Between Queues and Chaos: Finding Peace in Mogadishu

 

Between Queues and Chaos: Finding Peace in Mogadishu

Pre-War Buildings in CBD - Mogadishu
Some districts within the city escaped unscathed from the ravages of war. Many remain in the same condition they were in since 1990 - more than 35 years ago

Today am headed back to Mogadishu. Early morning flight. I set the alarm for 340am but my sleep disappears at 230pm.

From thence onwards it’s a tossing night for an hour.

I give up trying to sleep. No need to struggle.

 I am disturbing Muna with my tossing.

So I get up, take my stuff to the study to get ready from there so as not to disturb her.

By 4am I am ready.

John is the Bolt driver. A chatty man. We talk politics. He is rather surprised at my political awareness.

We reach JKIA Terminal 2 in good time.

There is a long snaking queue of mostly Somali travelllers.

The elderly man behind me is going to Mandera whilst the younger one next to him is accompanying him. They attempt to jump me. A few telling stares keep them off but they somehow keep knocking me with their luggage trolley and I request him to be careful.

There is a general quiet chaos but some semblance of order, but this is not to last for too long!

I recite the Quran as has been my habit every morning for the last month or so.

A good habit. It is calming and spiritually reawakening.

The uneasy order in the queue is quickly broken by a young man who jumps everyone and joins at my position. Why am I not surprised!? I object to him but he ignores me!

But the cops are vigilant and notice this and order him back. He remonstrates and gives me a resentful look. I don’t care! Rules are rules and he must follow the rules of queues and basic courtesy!

I make it through the long queue after 20 minutes of standing on a chilly morning pavement.

I shove through the crowded entry and join another chaotic queue for the luggage and human scanners. Some more shoving by another young man with a fully laden trolley. I give him too a stern look and he soon abandons his ambitions to jump me.

I take off all metallic objects on my person which include my two smart phones and my smartphone watch.

I am a seasoned traveler so my pant belt is deliberately plastic. No chance of the metal scanner to catch me on this!

I head to the check in counter.

A smiling Kenyan lady asks for my passport and visa and ticket. These I duly produce when she informs me that I shall not be allowed in if I don’t have these. I choose to remain polite; surely, I cannot just wake up one morning at 230am and come to JKIA just for the heck of it!

She reads my pp and realizes that I am actually booked on seat 1A, Business Class!

Aisha joins the check-in lady. She seems to recognize me. She reckons I’ve aged! But I feel younger! Well, her opinion doesn’t matter as much as how I feel, so I excuse her distorted view of my age!

But she is pleasant and informs me that I have full access to the Mara Lounge with breakfast and drinks and adds that I’ll be served another breakfast in the plane.

I wonder how much my already sensitive stomach can take.

I head to the second security check.

A stricter and more thorough one!

This time I jump the queue because the flock of babbling Somali ladies have no clue what they need to pass through the scanner and what can be retained on their bodies.

I leave them in their glorious ignorance and sail through the human and baggage scanners.

Next stop, Immigration . .

Surprisingly, empty.

I go through this quickly too

Now to Mara Lounge.

A young pleasant lady welcomes me in. And after registering my boarding pass, I am given the freedom to indulge!

I settle down to wait away.

Bashir, my host finally calls. He is within the airport. He is part owner of Salaam Air and so he can catch up with staff and acquaintances with no danger of his own plane leaving him behind.

I get myself a fruit platter, Kinangop Yoghurt and Freta Cheese.

This I down slowly as I wait for prayer time.

The Fajr prayer, the morning prayer is my favorite prayer and I try to never miss it and always achieve it on time

Prayer achieved. A sip of water.

AbdiNasir of Hass fame joins me. We chitchat. Reconfirm telephone contacts and promise to catch up around 25 September.

Bashir is nowhere to be seen yet. Time to board and there he is talking to a 3-stripped captain.

An unsmiling stewardess asks for my boarding pass doubting whether I belong at all to her flight. I hand over boarding pass no. 1A and she immediately transforms into a fake smile. Now, with an acquired and unsuccessful amiability she ushers me into a waiting van reserved for Business Class passengers. A few seated passengers try to undress me with their stares – as if to tell me that this Van is only for Business Class passengers! I ignore them and just so as not to hurt their ego; I opt to walk to the aircraft. It is the healthier option.

Once inside the plane they are shocked to see me share ‘their’ Business Class, worse still in the best seat of Business Class. 1A

Unfortunately, our world and society are strife with class and people feeling they are better than others. Let me stress it again and for the umpteenth time, we are all equal in the eyes of God! And we mustn’t judge others.

Mathew 7:1

‘Do not judge or you too shall be judged’

 

In his final sermon, the Prophet s.a.w stated,”An Arab is no better than a Non-Arab, and Non-Arab is no better than an Arab. We are all equal in the eyes of God, except those who fear God and have strong belief and faith (takwa) are superior …”

So once again I ignore them. Their distorted view of me does not change me in any way!

We take off in the North-Easterly direction (as always).

It’s an uneventful flight punctuated by a light breakfast which I decline. I opt to take yoghurt and the small cup of melon slices with one black olive tucked in, in a most stingy manner. Maybe they shouldn’t have put in that single olive – because its singularity laid bare their stinginess!

Maybe I should stop judging and be grateful for the single olive and modest cup of melon slices!

Uncle Shurie chats me. “I now live and work in South Sudan,” he informs me.

“I hardly travel to Canada any more, all my children live in Kenya. So, I commute between SS, KE and Som.”

He is a genuinely nice person! I first met him several years ago in California Estate, Nairobi – where he owns a modest dwelling. But we never kept in touch, and he travelled off to Canada for a long spell.

“I have a plot in Mogadishu I wish to develop it and Hussein suggested that you are the right person to prepare a design for this.” Uncle Shirie indulges me. And goes further to describe it and give me more details.

We agree that I shall view it today and then prepare a design for it.

Promptly at 830am, we land safely in Mogadishu.

The immigration queues are long but there is some order.

Bashir has done his homework. We jump most queues.

It’s contagious, this disease of jumping queues! Shame on us. Just a few hours earlier I was condemning a simple man for attempting to jump us and here I am blatantly breaking the same rule I so strongly upheld against the meek and humble!

 

The Holy Quran. Chapter As-Saff. Verse 2-3

O you who believe, why do you say what you do not do?

Great is hatred in the sight of ALLAH that you say what you do not do.

Immigration and baggage processes completed. The ever-helpful Jama makes sure our processes are smooth and without hitch.

We head to Afrik Hotel just for a quick pit stop.

Health break.

5 minutes and we head to work!

Before we go to do our work, Bashir ensures I’ve seen Uncle Shirie’s plot first.

Wise move.

I take a snapshot of the empty lot – and note its central location in the CBD.

We now head out of Mogadishu.

Changing Skylines
Note the metal-roofed structures to the left being displaced by RC towers on the right

Northwards.

The city is thinning.

Simpler iron-roofed dwelling now replace the reinforced concrete towers.

It’s more open and less chaotic.

Cattle, donkey carts and Tuktuks compete with motorized traffic on badly deteriorated bitumen roads.

The roads are potholed with huge craters and in bad shape.

A pot-holed road in the suburbs
Years of war and neglect have rendered most roads in the outskirts to be mud-pathways

Years of war and neglect announce their effects and presence.

Puddles formed by recent rains conceal their depths.

The tuktuks seem to be on autopilot and maneuver in out as though they’ve done it forever!

We finally reach our task destination.

An Old German Wall Clock displays the last moment in its life at our destination
Glass shattered. Not been dusted for over 35 years
This sentinel speaks volumes of what Somalia has gone through with one word that shouts out - RESILIENCE!

A run-down technical institute built in the 80s by the Germans - as a gift to the then Government.

B registered TukTuk is grounded for the day next to the Institute
The have turns for TukTuks alternating between A & B ones

It’s totally run down and in bad shape.

We carry out a thorough site visit.

The TVET Institute has seen better days.

War didn’t spare this noble institute!

The local guide informs us that there was a fierce battle between Somali and Ethiopian armies in this particular area…evident from artillery shell holes pot marked onto concrete block walls.

After an hour of walk-about we head back.

“The security checks back into CBD will be thorough and long,” Bashir knowingly prepares us.

Indeed, we trudge along a queue for over an hour and finally after an hour it’s our turn!

All this time we’ve hardly moved 50m from the exit of the TVET institute.

Several cars jump the queue. The driver, Fataho maintains a studious silence. We follow suit. No need to argue ourselves into trouble!

The thorough security check is finally upon us.

All doors, the bonnet and booth of the car are unceremoniously flung open.

We are all ordered out in rapid fire kiSomali.

We don’t need to understand the words; the action and tone of the orders from the ill clad but heavily armed men are clear. Apart from a senior middle aged soldier; the rest are youthful and hardly in their early 20s.

The entire search takes a good half hour!

I think the Kenyan security checks are just a joke!

This check was thorough and detailed.

They even checked that the wheels are filled with air rather than some explosive substance or fluid!

We are waved on. And finally, we head back into the CBD.

Jostling for space with cattle, donkey carts carrying firewood, tuktuks, trucks and a melee of unroadworthy vehicles.

A traffic jam of Motorized and Non-Motorized Vehicle in Baqara Market
There is little control of traffic here. All disputes and disagreements are solved in shouting matches between drivers, riders and passengers - sometimes these become physical. There are no strict traffic laws although the general rule is for traffic to keep right

Bashir announces that we are now in the Baqara Market.

The largest shopping area in Mogadishu.

Apart from the usual clothing, electronics and food outlets; there is an unproportional number of

Dental clinics and Syrian & Yemeni Beggars.

One of the many Dental Clinics in Baqara Market Area
Baqara market is similar in many ways to Eastleigh - with formal and informal stalls sprawled on virtually the entire district

Yes, Dental clinics, Syrian and Yemeni beggars.

Their countries are in turmoil and Somalia is a heavenly refuge.

The beggars carry card boards with their phone numbers printed on.

There is no exchange of hard cash!

About the numerous dental clinics, well this even Bashir couldn’t explain why!

We meander through the melee, for there is no other suitable word to describe the situation.

At every junction we encounter the inevitable Traffic jam of Tuktuks.

Disorder! But somehow things move.

The newly found security has its benefits and downturns too.

Soon we encounter a second mandatory security check.

After an invasive check, they find a discrepancy in the reg plate: the car is registered as a Premio and yet it is a Prado!

Fataho has an explanation but this falls on deaf ears so the wait and negotiations begin.

Abdurahman the young engineer intervenes but to no avail.

After long gesticulated negotiations, we are let through.

We arrive at Afrik Hotel with hunger pangs hitting hard against my dry tummy linings!

Our meeting room at Afrik Hotel
Airconditioned and fully equipped with a bathroom as well

Lunch is ordered.

Fish Curry, Fries, Salad, Orange Juice, Avocado Smoothie with Chapati - my lunch!
Somalia has the longest coastline in Africa and fishing is big business. Their fish are large and tasty
The 'greens' come from irrigated farms along River Juba - a fertile hinterland dominated by the Bantu Somali peoples

“Afrik Hotel has the best food in Mogadishu,” boasts Bashir. I must say he is right. Soups, salads and fish curry is what I order.

Brian is rather cautious and orders chips with meat curry.

I am starved so I do justice to the huge meal.

But needless to say, I am unable to finish.

So I tuck in the tastier morsels and leave out what does not fancy my taste buds.

The food is downed with a smoothie of Avocado and Pawpaw.

“All our avocados are imported from Kenya,” Bashir informs us.

As much as the nay-sayers wish to deny; Kenya and Somalia are joined at the hip – it’s a symbiotic relationship – each thrives on the negatives of the other.

Needless for me to expound – you the reader, fill in the gaps!

After lunch, we chat as we wait for our time to leave.

Our flight is at 5pm.

So, soon we head back to the airport and to Kenya ..

It is now again our turn to jump security checks.

Fataho is well known. He sails past all the check points into the airport and parks his Prado in the executive VIP parking

Bashir makes a payment through the phone – for what I do not know and wisely, I refrain from asking!

In Somalia there is no hard currency, actually hardly any.

The economy is dollarised and most payments including charity given to beggars is made through phones

“Telephony and internet are very cheap in Somalia,” reckons Bashir; and this is a boon to this cashless society. In Kenya we boast about Mpesa – the Somalia system is superior, more widely used and far cheaper !

He further informs us that Electricity is generated by 3 companies. BEKO is the largest of them. Electricity is generated by diesel generators and solar. He also informs me that it is cheaper than in Kenya !!! Why? I ask myself mentally ….. we have hydro dams, Solar, Wind Power, Geothermal and Diesel Generation – and despite all this we pay more for electricity --- OK, my dear reader; again, please fill in the gaps for yourself!

We walk into the VIP lounge.

It’s busy.

A psuedo heater Seat in the VIP Lounge
Note the Table with its spoked tractor wheel
I had a more comfortable rotating seat with an ample backrest

We get a table with tall bar chairs and tables constructed on rustic themes.

The people here are all entitled!

For they are the "who-is-who" in Somalia.

They talk loudly and boisterously as if they own the country.

Maybe they do!

The meek and lesser ones such as us keep their cool. We must not only not be heard but also try and be invisible.

 

The Bible says:

Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. (Mathew 18:3-4)

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. (Mathew 5:5)

Bashir orders a special brewed tea.

It is nice, but still doesn’t beat my home brewed tea.

It is almost overdone with masala and the obvious Kenyan Teabag.

The Special Tea in the VIP Lounge

Abdinasir Hass is also around.

He is traveling back too.

Work done!

I introduce him to Bashir. They know each other. Birds of a feather!

Abdinasir flatters me, “This man has designed over a hundred mosques on charitable basis “ an exaggeration but I let it pass.

They chat in quick fire kiSomali….

We while away time; sipping the over-cooked tea.

Its not yet boarding time … another half hour to flight take off.

Our passports have been taken to Immigration so we are sitting ducks …. But I push the thought aside, I try to!

Soon boarding is announced.

We scamper to retrieve our passports and await the mandatory check of our hand luggage by sniffer dogs.

This done, we head into the Fokker 70 jet plane!

Heading back home.

Positive day. Fruitful day. Blessed day.

Alhamdulillah. I am growing to like Mogadishu; yes indeed I like it.

There is a chaos I could live with even in these twilight years of my life!

Did I say twilight --- no! 

Not twilight! 

Every moment is precious, and I live it to the full!