High-level Visit 2

On arrival in at the airport in Mogadishu, we bid farewell on the tarmac to those who would continue on to Nairobi. My regional colleague and I would remain in the “green zone” to attend a function at the British embassy. This area, which is essentially a military base with an international airport, has changed radically over the years. It’s basically compounds with high security located within a massive compound with high security. It sits on a piece of land along the coast. Private contractors drive a distorted economy and charge huge amounts to UN, foreign governments and international organizations for rent, food services, security, etc. It’s a big racket and I’m not sure how the international community will untangle itself from the whole thing. I’m just glad we’re not a part of it.

After our event, we made our way outside the “green zone” and to our office/guesthouse. The previous week or so had put me considerably behind in my work and I was happy to sit outside on our veranda in solitude and plug away at my emails.

The next day we had an all-Mogadishu staff meeting with about 60 or so staff in attendance. We have about double that in this office but for those who work in clinics throughout the city, it can be impractical to come all the way to the office. Afterwards, my colleagues were off to the airport and I would have the guesthouse to myself for the next couple days. The time would consist of internal and external meetings with little time for anything else.

* * *

On Thursday, it was time to travel home. It was a relatively stressful couple of weeks and a long time since I had had a day off. I was looking forward to packing up and heading out. But the day turned out to be rather strange, even by the strangeness that I’m accustomed to.

It began as it normally would. I packed my bag, had breakfast, conducted a brief last-minute HR meeting and then made my way downstairs just as the armored vehicle arrived to pick me up. The boom gate lifted, the perimeter gate opened, and we were off. 

The construction on the main road to the airport was expected. It's supposed to last for several weeks. What I didn’t anticipate was that as we approached, the driver blew past some police officers who began yelling at him to stop, reaching for their guns. Eventually the driver did stop and the yelling between the two parties ensued. We were only about 50 meters from where I would need to get out anyway, to walk the stretch where the construction was, so I just go out and started walking. The driver was so engaged in his argument with the police that he barely noticed. The only problem was that I was supposed to be met by the security guys who would walk me through the construction area to the waiting vehicle on the other side. I think it’s the first time I’ve walked alone on a Mogadishu street and I was hoping to hell the security team would be waiting on the other end. There was no line of sight so I couldn’t know for sure.

I stuffed my UN badge in my pocket given the reputation the institution has in the country, particularly among militant groups. I don’t work for the UN but they provide me an ID to facilitate my ability to get in and out of the “green zone” and access the UN compounds inside. Having that dangling around my neck would not be a good thing.

After walking up and down the sandy hills of the construction area, my security guy eventually came into view. I expected him to be agitated that I ventured out across the construction area on my own without waiting.  That didn’t appear to be the case, probably because he knew the issue was caused by their guy.

As we approached the vehicle, an elderly woman in a hijab came up to me begging for money. The security guy held her back and motioned for me to get in. As the door shut, the woman began tapping on the tinted bulletproof window.

Though I get approached like this in Kenya, and many other countries, it never happens in Somalia due to the fact that I am never visible. My security, particularly in Mogadishu, is so tight that I could never be seen and certainly not approached like this. Today was an exception.

The woman obviously couldn’t see inside but she kept tapping on the window with one hand and extending the other with her hand cupped. Just as we were pulling away I told the driver to stop. Before leaving the office, one of my staff had given me two boxes of baklava as a gift for my family. He’s very kind and he’s done this before. He said it was a gesture for all that I had gone through the past couple of weeks. While I was appreciative of his gesture, it occurred to me that one of the boxes might be more appreciated by this woman. I quickly opened my heavy door, handed her one of the boxes, and then off we sped. I would have enjoyed seeing her eyes as she saw what was inside the blue bag.

* * *

Getting in the “green zone” went rather smoothly (by the way, I use quotes since no one here calls it that). Before I had the badge, it was often long and difficult. We then made our way to the UN compound where I would have a meeting prior to heading to the airport.

Quick high-level meetings like this border on pointless. It’s not so much the content because I think the discussion went pretty well. It’s just that important people from UN HQs have the challenge of overly ambitious itineraries combined with the complicated logistics of our context. Conversation was frequently interrupted by handlers and security people popping in and out, whispering messages in various people’s ears. There are also a lot of people who like to feel important and/or convey importance during these things. It’s the inflated view of one’s value-add that I’ve mentioned previously.

After the meeting, I found my way back through the labyrinth that is the UN compound to my waiting vehicle. Upon exiting the gate of the UN compound, you need to get checked out. My badge was quickly scanned. The driver, on the other hand, had to go inside the guard station to retrieve his non-UN ID. I sat in the vehicle for about 10-15 minutes before I got out and went to the guard station to see what was going on. Turns out that the UN guards had lost his ID. They apparently hold visitor IDs in a blue wash bucket (?!). There were dozens and dozens of them with tangled lanyards in a mess that looked from a distance like a colorful bowl of spaghetti. The clock was ticking and I desperately didn’t want to miss my plane. We finally agreed that the driver would come back to sort it out after dropping me off at the air terminal. I don’t think he was keen on the idea of leaving without his ID but we didn’t have any choice.

Off we sped on the dusty road. If all went well, I would just make it in time to check in.

* * *

As you might guess, all did not go well. Before reaching the terminal, we hit a massive queue of SUVs, trucks and armored personal carriers. And nothing was moving. After about ten minutes of waiting, I gave up. I told the driver (who didn’t speak a word of English), that I was getting out and walking the rest of the way. I think he was uncomfortable about me bailing on his ability to carry out his mandate, but I didn’t have too many options. It was less problematic to do this here than what I had done earlier in the morning given that we were at least within the “green zone”. My biggest issue was the intense heat of midday, and, of course, the possibility of missing my flight. Thankfully I travel lightly.

I tromped along the sandy roadside passing the dozens of standing vehicles, eventually arriving at the terminal. Other than being soaked with sweat, I was happy with my decision to walk. I was late enough that navigating security was slightly easier. The first stage of the gauntlet is the first of two sniffer dog checks (and the usual request for “tip” from airport security guys) and then the security check as you enter the terminal building. I know one of the guards quite well and we had our usual, albeit quick, chat about the weather, family, etc. It’s helpful to have and maintain these connections in case something unpredictable happens.

I was one of the last to check in. I arrived too late for the gate sniffer dog bag check which didn’t seem to bother anyone. As we filed out to walk to the plane, I knew I was going to make the flight and, though soaked with sweat, I was feeling a bit relieved. I had had a rather arduous couple of weeks and I didn’t want to extend it by a day (or more) by missing my flight.

As I boarded the airplane there was an elderly Somali woman in my seat in the front row of the plane. That seemed to follow the pattern of my day thus far. My frustration was tempered by the fact that the lady didn’t look well at all. The guy next to her, likely her son, was giving her sips of water. I’m assuming they were trying to get her to Nairobi for health care. I temporarily sat across the aisle waiting for the flight attendant to find me another seat. As looked over at her, she had a haunting, almost desperate look in her eyes. It appeared she needed help ASAP.

I was eventually put in a row behind her. I proceeded to open my laptop to catch up on my neglected email inbox while I still had internet.

Soon the door of the plane closed and we began to taxi. All of the sudden, the plane stopped. I looked up and there was some commotion around the sick lady. The door of the plane opened and within a few minutes paramedics boarded. One of them checked the woman’s pulse and shook his head. Sadly, and shockingly, she had just died.

After about ten minutes, an ambulance arrived. They carried her out of the airplane and lay her on the gurney and covered her face. There was no yelling and pointing which seems to accompany most logistics in this country. It was a very methodical and reasonably quiet process. As the ambulance drove away, it took a bit to collect my thoughts. The front of the plane was relatively quiet since it was apparent to most what had just happened. Farther back, it appeared that most were unaware, other than the fact that a passenger was loaded into an ambulance.

the ambulance pulling away from the airplane (through a dirty window)

It was a sobering moment that stuck with me the remainder of the day. Interestingly, the woman’s seat was taken by another woman with a newborn baby.