Friday, September 28, 2018

A Hate Crime in Mogadishu: An Introspective Time

The recent murder and burning in Mogadishu of Ahmed Mukhtar Salah “Ahmed Dowlo”, a family man and father of 12 children, was a human tragedy that has elicited widespread outrage and condemnation from many Somalis.

Besides the horrific manner in which Ahmed Dowlo, a Somali Bantu, died, the reason for his death evoked disbelief and dismay. Unlike other victims of violence in the city, he was not killed by an Al-Shabaab terrorist, a wayward bullet from an ill-trained soldier, or by liquidation from a business rival. His murder was simply a hate crime.  His nephew, Mohamed, had married a young lady, Ruqia, from a bigger tribe. The message was clear: A man “from a lower caste clan” has no business marring someone from a “better clan lineage.”  The heinous crime was committed by five individuals, three of them women, using spears, fish hooks, machetes, and a can of gasoline.  It was an act of unpatrolled barbarity inflicted on a victim who was totally innocent. 
Historically, Somalis have discriminated against the Somali Bantu, the Madhiban, the Tumal, and the Yibir and treated them unfairly as low-caste citizens. Many clans simply shun these minority groups and seldom intermarry with them.  

The government of Siad Barre (1969-1991) was the first to openly condemn injustice and discrimination toward minorities. By opening the doors of equality and justice before the law to minority groups, Barre sent a clear message to Somalis: no more discrimination and no more asking people about their clans Nevertheless, social practices of discrimination against the minorities persisted.
The burning and killing of Ahmed Dowlo for being a Bantu comes as a defining moment in the modern history of Mogadishu, one that has sent ripples of shame and disgust through Somali society. In the past, there have been some incidents of violence and deeply entrenched discrimination in the northern part of the country. But this murder in Mogadishu was a shocker. The capital of Somalia has always been a favorite for many minorities because no one cares much about their clan identity. However, in the north, where the question “Qolamaa tahay?” to which clan do you belong?) is as normal as greeting someone with “How are you?” Mogadishu is home to all kinds of Somali clans.

The recent hate crime was brutal and unique in its atrocity. The use of machetes, spears, fish hooks, and gasoline was a culmination of evil intent and sheer disregard for the sanctity of life. Fortunately, many Somalis condemned the crime vigorously and the mass media outlets, such as Dalsan TV (the best reporting, so far), RTN Channel, Universal TV, Hiiraan online, Facebook, and Twitter did a commendable job. I think a few good things came out of this crisis, such as the need for a bottom-up approach to social justice, one that focuses on pursuing criminals and financially compensating the victims, developing leadership among the youth, and defining the role social media can play as agents of change. This interest also is for us to reexamine our religious faith.
Bottom-up change

Realistically, the Somali federal government is too weak to be an agent of change for social justice. The recent deterioration in security in Mogadishu is unprecedented. In the span of one week, children as young as four and nine were killed; a young college student was assassinated in her class in front of her professor and classmates. And there was the hate crime against Ahmed Dowlo. The Somali president and his prime minister have yet to issue a statement about these gruesome crimes. No government official attended Ahmed Dowlo’s funeral. In fact, the president was attending a soccer game the day after Ahmed Dowlo was buried.
In the absence of a viable federal government, it is the people and the grassroots organizations that need to mobilize against acts of discrimination and injustice. There are many NGOs in Mogadishu. Perhaps, the fight for justice, fairness, and equal protection before the law should be the rallying call for many of these entities.

Equally important is the formation of grassroots organizations by the minority groups themselves to further their cause and document any discriminatory acts or harassment.
 Youth as pioneers

I have written about the centrality of youth in any change that must happen in Somalia. I am pleased with the level of outrage and condemnation of this hate crime by the young people. They have been incandescent with anger and were the most active on social media—they talked about the crime, shared streams of news and stories, and registered their disdain of acts of discrimination and inhumanity. Hundreds marched in protest during the victim’s funeral. I am positive they will continue to talk about the pernicious disease of discrimination and racism in Somalia.

The young couple’s marriage, which infuriated the perpetrators of the crime, were simply in love and had no intention of making unwanted headlines. In a way, their marriage was an act of defiance to anachronistic, racist cultural mores.
Focus on the criminals, too

It is good that many Somalis have offered to help the victim’s family. However, there should be an all-out campaign to apprehend the perpetrators of the crime. Only one of them is in custody, and the rest are being assisted by friends or relatives to evade the authorities. I strongly urge that a generous reward be posted all around the country for the capture of these dangerous criminals. The victim’s family was wise and courageous to decline any financial compensation (diya) from the relatives of the criminals, as is the custom in many parts of Somalia. Instead, the family asked for justice in a court of law.

Demonizing an entire clan
Just as it is wrong to demean and maltreat members of minority clans, it is also unfair and misguided to castigate the clan of the perpetrators. Members of this clan did not commit this grisly crime, it is evil act of a few people. They are the ones who should be condemned and shamed, not their clan.

Reexamining religious beliefs
There is a dichotomy between Somalis’ Islamic belief in equality, justice, and kindness and their cultural sense of superiority over certain people, who are fellow Muslim brethren.  

A young man once challenged an elderly man about discriminating against  minorities. The elderly man, like many Somalis, was a complex person. He said, “I know we are Muslims, son, but we have our culture, too.” Mixing culture and religion has become a game of musical chairs. For Somalis, culture often supersedes religious moral values, thereby making a mockery of such values, which in turn demeans the culture.
I have heard the cries for justice and respect by Somali Bantu leaders. One member of the Federal Parliament questioned why members of his community in America can marry white Americans, and not Somalis. Some Bantu have lamented: “Jamaykaan waa guursanee, Jareerna waa diide” (You marry a Jamaican, yet you reject a Jareer (Bantu).

Finally, I would like to mention an anecdote concerning an encounter between a Somali woman in California, whose daughter eloped with an African-American, and a Somali Bantu man.   
“What am I going to do?” the woman said. “I am angry and disappointed with my daughter.”

“In Somalia, no one would let us Bantu marry the daughters of other Somalis,” the man said, sarcastically. “How sad!”

“But these Americans are Muslims,” the woman said, seeking sympathy.
“Oh I see, and we, the Somali Bantu, are not Muslims!”

I saw the woman cry and apologize to the man. It was a moment of reflection and introspection for both of them and some of us who were there to hear the exchange. Somalis need to reconcile their Islamic faith, which abhors and prohibits discrimination, injustice, and cruelty, and condemns the unjust subjugation of minority groups. The good aspects of Somali culture, such as boundless generosity, kindness, compassion, and good neighborliness must be nourished and reinforced. Now, all Somalis have to add justice, egalitarianism for all, human rights, and respect for the sanctity of human life.

Thursday, September 20, 2018

Mogadishu: A Syrian Doctor's View

In mid-August this year, I spent a week in Mogadishu attending the annual book fair there. The general manager of my hotel was a Kenyan, and an Egyptian chef also worked there. I chatted with them briefly and asked about their job experiences in Mogadishu and their impressions of the city and its residents. Their answers were short, but they did not reveal much. Then, in early September, I stumbled upon a live Facebook presentation titled (in Arabic) “The Migration of Arab Doctors to Somalia,” by Doctor Ashraf (no last name was provided). Luckily, he was waiting for more participants to join the live program.

A few minutes after I joined, he started his talk in a quiet, smooth Syrian dialect. Ashraf said he wanted to share his experiences about his life and job as a dentist in Mogadishu. More Arab doctors, both men and women, kept joining the program. For the purposes of length and clarity, here is a condensed version of Ashraf’s presentation:
On securing the job

A friend, a fellow Syrian dentist, recommended that I come to Mogadishu. Not just any foreigner can go and work there—you have to have a job contract through an employer, who will in turn send you a visa and an airline ticket. When you arrive in Mogadishu, the employer will secure a residency permit for you. Because there are no Somali embassies now in many Arab countries, you can get your visa at Mogadishu airport for $60.
On salaries

The average Arab dentist makes between $1,000 and $1,300 per month, plus a five or ten percent commission for every procedure. Those with experience or who are specialists make close to $2,500 per month. A recent graduate of dentistry will not be hired there, as at least one year’s experience is required. The good thing is that dentists can often save their whole salary because employers provide housing and sometimes food.
If you have to pay your food expenses, it is relatively cheap; I don’t spend more than $150 per month on food in Mogadishu.

On diet
The food is ok, but there aren’t many vegetables and fruits in the Somali diet. I do miss Syrian food, which includes all kinds of vegetables. Sometimes, I go to the supermarket in Mogadishu, where I can get all types of food and snacks, like anywhere else in the world. Somalis get a lot of stuff, ranging from medical devices to various types of food, from Dubai.

Weather
Mogadishu has beautiful weather, with a breezy wind that is lovely. I was in Khartoum, Sudan, before, and it is very hot there, just like the Gulf countries. Mogadishu is hot only in March. Sometimes I go to the beach, which is within walking distance.

On security
I can’t say whether it is very safe here or not. When I go to the supermarket, a guard comes with me until I finish my errands. Occasionally, there are bombings that lead to blockades in the city; however, it is fine overall.

Language
Somali is a distinct language with a Latin alphabet. We have assistants who also serve as interpreters, and they speak Arabic or English.

Somali patients
There are patients who really make me happy when I am treating them. However, some get frustrated with me at times due to the language barrier and the inadequacy of translation. The Somalis are good people, and they are all Muslims.

 Diseases
For the year I have been here, I have encountered only two patients with Hepatitis B, and this only came out while I was doing their medical history. There are cases of malaria, but I don’t think there are problems with other diseases.

Number of Arab doctors
We have mostly Syrians here. I met two Egyptian doctors who are general practitioners and two Yemenis working in a lab. The doctors get together every Friday; in fact, we are having a party tomorrow, which will be attended by 28 doctors. Most of the Arab doctors are men, although there are two couples, both husband and wife doctors. Personally, I do not encourage female doctors to come and work here. It is challenging enough for bachelors, let alone families. I do not know much about schools for children, but I know there are Somali universities and some even teach medicine.

Corruption
Occasionally, the agency sponsoring doctors may engage in misconduct. A contract may be cancelled after three months in favor of a new, cheaper contract. You may lose about $900 or a month’s salary as a victim of such misdeeds. Unfortunately, this has happened to me and some others, too. I invite Arab doctors to come and work here, but I tell them I will not be responsible for anything that has to do with job contracts.

What is next?
In five days, I will complete my one year of work in Mogadishu. Generally, we work 11 months, and the last month is a paid vacation with free airline tickets. I may stay here one more month or two, but I doubt I will be here for six more months. I may look for another job opportunity elsewhere.

End of the presentation
*** 

Conclusion
In a nutshell, the fact that there are foreign doctors working in Mogadishu seems a positive development. It shows the potential the city has for job opportunities, booming business, and creative enterprises. Mogadishu has different attributes that do not revolve around government corruption, political impasses, and terrorist bombings. There is another side of the city that operates without being hampered by a state of fear or endless political chatter.

The Arab doctors all saw an opportunity in Mogadishu that is financially rewarding and adventurously intriguing. It is interesting that some foreign doctors are willing to take risks by working in Mogadishu when many of us Somalis in the diaspora are suffering from psychological impediments that shackle our desire to move there. To many of us, a return to Somalia is viewed through the narrow prism of seeking a government job. Mogadishu has other opportunities that need to be explored or created.

Sunday, September 2, 2018

Mogadishu Book Fair: A Cause for Celebration

They came in droves: youth, writers, poets, educators, and government officials. All were jubilant, excited, and eager to hear, learn, or share.

This was the scene at the Mogadishu Book Fair (MBF), held in the capital of Somalia from August 15 to August 17, 2018.
Mogadishu is a major cosmopolitan city, with a population of over two million people, but it has no single public library and no commercial bookstore. This is a city in a recovery mode, following more than two decades of civil war, in which many major institutions were destroyed. That’s why this book fair was a real cause for celebration.

The last four years have seen an annual book fair in Mogadishu, held in part to remind the world that there is more to the city than guns, Al-Shabaab, and the oppression of violence and fear.
Hundreds of new books were on display, addressing countless subjects, from history, literature, literacy, and politics, to arts, self-help books, and studies of contemporary affairs. These books covered an immense range of topics, from love, courtship and family matters, to war, conflict, and migration.

The book fair attracted hundreds of youth—90 percent of attendees were between the ages of 16 and 25—who came to stand in the security lines early in the morning to enter the event. They came to hear what their guests at the fair had to say, and they were not disappointed. Their enthusiasm for knowledge that they expressed was unparalleled, their love for reading knew no rival, and their desire to share their impressions of the book fair on social media was infectious.
One young woman boasted on Facebook that she was so excited with the book fair that she bought 100 books at the book fair. Her striking claim will not be investigated, but then again no one will invalidate her unbridled enthusiasm and exuberance.

Mahad Wasuge, a researcher at the Heritage Institute for Policy Studies, a panelist at the fair, keeps a verifiable account of the number of books he purchases. Every year for the past four years, Mahad said, he has been expanding his modest personal library at the fair. This year alone, Mahad said, he bought eight books there, bringing the total number of books from the fair to 40.
Wasuge, who grew up in Beledweyne, recalled that his hometown had only a small library, established by a Somali man from the diaspora. It gave youngsters like him books to read and a safe place to gather. Moreover, he recalled the library volunteers handing out free pens and paper to the patrons.

The organizers of the event recognized the power of social media and its impact on the youth. They set up tables staffed by a dozen young people, who shared the events unfolding at the book fair with the outside world. The announcers constantly urged the audience to share their impressions with their friends and followers. A live broadcast of the entire event was beamed across the globe.
Professor Paul Williams of George Washington University became a minor celebrity at the fair and was constantly accosted to appear in selfies.

“I don’t know why I am popular,” he quipped.
One young man took a picture with Williams and then turned to him and said: “Who are you?”

Williams’ book-length study, War and Conflict in Africa, was on display at the book fair. While he was talking to the writer of this article, he saw a young man who had bought the expensive book. Williams asked him why.
“Why do you want to know?” the young man asked.

“Because I wrote the book,” Williams said.
The young man was unfazed.

“Good, because I have a few questions for you,” the young man said. Then he began to grill Williams about specific lines in his book.
“I am impressed,” Williams said, laughing.

The writers, poets, panelists, and educators who attended the book fair were interesting in different ways.  Many young people, both men and women, presented their own books or participated sessions on reading, literacy, education, and literature. One young lady, 19 years old, had written an interesting book titled Qaran-Dumis (Nation-Destroying).
The legendary poet and educator Said Salah Ahmed was among the literary figures present. His presentation pulsated with passion. His commanding presence, tart tongue, and breadth of knowledge of Somali literature was electrifying. Euphoria was pervasive in the hall as Ahmed energized the young audience, and showed them the way to be proud of their language and heritage.

Equally impressive was another teacher from Hargeisa, Ahmed Badal, whose two short speeches about literature were captivating and incisive.
The artist, Osman Abdinur, from Las Anod, was also there, a former broadcaster with Radio Mogadishu before the civil war. He captivated the audience. A high-octane man with certain swagger, and a razor-sharp sense of humor, Osman gave an informative talk about certain peculiarities of the Somali language. The audience kept applauding in a frenzy of cheers and laughter.

Some Somali government officials descended on the book fair and rubbed shoulders with the crowd. The mayor of Mogadishu, Abdirahman Omar “Yariisow” the deputy prime minister, Mahad Guled, performed opening ceremonies of the fair on the first day, and Prime Minister Hassan Kheyre concluded it. In between, luminaries such as Abdi Hashi, the speaker of the Upper House, Ahmed I. Awad, the foreign minister, Bashe Yusuf Ahmed, chairman of the Supreme Court, and Gamal Hassan, minister of planning, appeared. Some of these officials bought books and encouraged the audience to read, write, and appreciate the golden opportunity of having such an important event in their city, after so many years of war and conflict.
The Mogadishu Book Fair was a celebration of reading, writing, and sharing. Over the years, clamorous voices have said, with obvious relish, that Mogadishu was too dangerous to host an elaborate event such as a book fair. The youth who attended the event presented a different narrative—one that showed a Mogadishu with lots of possibilities that the doubters never imagined. They showed a narrative wherein the young could celebrate books and appreciate literature instead of wielding guns. They displayed openness, not narrow-mindedness, reinforcing inclusiveness while shunning exclusion. They showed that what unites Somalis, from Hargeisa to Kismayo, from Cadaado to Jigjiga, from Garissa to Bossasso, is not only their language and heritage but also the celebration of books and literature.

The mood of the book fair’s organizers was not self-congratulatory. They were already looking ahead at a bright future. They want to expand the length of the event, from three days to a week, and to hold the fair in different parts of Mogadishu, including Lido, the national library when it is completed, and the main stadium. The book fair is a testament to the cultural rebirth of a once-dead city rising from the ashes—it could not have scripted it better if you were writing a movie. Stay tuned.