In the Den of Djibouti’s Big Man

[Abtigiis]

From the legendary Manhadal Saloon!

 

http://www.wardheernews.com/articles_08/July/Maan_Hadal/21_in_the_den_of_Djiboutis_big_man.html

 

In the Den of Djibouti’s Big Man

Maan Hadal Team

 

July 21 , 2008

 

A pyramid is power. It is repression, force, and wealth. But it is just as much domination of the rabble; the narrowing of its minds; the weakening of its will; monotony; and waste. O my Pharaoh, it is your most reliable guardian. Your secret police. Your army. Your fleet. Your harem. The higher it is, the tinier your subjects will seem. And the smaller your subjects, the more you rise.

The Pyramid by Ismail KadareThe

 

A government functionary escorted me from the steps of the aircraft and instantly whisked me through the VIP Lounge where a waiting immigration officer stamped entry into my passport. My official escort drove me to a luxury Five Star hotel located at a beachfront, described by a voyager as “an oasis in a hell”. My official escort was a man in his late thirtieths with firm tentacles in the corridors of power; flashy and full of bonhomie. His car stereo played a popular song that excessively glorified the head of the state. The chorus line ends with a refrain “Noolow Ma Daale! Noolow Ma Daale!” (Long live the indefatigable! Long live the indefatigable!). The song strikes a chord. Unmistakably, the song was a literal carbon-copy from another era; from another leader who persistently demanded and overjoyed excessive praise and adulation.

 

En route to the hotel, I was driven through what seemed to be a godforsaken squalid ghetto; a landscape dominated by largely dense corrugated shantytown; streets littered with piles of garbage and multitudes of plastic bags flowering the entire city, and dilapidated near-absent infrastructure. Poverty is uncomfortably conspicuous and it permeates all levels of this city-state. The people of this tiny city-state had enough of hard and foreboding times, first under the French colonial regime, and now under the leadership of the “Big Man”. A long bout of adversity has depleted both the spirit and initiatives needed to surmount this testing times. Another familiar scene of a country systematically pauperized by a select few who fleece the public with impunity.

 

The hotel was teeming with a host of undercover agents hailing from East and West - and from the over-edgy neighbours - eavesdropping, prying, snooping and fishing for information, overtly and furtively. It seemed an ideal place for fishing; a perfect setting for John le Carre’s spy novel, “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy”. Indeed a pristine venue for a rendezvous. Local and foreign agents, civil society activists, journalists, ardent Islamists, fortune-hunting diaspora returnees, influence-wielding tyrant warlords, disgraced politicians, career crooks, and “compassionate” pundits of the Aid Industry, business entrepreneurs and sharp-witted brokers were milling, milling, milling at the lobby. Despite its serene landscape and the spectacular view of the deep blue sea from the balcony of my room, there was nothing idyllic about the hotel. It was not my kind of comfort turf. I felt surrounded by the usual suspects.

 

Next day at noon, I was invited to join a small group of well-to-do men for a chewing session. The room was spacious and well resourced and bore perfect resemblance to Maan Hadal. Miniature tables laden with assorted soft drinks where placed besides the sitting cushions. A giant portrait of the Big Man hung on the opposite wall from where I was seated. He peered out at me through the dark lenses of his spectacles. It reminded me of the famous phrase from George Orwell’s novel – Nineteen Eighty Four - the “Big Brother is watching You” or that forbidding notification “Big Brother, anxiously awaiting your arrival in room 101”. I felt uneasy. I was in no doubt that we were under the complete surveillance of the ever paranoid secret service of the omnipresent, flamboyant, enigmatic president of the city-state.

 

We started the chatting ball rolling with the usual desultory banter that precedes the predominantly insightful discussions of the chewing salons. We skimmed through various topics including the recent peace talks between the Islamists and the TFG; the ongoing conference of the central committee of the Islamists in this very hotel, the border standoff between Eritrea and Djibouti; crisis in Zimbabwe and Darfur, and the calamity that beset the once Pearl of the Indian Ocean - the embattled Mogadishu.

 

How concerned is your President of the indictment issued by the prosecutor of the International Criminal Court (ICC) to Sudanese president Omar al-Bashir? I put that to an official of the Ministry of Interior who was among the chewing gang. “We are not ****** like the Sudanese”, he retorted sharply. “Our President is doing everything to please the West. We are hosting the US forces monitoring terrorist activities in the Horn of Africa and provide facilitation for the United States extraordinary rendition of terrorists”. The official enlightened us on the role his country plays in gathering intelligence information on Somali Islamists. “We keep up-to-date profiles on who is who in Somalia and share the same to our Western friends” he asserted. I believed his assertion at face value. Security profiling and predation are some of the troubling measures I could expect from a country run by a former spymaster.

 

“Look at the crisis in Zimbabwe” exclaimed another. “Mugabe has been incarcerated by the West for disenfranchising the opposition and for running solo. That is exactly what our President did three years ago. He has not incurred the wrath of the West in doing so. This clearly shows the level of acceptance he enjoys with the West”

 

With the exception of few government officials, the chewing crowd was resigned to the fact that the Big Man and many other African tyrants may never be indicted by the prosecutor of the ICC for crimes committed against their wretched black population but for failing to comply with the interest of the West.

 

The city-state has the reputation of being the arena for Machiavellian political brokerages, endless abortive peace overtures and ruthless profiteering from the political tragedy and cataclysms that bedeviled its beleaguered neighbour, Somalia. In the past two months, the Big Man had hosted and rolled the red carpet for the presidents of the TFG, Puntland, Somaliland and leaders of the Islamist resistance in Southern Somalia. He congratulated Abdillahi Yusuf for overseeing one of the worst humanitarian crises that continue to afflict the lives of tens of thousands of civilians. He applauded Adde Muse for turning Puntland into a lawless den for human traffickers, sea pirates, and kidnappers. He patted on the back of Dahir Rayaale for outsmarting and “castrating” the exasperated and increasingly weary opposition parties and for lengthening his lease of contract for the palace and for seizing the long coveted Las Anod. In the same vein, he cheered the soft-spoken mysterious Sheikh Sharif for executing bloody guerrilla warfare in the very heart of the densely inhabited Mogadishu.

 

This is none other than a classic case of disingenuous camaraderie and shedding crocodile tears. The collective disingenuous mood and the deleterious “mirqan” in the room was accentuated by a soothing voice of none other than Mohamed Moge with his now classical song of “wacad,” at times prompting all of us to sing together “ Walaalkay nimaan u haystay muxuu waddo ii fadhiistay, ……”

 

Like many of the beleaguered inhabitants of the failed states in Africa, Djiboutians have witnessed some of Orwell’s worst nightmares of a totalitarian regime. The lyrics of the Noolow Ma Daale resonate with Big Brother’s “Never again will you be capable of love, or friendship, or joy of living, or laughter, or curiosity, or courage, or integrity. You will be hollow. We shall squeeze you empty, and then we shall fill you with ourselves”.

[Cara.]

“Look at the crisis in Zimbabwe” exclaimed another. “Mugabe has been incarcerated by the West for disenfranchising the opposition and for running solo. That is exactly what our President did three years ago. He has not incurred the wrath of the West in doing so. This clearly shows the level of acceptance he enjoys with the West”

This just doesn't ring true. What kind of government official would say something like that in "mixed company", including the oft-stressed spies? It seems like the narrator's view point got the better of him.

[Abtigiis]

Cara- my dear, you underestimate the power of Mirqaan! People talk when they munch on that green stuff. I tell you.

[Che -Guevara]

^Then get NGONE to take the green stuff

[Abtigiis]

Is there any doubt he is not high when scribbling at SOL?

[NGONGE]

I am strictly a weddings and funerals man, saaxib. Ha! This reminds me that I have three weddings to attend in the next three weeks (when I say attend, I mean make a phone call and say mabrook). Still, I may be tempted to celebrate.

[Sophist]

Satire!

[Che -Guevara]

AT-It's mild euphoria. He could use more potent stuff.

[Abtigiis]

Wedding and funerals is where the leaf is served! NG-adigii baa is fashilayee.

[Geel_jire]

I've chewed @ some meher ceremonies ... but have never seen anyone chewing at an full blown wedding or even worse a funeral