Very much reflections of what I would expect from a bloody foreigner on a hushed visitation to a war zone marinated with a toss of mislaid Somalinimo flavour to balm chapped cavities of the forlorn diaspora hordes.
Take you seriously, I shall not, till you have taken a crowded bus, with tiny seats not fit for a tall, burly gentleman of a certain age, from Adam Adde airport, paid the $5 fee to stride to the taxi rack, fight your way through rows of poor beggars to find a taxi or a bajaj to your destination; then at dawn, take a stroll through Bakaraha market for a homely breakfast in one of the low end shacks-turned-restaurants competing fresh "laxoox / canjeelo" flying off the pan with builders / workers in the morning rush, and get a sodden whiff of the rubbish, from the day before, still stacked up in the streets. With that, you would be a local lad back at home.
But with you fancy bulletproof limo, VIP reception, backdoor exit to the city, and trotting between blue beaches and fancy hotels, mate, you are a bloody foreigner on tour.
Now, tell me, is Awdal safe? Is Lughaya secure? Is Ceel Sheekh off limits?