ARR will be writing to Somalilanders around the world about his journey to Somaliland and will be offering advice to anyone who may want to travel to this Horn African nation. ARR was born abroad and this is his first trip to Somaliland.
Enjoy his diary
PART I
I have always wanted to visit Hargeisa but somehow not managed to. I collected as much information from friends who had been there as I could and debriefed as many people as possible on their return. This was, after all, the one place I couldn’t log into A Small World and get advice for. This very special journey began thirteen years ago in my heart. I had missed Somaliland ever since I paid my last and only ever visit as a young child in 1996. From the moment I had stepped on the plane I had this yearning to return. A return to where my people roam, live, and where I am truly known.
I flew in via Dubai but did not have the pleasure of spending much time relaxing on the beach as is my normal custom. Dubai was only a point of transit rather than the usual final destination and vacationing place I frequented over the past years. This time I had another plane to catch, a lot of shopping to do, and a lot of fast food to sample that I would no doubt miss during my trip to Somaliland. I stayed up out of genuine excitement the final night and very early on a Friday morning headed to Dubai Airport’s terminal two. The flight in from London landed at the newer terminal and I had only ever been to terminal two to fly to Bahrain a couple of times. What made this flight remarkable is that it was not announced on any of the departure screens. I now truly felt that I was headed to ‘Africa’s best kept secret.
I was shocked at the quality of the airline we took. I was expecting the Daallo - like experience I had heard of from many unhappy customers and from my personal experience those many years ago which is why I took an alternative. The flight crew were professional and even gave me and my fellow travel companions carbonated soft drinks reserved for Business Class. The flight crew began to go through the Airplane Safety Procedures which drew multiple jeers and laughter from the passengers who had probably only taken a plane once before on an outbound journey.
The announcement that the destination was Berbera, Somaliland also drew jeers from the many Somali passengers who would be travelling via Somaliland but only had miss-informed opinions of their neighbours to the north. The only ‘African’ moment I experienced was when one of the flight-crew poured a bucket of water on the floor and proceeded to wipe the floor with a rag in the middle of the flight. This screamed out ‘YouTube Moment!’ but I wasn’t quick enough to record the best part of what was the funniest thing I had ever witnessed on an airplane. We took up an entire row just behind Business Class which seated a few Ministers and as a result I had ample space to rest my abnormally long legs. I sat back and looked out the window at the mountains of Oman. I was now only a matter of hours away from the one place I truly considered home.
Only a few hours later the vast deep blue ocean began to meet with land. I was now flying along the coast of Somaliland and was eventually able to make out the Berbera coastline. We flew right by so that we could make our approach to Africa’s longest runway. What I hadn’t expected was a nose dive landing that was similar to the Baghdad landings I had read about. A few seconds later and rubber met tarmac.
I almost wanted to clap like I used to see when I traveled younger. We had arrived to our destination as promised and in one piece. It really did feel like an ‘Express’ airline.
On exiting the airplane we made our way to the little warehouse that was used as the arrivals terminal. I was traveling with an uncle who is a well known man in Somaliland politics as he had spent 8 years behind bars courtesy of the old Somalia Regime. The fact that he was heavily involved in politics assisted in our prompt walk through customs. It didn’t give us any other luxury because we were immediately left to the mercy of the scorching Berbera temperature without the luxury of air conditioning. After negotiating the release of our suitcases we proceeded to load them onto our vehicles. I almost wanted to ask what my luggage had ever done to anyone because the art of carrying luggage had obviously not reached here. Right up until I reached Hargeisa I felt like I was watching the Passion of the Christ and that at any moment someone was going to crucify my suitcases. After watching my prized possessions get dragged on numerous occasions, and my laptop case dropped, I insisted on doing all the lifting myself.
We left as a two-vehicle convoy because the third vehicle had overheated and was stuck in the middle of a little village on its way to us. My poor brother wanted to come welcome me to Somaliland in person but was instead welcomed to a small village without refrigerated drinks where he was stuck nearly the whole night. We headed for a quick trip into Berbera for a tasty meal of fresh fish and rice while watching the beach. I envied the children swimming in the beach and hated myself for deciding to wear jeans. The heat flattered Dubai and was probably closer to Kuwait’s summer temperatures. This barely populated and scorching city is where my Great-Great grandfather signed the Treaty with the British and I now only now wished I had taken the time to visit the museum in England where his signature is on sheep skin. After our quick meal we began our journey to Hargeisa. This journey was full of many surprises. We first encountered a man sitting and chewing in the middle of the road with two way traffic travelling at high speeds who only moved when given financial encouragement. It was only a little while longer that we were all told to pull to the side by 15 vehicles led by police which turned out to be the Presidential motorcade. I had only been in Somaliland for less than two hours and was already within a spitting distance of the man who was the head of our ever present, albeit ineffectual government. A short while later and we encountered swarms of locusts that were savaging the rural areas in what looked like a biblical scene. I shook my head and swore to myself that I had already seen the Presidential motorcade.
Golis mountains
The drive in was spectacular and the Golis Range was particularly beautiful. I scratched my head and wondered if any of the nomadic people living in this area were aware that they were sitting on what is potentially billions of barrels of oil, hydrocarbons and mountains of gold and gemstones. I then made a quick prayer to myself asking God to make the bounty of the people available to them and that we are not exploited for mere political gain nor to obtain our well deserved recognition or payoffs. I then thought about the last 18 years and started to pray even harder. The reason I had began to study geology was so that I could help my people but after a few quick conversations with the locals I began to realise quickly that progress was far away.
After what felt like a ten hour drive when the AC was wasn’t working and a thirty minute trip when it started working again; I noticed the two infamous mountains that Sheikh Madar must have seen when he decided to begin his settlement here those many years ago. I could not help but feel like I was making a sort of pilgrimage to a very special place to me, my parents and my lineage. The closer we got the more the population along the roadsides grew along with checkpoints. After the horrific and cowardly attacks perpetrated by Al-Shabab recently in Hargeisa I was very supportive of the many security measures taken and the extra scrutiny my full beard and long hair drew.
As we got to the final checkpoint I could see the densely populated city in front of me. The final guard joked that ‘the summer has arrived’ when he saw me and my little British cousins that were traveling with me. The White Sands Village that was well promoted in England but not well thought out in Somaliland was on our right side a short while later and we entered the city. This is where my optimism ended…..
PART II
10 June 2009 (18 May.org) — We entered a city that looks pretty much the same as I had left it in 1996. The unique beauty of Hargeia was still as apparent as the poverty and destruction caused by the heinous acts of the old Somali regime. While most buildings were still damaged, there were a few new buildings that were extremely beautiful and a testament to our courage to rebuild while in the midst of an enduring struggle.
A large proportion of the population still lives in makeshift housing but there are also areas full of spectacular houses with architecture I could only label as unique to Somaliland. The array of various coloured stones on the parameter walls in themselves look like a work of art. This caused great joy that was slowly replaced with a throbbing sadness in me that I could not explain in words. The compassion I feel for my people could only be compared to that felt for your own sibling.
I found it extremely unfortunate that most of the prosperous people in Hargeisa were the less successful people from the Diaspora who were lucky to escape the hardship and save a few pennies here and there. The gap between the wealthy and poor is so apparent here it almost feels like living in Apartheid. This is and the lack of a functional municipal government put an early end to my optimism. The survive-at-all-costs-mentality that our country’s hardship has instilled in our population is what quickly brought it back to life.
There are many NGOs in operation and after much research I have discovered that many of them obtain fake receipts and invoices and pocket the money. The recent actions taken by Mr. Ali, the Minister of National Planning and Coordination, were extremely welcomed but I can’t help but feel that more is needed. People openly complain to me about the level of corruption in the NGO system and made sure that I was aware that they were informed on the thievery of such organisations and institutions.
This caused me to sit back and sigh and wish that such funding would go to organisations such as Project of Hope which is run by a wonderful and very active lady from Toronto. My harsh criticisms also forced me to realise that there was no point in complaining about something I had no intention of helping to fix myself; so I decided to launch an NGO. If I am really serious about making a true difference and cutting the lifeline off for the NGOs feeding off of those less fortunate than them I would have to do something myself and make it a new priority. I will keep you all posted on my progress.
While there are those in need in Somaliland; there are also those who have done extremely well for themselves. Companies such as Dahabshiil, Telecom, Telesom, Omaar Company and a few others are flourishing in an unpredictable economy. I also had the pleasure of being invited to Maan-Soor Hotel by a relative who is a senior member of the Kulmiye party. The forward thinking and vision of Abdulqadir Haashi paid off immensely as Maan Soor is an oasis in the city of Hargeisa. Never did I think while I was sitting in his house those many years ago as a young child, that the ping pong paddles he was sending along with other things to Somaliland, would turn out to be part of such a remarkable success story. I took advantage of this opportunity to eat chicken which is something of a delicacy here because chickens currently hold the presidency of PETA.
There are other hotels/restaurants that I have been to that are run by successful businessmen. I was invited for lunch on Friday by the owner of a restaurant called Crown (formerly known as Aaraweelo) and found it to be a relaxing environment to sit and enjoy a meal in serene beauty. While I’ve heard a great deal about Summertime (which has a very strong buzz in Hargeisa), I still haven’t been there as well as to Ambassador Hotel. I promised myself that I would avoid the ‘highlife’ and would try to live the harsher aspects of Hargeisa, but most people I know congregate in those places. As a result I spent last night in Xaraf’s beautiful outdoor garden with my uncle who is a senior Ucid member as he explained his party’s platform.
I also had the opportunity to witness the very strong presence of British Entrepreneurs who operate electronics and sign making shops and had the pleasure of visiting the British School where my nephews and nieces study. It’s operated by one of my uncles from England who decided to leave England and start investing in Somaliland. I noticed a very strong trend while in Hargeisa so far; and that it’s whoever has money can turn it into even more money very quickly.
It’s really a tale of two cities here and the old saying is very applicable here; life is what you make it. There are even members of the business community who don’t hold a foreign passport yet are still remarkably successful and taking advantage of the booming business opportunities in Somaliland. This is what made me less pessimistic about the situation on the ground here and more appreciative of what our future might look like.
I haven’t done many of the things I had intended to do yet as I’ve been busy with personal engagements, but the most beautiful thing about visiting Somaliland is knowing everyone and being treated like a prince almost anywhere you go. I attended the funeral of Abdillaahi Omaar yesterday and watched Rageah Omar bury his father who was a great friend of my father. We were part of a 250 car envoy that made its way to the historical burial plots of my ancestors. Every one of the near thousand people that went to the funeral were happy to see me when they found out who’s son I was and it made me feel even more at home. I spent about an hour in solemn prayer at my grandfather’s grave (for my grandfather, not the sufi way!) as well as at the graves of many of my ancestors. Seeing all of my ancestors in one place is something I could have only dreamed of while living abroad.
So far this trip is amazing and I am trying my best to connect with the city on a less superficial level and be one with my fellow Somalilanders and even take the bus which I didn’t do abroad. We all hear the same stray dogs packs barking and howling at night and enjoy watching goats eat things that would normally be put in a compost bin. I still enjoy the beauty of the Somali cat which is as beautiful as our sheep with the black head and white body. It’s kind of sad that most of the women here contrast our sheep but I pray that they will one day be confident enough to love and appreciate their beautiful complexion. Until then the cosmetics trade here will continue to flourish as the women transform themselves into spitting images of Michael Jackson.
To be continued….
PART III
The women of Somaliland are among the most beautiful of God’s creation. Apart from those that are destroying their skin and inviting skin cancer to their final years by insisting on altering their complexion, I have witnessed some of the prettiest faces I have ever seen. While I don’t think I would ever be able to reconcile how I was raised in my life abroad with how the local population was raised; something keeps telling me that the local women would make better wives and mothers. Writing that may get me in trouble with some friends from abroad but the truth is; I think I may have finally found home.
I was still wondering why our women insist on wearing every colour in the spectrum of light in two garments which is a question that has haunted me in my previous 26 years of observation. One day and totally out of the blue I finally found the answer. On one of the many walks I take with my mother she was asked if she was a widow due to the fact that her clothing was colour coordinated. Aha! The answer had finally revealed itself. In taking a trip to the top of one of the hills on northern Hargeisa to get some exercise I found the answer to one of the most pressing questions of our times (at least for those of us in the Diaspora).
This was one of the most fun hikes I took with my mother because this time she wanted to go as much as I did and didn’t complain as much about the rocky roads as she normally does. Most people spend their entire trip to Hargeisa inside of a car but for health reasons I have insisted on treating my mother like Hager and both ends of Hargeisa like Safa and Marwa. From this one particular hill located just north of Man Soor I was able to see Naaso Hablood as well as the very famous mountains with the same name.
From this vantage point you can see almost all of Hargeisa but what I had to admit is that the view to the other side was much more spectacular and inviting. Just north of Hargeisa lies a flat area of land that seems to never end with shrubs and greenery extending for as far as the eye can see only to be cut off by majestic mountain ranges that appear as a silhouette in what would make a very picturesque painting.
After a few of these nature hikes I’ve taken with my mother I am yearning and looking forward to my trips to Daallo and Sheikh Mountains. I also hope that this will provide an answer to those who jokingly accuse me catering to only one particular corner of Hargeisa. I am not one of those boring people who are the same tribe on both sides but have in my blood a nice variety that I love equally if not more than my father’s side.
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As a youngster I used to love to go camping and one of the most fascinating things about a trip outside of the city limits is the cloud of stars that are clearly visible to the naked eye. While the Northern Lights are not visible in Hargeisa there are literally thousands of stars that light up the sky. So far I have only been able to locate the North Star, Venus and the Big and Small Dipper and would probably notice more celestial objects if I knew them.
While my nephews and nieces have been complaining with a passion similar to the Iranian protesters that there is nothing to do while our Satellite receiver is down I have had the pleasure of enjoying the cloud formations above during the day and the immaculate stars at night. This along with the Adhan that cuts into whatever activity you have at hand are some of the most enjoyable aspects of my trip to Hargeisa thus far.
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The city is literally littered with Masjids and almost everywhere you go you can find a new Masjid being built. While this has sparked an inner feeling of joy in me as a Muslim I think that there is something else that should be considered. I recently visited a sick relative in Hargeisa hospital only to see how small it was and how inadequate the facilities were. A very nice lady who I spent time discussing the hospital with showed me the extension to the old hospital that her family had built as a donation and encouraged me to find more donors for the hospital (This is the public Hargeisa hospital and not the private for-profit hospital Edna Aden had built with charity she collected on a premise of free health care for all).
In the rush to build Masjids to try to help those who lived a life of sin there are literally hundreds of Masjids being built at the expense of other crucial facilities that should be helped with families’ charitable funds. I made a promise to myself that I would do what I can now and probably bequeath something to hospitals and schools in my will when the time came.
I had also continued to investigate why in The City of NGOs (twelve hundred of them as I had heard) there are still so many people living in poverty. While I accept poverty as an inevitable reality what I couldn’t accept is the rumour that nearly half of the funds allocated to Somaliland are embezzled in Kenya (Not cool! We have a restaurant named after one of your very famous children). While that is obviously an issue that needs to be tackled; it still doesn’t excuse the mismanagement that is taking place here in the sphere where we have control.
I have been to a few NGOs and from what I can see so far the people that work there get as much work done as a Gulf Cooperation Council employee. While there are no doubt those who work as hard as they can to make a difference I can’t help but feel that they could do more if they were focused on the objectives of their organisations rather than their salaries. As I had mentioned I have started to mobilise and get an NGO together and will be working on this as a long term and well thought out project during the free time that I have. I guess this is the best place to say thank you to my friend M. Al-Maktoum who has offered to support this charity from the very beginning.
The past few weeks have been quite interesting in many other ways. I was forced to part ways with my long hair and beard after weeks of being taunted in the streets by almost everyone. Out of frustration I had been tempted on numerous occasions to speak with my hands (which are much better at speaking Somali then my mouth mind you) but eventually gave in to logic and decided to get a haircut instead.
I had uploaded pictures on my mobile of how I look with short hair as an example and have to admit that the barber pretty much got it right which was ‘cool’. I’m sure he would’ve noticed that he made both sides uneven if he wasn’t busy chewing away at Qat while cutting my hair. What wasn’t ‘cool’ is that he had initially tripled the price I paid for the haircut claiming that they charge by hair length. After much bargaining and agreeing to give him a tip we settled on a price that I knew was too much but didn’t mind parting with.
I also had the chance to go one night to Imperial Hotel for the launch of a children’s book called Riyaaq. I didn’t understand much of the clever wordplay and chanting contained in the book until I got a hold of the book myself and started reading along. It was amazing that such a beautiful book would be made available to our children teaching them morals and parables in the melodic tone one can hear being sung in many of the classrooms in the city. Since there are many children who don’t have access to an education and even more whose education has been left to schools operated by self interested and inexperienced profiteering businessmen I found this book to be something special and welcome to our youth.
I also had the pleasure of taking part in the funeral of one of Sheikh Madar’s offspring and have made it a new habit to go to as many funerals as I can which I started to do in England. I find it fascinating that there is not a single tear shed at funerals here and that the deceased children are the ones that go in the grave themselves and place the deceased person in their final resting position.
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I have also had an experience with Hargeisa’s notorious traffic jams that are usually caused by nothing other than a simple and absolutely inconsiderate idiot (not by the traffic warden that disappear for half an hour at a time). It took us twenty minutes to cover twenty yards because one man and his will to have his car cleaned in the middle of the street was more important than the mass of cars that also needed to use the same street. We all yelled at the cleaner who said “I don’t care, I’m getting paid” and I will have to admit I was very tempted to pay him a hundred times as much to smash the windows and slash the tires. If there weren’t hundreds of witnesses I probably would’ve seriously considered doing this myself.
Apart from visiting the Somaliland Medical Association and then the wonderful Nurses Association (where they teasingly reminded me of my mother’s days as a nurse in a short skirt!), of all the things I had done I would have to say the most interesting thing was the near hour of uninterrupted chat I had alone with Rageah Omar at his family home which was only disturbed by a brief visit by Faisal Ali Warrabe (the leader of the Ucid party) to give condolences to Rageah.
Faisal seems like a nice man and asked me a couple of questions about his nephew from Toronto who is a good friend of mine that I couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. Although I and Rageah are both related and descendants of good friends I had never spent time getting to know this particular relative and have to admit he was a very interesting person regardless of his credentials. I think he deserves the success he has achieved because he is quite a brilliant man and a sincere and genuine individual.
I guess the next best experience I’ve had in the last few weeks was when I went to visit a few ministries yesterday and found that there were both utterly incompetent and very competent individuals working in our government. Some of the very old people I encountered were extremely difficult to converse with and narrow minded while there was a younger generation present who were looking forward to the advancement and progression of Somaliland. While it’s fun to criticise the current government I also have to give credit where it is rightfully due.
The thing that has annoyed me the most, even more than the corrupt NGOs so far is the Somaliland Suldaan system. I can openly tell you that whoever the Suldaan for my particular clan is does not represent me as I have neither voted for him and he just happens to be the child of a very smart man who I’m sure deserved the title. I surprisingly enough don’t personally think that reason and intellect are transferred genetically in totality to offspring therefore nullifying the entire inherited Suldaan concept.
I still can’t seem to come to terms with this inherited title and wanted to share my opinion with the world. Being supportive of my inherited Suldaan would make me feel as foolish as those who vote based on clan allegiances so they can brag about someone who doesn’t care the least about them holding such and such a position, or, as dim-witted as some of the so called Somalilanders I have encountered who still dream of a Somali Weyne.
While I have been critical in many ways during my trip to Somaliland so far I also see all the good that is here but haven’t found many who are brave enough to openly question the areas where we need change. I have always been the type of person to let someone know when there is a bugger in their nose or they have a hole in their shirt. I find this my way of showing people I care as it would be twice as easy to simply ignore. I look forward to adding much more insight from my personal experiences and giving a broader perspective when I have the opportunity to travel to more places in Somaliland.
I had originally intended to delay writing this third instalment until I had more experiences but was encouraged by the many wonderful emails and phone calls from all over the world I have received. I was quite shocked that this blog I am writing for SomalilandPress has been syndicated on various other Somaliland website and will try my best to fit all of the requests I have received into my increasingly busy schedule and will continue to share my inner most thoughts in the process.
To Be Continued…. ARR
PART IV
A car speeds towards me flying over speed-bumps and moving twice as fast as all the other cars. Is there an emergency? An act of terrorism by the Al-Shabaab cowards or is it simply an ambulance? No. It’s one of the vehicles delivering the poison called Qat to Hargeisa.
In this city where I walk next to houses that literally cost less than one of the accessories I am wearing, a large percentage of the population chooses to indulge in what should be a once in a blue privilege; chewing Qat. As someone who dabbled with this narcotic when in England of all places I had finally arrived in Somaliland where I can see if the effects were as damaging as the strong voice of complaint I had heard from those who oppose it.
I had already witnessed what it has done to the youth in London who spend their days in a Mirfresh from the age of 15 discussing their future goals and plans while everyone else actually accomplishes them. Qat has even superseded their right to a free education but that’s a whole other story. I guess I should take it easy on England and be thankful because if it wasn’t for England I would’ve been shocked to see people taking showers from a bucket.
This speeding car in this city has a policy; it doesn’t stop for ANYONE. This could be a young child, an old lady, or someone from abroad who has no idea that this vehicle carries the false joy of an entire city. Think about an open top Brinks Truck and you will start to get an idea of what I’m talking about. This truck doesn’t stop, because if it did; people would literally jump on it and take what they can from its golden cargo. Because of this the Qat dealers find it more cost effective to pay the blood money of whoever ventured into its path.
The cargo that this vehicle carries is a poison that has strangled our country not only spiritually but economically. It is rumored that approximately $600,000 USD goes to Ethiopia every day from Hargeisa alone. Since a sizable chunk of our economy is based on Money Transfers, Telecommunications companies and Qat; I sometimes wonder if this little triangle is in place so that people can call the Diaspora for urgent funds to spend on Qat but know that it would be a very nasty stereotype. What I can say, however, is that Qat is definitely having a negative impact on our nation and that too much of a lot of people’s income is used on abusing it.
A certain age demographic depends on Qat and expects you to just fork over $50 so they can chew themselves into what I can only describe as a false joy. You’ll get asked for money by people who will in return tell you that the $10 you have given them is not enough to cover their Qat for the day which is still bewildering after the hundredth time. I feel for the ladies who are forced to sell Qat because their husbands think that anyone who can father a child is a man but forget that a man is he who can not only have offspring but care for them and the beautiful soul that has bore the children for him. The women who sell Qat have earned a nick-name here which is Dhuuso Nuug.
This literally translates to Fart Sucker because they spend their day tending to men who are chewing by providing them tea and whatever else helps their false joy. Rumor has it that these women have superpowers which include never using the bathroom or even eating food. I don’t blame these women; however, I blame the so called (wo)men in their families.
After seeing what Qat has done to my people I have promised myself not to ever chew until my oldest son’s engagement. This is my way of avoiding swearing to never do something and at the same time reminding myself that there is so much I have to accomplish in life. The good news is that the younger and educated generation have no interest in chewing and the only young people you will find chewing are foreigners who think it’s a part of their culture. Most young people here are wise to the ill effects of Qat and I can only pray that this is picked up by the young men in England who see it as a rite of passage to start chewing their lives away from a very young age.
Another issue/dilemma we are faced with over here is the constant site of people begging. Now don’t get me wrong; I have the softest heart for those in need. I initially used to go into my pocket and give them money without counting but later smartened up to the hustle in play over here. Most of the people begging here are not needy Somalilanders but people from Oromo who probably own more land and livestock then I do and have taken up begging as a profession. They are also the same people who refuse to work if offered and brag that they can make more money begging when you offer them a job. The sad fact is that it’s true.
This is at the expense of genuinely needy people who are too proud to beg in public. What I now do as a result is tell them to seek help from the Masjid because that’s where I will be making most of my charitable contributions.
I don’t want to paint a bad picture for those of the Somalilanders abroad because it’s really a beautiful place to be. I have loads of cousins here visiting from abroad and they seek refuge in places like Kayse Busharo, the Dollar Store and gas stations which sell pretty much everything you can think of at a marked up price. When you consider that most of the things here are not bought directly from the suppliers and that they have exchanged hands many times before reaching here you will learn to forgive them for charging so much for their items. I personally go to F2 (operated by young Somalilanders businessmen from Hargeisa, the UK and UAE) every now and then so I can enjoy a decent burger with fries.
I have also finally had the opportunity to visit Summertime a few times too many. I’m guessing the reason this place has such a big aura attached to it is because it’s the congregation point for the “I’m a happily married man that cheats on my wife” and the “I was virgin until I came to Hargeisa” clubs (some of you guys are actually cool but it’s the truth!). I’m not saying that everyone there falls into this category but if you come there you will see for yourself that most of them do.
The food is great even though the guy at the window insists on taking a tip without your permission (count your change) and the owner was even kind enough to entertain my complaint regarding an issue I had with them and give me a refund. My overall summary would be that’s it’s a very beautiful place and facility but the crowd there is both socially amateur and immature.
Of the things that have happened in the recent past are Silaanyo’s return to Hargeisa for which no one was allowed to meet him at the airport. I found it surprising because the airport became a security joke when Maryan Mursal arrived and let just about everyone in. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few goats were also allowed to attend. I’m not promoting any particular party but just saying that rules should be applied equally and that didn’t seem to be ‘fair play’ on our government’s part.
I also had the pleasure of being invited to the opening ceremony of Mount Royal Hotel which lies next to Ilays School on the road to Boroma by Najeeb Hassan Haashi (the owner). I’ve been to Panorama and other places but this place took the crown in Hargeisa because while sitting in there you would literally never imagine you were somewhere in Hargeisa. I still wake up sometimes and look out the window and ask myself “what the hell am I doing here” and it’s nice to know that progress is being made and that the better things in life are slowly being made available to the people of Somaliland.
I still haven’t been outside of Hargeisa because I’ve been busy helping my brother get his school in Hargeisa up and running (Toronto Language & Computer Academy located right next to Maan Soor Hotel) but have finally been to the other side of town which I was surprised to find out was twice as beautiful as this side of town. There you will find a bunch of hotels ranging from the Scandinavian hotel to the Ambassador hotel lining the road to and from the airport. I still haven’t been to Ambassador Hotel but will make it a priority to go there before I write my next installment.
The last thing I will discuss is that I had the chance to go to the secret gathering of foreigners and NGO employees here in Hargeisa. I won’t give too many details as they have gone underground since the cowardly attacks of last year other than to say it’s a pretty neat gathering for them to let their hair down and just have a good time. I was one of only two other Somalilanders there and not knowing what I was getting myself into got all dressed up as if I was going to Maan Soor Hotel and ended up at a casual get together where I was looked at suspiciously for either being a Somalilander or for looking so darn good.
Having never had a hard time getting into the top ‘spots’ where all of the people there could never dream of getting into; I found it intriguing that I was considered something of an outsider at this gathering in my own city! This was literally the only time I had encountered an Indian person looking at me as if they were better than me and it was reminiscent of the old days where people left jobs at McDonalds to be offered dummy positions at major corporations in the Gulf.
Some of them were nice so I guess I forgive them but I made it a point to explain that I was here because this is my country and not because I couldn’t get a better job with those kind of perks abroad (Thank you to the British gentleman and American woman who invited me if you’re reading but I ‘m only writing what I felt about most of them).
I also recently applied for a position with a local association and experienced firsthand how things work behind the scenes here. I wasn’t interested for monetary purposes but wanted this particular post because it’s somewhere where I felt I can use my expertise to bring positive change (I also have a personal policy of not spending money when and where I’m not making money unless I’m on vacation… Try it; it really works!).
Suffice to say that someone that the interviewer had brought with him who couldn’t complete the aptitude test got the position. Talk about conflict of interest; this is the way of our land. I am constantly being encouraged to tell people my full name to get a better service which I guess is something I resent about how our country works. It’s the same as everywhere else in the world: “It’s not who you are but who you know.” The only problem is that over here it’s done so openly. For me, personally, I will always live by this Somali proverb that goes “This goat that I have today is better than the Camels your father used to have.”
I guess I’ll stop this here for now because I too have noticed my blogs are getting longer. I’m either seeing more things or getting extremely bored but I promise you it’s not the latter just yet. There’s lots of things I would like to cover including the Squatting epidemic but I’ll save it for another blog entry. Thank you for reading and look out for Part V.
To Be Continued…
By Arr
By ARR.
arr@somaliland.com