A United Nations consultant from Buuhoodle in the northern Ayn
Region of Somalia told me about his son’s visit with him in Mogadishu. The
young man, who lives in North America, had not seen his father for years. The
consultant was worried his son would be put off by Mogadishu’s security lapses
and the lack of glittering entertainment venues for young people.
During his visit to Mogadishu, the son would borrow his
father’s SUV and vanish into the city for hours. Concerned about his son’s
regular forays into the city, his father asked him where on earth he spent his
time there.
“Dad, I love Mogadishu. It’s a fun place to be,” the son
said, “I have so many friends from social media to hang around with.”
“Okay, if that’s the case, then I have nothing to worry
about, son.”
The father told me he was dumbfounded to learn how quickly
and closely his son came to be connected
with his Somali peers across the globe — far from his life in North America.
He explained his own initial surprise: “Hassan, I am out of touch,” he said, smiling.
“I am a middle-aged man coming to terms with the fact that the world has morphed
into a small village.”
This story illustrates a huge generational shift among
Somali’s youth. They represent the best hope Mogadishu has of rebuilding itself
after many years of civil war and anarchy. The generation that came after the 1991 civil
war was spared from the atrocities and clannish enmities the country had experienced.
While they may never have lived under a strong government in which law and
order was the cornerstone of the administration, these young people desperately
want a stable, united country.
Clannism is not a priority for them. In fact, their social
relationships with diverse populations of Somalis are testimony to their
commitment to marginalize tribalism. While Somalis in the diaspora are eager to
know one’s clan, I was amazed to find that this generation of youngsters is not
interested in clannism at all. To them,
clan identity is not important. In Somalia, where the sudden mobilization of
tribes can occur at any moment for any reason, it was uplifting and refreshing
to see these young people flourishing in an environment bereft of clan talk.
I have seen it on social media; Somali youth from all walks
of life are forming friendships and cementing a galaxy of networks via online
platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat. The experience of
the UN consultant’s son clearly shows how this new generation feels at ease
with friends across Somalia, especially in Mogadishu. Indeed, the Internet will
continue to play a pivotal role in the rising prominence of the younger
generation and the changes that are already in progress in Mogadishu.
Work ethic
Among the generational difference that attracted my attention
was the work ethic of the youth who worked long hours six days a week. Despite high
unemployment in the city, the young people I observed worked day in and day out,
and gave me hope that the city was on the right track. These young people come from
remote city neighborhoods to work tirelessly in low-paying jobs in restaurants,
hotels, and office buildings, from early morning to near dusk.
Ali’s journey
Certainly, the younger generation is better placed to network
with friends and meet up with each other than youngsters were a few decades
ago.
Ali M. Hiraabe, a 45-year-old waiter/assistant manager at a
restaurant in the capital proved to be a telling example of this change. After
a few days of watching him interact with customers jovially and professionally,
I asked him to tell me his story. He said that when the civil war broke out
some 27 years ago, he was 18 and married with an infant.
Born in a rural area between Ceeldheer and Ceelbuur, Ali came
to Mogadishu in 1983, and soon became smitten with the fast-paced urban
environment. As he grew older, he studied religion and Arabic in various
mosques and prepared for a career as a Quran teacher. He was teaching the Quran
when the civil war erupted, found himself with no job and no place to stay.
“I was barely 18 with no job skills and a family to support,”
he said.
He sent his wife and child to his hometown in Central Somalia
so they could be safe. It was then that he made a career change, from a cleric
to a day laborer. The war had destroyed many of the country’s institutions,
making it difficult for many to find jobs. Ali decided to try his luck working
in restaurants.
“People will always eat, even in the midst of war,” he said.
Ali applied for a restaurant job in the Kaaraan District.
When asked if he had experience, he answered no, but that he was strong and
reliable. The restaurant owner was impressed with his motivation and employed
him as a waiter. However, there was a catch—Ali had to work for meals, not wages.
The youngster accepted the offer, but made his own counteroffer: He asked if he
could sleep in the restaurant at night. The owner agreed.
Ali rose early and made tea for the customers. He slowly
learned how to cook and, within a month, he was promoted to a cashier; however,
he still received no salary. The owner noticed Ali’s diligence and hard work
and started trusting him. When the restaurant’s full-time waiter didn’t show up
one day, Ali eagerly took his place. He became a waiter, cashier, and part-time
cook — and earned his first pay of 10,000 Somali shillings.
After Ali had worked several months in the restaurant as a
salaried employee, the owner decided to cut back costs and reduce his salary.
Ali refused the cutback and walked away from the job.
The next day, Ali woke up early and approached an ice seller.
He asked the man to hire him, promising to bring him more profits. He got the job
and began learning new skills. The business expanded and started making more
money.
“The owner and I were a team, and we really worked hard,” he
said humbly. In fact, Ali said he made enough money to get his own place and buy
a mattress and new clothes.
After several months, he fell out with the ice seller and
moved on. Ali’s next stint was as a mechanic with UNICEF. This was followed by another
job as a laborer in Saudi Arabia. One day, he suffered humiliation when a Saudi
youngster spat in his face and shouted:
“You want to destroy our country like you did yours!”
Nevertheless, Ali remained in Saudi Arabia from 1997 until
2002. Then, he was caught in an immigration dragnet, detained for ten months,
and deported back to Somalia.
Back in Mogadishu, Ali found jobs in successive restaurants. Despite
the city’s security problems, he recalls once being robbed at gun point while
he was working in a restaurant near the Howl-Wadaag District. Ali has been with
his current job for over six years. He is a favorite with the customers because
he is attentive, engaging, and has a self-deprecating sense of humor.
“Hard work and honesty have been my ingredients for survival
in Mogadishu,” he told me. “I have no intention of going anywhere.”
Like many residents in the capital, Ali has now adapted to this
new Mogadishu with its rapid growth, rebuilding, and periodic violent
outbursts. His story personifies the ultimate goals of many in the city who
hope to attain a stable, peaceful environment in which they can flourish and
become better citizens.
As Ali said, “Mogadishu is not perfect, but it has its
virtues.”
Epilogue
My five-part series, “Back to Mogadishu,” has generated
positive feedback from many readers. Part III seemed to be the most widely read
of the five. That was the first time I received numerous emails from friends
and strangers, and all were positive and sympathetic.
Many people were dismayed that a few Somali government
officials had acted in bad faith after they had offered me a job as a speech writer
for President Farmajo, and later reneged on the offer after I had flown in to
Mogadishu to take up the post.
My goal of writing Part III was not to shame anyone,
including the Somali government. I wanted to share this experience with many of
my friends, family members, and the public to explain how my efforts to serve
my country came to naught when a few officials in Mogadishu felt insecure and
threatened by my presence. I was not looking for a job when I was approached to
be a speech writer for the Somali president — the job offer simply fell into my
lap.
I wondered if the inability to fulfill a simple obligation
(the promise of a job offer) is not indicative of incompetence on a much
broader scale.
A few readers shared similar experiences, which removed the
idea that my case was an anomaly.
Awad Calls
Foreign Minister Ahmed I. Awad had good intentions when he
approached me about the speech-writing position. I knew from day one that the
job was not within his purview—it was the responsibility of Villa Somalia, the
seat of the Presidency, to hire a speech writer.
After the article was published, Awad called me from
Djibouti, where he was on an official visit. He was not angry, but concerned,
and apologized for what had happened to me in Mogadishu. He swore to me he did
not see the email I had sent him while in Mogadishu.
“I am not someone who is disloyal and lets his friends down,”
he said.
Villa Somalia Responds
On June 4, Awad called me again, and this time he was with
Fahad Yasin, Chief of Staff of the Office of the Presidency. Awad asked me to
talk to Fahad. In a calm voice, Fahad greeted me and told me he had heard about
my botched meeting with officials in Villa Somalia.
“On behalf of the Office of the Presidency, I apologize for
what has happened to you. It was not an evil intent on the part of the
officials in Villa Somalia. They were overwhelmed with political crises,” he
said. “We will pay all the expenses that you have incurred and any other loss
you have sustained.”
Next, Awad
spoke with me and underscored the importance of the apologies I had just
received.
“Not many
governments would admit a mistake and offer such an apology,” he said.
While I accepted Awad and Fahad’s apology, the ball is now in
the court of the Somali government to do what is right. (Full disclosure: I am
no longer interested in the job). So far, no compensation has yet been paid.
These two senior officials have taken the first of three
steps to solve the problem.
As Stephen Covey wrote in his seminal book, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People,
“The proactive approach to a mistake is to acknowledge it instantly, correct
and learn from it. This literally turns a failure into a success.”
No comments:
Post a Comment