From his photo album: Galcayo, Puntland, Somalia January 2005 - June 2005
Galcayo International Airport
From the roof of our living compound
Our lovely living compound
Two bedrooms (mine is the one on the right) complete with veranda. The landlord here really made a nice place for us.
Sitting outside my room, working on Friday, with a little music
Weird Space Bug
Galcayo South Hospital
Galcayo South Hospital clinic
Well, I’ve been here in Galcayo, Somalia, now for 1 week. What a place, again I’ve found myself in a different setting, different culture, different everything. And again, finding common characteristics in all people. A smile will break down a sick child’s frown, a mispronounced "mahatsanid" (Somali: thank you) will turn a quiet driver to laughter and a silent slow nodding of the head will tell fellow team members that "despite the heat, the culture and other changes, I’ll get on alright, thanks for asking."
Today is the holy day of Friday, a day off; a break to the weekly activities. Saturday, back to work. Odd concept, working Saturday to Thursday, but I’ll give it a go. I think it would be best for me to learn the Somali names for the days of the week, and just pretend it is a Monday to Saturday workweek.
Speaking of learning Somali, I have befriended a guard, "Abi" and started some lessons. Mahatsanid (thank you), subaah wanagsan (good morning), galaponagsan (good afternoon), haben wanagsan (good evening) and innyaar (little), or as it is expressed innyaar innyaar (little little), or as I can tell by his patient tone, "take it easy Steve, take it little at a time."
There is some Arabic used here too, so some words and expressions I learned in Sudan apply. I have a working knowledge of bits of many languages now, but no fair/good knowledge of any, but English. It is a little confusing. It seems so appropriate to toast a drink, "proust!" (German), to tell kids to come here, "beta beta," (Nuer), to describe that there are no problems, "pretchen iilee!" (Tamil), or to give a good big greeting in the morning of a day off, "Holaaaaaa!!!"
Sometimes I find the expressions of the place I’m in, don’t fully express my emotion. For example, "Sorry" in English doesn’t fully encompass the sorrow and responsibility allocated to the maker for the way things are, as much as "Malesh" does in Arabic (or prior to something happening, "enshala’" God willing.) The English phrase, "why not?" doesn’t carry the relaxed meaning associated with a simple, "Por que no?" when accepting just one more drink for the night outside on the patio. Also, I find western culture is very separated from words to take things slower, such as "poli poli" (Swahili "slowly slowly"), or "poco a poco" (Spanish, "little by little"). Even our lazy, "take it easy" is often expressed as one word "take’t’easy" as one is rushing off, definitely not taking it easy at all. In my travels, I do see a strong link between the common words used, and the culture that uses them. (There is no, "Cheers" or "Proust" here.) Anyway, to sum up this ramble on languages, I enjoying learning the languages of the places I travel to. But more so, I’m enjoying seeing how much the culture and sociology of a place, comes out in the language. You can’t wish someone happy big sweet greetings, if there aren’t words for such pleasantries.
Once again, I feel privileged to live in another culture. I find language and religion, cornerstones to the culture here. I plan over my time here to learn some Somali, and learn about Islam. It is indisputable that Islam is the sole religion here. At approximately 0400 the mosque just behind the compound erupts in song, as the call to prayer is made before sunrise. Again through the day at 1230, 1500, and 1930 the loudspeakers illuminate the streets with song. Meetings usually don’t run through those times, as people courteously excuse themselves to pray. If a medical person is held up in clinic through the prayer times, they excuse themselves when they can afterwards and pray then. Prayer, as I’ve seen it, is a modest withdrawal of someone to a quiet part of a clinic, office, or as I’ve seen elsewhere, train-station, airport, or side of an airstrip. The direction to Mecca is determined and a mat spread out in front of the person. The person carries out a ritual, or ceremony, at different times kneeling and touching their head to the mat, as they pray. There is something very peaceful in witnessing someone faithfully consumed in prayer. I look forward to learning more about Islam, for one, I feel ignorant about this culture I am surrounded in, but also, I believe it is a vastly unknown world religion.
So, what is it like here? What does Galcayo, Somalia look, taste, smell, sound, feel like? What are my first impressions, and some later ones?
Well, the flight here is a good enough starting point. I should really say, "flights" here, as I took 4 planes to arrive in Galcayo (Toronto-London-Amsterdam-Nairobi-Galcayo). I’ll talk about the last one, as the others were nice and uneventful.
0430 I woke up on Saturday morning. After a small night out in Nairobi with some of my new team and Heinz, my PC from South Sudan, coming back from R&R, I woke to a battery of alarm clocks that I travel with (just to make sure I don’t miss a flight.)
By 0700 we were checked into the airport and waiting to board. The planes we use to get into Galcayo are larger planes than Sudan, holding approximately 20 people. I guess you can tell if a group of people is booked on a plane going to a bush site. Chic handbags are replaced with plastic bags, bound with cheap string and more plastic. Rules like "your handbag must be less than 10kgs and fit into this little box" don’t apply. The other planes loaded through gangways, we walked around the tarmac a little to get to the plane.
We boarded the plane, the last of the bags were thrown in the back, and the engines started. I taught the person beside me how to buckle up his seat belt. He was happy with my instruction, as I was, not having any common words. A brief alarm set in when he couldn’t undo the belt, but after I showed him the secret of the lever release, a smile set in and we became friends. He started telling me something, but I wasn’t quite up for the, "smile and try to figure out what he says," routine, so I signaled "tired" and dosed off as we departed Nairobi, Kenya, for my next adventure.
I awoke somewhere over the South of Somalia. Out the window was a similar vast expanse of nothing. A little brown here, a little beige there, all over the place. Occasionally there was a dirt road, but nothing else. So back to sleep I ventured.
I awoke again to the feeling of descending. The rhythm of ears pressurizing, sound fading, I adjust my jaw, then the sound of the engines returns; I doze off again. Then the cycle repeats. We are at a few hundred feet, I want to see this, so I stay awake. We are first stopping by Mogadishu to re-fuel, then to Galcayo. We get lower and lower, but no city can be seen, or buildings at all. At 20 feet or so, I still cannot see the runway. (I’m only looking out the side window though, and curiosity turns to hope.) 10 feet, nothing. 5 feet may have come, but I wasn’t looking anymore, and we land. The landing went well, but still no buildings. We taxi around a bit and finally I see three wrecked buildings and a loose gate system. (There was an old truck bumper across the road to the airstrip. When a truck arrived, a boy lifted the bumper to the side, and the truck drove through. The boy replaced the bumper and resumed his post in the shade.)
Before the plane stopped, everyone was up and pushing hard to get to the door at the back of the plane. Funny enough, the flight engineer was at the front pushing to get to the back to open that door. His Russian words didn’t make much headway on their Somali ears. A person near me, saw me sitting it out, and he said with glowing eyes, "don’t you want to see Mog?" I was stuck for words at the comedy of the situation.
Finally, everyone was off the plane. It seemed like random bags were taken off the plane and some passengers departed. A wooden cart with a small petrol pump was brought out and a stream of boys pushing fuel barrels came to the scene. I stretched my legs and wandered a little. I got a hundred feet from the plane and noticed I was 20 odd feet from an armed guard, not smiling, just standing there in the sun at the ready. "Okay," I thought to myself, "let’s see if the smiling theory works here too." And so, to test a building theory I have going, I smile and nod to the guard. He quickly removed his hands from his gun as he gave me a full two-handed wave and big smile. I remember thinking at that moment, "I wish I knew the words for, ‘hot sun today, eh?’ for that would have made me the talk of his family that night." (Well I know now, "galaponagsan, se-ar-tahi?" Good afternoon, what is your situation (how are you)?)
Fueling went on, and the sun came out. It is cool when standing under a wing, or when a cloud is out, but damn that tropic sun can cook!
Back on the plane we went. There was some urgency to get on, as a crowd was forming at the door, and rough calculations suggested seats on the plane would be limited, and people left behind. We all got on alright, then back in the air.
An hour and a bit later, we started down again. This time there were some structures, then many. I could see a large town forming, but a rustic one. I tried to take some photos, but my camera jammed. By the time I looked up, we were landing. The snapshot I have, is of many single story buildings with iron sheet roofs. All of the buildings were a dusty brown colour, as was the dust and ground. There were some Mosques around the town, painted white, but everything else was light brown.
This time, landing not everyone got up at first. "Well, we learned a little since last time," again, I only thought, and didn’t project in words. I remained sitting there after the door was opened, as my seatmate wasn’t moving and I thought I would take from his patient example. Someone leaned over to me, and said, "they are not re-fueling here, and some people are staying on to another location, you may want to come now." Good to know; casually I was one of the last to leave the plane. Before I left, I noticed the female expats from the team putting on headscarves to cover their hair. Ah yes, I remember where we are. Part of the Muslim culture we are working in demands many things from females; this was one of them.
The most unusual thing came rolling forward from the "terminal" building. (The terminal building is really just a shack, approximately 15 feet by 10 feet, with some fuel barrels and a couple of derelict trucks. This thing, moved up to the side of the plane, projecting its long skinny platform to the plane’s open door. Behind it, a truck pulled up to the other end of the narrow platform. Then with an odd noise, the rubber belt on the platform moved from the plane to the truck. Skillfully people placed bags on the belt, and offloaded them on the truck. This was a shiny new looking conveyor belt for moving cargo 12 feet backwards. I wouldn’t blink if I saw it in Pearson Airport, but here, it was a little out of place. (Especially since there was no reason I could find for the truck not to just pull up to the plane. But, someone made some money off getting that thing here, so it must be used.)
This machine also alerted me to an issue I have been confronted with a lot here. There is a thriving economy here, yet there are kids being brought to the clinic that are 50% of what they should weigh (that is an African scale, they would be maybe 35% of what a western baby should weigh). These kids are tiny. When you look at them, you wonder what force on Earth is so great to do that to a little baby, then a cell phone rings.
In Sudan, things were relatively easier. It was some rich *******s fighting over oil, and 5 steps removed from that, there were poor people without medical care. Here, there are different lines from the rich to the poor (the haves and have nots) and the lines aren’t so straight. I have learned a little about Somalia now, and it all leads to, "well, it isn’t that simple." A few days ago, the office administrator was describing to me, some of the dynamics at play in the Somali government and clan structures. Any time I thought I understood his explanations, and I reiterated them back at him, he said, "well, no, it is a little more complicated than that." Usually, he would also say, "yes they are one: clan/tribe/previous colony/administrative boundary/province/people/language/etc, but they are divided by: sub-clan/family/fiefdom/commander/governor/etc." This went on for a couple hours, and in the end, I understand nothing, except that I understand nothing (and that Somalia is very divided, along many lines.) In humanitarian industry terms, this is a "complex context".
From the airport we drove along random bumpy dirt paths, all leading to town. We passed the dump, (smelly) the cemetery (smelly too), and town (not as smelly as I would have thought, actually, not smelly at all.) The town, as seen from above, was one-story buildings with stone walls, iron roofs and the occasional mosque.
We arrived at the compound and the guard opened the gate and we drove in. (This is unusual I found out, but they do it to expats from the airport. It gives new people time to adjust, and give female expats time to don more appropriate clothing. (More appropriate clothing defined: The expats here take the advice from the local staff on how to dress in public. Mostly, females are required to cover all hair, skin and shape, except for feet, hands and faces. For men, it is easier, no earrings, necklaces, and pants longer than your knees. I sympathize with the female expats here, covering one’s hair on a hot day must be difficult. They are quite good humored about it, and accept it as just the way it is. There are a couple of expats who have been here a while who look quite elegant in a headscarf, I think they are a good example of casually mixing the style with the culture.)
The compound was a nice surprise, coming from Sudan, and a reminder of some compromises I make, coming from Canada. It does have everything one needs and some added comforts. We have a steady power supply from the town generator!!! (That means cold drinks and lights for everyone!) We have a great shower water set-up on the roof where town water is heated in the sun and can be piped in adjustable quantities (mixed with cold water) in the shower. We have beds, we have large bedrooms, and we even have a TV too! We even have… toilets (real flushing ones)! But, yeah, the magic does wear out for those of you wanting to vacation in Galcayo next winter. Most of the houses and accommodation are concrete, (painted though) and it is pretty dusty (anything not concrete is hard ground or dust).
I took a break and now it is Tuesday January 18.
I continue…
As for other living things like food, it is good, but… Let me tell you about the food.
I arrived just around lunchtime. There on the table were three pots for lunch. As the others did, I grabbed a plate and looked ahead to a great meal. There was rice (I like rice), there was a lentil curry (I like lentil curries) and there was a goat curry (wow I like that too.) "This is a good meal" I declared my pleasant surprise. "You enjoy lentil and goat curries?" One of the team asked. "Yeah, I can think of worse things to eat." "Good attitude Steve, welcome." And as I looked around, everyone really had a welcoming look on their face. Wow, good food, welcoming people, this is a good start, no?
Dinner was left overs, with a tuna/rice mixed dish, but I was too interested in the goat curry to look at the tuna thing. This is all good!
Day 2 lunch: Three pots on the table. Pot one: Rice, I like rice. Pot two: lentils, like those too. Pot three: Goat Curry. I see a pattern evolving. Some of the team looks up at me, in reference to yesterday’s comments. (clearly I am the new one here). I nod and smile; what a wonderful neutral ambiguous expression. I think I am mastering it. They nod, knowingly.
Day 3 Lunch: Three pots on the table, same as yesterday and the day before. I feel people’s anticipation stare a comment out of me. "Ah, I think I know what the cook likes cooking." Ah, the new one has caught on. "Still good?" "All good, all good."
Day 4, 5, 6, lunch: Three pots on the table; rice, lentils and goat curry. I thought that would limit conversation, but in the lack of variety, one can discuss, "ah, it’s pretty spicy today," or "how many days till Friday?"
Day 7, Friday: Friday is that holy day of rest, and the cook rests too, so we cook. Lunch was a nice pasta meal, and dinner was a wonderful chicken on the grill. It was a wonderful meal, and a culinary divide from the regular week.
Day 8-11 lunch: Three pots, rice, lentils and goat curry.
Tomorrow is day 12, maybe Raman (the cook) is on a 12 day cycle and things are going to mix up a little, maybe. Fortunately, they are very nice curries that she does, and I can imagine many inferior alternatives to the three pots.
Besides that, life in Galcayo: It is fairly cool here. Temperatures right now are in the high twenties. During the day it is hotter, and in the evening, I am very close to needing a bed sheet for warmth. The sound of a mosque is always nearby. There are cars and trucks around, even though I don’t think any road work has ever been done to the spaces in town called roads. There are goats, kids and cars running around in the streets. At night on the street our compound is on, there are streetlights even. Many people are in the streets, walking around and socializing. I like living in places where you can stop on the street and chat with people.
Galcayo is also a business center. It is on the main tarmac road from Bosaasa in the north, to Mogadishu in the south. Many things are available here and much technology resides in Galcayo. As I mentioned, there are cell phones here. There are also internet cafes and TVs in restaurants and probably in homes too. There are no taxes on many things, and no regulation on technology (radio frequencies and other licenses related to that.) Somalia is close to Dubai as well, and as such there are cheap trading routes here with new cars, etc. There is definitely a business community of "haves" surrounded by the "have-nots".
In Galcayo, MSF has just signed an agreement with the hospital to take over much of the responsibilities. Drug supply, supervision of care, training, laboratory, are just some of the areas we are working in. One that I am involved with, is the TFC (Therapeutic Feeding Centre). A TFC is a clinic to take thin babies and adults and make them close to normal. It involved intensive care for the worse ones, and more normal feedings for others. Back last year, the hospital (before MSF moved from supporting the hospital to taking a more active role) was running a TFC, however the death rate of patients was up near 45%. Since MSF got involved those numbers lowered to a usual ~5% or so. There will always be those that come in on their last breath.
In November 2004, for the first time in 4 years, it rained in Galcayo. It rained for 8 days. This is good for the plants, but for people it isn’t all good. All the dried up crap that has been floating around in the dust, blows into puddles, and if your water supply is a pump a long walk away, you may drink from that puddle, ingest the crap, and get sick. In November the number of cases in the TFC went up, and in December, the number climbed very high, very quickly, all of the patients had diarrhoea. Diarrhoea is one of those messy problems that get messier when left alone, sometimes quickly. Cholera is a diarrhoeal disease, and in Rwanda an outbreak killed 50,000 people. Anyway, enough of that shtalk, it was decided that some water and sanitation topics needed to be improved and room had to be made to accommodate a larger and larger TFC population. I came here to help deal with some of those issues, before moving on to be Project Coordinator of the new TB project.
Oh, one more thing. I came here earlier than I was supposing to. As such, I will be missing an important promise I made. I was really unsure if I should miss out on one commitment for another. With unsure guidelines to follow, I chose to come here. I think given the same choice again, I would have stayed home and fulfilled my other commitment. I guess the after thought of wanting a different choice next time in the same situation is regret. Through my time in Amsterdam, this regret formed and built. Fortunately, I got the great advice from someone briefing me, "learn from it." Well, I will. I’m sad that the good lessons hurt, but they stick longer that way I suppose.
Well, it is late Tuesday evening. The evening winds are blowing. The street noise has died down. The guards are looking in to see who is in the office, as I’m sure they would like to lie down a little bit without being noticed. I hope that is a decent brief synopsis of how things are here, for now. I’ll write more on the context and about project related stuff as I can. For now, know that things are well, learning lots everyday.
Cheers, Love,
Steve
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