IN THE ABSENCE OF AUTHORITY

[Gabbal]

IN THE ABSENCE OF AUTHORITY: Somalia makes modern gains amid regional rift

 

February 21, 2005

 

BY ALEXANDRA ZAVIS

ASSOCIATED PRESS

 

MOGADISHU, Somalia -- In a crowded Internet cafe, women in flowing veils and men in jeans and T-shirts catch up on the news and chat with friends around the world. Across town, a nervous learner takes her turn at the wheel for a drive around an abandoned stadium.

 

Through 14 years of often violent anarchy, life has carried on in gun-riddled Somalia. There may be no effective government, but for those who can afford it, there is electricity at the flick of a switch, wireless Internet access, a university education and even driving lessons.

 

Somalia has been without an effective central authority since clan-based warlords united to oust dictator Mohamed Siad Barre in 1991, then destroyed a U.S.-led military mission trying to relieve rampant famine and pacify the nation with a population of 7 million. A patchwork of heavily armed fiefdoms still clashes periodically.

 

A new government was formed last year after negotiations among warlords, clan elders and civil society leaders. But it has no budget and meets in neighboring Kenya because it considers Somalia too dangerous.

 

Parents, nostalgic for a time when education and health care were free, scrape together what they can to pay teachers. Schools range from informal classes under a tree to a rapidly expanding university in Mogadishu, the capital, that offers degrees in nursing, business management, computer science and other subjects to about 2,000 students.

 

Somali doctors working abroad have returned to practice at several private hospitals. With no government support, all are forced to charge the equivalent of a few U.S. dollars -- the currency of choice. But even that can be prohibitive for Somalis who've lost everything in fighting and drought.

 

"If you don't pay, nobody will see you at the hospital," complained Asha Ali Abdi, lifting her veil to reveal her infant daughter, with the shrunken limbs and ginger-tinged hair that betray severe malnutrition. Abdi fled fighting in the south for a makeshift camp of cardboard and wooden shacks in the northern port city of Bossaso, one of many such camps across the country.

 

Mogadishu's harbor stands idle, and camels graze at the national airport. But business is booming at private airstrips and natural harbors, with gun-toting militia fighters on hand to take their cut.

 

Private companies providing power and running water to a few hundred households each have mushroomed across towns.

 

When Somalia still had a government, Faduma Mayow bought her water off a donkey cart for about $1.50 a barrel. It was expensive, sometimes contaminated and never enough, said the mother of eight.

 

Now Isaf Water and Electricity Supply has installed a faucet in her courtyard from which chlorinated water flows for less than half the price. The chlorine comes from UNICEF, but otherwise Isaf is privately funded.

 

The same company powers lights and electric mixers at the family bakery, at 65 cents per outlet per day.

 

"Before, we used to mix everything by hand," said Mayow's husband, Abdallah Kasim Mohamed. "So now that we have mixers, we are making big business."

 

Isaf installs the cables and pipes as well as street lighting using neon strips wired to old lampposts.

 

Somalia's telecommunications are among Africa's best. With three companies competing, a land line can be installed in 24 hours. Local calls are free with the $10 monthly rental fee and international calls cost 50 cents a minute.

 

Cell phones are widely available, though Somalis are cautious about chatting in public lest a gunman help himself to the phone.

 

For 18-year-old Omar Ali, an Internet cafe is a cheap way to stay in touch with friends abroad.

 

"I come here every chance I get," he said, typing quickly so he can get home before night falls and the streets get dangerous.

 

There is no garbage collection, but plenty of laborers are available to bury waste for a small fee.

 

The movie theater's roof was blown off years ago. But every night, plastic chairs are lined up in front of TV sets at cafes, which call themselves bars even though alcohol isn't sold in overwhelmingly Muslim Somalia.

 

Outside the national stadium, out-of-work car owners run a driving school. They pay a militia for protection and let adults and children drive for about a dollar a turn.

 

"Right now, we don't have particular rules," said Farhaan Mohamed, a former bus driver waiting for clients in his dented white sedan. "As long as you can make the tires turn, you can go."

 

 

Detroit Free Press