Mogadishu

I’m sitting in the Mogadishu airport lounge getting ready to head back to Nairobi. As is our security protocol, I don’t post anything while in country. I know people who work in the “green zone” that don’t have any such restrictions, but for those of us on the outside, this, and many other things, is different.

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An observation that I have made over several decades of travel is that there seems to be a correlation between the size and quantity of peoples’ luggage and their inability to carry it. Younger, fitter people tend to travel light. Frail and/or unfit people tend to have suitcases the size of studio apartments. Nowhere is this truer than in Somalia. Maybe it’s because they travel less so they need to carry everything in one go? I don’t know (I’ll avoid unpacking that here). I do end up volunteering my services quite regularly to hoist bags on conveyor belts and stuffing massive bags in overhead compartments.

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Over the years I’ve been mistaken for a few different nationalities, but I’m told I generally look American. Today, as I was walking towards the airport between the first two security checks, a guy looked at me and said, “Bosnian?” He said it two or three times. Anyway, that’s a first.

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Across from me, a couple of Somali guys, dressed as if they stepped off a tacky hip-hop video set, sauntered up to some chairs near the window where a Somali woman was sitting. With no words exchanged, she looked up at them, grabbed her phone, got up and moved to an adjacent table farther from the window. Without ordering anything (you need to pay for food/drink in this lounge), they proceeded to take a series of selfies. Me with my shades. Me with airplanes as a backdrop. Me looking serious. Me smiling. Me looking back over my shoulder. Now both of us. And on it went. When they had uploaded it all to the outside world, seemingly satisfied that their peers would be duly impressed by their barrage of pics, they slowly sauntered off. The women then got up and proceeded to return to her seat near the window.

Interestingly, these were all people in their twenties and not people reflecting behavior from days gone by. In some parts of the world, this sort of thing is perfectly normal, including this country obviously. What I also find interesting, and somewhat bewildering, is that there is also a courtesy towards women (and the elderly) that exceeds what you find in most Western countries. In about an hour, we will be boarding the flight and invariably, women and elderly will always board first. But that courtesy didn’t apply to that woman sitting alone in the lounge. A Somali colleague of mine, when we were discussing this subject, confirmed to me that there is a definitely a hierarchy, as you find in any country, but the one in this country is particularly complex. After more than seven years working in Somalia, I have a pretty good idea what it looks like. But I’m not sure I could explain it.

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I haven’t spent a full week in Nairobi since the first half of July. There has been a lot to do in Somalia connecting with staff, government officials, international community counterparts, etc. With some much turnover in this context, building and maintaining relationships is a never-ending task. But it’s critical in this context more than anywhere else I’ve worked. It tires me though. And then there was the week in regional meetings. I’m quite ready to spend a few days without travel.