discriminate harshly against them. This often affects the way food is distributed in the camp.
Outside of Dolow, in the rural areas, population has grown dense and pastoral people do not move around anymore. The famine wiped out all of their livestock and although it has rained, people have nothing to move with and can therefore not rebuild their lives. Walking through the rural areas, it is immensely dry. The greenery of the land has vanished. The rain that fell between September and December last year did not make much of a difference to that part of the country and this speaks of the magnitude of the effects of the drought. The rain actually brought a surge in waterborne diseases such as diarrhea, cholera and malaria and without adequate healthcare coupled with lack of hygiene, people continue to die in the thousands.
I flew back to Nairobi and back home with a heavy heart and much to ponder on. For one, I was happy to find that the security conditions in South Somalia were gravely exaggerated. People were all but advising us against going there but I firmly believe we as a people will never be able to bring effective change if we continue to be scared, watching from the sidelines. I found the most pressing need in that area at this moment to be healthcare rather than food aid. Although food is immensely needed, local aid agencies as well as some international ones are actively distributing food on a regular basis, albeit in short supply. Also many Somalis have relatives abroad that send them remittances.
With regards to healthcare, the whole region shares 4 doctors, two of whom are private and people cant afford to pay for healthcare and the other two, who are meant to be based in the Beledhawo hospital are instead in Mandera, citing 'security issues'.
Alongside healthcare relief, methods to move people from emergency relief to development for them to be self-sufficient again should be put in place. In addition to the human catastrophe, environmental degradation and deforestation have robbed the country of its life. All these elements combined, the likelihood of another famine becomes unfortunately inevitable.
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