Animals in Somalia

Donkeys are the saddest looking animals, living thankless lives of hard labor, interspersed with beatings for what they are - or aren't - doing. They constantly look tired, dejected, and as if they might just end it all at any moment. Their eyes always seem to be on the verge of welling up with tears that I imagine would continue indefinitely, if they ever began to fall (sniff). I imagine that the donkeys I see are making snarky comments under their breath, like an unstuffed Eyore, only heard or understood by their battered compatriots. It is no wonder Eyore was so pessimistic, even if he was a stuffed animal, and not a real donkey. A donkey's life is not an enviable one, which may be why they make such horrid noises when they make any noise at all.

Goats, on the other hand, live a lovely life - until they are dinner, of course. The end is quick and they don't see it coming at least. In the meantime, they roam wherever they want to (ignorant of the hard labor they could be subjected to) if they weren't going to eventually end up in a stew, or on top of a mound of rice. They eat anything they want and can roam almost anywhere they like, eat whatever they can find, and spend the rest of the time lounging in the shade.

Camels though - are king in Somalia. From camel meat to camel's milk, to how many camels you own determining your economic status, they are a part of so many aspects of Somali life. They are transport, food, and still a form of compensation for marriages, killings, or other clan issues. Like goats, they will probably end up as dinner at some point, but in the meantime they amble around without too much worry.

Anyone ever heard of a "dick dick"? It looks like a small deer with large ears. I have seen them roaming around Hargeisa from time to time, including in one of the hotel parking lots in town. They dart around like mini gazelles, only with bigger ears.

Lastly, on a recent field visit in northeastern Somaliland, our driver was racing along a dirt road as a gazelle - or an animal from the same family - raced along beside us. I thought it was really dangerous to be engaging in this sort of ridiculous activity at the time. However, I have to admit that seeing this incredible animal in an all out sprint as we barreled through the dusty, desert was really breathtaking. Just glad we all made it out alive.

Berbera & Sheikh

On a recent field visit to the eastern part of Somaliland, I saw a place I would never have thought I would see there. We had traveled up the road to the coast, about 2 1/2 hours north of Hargeisa, to the port town of Berbera that is located on the Gulf of Aden. Berbera is a small town, but a major port for Somaliland. It is also on the paved road connecting Hargeisa to towns and cities in the east of Somaliland. 

What I saw on the way to Berbera was what I expected to find there. It was dusty, dry and had barely any vegetation. Even the hills seemed as if they might crumble, if you ventured up them. It looked a bit like what I would expect I might have found during the Depression in the U.S., a giant dust bowl. 

We stopped in Berbera for lunch, took a few photos of the gorgeous sea, and then continued on the paved road on our way east. However, after we left Berbera the landscape began to change. First, there were some interesting rock formations that reminded me of what you might find in the southwestern U.S. They were various shades of yellow, orange, and white; layered in patterns, looking a like a rock parfait. They were carved into the sides of plateaus. The colors in the plateaus seemed as if they resulted from exposure to varying water levels at different times of year, but there was no water in sight. Looking at the landscape, I wondered if it was possible there was ever water there.

Past the plateaus, I noticed termite McMansions rising up out of the earth. They seemed to be 20-30ft high, looking like beige poplars that resembled the size and shape of the deep blue ones that you might find in a Monet painting.

It then seemed as if we suddenly turned a corner into the Rift Valley in Kenya. These gorgeous peaks came out of nowhere, poking up – high up – into the sky. In the land of dust behind us, I couldn’t have imagined that these monstrous green mountains lay ahead. Then we traveled through this little town of Sheikh at the base of the mountains and wound up and around the steep green peaks. I was snapping photos as if I was at the Grand Canyon, the driver stopping at certain points to indulge me. He had seen this place a thousand times I am sure, as his home town was on the other side.

As I was looking back, I could see this beautiful landscape laid out below the mountains. It resembled nothing I had seen previously in Somaliland. It was like the opening scene in some blockbuster film. I could almost hear the string section leading to the movie's introduction.

Somalia so far...

After just more than seven months here, I can hardly say that I have grasped the major issues this country is facing, but this is what I think about what I have observed so far...

Even though I feel that the issues that Somalis are facing here are basic to human beings everywhere, the situation is complex, to say the least. So far, in the areas I have visited, and from the various people I have spoken with, it seems that two of the major issues (and sources of conflict) are lack of water and lack of land. This is not surprising given the on-going drought in this mainly pastoral land, where livestock is one of its main exports. As a result, the drought affects everything from market prices to clan conflicts.

Tribalism is one of the main issues that is a part of every conflict here, it seems. People here identify themselves first with their clan. Then their sub-clan, sub-sub-clan, and on down...Apparently, asking "where are you from?" is code for "what clan do you belong to?"

In Mali, your family name told what ethnicity you were, what region you were from, and even which religion you were, depending. Here, it seems that your name is irrelevant as far as describing anything about you, except your religion. This is partially because if you meet an Abdi Rahman, Mohamud, or Fatima here; there are 10 more people with one of those exact names within spitting distance and surnames don't appear to really exist anymore.

When I look at Somalis, I see what they have in common - a language, a culture, a religion, food, etc.... They even look alike.  The only recognizable difference that one might be able to point to (though I cannot because I don't speak Somali) are regional accents, which again bring everyone back to the question "which clan do you belong to?"

Of course, I am an outsider. I will never be able to fully understand the fierce loyalty that Somalis have to their respective clans. I won't ever feel the painful gut reaction that Somalilanders feel when people refer to Somalia - and are speaking about Somaliland. I didn't survive a siege on my city or have to flee from it because someone from another clan sent people to bomb it.

However, maybe that is exactly the point. Even though there are many things Somalis and Somalilanders have in common, it may be that not validating their feelings (or attempting to understand them) is why we can't help to change them.

Puntland

This week I am in Puntland, a schizophrenic region sandwiched between the self-proclaimed country of Somaliland - formerly part of the Republic of Somalia - and South Central (where Mogadishu is located). Puntland is semi-autonomous, with its own government, but still has ties to the TFG. Discussions are currently underway on the revision of its constitution in its capital Garowe.

The warm, salty, and humid air on the coast here always makes me feel like I am on vacation, despite the fact I am confined to a compound here and spend most of the day (and night) in air-conditioned rooms. Puntland has the largest portion of the former Republic of Somalia's significant coastline (the longest on the continent of Africa), but is also home to those pesky pirates that have become synonymous with Somalia and its on-going struggles.

It seems that based on what I have read recently, the pirates have either moved far from the shores of Somalia, presumably in pursuit of bigger - or better - fish, or further inland in search of other nefarious opportunities. They seem to be an important part of the economy here, despite also causing plenty of trouble for Somalis and the development of Puntland - and Somalia. As with Al-Shabaab, the people here seem to have mixed feelings about the pirates. Depending on who is "liberating" an area from the pirate activities, the people may not end up better off when the pirates are gone, particularly when the money goes with them.

Puntland's gorgeous coastline has also become a hot bed for human trafficking. One of the latest attempts was foiled by the Puntland government, where eight girls and a boy were taken from another area in Somalia and brought here to be shipped off to Yemen (and points beyond, surely).  http://allafrica.com/stories/201204160616.html

All kinds of "sexy" things happening here, keeping consultants, policy wonks, and aid workers busy little bees in this crazy Somali hive...

Field Visit - Somaliland

On our way to a site visit in an area outside of Hargeisa, we were traveling down roads more like paths, barely distinguishable from the rest of the landscape around them. Determining which one to take to get to where we needed to go was a challenge even for my colleague, who is from the area.

The landscape was mostly beige, with trees lacking green leaves (or any leaves at all) and termite McMansions three feet high, engulfing the few trees and cacti out there. You could almost hear the trees and cacti gasping for breath, as they were being suffocated by the encroaching termites.

At some point during our journey, we passed a woman with a baby on her back, a toddler to one side of her and a goat to the other. Then later on avoided running over three boys, under the age of six and covered in dust, with no adult in sight. My colleague explained that they were probably just herding their goats that were on the other side of the road, which was why they were in the process of crossing in front of us as we came upon them.

Every 15 to 20 minutes we would pass some camels, sometimes just one or two, other times a herd of 10 or 15. They are terrified of cars and would clumsily gallop out of the way as we approached them. Looking at the skeletal frames of the camels that we passed along the road, it isn't surprising that so many Somalis are still suffering from malnutrition - or close to starvation.

In the area we were traveling (and throughout many other areas in Somalia), many towns lack proper latrines. Some of these areas don't have anything resembling a toilet, using the areas on the outskirts of town for that purpose. We have some really great field staff, who have to be dedicated to their jobs to spend a week or more in these locations in order to work with the communities in our programs. It is these things that people do here, and elsewhere in the world, that are making a difference.



 

A day in the the life...weekday mornings in Hargeisa

During the week, my day typically starts around 5:30AM, after I have hit my alarm for the second time, noticing the silence after the prayer caller has let go of his microphone. Our week in Hargeisa begins on Sunday and runs through Thursday.  The regional office in Nairobi runs on a Monday to Friday schedule.

I have managed to continue to exercise four to five mornings a week, but usually just 40 minutes of yoga or 30-40 minutes on the treadmill. The past two weeks I have been mostly doing yoga videos in the morning because without the voice from my heart rate monitor program on my iPod nagging me about which heart rate zone I am in, it is hard for me to motivate to spend any more than 30 minutes running in place on the treadmill. I am trying to motivate to get another 15-20 minutes of workout time in by waking up with the prayer call around 5am, but no luck yet.

After exercising, the faucet games begin. I have lately spent about 15-20 minutes of my shower time attempting to find a bearable water temperature, somewhere between scalding my skin and freezing my butt off. The game also includes the ever-present reality that messing around with the faucet will often lead me to the same place it recently has each morning…a bucket bath. Somehow lately no matter how I attempt to coax a steady stream of water from the shower head that might actually wet my hair enough get it clean, my efforts have been in vain. This week in particular the fight with the shower head has usually ended with me using the faucet to fill up a plastic pitcher so that I can finally get clean and get to work.

After that battle, I look for some culturally appropriate clothing for work, which for me in Hargeisa usually includes pants, a long tunic to cover my offensive behind, and a scarf loosely wrapped over my head and around my neck to keep me from looking like a harlot. Since my wardrobe is rather limited, deciding what to wear is an extremely short process.

By the time I am dressed, I have “porridge” with flax seed and raisins hot on the table, along with some hot water for tea or coffee, juice, ground coffee in the French press, tea bags, honey and milk, if I want them. Yes, I am that spoiled. Nura (Nuriya) is Ethiopian and is working for us at the moment, cleaning, cooking, and generally being amazing. She keeps the house clean (and in order) and does things like surprise us with kettle corn and Ethiopian coffee on a Saturday afternoon. Unfortunately, Somalilanders (and their government) view Ethiopians like many Americans view Mexicans in the U.S. and therefore won’t grant her a work permit. It seems that they believe that the Ethiopians are stealing their jobs, increasing crime rates, and generally disturbing the peace. As a result, we can no longer have her working for us, in order to maintain a good relationship with the government, and she will have to leave in about two weeks. 

After breakfast, whoever is at the house gets picked up in a DRC car to head to the office. There are four of us at the house now, two Americans, an Estonian, and an Australian. However, virtually every week someone is traveling for work or leave. So, it is usually just two or three of us headed to the compound, which is about a 10 minute drive, depending on traffic.

Driving to work is always an adventure, as most of the cars are British, with the wheel on the right side of the car. However, the rules of the road are at least, in theory, American. So, you will see all the drivers in the vehicles on the far side of the road, using their passengers (on the correct side of the car for right-side driving) to help them navigate.  As one might expect, even though there are “rules,” people don’t generally follow them. There are a lot of people cutting each other off, people passing vehicles while honking at the people on the other side of the road to steer clear, even though they don’t have the right of way. There are many games of chicken as well, with drivers speeding up towards on-coming vehicles in order to pass the vehicles in front of them and thus far, darting back to the right side just before impact. It pretty much looks like mayhem with cars all over the road attempting to pass each other, get ahead in the traffic line or to avoid speed bumps, potholes, people, goats, donkeys, a herd of camels, children, or parked cars. Never a dull moment in Hargeisa. ;)

Perspective

I was watching one of my favorite programs, The Stream, on Al Jazeera last week when I noticed that one of the guests was dressed a bit oddly. The Stream is an interactive program that has live guests, and guests on video chat who call in via Skype, to discuss a particular topic (i.e. the uprising in Syria). It is televised, as well as streamed over the web, with the conversation starting on the network channel and moving on-line for an extended discussion at the conclusion of the televised portion of the program. Throughout the show the hosts pose questions they have prepared, while facilitating the discussion with additional questions from participants from the various media sources (Twitter, Facebook, Skype, SMS, etc...). The show broadcasts from a studio at the Newseum in downtown DC.

So, I was watching the program and attempting to listen to the input being given by the guests via Skype, as well as from the in-studio guest. The in-studio guest was a woman. She was dressed in long black pants, wearing a black, bulky sweater. I couldn't tell if she was wearing a turtleneck or if she just had a scarf wrapped around her neck, but I was just struck by the amount of clothing that she was wearing. I was watching her and was so confused by her outfit. She seemed to have so many layers of clothing on, but she was in America. I couldn't understand why she was buried under this over-sized black sweater in a country where she didn't have to cover. I was staring at her and trying to make sense of what I was seeing on the TV.

Then I saw the street scene outside. The wind was whipping around the flags in front of the building next door to the studio. The ground was wet. It was cloudy and dark. The streetlights were on outside. After a bit I realized it was February, in DC...and it actually dips below 50 degrees there in winter. The woman was cold. She was just trying to keep warm, not conforming to some cultural norm. It is funny how quickly your perspective changes when you get outside of your cultural norm. :)

Chewing

Prayer call is a beautiful thing, but not in Hargeisa. Our prayer callers sound like drunk men trying to "out shout" each other with mouths full of cotton balls. It is possible they are drunk (yes, it does happen - even in Hargeisa, Somaliland), but also likely they have a mouthful of khat.

Khat is the local drug of choice in Somalia, a leafy stimulant similar to amphetamines (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khat) that is chewed seemingly incessantly by a majority of Somali men. More and more men are apparently chewing khat in lieu of doing anything else. Some have said that the increasing numbers of men spending time chewing khat has become an epidemic, only contributing to the myriad of other problems the country is facing.

Even if khat isn't destroying productivity, it may be destroying some Khat in Somalia, kola nuts in Mali, beetle nut in Burma, or coca leaves in Bolivia...helping people the world over speed up their tooth loss, or general mouth decay, one little old man (or woman) at a time.

Dust, dirt & donkey carts

In 1999, "google" was not yet a verb...and Google was barely a year old. I spent many nights that year in Mali baking under my mosquito net in my second-story mud oven, listening to the Voice of America on my short wave radio by the light of my flashlight. In 2012, I am back in Africa sleeping in a drafty house of tile and cement, with my LED light shining on my Kindle as I download a french newspaper, from a website...in the U.S. Some things have really changed.

Despite the warp speed that technological development has been traveling at the past few years, Africa is still Africa. Somehow the continent seems to always be uniquely affected by technology. Running water, electricity, and paved roads might be scarce, but cell phones are ubiquitous. Though cell phones are extremely useful, especially in a place where people skipped right over having a landline, wouldn't better/more/some access to potable water for most of the people have been a better start on development? Maybe so, but I am pretty sure those mining companies getting all the coltan they can out of the Congo aren't really caring much about whether the people who end up using their product have clean water. Also, I wonder if people here spend more time thinking about their cell phones than how clean their water is?

Though many things in Somalia are different than in Mali, some things look very familiar. Like northern Mali, northern Somalia is dusty, prayer call happens five times a day, and there are still more goats than people on the streets. There are also almost as many donkey carts as cars. However, there is camel meat and camel milk readily available and there is a cold wind and a warm sun here, something I never found in Mali. In Mali, there was always a warm sun...I begged for clouds, even rain.

Another difference - that takes some getting used to (and that wasn't necessarily the norm even a few years ago from what I hear) - is that the women in Somalia are completely covered, some with just their eyes and hands visible for identification. Compared with the colorful and laid-back attire of Malian women, the dress here seems quite austere. It is like the Victorian era in a Muslim context - muted colors, layers of clothing covering every inch of skin, hair tied up and back, and the head covered. It also seems that striving for the appearance of piety is almost more important than actually being pious, but this is just what I have heard.

The caveat is that I have only been in Somalia for one month and I have experienced exactly one place - Hargeisa. I did make it out of town for a hike in the surrounding hills last weekend, but as you might imagine, there are not so many people out there. So, my view is still pretty limited. I will get out into the field in February though, and will have some more first-hand info to pass along.

Plump pillows, trickling, and creepy cacti

Hey Everyone - Welcome to my first blog post from Somaliland.

First, check out a map of Somalia. It is roughly shaped like the number seven is found on the eastern edge of the African continent, touching the Red Sea in the north and stretching out into the Indian Ocean in the east. In the northwest of the country there is an autonomous region called Somaliland. This is where I live.

I share a four bedroom house with three roommates/colleagues in Hargeisa, the capital of the region. The house is big and cold, with much of the sun blocked by the walls topped with barbed wire that surround the yard. The house can get very dark and everything echoes because of the high ceilings, tile floors, and sparsely decorated walls. We have electricity, wi-fi (most of the time), and TV though. It's the little things that count.

As far as amenities, we also have a microwave, lots of coffee accoutrements, and a juicer. We even have two fridges, but due to a recent history of electrical fires, we can't actually use both of them.  Additionally, only one sink in the house has a faucet knob for hot water and the showers don't actually shower you with water, but trickle you. It is like they are consistently tricking you into thinking that they might someday actually shower you with water, instead of just spitting on you, but never actually do. Some days I am tempted to give up and work the bucket shower angle, but have been too lazy to actually buy a bucket.

As far as the decor is concerned, it is over-stuffed and gaudy - or looks like the do-it-yourself cork board throw aways that you can find at IKEA. When I first saw our living room, with the plump couch pillows and synthetic gold curtains, it seemed that it fit the picture of what American troops might have found when they took over Saddam's place in Iraq; or what the rebels in Libya could have discovered when they overtook Ghadafi's former residence - ridiculous, over-the-top, and ugly, just like they were. At least the furniture is comfy.

Hargeisa is about 4300ft/1300m above sea level and as a result it has so far been wicked - yes, wicked - windy and cold. The temps are probably in the 60s or 70s during the day and in the 50s at night. This might seem pretty perfect, especially if you are reading this from anywhere on the east coast of the U.S. in December or January; but even in pants, a long shirt, a sweater, and my head covered - my fingertips, toes, and nose are still as warm as icicles.

It is true that I am always cold, but here everyone else is too. In the sun, it feels like southern California. In the shade, it feels like fall in New England. Seriously, I am ready to break out the wool mittens. Yes, I brought a pair.

Hargeisa is very hilly and sandy, spotted with some green vegetation in the form of low bushes and skinny trees, for the most part. There are also large cactus bushes that have taken over patches of the town, seemingly strangling certain areas and begging to jump the paved(ish) roads in others. I never thought that cacti could look so menacing. The huge tangles of cacti look as if they are waves about to break, on the edge of pushing across the roads, down the hills, and swallowing up the town like a cactus tsunami. Creepy.