Two decades, one Somalia

[Miskiin-Macruuf-Aqiyaar]

The stories.

__________________

 

 

Cali Xuseen

 

THE BARBER: Close shaves, savagery and the smell of peace

 

I never thought the era of enjoyment under the former regime of Siad Barre would be replaced by blood and a dog's life.

 

During that time I was a barber at Uruba, Somalia’s favourite tourist hotel on the edge of Mogadishu beach. It was a place of luxury where the cool breeze and the rich men converged.

 

There was all sorts of wine and dancing. I earned $10 a day, which was enough to pay for food and water for the family. One dollar was only 150 Somali shillings at the time.

 

In 1991, civil war broke out and the hotel Uruba was looted. I had to take a mirror and a chair to the port and that was my makeshift barber shop.

 

Eight out of 10 customers never paid me. Militiamen just came in, had their hair cut and disappeared. Asking for money would obviously have led to a bullet in my head.

 

The dollar went up to 6,000 Somali shillings, so life was expensive and civil war intensified. The port itself was looted and I had to take the mirror and the chair again to continue business under a tree in the western part of the city.

 

One day heavy shelling and fighting took place. I ran home but could not see my family. There was no telephone and eventually I got tired of searching for my wife and six kids.

 

They were hopelessly trapped in another part of the city. They also got tired of looking for me. Life became very painful and everywhere there was blood and flesh.

 

To survive, I continued cutting hair. I could hardly get half a dollar a day but a plate of rice in the cheapest restaurant was about $3.

 

There was terror, hunger and worry for missing families. Most people became gunmen, robbing to eat, but for me a pair of scissors was the only weapon I had.

 

My wife thought I had died, so she married another man and bore him a daughter.

 

In 1992, the U.S. forces (UNISOM peacekeepers) arrived in Mogadishu. We felt some relief. The dollar went down to 3,000. Food was affordable.

 

But the threats and killing continued for years. Many barbers were killed just because of repeatedly asking for payment.

 

I will never forget the pain and terror of the fighting. Many professors, doctors and ordinary people were killed in front of my eyes. So many people were killed -- like flies -- that we sometimes buried a dozen of them in a shallow hole like rubbish.

 

Sometimes, I shout in my sleep late at night. I see their faces pleading, ‘Please, don’t kill me, I’m innocent’.

 

After three years the U.S. peacemakers pulled out and soon life got worse. Life became expensive again. Robbing and the killing of people from minority clans was the order of the day.

 

Hunger and tears continued up to 1996. After that, life improved and I could earn enough from my business to live.

 

The happiest moment in my life was when I was reunited with my wife and six kids in 2003. Messages were conveyed through people we both knew and my wife heard I was alive. She divorced the other husband and came to me with seven children, including that man’s daughter.

 

In 2006, the Islamists emerged and began fighting. The dollar rate rose as high as 30,000 Somali shillings.

 

The Islamist period was undoubtedly the worst. Girls were forcibly married, property looted and innocent ones beheaded under the pretext of imposing Islamic sharia law.

 

This Al-Shabaab used minority clans like the Somali Bantu to behead people. Al-Shabaab shot my oldest son in the head. They knew he was a former soldier. I live in a government-controlled area and I am sure they will behead me if they see me.

 

I smell peace now. I think this is the only year we have real hope, but I am sure life will not be as good as in the 1990s under the Siad Barre regime.

 

Who can get that life? All the luxury places like hotel Uruba have been wrecked. I now receive about 20 customers a day and charge each $1.

 

Twenty dollars is enough to cover khat, cigarettes, the family’s needs and to pay secondary schools fees for my two kids.

Xigasho

[Miskiin-Macruuf-Aqiyaar]

 

Maxamed Bidey

 

THE DOCTOR: Surgery and sutures under shellfire

 

The ouster of Siad Barre was fair but we never expected the bloodshed and lawlessness that followed.

 

I have been a doctor in Mogadishu since 1985 and I am sure few people liked that dictator's regime. Businesses were restricted, doctors had no right to own their own private hospitals. The parties that drove out that government were right but the problem was they had no plan for forming a better government.

 

The hope we had turned into violence and evacuation -- out of the frying pan into the fire. Most people joined militias. Day and night, we doctors had to treat casualties caught up in gunfire and shelling for no pay, although aid agencies like the World Food Programme and International Committee of the Red Cross gave us food for work.

 

Sometimes we worked at gunpoint. Gunmen ordered us to leave that patient and attend to this one or else.... Some of my colleagues were threatened with death.

 

You treated a seriously ill or injured patient but if the patient died in surgery, the doctor faced allegations that they killed the patient. Some doctors were forced to pay a hell of a lot of money and then ran away for their lives.

 

The situation was hellish. My family fled to Nairobi without my knowledge in 1991. My wife and six children got lost in the chaos.

 

There was an economic crisis. To call a relative in the diaspora for help, one had to travel as far as the Kenyan or Ethiopian border just to call them: “Please send me money.”

 

After three years, friends told me my family was safe in Nairobi. They were also told I was alive in Mogadishu. We reunited happily in Mogadishu in 1994.

 

The country plunged into turmoil that was undreamt of. There were no universities that produced medical workers. Worse, 20 doctors died in shelling during the civil war and more fled abroad so the need for doctors grew bigger.

 

In the end, we doctors opened Benadir University in Mogadishu in 2002. Benadir University has so far produced 81 doctors including female doctors. They all work in various hospitals in Mogadishu and other regions of the country.

 

The suicide bomb blast at the graduation ceremony at our university on Dec. 3, 2009 was the worst incident. It is still imprinted in our minds. Glee and grief are mixed in the same memory.

 

One minute we were talking about the happiness of issuing certificates to the first young doctors we trained, the next minute ambulances carried our dead and wounded -- 24 people including professors, doctors and medical graduates died on the spot.

 

I lost some of my teeth and the shrapnel from the explosion injured my hand and tongue. I was among many who were taken to Saudi Arabia for treatment.

 

Although our movement is restricted for fear of Al-Shabaab, we hope there will be peace and a central government in the near future.

 

Here in Mogadishu, all doctors have their own private hospitals and work has been good but patients dictate. Somali patients do not want doctors’ prescription.

 

Men and women come to you and tell you they have diseases like syphilis, diabetes, high blood pressure and so on. Most of our time is wasted in convincing patients that medicine should not be taken prior to diagnosis or examination.

 

However, some of them do not trust doctors who find nothing wrong with them. They say, “I know I have such-and-such a disease because I feel nausea and burning in the stomach.” They say, “Write a prescription for my baby. It needs an injection of antibiotics.” We object but they dash to the pharmacies and order the pharmacist to inject their babies anyway.

 

There has been no effective central government to control the quality of medicine and issues licences for pharmacies to operate. So businessmen import pseudo-medicine -- for example, liquids that have the colour of medicine but no quality at all.

 

Patients keep on taking the medicine but the diseases become resistant, so patients complain and say, “If you are a good doctor, why don’t I recover after taking what you prescribed for me?”

 

This is the problem treated by the businessmen who import expired and low quality medicine. Patients pay more and yet they are not cured.

Xigasho

[Miskiin-Macruuf-Aqiyaar]

 

Binti Cumar Gacal

 

THE SINGER: Love songs defy bullets and brutality

 

I became a famous singer in 1980 after winning a singing competition in Mogadishu. My father played trumpet; he was in the police band. My mother sold tea.

 

I sang in the school choir in the late 1970s. “You have a sweet voice. You could be a professional,” schoolmates and teachers said, and this inspired me.

 

But when my mother heard the story she took me out of school. She shaved my hair and chained me. Back then, it was taboo for women to sing publicly.

 

A famous Somali composer came and convinced my mother to release me. In 1980, I entered a singing competition and came first. I was awarded 200,000 Somali shillings -- a lot of money then.

 

My parents argued over my singing. My father said it would bring him a name while mother said it was shameful and she demanded an immediate divorce. I bought very expensive clothes and a villa for my parents which placated them for a while.

 

I joined the Hobalada Waberi band and continued singing love songs. My famous love song which is even now most liked is “Let me be in trouble if I cry for you again”.

 

I was expressing the problems of ladies who lamented after the men they loved. The government used to pay every singer 500 shillings a month. It was good money but I never needed to take it. I was singing for wealthy men at their homes and earned thousands of shillings a day.

 

Later, a relative to the dictator president tried to force me to join the military band. He jailed me when I refused. There was nepotism in every department and not all singers were allowed to be famous.

 

Eventually I was freed. I continued singing for my favourite band but after seven years my father moved out of the house I built for him. He said he did not want anything bought from singing. I continued my work.

 

In 1990, we, the singers, sang in a campaign to oust the dictatorship. We could not tolerate how he bombed his citizens. Good singers must always express the feelings of the people.

 

“Down with Siad Barre,” we chanted. Our aim was to tell the people to oust that regime and then form a better one, but what happened was we ousted a bad government and failed to form even a similar one. We regretted it then and still we regret it.

 

The dictator regime was ousted in 1991 and the bullet replaced the guitar. Music was no longer wanted and singers faced a tough life. The wealthy ones fled. Our lives were in danger.

 

Three singers were killed in the civil war -- I always remember them. They were not involved in the conflict but when clans fought, each clan killed the most important people of the other clan -- it was barbaric.

 

After some years the civil war died down and we started singing at wedding ceremonies and were able to earn a living. Most of the singers and musicians fled the country. But I stayed in my house and often sang with other musicians privately.

 

Four of my kids died -- two remained -- and I have three grandchildren. My parents died years ago. My husband and I also separated sometime back. The world is like that -- people depart in the end.

 

As I was going to a wedding ceremony in 2002, I came across militia killing a man who killed one of their relatives in a family feud. More than 13 bullets hit me. My legs were broken and I was taken to Keysane hospital.

 

A local woman's NGO paid for my operation. But the problem was hospitals were run by militia and doctors were paid very little, so they killed patients unless they were bribed to save you. The doctor operated on my right foot and killed the nerves in it.

 

We hid guitars and trumpets and locked ourselves up in rooms in 2006 when the Islamists came to power. To them a singer was not a Muslim and so deserved to be killed. This was the worst period in the last two decades.

 

The information minister has done us a favour recently. He has starting bringing together us musicians and singers. He pays us $100 a month -- may God bless him. This is not enough but it is better than nothing.

 

There are some musicians and singers who sing for national television. But I and Abdi Tahlil, another well-known singer, just take the $100. I can walk with the help of my stick but Abdi Tahlil cannot walk. He's in his house, paralyzed.

 

I've been coming only to this hotel, the Sahafi, for all these years. I'm sure you always see me sitting here. I chew khat just to make me forget the past -- that is is how life is.

Xigasho

[oba hiloowlow]

walahi this is so sad i dont know what to say..

[Alpha Blondy]

what a cynical title.

[Ismahaan]

sheekooy ku nacay. Hadii saas wadani u ahaayeen maxaay dalkoodii u bur buriyeen. I am sure in aay kuli ululul lahaayeen markii dowladii dhacday oo bililiqadu bilaabatay.

[oba hiloowlow]

Ismahaan edeb yeelo sis dad aanad aqoon ama waligaa arkin aad uu gefeysaa waana laga roon yahay waa iga tusaalo.

[Juxa]

^^canaantaadu kululaa?

Fact is some where allaha nawada cafiyo

 

Ps: I thought binti has family in qurbaha?

[Ismahaan]

oba xagee ka gubatey , and intee edab daradaayda ku aragtay? Mida kale waa runtaay soomaali hadaay dad wadani ahaayeen maxaay wadankooda u soo gubeen ma ii sheegi kartaa??

[Nina Fox]

If every story was told Im sure it would make an impact on a lot of people. I liked the barber's story, it oozed very raw and innocent emotions.

 

Ismahaan.......Wadan aan Civil War soo marin aduunka weey yaryahiin, I guess it was our turn. Everything that happens is pre-planned and pre-destined by Allah SWT. Dad Muslim ah jabkooda inaad ku jeesjeestid waad ku qaladan walaashiis. These people (as you can see) are hard working people who were not Military or Government officers. If the fact that 2 of them lost their children and one of them was wounded did not inspire even a hint of naxariis in you, I dont know what will. Subxanallah...Hana iga xanaaqin abaayo.

 

MMA...thanx walaalkiis.

[Ismahaan]

Nina sis xanaaq meeshaan ma yaalo laakiin runta baa saas ah. Dadka soomaaliyeed dad muslim ah baay ahaayeen iyagaa choice garaaystey in aay is xasuuqaan, iyagaa wadankoodii bur buriyey, iyagaa 20 years is xasuuqayey. Dulmiga iyo xumaatada hadaadan ka guban oo gacanta ku qaban ama ka dheeraan Islam nimo ma jirto. Mida kale ani soomaali dhan baan ka hadlayee dadkaan meesha magacdooda ku soo qoray maba aqaan mana ka hadleen.Generally soomaali dhan raali baay ka ahaayeen in dowladu dhacdo, hadhowna khaladaadkii la iskama qaban ee waa lagu socday simple is that.

[oba hiloowlow]

Juxa i overreacted xoogaa,, yeah binti has relatives in qurbaha i know her brother Keysar..

 

Ismahaan sii khalad baan uu fahmay ma garatay sis cafis.

[Ismahaan]

Oba@ my point was Allah helps those who help themselves''...so if you've got a problem, you've got to try to solve it. Soomaalida dhan waxaay iska dhigaan dad wadaniyiin ahaa balse nasiib xumo dalkoodii iska dumay. Taasna macquul ma aha oo hadii aay wadaniyiin ahaayeen waa laga arki lahaa. shacabkaa wadankooda difaacan lahaa ee dhaawr nin oo war lord ah in aay dalka bur buriyaan umadana qixiyaan lagama yeeleen.Mida kale walaasheen Nina baa tiri Ilahaay baa xugmad in umada soomaaliyeed is laayaan wadankeenuna bur buro. Ilaahay waxa xun ma xugmo, ficilka xun oo dulmiga ah shaaydaan buu ka sugnaaday. Allah Almighty says clearly in the Quran: "Allah sets forth a parable: a city enjoying security and quiet, supplied with sustenance from every place. Yet it was ungrateful for the favors of Allah, so Allah made it taste of hunger and fear because of what its people wrought." [sûrah al-Nahl: 112] Qur,aanka baa daliil inoo ah, wixii khalad iyo sax ahna ku qoran yihiin. Anyways cafis, no hurt feelings.

[oba hiloowlow]

Ismahaan no problem waan gartay waakula qabaa, shacabka waa iney nabadda raadiyaan oo ay ogaadaan wixii uu dan ah iyo wixii aan aheyn, maha in dad kale laga sugo

[The Zack]

Binti Cumar miyaa sidan u ekaatay (well, wey yara casaatay ee sida kalaan sheegi)? Waa la duqoobay walle.

 

The below song of hers will always stick to the heads of many..

 

Anigoo beled xaawo joogo

miyuu bari iiga heesay

markaan boosaaso tagey....

 

Greats stories, MMA.