After the brief
holiday period, it was back to work. I spent about half of January in Somalia. In fact, with the exception of one
vacation day, and the recognized holidays, there wasn't much of a break at all. Somalia doesn’t take much time off since they
obviously don’t celebrate Christmas and New Year’s is basically just a long weekend.
With a late trip to Mogadishu in December and an early one in January, there
was very little break in work continuity.
* * *
Given my postponed trip to Baidoa (in the southwest)
originally scheduled for December, I needed to fit that in early in the new
year. This area was considered to be the epicenter of the recent severe drought.
As devastated as the population was for the past few years, within weeks of the return of the rains
(finally), flooding ensued. A brutal twist of fate. The flooding was the worst on record, which comes with a caveat in that measurable
records don’t go back very far.
I would be traveling with a colleague from the regional
team. I have mixed feelings about traveling with people. I sometimes like the
interaction and I enjoy showing people what I consider to be one of the most
interesting places I’ve ever been - a place that most people will never
see. But I also
like traveling alone. Decision making is easier and, in an insecure
environment, there’s simply less to worry about.
* * *
Taking the UN flight, we were able to make it all the way to
Baidoa from Nairobi on a Sunday, transiting briefly through Mogadishu. It’s an
effective use of time, but with a 3:45am wake-up, it makes for a very packed
day. Sunday is the first day of the week so the plane was full and the airports
were busy.
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waiting lounge
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When I first
arrived in Somalia years ago, almost all international travelers used either UN
or EU flights. For years, it was deemed to be the only “safe” way to get to
Mogadishu. I was one of the first to transition to commercial flights which,
over the years, have become more the norm. There are some organizations that
still require staff to fly UN, but that number is reducing by the year (EU
flights were discontinued a few years ago).
The transit in Mogadishu with the UN flight leaves a lot to be desired. Having grown accustomed to commercial travel in Somalia
where you enter a proper air terminal with all the basic amenities, returning
to UN travel seems almost farcical. Unnecessarily so, I would add. After the
plane lands, you’re escorted over to a container. A few years ago, you didn’t
even enter a container, but queued up outside for a long wait to go through “immigration”.
It’s usually hot and dusty. We stood outside the container for over 45 minutes: no
seating; no toilet; no water/food; wind gusts blowing sand in your face while waiting
to re-board our plane to continue to Baidoa.
I realize that for short-term UN workers to Somalia, this is
part of the ambiance. Obtaining “street cred” in a relatively brief hardship posting, a lot of
people embrace this sort of thing. As humanitarian work goes, Somalia is the
real deal. A little grit is good for a person's Instagram posts.
I cringe when I see
these people. Not only do they enter the context with an inflated perception of
their value-add, they are also very expensive. Most are making decent money with
frequent R&Rs and are not even allowed to leave the green zone. It’s a system
that gradually needs to be dismantled, but there doesn’t seem to be an appetite
to do so.
Alas, I digress.
* * *
Eventually we boarded our flight to Baidoa and were off.
Upon take-off, for safety reasons, flights immediately bank sharply towards the
ocean. It’s a security protocol to gain altitude over the water before continuing
the flight path over land to minimize the risk of anything being fired from the
ground. Such incidents are highly unlikely but the protocols remain for most aircraft.
The flight is short – about 45 minutes. I was surprised to
see the greenish landscape below as we approached the town. I have only
traveled to Baidoa during severe drought so it was a nice change. Some fear that the green will soon begin
to fade if the next rainy season fails.
Scattered mostly on the outskirts of the town you see the massive
dome-shaped ramshackle tents of those who have been displaced by drought and
conflict (“IDPs” in our language – internally displaced persons). From the air
they look like small polyps, extending farther and farther as each crisis comes
and goes – people arriving for help, most with no intention of returning to
where they came from, either because of the recurring fear of conflict or the
lack of livelihoods by which they could feed themselves. But also no ability to move beyond the temporary housing which ends up being permanent. Supporting these
people is a big part of what we do in this town.
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Baidoa town
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As I’ve mentioned before, during previous posts of traveling
to Baidoa, the town is completely surrounded by militant groups. There is no
way for us to have access except by plane. You travel more than five kilometers
in any direction and you begin to leave government-controlled territory. It’s a
tough place to work and to bring in resources.
* * *
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baggage claim
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We arrived late morning and were whisked off to engagements
with various government officials. After a good meeting with the mayor, a man I have met with a couple of times over the past year or so, we then headed to our
office for a late lunch.
Sweaty, sleep-deprived, hungry and dehydrated, I was
happy to settle into our guesthouse for a nice meal and some air conditioning. After
a meeting with staff, we proceeded to go back across town to a hotel within Baidoa’s version of a
“green zone”, which encompasses the airstrip. Normally, I would stay in our guesthouse but for reasons I won’t
go into here, it made more sense to be in the hotel.
The evening at the hotel was wonderfully uneventful. We each had
soup, watched a bit of the Africa Cup of Nations and retired early.
* * *
The next day we would head out to one of the IDP areas to
visit some of our projects and talk to a few of the beneficiaries.
From there we moved back into town to a facility where we provide vaccinations targeting
children under five years of age. It’s good to hear about the great work that
is going on, but it’s usually overshadowed by the gaps and ongoing needs to
either keep these facilities running or expand them to reach more people.
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endless domed houses of the displaced
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providing learning while people wait for their turn in the clinic
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IDP housing wedged in between other structures
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It can be overwhelming to hear people's stories, one after
another. It can also be inspiring to hear about some of the heroics involved in
providing them services under such challenging circumstances. Either way, I find
it emotionally exhausting. Even though I’ve done this sort of thing for nearly
two decades, I never want to be unmoved by it. The unfairness of the situation these
people are in motivates me to get up in the morning and do it all over again,
all the while knowing it’s a drop in the bucket compared to what is needed.
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taking a call while he waits
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* * *
The following day we would travel back to Mogadishu. The
local flights are notorious for being delayed and/or cancelled. I was willing
to accept the former. Less so for the latter. Our 9am flight would finally
happen at nearly 1pm. Thankfully, my security guy was on top of things (in contact
with people who could anticipate when we might depart) and we didn’t head to
the airstrip until around 10:30.
I made it to Mogadishu just in time to head to a UN meeting
while my colleague was escorted to our office in town. By early evening I was
back at the office/guesthouse, had some camel stew, worked on a billion emails
and then went to bed.
* * *
The next day we headed out to visit a health center on the
other side of Mogadishu. It’s an adventure just to get there. With armored vehicle
and armed escort, we plied our way more or less parallel to the coast, past the
port, through the old city, past the fish market and eventually to our destination.
Along the way you can see modern buildings, thousands of tuk-tuks, endless
shops, bombed out buildings from the civil war, etc. It’s a fascinating drive
and one that I like for visitors to see to get an idea of the many contrasts of
the city.
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former Bank of Somalia
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The health center we visited is one that I have been to more
than anyplace we work. It’s well-run and provides a good perspective of the
health and nutrition work that we do. The doctor that runs the place told our
visitor that not only are our staff well acquainted with me, so are some of the
patients. It was an exaggeration, of course, but it is nice that they feel that
support. Access constraints in the country mean that most people working in these facilities feel
isolated from support mechanisms and a lack of engagement by the
international community.
We spent quite a bit of time talking to women who had come
in with their babies. So interesting to hear their perspective and get an idea
as to what their lives are like. No doubt, there are some tough people surviving in difficult circumstances.
* * *
From the clinic, we headed towards the lido district on the
coast. Security permitting, we like to take visitors to have a meal in a
restaurant overlooking the water. It’s important for the standard narrative about
Somalia to change. It’s not all war and humanitarian disaster (though that is
certainly part of it). It's a rich culture and the country has so much untapped beauty.
As you enter the restaurant from the parking side, you start
to see the amazing turquoise water and feel the cool sea breeze. That is a treat in and of itself. But that was just the beginning.
Prior to sitting down, we walked out to the beach. Not many
people get to do this for obvious reasons. It’s a rare thing to see a foreigner
on a Somali beach, particularly a Westerner. Generally, when we do this, we take a few photos and make
our way back to the less-visible table within the restaurant. On this occasion,
my security guy proposed something new. I saw him chatting with a ma on the beach
but I wasn’t sure what they were talking about. Unbeknownst to me, the guy was
trying to get us to go out on his boat. When my security guy pitched it to me,
I laughed since I didn’t think he was serious. We’ve never even considered
something like this before. I’ve always felt we were pushing the envelope just
to be out on the beach. After a moment of hesitation, I agreed. I trust my team
and if they were on board with this, so was I.
Within seconds, we were making our way onto the boat. None of
us had footwear that made this easy but, by timing our loading between waves,
we were able to all get in with limited soaking of our shoes. A few of our
armed guards squeezed in with us. It was all a bit surreal.
Because of the way we boarded close to the beach (about ten people plus a few guns), we were now stuck in the sand and unable to depart. A
bunch of curious onlookers came over and helped push us out into the water.
While I still had my doubts as to whether this was a good idea, there was no
turning back now.
Soon we were motoring
out into the blue. Because I’ve taken many boats out into the Indian Ocean
while on vacation, there was a part that felt normal and that other part that
felt bizarre. I took some photos and video, trying not to include the security
guys (since they’re normally not to be photographed). It was hard to capture the
experience without them, however.
We weren’t out very long but it was long enough for me to
transition from super-stressed to somewhat stressed. Don’t get me wrong. I did
enjoy it. And I had a smile on my face all the way back to the restaurant.
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| amazing lunch |
* * *
After lunch, we made our way back to the office. Other than
the normal craziness that is Mogadishu, it was uneventful. Being out and about,
I was desperately behind in my email stuff so I set up shop on the veranda
outside the guesthouse. The outdoor seating is relatively recent, complete with padded outdoor
furniture and artificial grass. In the late afternoon and evening, when it’s
sheltered from the sun, it’s become my go-to place to work.
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impact of war in the old city
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Around 5pm there was a flurry of gunfire no more than a
block away. Occasional gunfire isn’t abnormal but this lasted for several minutes.
The big concern is stray bullets and our building has been hit before, including
a guesthouse window. So I went inside until it died down. Later I found out
that it was celebratory gunfire from a football match. Seriously? Do we need to
celebrate by firing weapons? In a place like Mogadishu? People are jumpy enough
as it is.
* * *
The next morning I would accompany my colleague back to
Nairobi. It was a good and full week. Always nice to have successful visits. It’s
good for my team and it’s good for the visitor. I look forward to the day when non-Somalis
are traveling to the country on vacation, not for humanitarian reasons. It may
be some time before that happens, however.
