Drought Response - Part 1

While not looking forward to further time away from family, I have been anxious to get back to Somalia. I have had two trips canceled due to my broken wrist. The first was when I broke it and the second was when I had to leave to the US for surgery. In addition to the need for regular contact with my team, I haven’t been able to visit the ongoing severe drought in the country. While I’ve been assisting in coordinating a rather significant humanitarian response, I haven’t been able to be on the ground since February.

On this trip I was accompanied by our regional humanitarian response director who has also been keen to get a firsthand perspective on what’s going on. It’s important that he’s well aware of our response efforts since he’s been assisting with media and fundraising efforts.

Security is always a concern during travels to the country but this time would be of particular, we would be arriving just a few hours after the election results were in and a new president would have taken his oath of office.

* * *

A bit of background about the election, it was supposed to take place over a year ago but delays have hampered the process. It has been tense at times but major conflict has been avoided. The incumbent has been doing everything in his power to keep his job, the one he was elected to back in 2017, and the fractured opposition has been doing everything in its power to boot him.

In Somalia, there is no general suffrage. Presidential elections take place through representational voting by the parliament. So the first step was to elect a new parliament. This was no easy feat given that there are several hundred of them and elections take place around the country in varying conditions of external influence (massive amounts of money changing hands given that these people will elect the president) and security (many were targeted by militia who are against the government or anyone participating in government). Contests were heated and stakes were high. By stacking the deck in parliament, you could improve your chances of winning the presidency.

After a few months, the parliamentary elections were more or less completed and a quorum was established. I say more or less since some seats were in dispute at the time the new parliamentarians were summoned to Mogadishu.

With all these potential security “targets” descending upon the capital, it became a significant security risk to my team to avoid being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We have over a hundred staff just in Mogadishu (not counting dozens more seconded staff) and we’ve had staff either killed or injured in the past. Special attention was needed to stay out of harm’s way.

The parliament building was determined to be too much of a risk and the proceedings were moved to the heavily fortified, Africa Union forces protected, airport “green zone.” It’s essentially like a large military base with a commercial airport within its borders. Our office isn’t in the green zone and the only time I go there is when I’m flying in and out of the country or attending UN or other meetings. Even in this heavily guarded compound, about a half-dozen mortars were fired in the direction of the facility hosting the elections. Four landed inside the compound and two landed outside, but no casualties were reported.

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The night before we traveled, the presidential vote began. It would be a long affair with multiple rounds of voting, breaks for prayers and food, etc. It was expected go well into the night. I was tracking the events up to the time I went to bed. I half thought that it might not even be completed until my early morning start the next day.

The trip begins, as always, with a 4:15am taxi to the airport. I woke up at 3:45 and I immediately checked my phone to get any election, security or travel updates. The election had completed and the winner was announced. The incumbent had been ousted and there would be a new president. All indication was that the outgoing president graciously congratulated the winner on his victory and thus appeared to set in motion a peaceful transition.

* * *

The taxi with my colleague arrived on schedule and we headed out onto the dark, quiet streets of Nairobi. There was supposed to be a rare “blood moon” around 6am but it was not going to be visible due to the overcast skies.

We arrived at the airport still well before sunrise. The queue to get into the small-ish Terminal 2 is usually long and chaotic. On this day, there suspiciously was no queue at all. I did assume that travel to Somalia would be limited, if happening at all, due to the elections taking place in the same base where the airport is located. However I had received no communication to notify me otherwise so we moved forward in the assumption that our travel would still be happening.

Once inside, everything was normal except for the quiet terminal. We checked in, received our boarding passes and confirmed that our travel would indeed be happening. There was a sense of relief at the same time there was some apprehension of entering a country with a long history of violence on the heels of a historic and hotly contested election.

* * *

Everything about the arrival was normal. There was nothing to indicate that there was a dramatic election just a few hours prior in spite of the fact that most of the country stayed up to watch the entire process.

The armored vehicle was waiting outside. We made our way outside the “green zone” and into the streets of Mogadishu. The weather was blazing hot and with a coastal breeze to take some of the edge off. Rather than head to the office, my team was ready and we headed directly towards one of the clinics to begin the visit.

This particular clinic is where our organization began its work in Mogadishu many years ago. It’s a primitive structure with corrugated metal roofing wedged in between houses made of the same material. It’s a tightly packed community with an access slightly wider than our vehicle. In fact our vehicle had to back in all the way up to the entrance (for security reasons, one never parks nose first).

The visit went smoothly. I know the place well and have been there many times. I hadn’t been since Covid and there was some evidence of mask wearing, hygiene protocols and signage. Otherwise, it was its same, quaint little self. Though it sits in a densely populated neighborhood, it has been frequented by many who have been displaced by the severe drought. Though most of the displaced are camped on the outskirts of the city, many have family or friends throughout the urban areas and come to the clinics with severe dehydration and/or malnutrition.

* * *

After the visit, we zigzagged among tuk-tuks and a few camels on our way to the other side of the city to hospital that we support. Though it’s a long and somewhat precarious drive rife with army checkpoints, I always enjoy the passage through the old city on the way. The old buildings (many bombed out and in ruins), smelly fish market and narrow streets situated along the water are a future tourist destination, unfortunately maybe not in my lifetime. My staff find my fascination with the place rather curious and a bit funny. It’s been such a notorious war zone over the years that it’s hard for them to see it any other way.

This hospital is likely the facility I have visited most in the country since I joined the program. It’s clean, efficient and usually brimming with color as hijabed ladies bring their babies for their post-natal care. It also gives me an excuse to pass through the old city so I like to have it on the itinerary. Moreover, it’s near the lido where I often get a chance to have lobster in a restaurant on the beach. Few international workers get such a chance. For security reasons, however, seafood and sand didn’t happen this time.

The drive back took longer than expected. A few of the roads we wanted to take were blocked forcing us to take multiple detours. We ended up going completely around our neighborhood to the south side in order to access the last checkpoint option we had. Unfortunately, our passage was not allowed and a bit of chaos ensued.

* * *

I’m no stranger to this sort of thing. It happens from time to time, more in Somalia than in other countries. Interactions with armed actors is an unfortunate but inevitable part of what I do. On this occasion, it began as it always does with lots of yelling and pointing. But usually it stops there. Sometimes it stops because one side, usually the guys at the checkpoint, want to be seen as showing their authority. Once they feel satisfied that their power was respected, they open the boom gate and allow passage. This time, that didn’t happen. The yelling continued between the armed guys from our escort vehicle and the armed guys at the checkpoint and eventually moved to shoving. Even our driver was grabbed at one point.

Now shoving is another level altogether. Guys initiating physical contact while having AK-47s dangling from their shoulders can make things precarious in a hurry. It’s not uncommon around here for people to reach for their weapons.

So here we sit in the backseat of our vehicle. My colleague on the left watching nervously through the bullet-proof window. My head of office in the middle coming down with a severe migraine (may or may not be related to what is unfolding) and me on the right side texting with my security guy to track what is going on.

Another thing that generally diffuses these confrontations is when both sides retreat to their phones to call in their person in power. Whoever’s contact outranks the other’s usually wins the day.

This is what I found interesting, amidst the rather dangerous situation we were in. Here we were, less than twelve hours from the election of a new president, and power structures are in a confused state. In Somalia, as it was explained to me by my security guy, once those votes were tallied at 2:30am or whatever it was, the winner becomes president immediately. You basically walk over, get sworn in and how you hold all the cards. The ramifications of this are massive, which is why so much money was exchanging hands over the past few weeks.

It's crazy when you think about it. The president’s toothbrush and all his belongings are still in the official residence. His team all need to vacate their offices. The new government is yet to be formed. Etc. Political whiplash and some confusion.

The question in my mind is how this political backdrop is influencing our standoff. Who is calling in favors from what power structure? If your go-to contact is an outgoing minister, does he still hold sway as he did a half-day ago? If your contact is connected to the new president (who hasn’t appointed any ministers yet), what kind of legitimacy can you get in such a short time?

I’m sure there are protocols in place that make this all a bit less precarious than it seems from the outside. And I wonder if it’s better than the several-week transition in the US when an outgoing president can do all sorts of damage as he/she’s walking out the door. There’s no easy way to do this but I do find this transition in Somalia fascinating, particularly since it’s going smoothly so far.

And, in the end, our situation was diffused as our guys eventually backed down. We turned around and looked to find another way to access our office, winding through narrow backstreets. In fact, there is no other way to fully get there by vehicle without stopping short and walking the remainder of the way, passing through road barricades. But it turned out to be a short walk and probably something we should have opted on sooner. We were all relieved to reach the office and have a much-delayed lunch of camel, rice and veggies. 

On to the next adventure.