Dhusamareb (Dec. 4-8)

(written on a flight from Dhusamareb to Abudwak,about 18k/11 miles from the border with Ethiopia on my way to Mogadishu Dec. 7).

I’ve been wanting to go to Dhusamareb for years. There are a lot of reasons as to why it hasn’t happened. But I told my head of office there that I was going to make a trip before the end of the year. Thankfully, I was able to make it happen.

The town is situated about halfway between the northern and southernmost parts of the country, not too far from the Ethiopian border. It serves as a state capital and we’ve had an office there for about seven years or so.

the Dhusamareb airport

One of the main reasons I’ve been unable to visit has been security. Though the town is quiet most of the time, things do flare up occasionally. For the longest time, we didn’t have a guesthouse where we could have more control over my security. Now we do.

As recently as May of this year, our office was broken into by government forces. They were in a battle with an area militia and, due to the fact that our office had one of the highest vantage points in town, they were seeking to establish a position on the roof. The battle lasted several hours as a few of my staff, including the head of office, were locked inside, waiting for the shooting to stop. Eventually it did but damage was done. It also compromised our longer-term security to be used by a combatant force.

A few months earlier, there was fighting between militants supporting opposing parliamentary candidates. Before that, in 2021, there were mortar attacks on the city as senior federal government officials visited to attend a conference. A few years ago, tensions in the city were so bad that we had to evacuate our staff to other towns until the situation calmed. No doubt, the city has had its share of insecurity. But for now, it’s calm.

* * *

My trip began with an uneventful stopover in Mogadishu. I took advantage of the time for several ad hoc meetings, understanding that, except for my stopover post-Dhusamareb, this would likely be my last visit before the holidays.

The next morning, my security guy and I headed to the airport for the relatively short flight to central Somalia. Flights to the interior are known to be unpredictable, when/if they happen. I was okay with a delay, but I was really hoping to avoid any sort of cancellation. I had two nights planned for my visit and it would more than complicate things if it would have been shortened by a day.

the team

Though delayed, we arrived in plenty of time to have a couple hour meeting with staff. Most of them I had met previously but there were several that I was meeting for the first time. It was great to have an opportunity to sit and discuss how things were going and to hear from them. Given that it’s one of the more remote, and less visited locations, it was important.

I don't think I need any whitening. And I'm not sure Be You is a good name for something that offers to change something about you.

* * *

The next day, we headed out to visit the local hospital that we’ve been supporting for several years. I’ve heard about it for a long time so it was good to finally see it. Hard to say how many clinics I’ve visited over the years but there’s something different about each one – a personality that you discover if you’re observant enough.

These facilities are resilient. They often deal with stockouts, funding and logistical issues. They do what they can with what little they have. The director had loads of stories of battle wounded, c-sections of women that had traveled long distances, etc. These conversations convey the importance of the hospital but they are also intended to convey the need to people like me to continue to do what it takes to keep the funding coming.

Overall, I was happy to see that the funds are being well used. Staff seem competent and motivated, in spite of the multitude of challenges. They also knew that was going to meet with the Minister of Health afterwards to there was some messaging/advocacy for that visit as well.  

Dhusamareb is small so, thankfully, everything is close by. We were welcomed by the minister and his team and ended up having a rather productive meeting. I’m always happy when government ministers are engaged and competent. It’s not always the case.

We were able to squeeze in some time for lunch back at the office before heading back out to visit the state Vice President. My team had sought a meeting with the President but he had left the day prior to attend meetings in Mogadishu. Like the MoH, the VP seemed engaged and knowledgeable. He spoke only in Somali, which is fine with me so long as I have translation. Many government officials are from the diaspora and are often happy to speak in English. I would rather be competent in Somali so that it didn’t matter but that may not happen in this lifetime.

The meeting was attended by the Minister of Information as well as the Minister of Women and Human Rights. After about 20 minutes or so, the VP needed to excuse himself to take a call. The MoW suggested that we stick around for a bit and have some tea, which we did. We talked for some time and at some point the VP’s chief of staff asked if we wanted a tour of the presidential palace. The building had recently been built and had only been operational for a couple of months. I don’t think they get a ton of visitors like me and I suspect they were quite happy to show off their new palace. I have to say, it was indeed impressive. It was cool not only to see the expansive interior, we also were able to go to the roof and have a look at the view. I’m told that this is not standard protocol so I was quite happy to have the opportunity.

* * *

The next day we would leave after breakfast. As always, on the morning of a flight out of rural Somalia, my team regularly checks with the airport. A booked flight time is just a suggestion. The reality is that the flight can depart at any time, or not at all. There are a number of reasons for this. The flight can be delayed for logistical or mechanical reasons. More often it’s related to the schedule of someone important who is scheduled to be on the flight. If they are delayed for some reason, they have the sway to delay the airplane. In some cases, I’ve even seen them take off early if the person has a meeting or connecting flight.

On this occasion, we were strangely more or less on time. We drove the roughly eight kilometers to the dirt airstrip. There are two security perimeters – the first one manned by Somali soldiers, who let us through after a quick document check, and the second one manned by Africa Union soldiers. The AU forces are made up of units from several countries in East Africa but these guys were from Djibouti. As we rolled up to the gate, there was a conversation between our lead vehicle (the armed escort) and the soldiers. I watched from the backseat of our Toyota pickup. The exchange seemed rather intense and it appeared that they wanted the vehicles to park outside and for to walk the remaining hundred meters or so. Often, this sort of tug-of-war has less to do with security and more to do with coming up with something to convince the soldiers to let us through.

The armed security in our escort kept pointing at our vehicle, indicating that there was a VIP that needed to get through. They proceeded to walk back to our vehicle and, given the tinted windows, we opened the doors to reveal the foreigner (me) who was intending to travel (with my security guy). The commander then, for whatever reason, shifted to French. Most people in Djibouti speak French in addition to a number of other languages. Their level of Somali would depend on their ethnic background. In any case, this guy seemed more comfortable in French and I jumped at the chance to use the language to diffuse the tension (and get the vehicles through). After a brief exchange, he gave a half smile and waved us through. My head of office in Dhusamareb suggested that if I hadn’t had that exchange with the guy in French, we would have needed to walk.

We parked near the small airport building, about the size of a one-bedroom house. We went inside to take care of the necessary paperwork. It consists of an immigration check for foreigners (to see if I have a visa, even though it’s a domestic flight) and a stamp on our paper reservation. No such thing as a boarding pass for remote airports.

The plane was confirmed to be only about 20 minutes away so we stood out in the reddish dirt and chatted while we waited. My security guy informed me that a humanitarian worked had been killed this morning, allegedly by Islamic militants, in a town not far from our Baidoa office. Each time you hear this sort of thing, it’s a reality check.

Soon the plane we would take appeared on the horizon. As it reached the ground, large plumes of pinkish dust filled the air in its wake. The unmarked, white plane slowly rolled to a stop. Another odd thing about domestic travel in Somalia is that you don’t always know what airline you’re really going to fly. You book your ticket from whatever options your travel agent provides, but the plane that awaits you, for whatever reason, may be from a different airline. These switches complicate things for us. We, along with our HQ, go to great lengths to vet the airlines we use according to safety and other criteria. In the end, however, you often can’t know what you are going to fly. You could refuse to board the unvetted plane, but it may come at the cost of multiple days of delay waiting for an approved airline. My guess is that these small airlines probably all use the same aircraft maintenance anyway.

After a few minutes, we were summoned to queue up – one line for the ladies and the other for the men. Women always board first in Somalia.

In the queue were several people with visible, and rather severe, injuries. It’s common for these flights to carry medical referrals to Mogadishu. In fact, after we boarded we noticed a woman at the back of the plane who was sprawled out awkwardly on the floor draped in her black abaya. They’d loaded her through the back door of the plane and she appeared to be in tremendous discomfort. She was apparently paralyzed from the waist down and unable to sit. She lay there the duration of the flight, moaning occasionally, but not moving much.

Another guy in front of me had a bandage around his head. The gauze was fresh and blood-soaked. He threw up several times during the flight, likely due to some sort of combination of nausea and trauma (and/or possibly meds). The plane wasn’t equipped with airsickness bags so the flight attendant found a green, plastic bag that he ended up using multiple times.

my plane arriving in Dhusamareb

We made our brief stop on the dirt airstrip in Abudwak and then continued on. I’ve probably flown at least couple hundred remote flights in Africa over the years. Some planes have looked dodgier than others but in the end, we’ve always made it. I was told years ago by some bush pilot friends in Tanzania that the continent has some of the best pilots in the world. They hone their skills each day on sometimes inferior planes. airstrips and extreme conditions. They’re well tested and that’s who you want at the helm if something goes awry. 

* * *

After one night in Mogadishu, I caught my flight home. I admit that I was relieved to touch down in Nairobi knowing that my vacation was just around the corner. It has been a challenging year as the severe drought has taken hold on the country. It's taken a lot out of me to keep up with all the demands on my time and energy. But I can't complain. I like what I do and I know we've been able to accomplish a lot. But in all likelihood, a another tough year awaits.