Networks of Dissolution

Somalia Undone

Anna Simons

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2019
• eBook ISBN: 9780429720833
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Politics & International Relations
• Subtopic: African Politics
• Index: Politics & International Relations

In this penetrating and timely book, Anna Simons documents Somalia's impending slide toward anarchy. How do people react to a failing yet still repressive government? What do they do when the banks run out of cash? How do they cope with unprecedented uncertainty? These are some of the questions Simons addresses as she introduces the reader to Somal

1
Mogadishu: The Hardship Post

Whereas the vast majority of Mogadishu's Somali residents came to Mogadishu either from the bush or another (lesser) town, or were born in the capital, virtually all expatriates arrived in Mogadishu relatively effortlessly, by air. Inevitably, no matter where expatriates had previously been posted, what their country of origin was, or how they had been forewarned, Mogadishu was immediately discernible to them as a hardship post. Too little was Western, familiar, or comfortable, either culturally or materially, although the material setting was initially most obvious.

To begin with, streets were unsigned and driving was a free-for-all. Municipal electricity was erratic and unpredictable, telephone service ineffectual, and local news unavailable.

For most expatriates little was familiar about Somalia. It was not particularly African; it was rare to be accosted on the streets solely because one was white. Children did not follow westerners asking for money or "bonbons" or "bics." Instead, they were far more likely to throw stones and to jeer what non-Somali speakers took to be insults. If children did approach without rocks in their hands, it was usually to ask for baksheesh.

But certain practices aside, Somalia seemed no more Middle Eastern than African. There were no glaring amalgams of West and East. Without an infusion of petrodollars there had been no giant construction projects; there was no blatant materialism. There were few of the juxtaposed incongruities one reads about in descriptions of the Persian Gulf. For instance, the presidential palace was behind walls well-guarded by an elite branch of the military (commonly referred to as Red Hats because of their oversized berets). But there was nothing outside the walls to suggest that the inside was ostentatious or extravagant. In fact, one of the jokes among expatriates was that as soon as the $32 million American embassy compound was complete the Americans would be asked to leave Somalia and the president would move his entourage there.¹

As for Somali enterprises geared to expatriates, only a few hotels accommodated most Western visitors and short-term contract workers. However, these same hotels were likely to be just as crowded with visiting Arabs and Somali businessmen—not just people on their way in or out of the expatriate community. The Maka was one of the more popular and most centrally located of these.² As an important meeting place it boasted two long-distance telephone lines, a telex machine, and air-conditioning. However, perhaps the most telling mark of Mogadishu's place in the world was that there was no hotel gift shop and no Somali souvenirs for sale in the lobby save one small rack of postcards.

Tourist art, despite the lack of tourism or a tourist industry, could be had in Mogadishu though—some of it Somali in origin but much of it imported. A considerable proportion of this stock was sold in small shops jumbled along the Lido, where store fronts abutted various discos and clubs. However, expatriates did not have to visit the Lido, because dealers would visit them at home. This was probably the safest way to exchange money on the black market and it is also how ivory, especially, could be surreptitiously bought then shipped stateside via the diplomatic pouch.

With money purchased on the black market any item was a good buy in Mogadishu and often expatriates prided themselves on what a deal they were getting compared to what they would have had to pay in Kenya or elsewhere. However, this was small compensation in many people's eyes for having to spend time in Somalia at all; one could easily purchase the best stuff Somalia could offer within a matter of days. Nor did months increase anyone's appreciation for either the art or the culture the art came from.

Ironically, whatever people did buy was embedded in Somali culture, whether it was a tiger's eye necklace pieced together in Thailand or amber formerly worn by a Somali pastoralist. This is because, despite its catering to westerners and Somalis with Western vices (i.e., drinking), the Lido was still of a piece with the rest of older, downtown Mogadishu—crumbling stucco, pastel walls—while just past the storefronts and bars was the ocean, with simple wooden and fiberglass fishing boats riding the waves and Somali boys swimming regardless of sharks and unmindful of those sipping beer, watching them.

Overall, from virtually any spot in Mogadishu, it would have appeared that the postcolonial West had had little stylistic impact on the city. Clearly many Somalis owned VCRs and cameras and other imported, luxury goods, since video stores rivaled pharmacies and tailors for shop space. However, these electronics were within people's homes. On the streets, and as far as most expatriates would be able to tell, there were no sure signs that any significant percentage of the population was seeking a Western makeover. Perhaps this was simply a matter of finances. Nevertheless, as soon as most Somali men left their offices for the day they shed pants for mawiss [traditional Somali dress], and despite interest in Tracy Chapman and Michael Jackson, Somali music was inarguably louder, more common, and certainly more noticeable to westerners.

From the expatriate perspective, then, Mogadishu was not only not cosmopolitan, it could not even be called provincial. It was not even that open or exciting. Instead, to many people, it was a marginally exotic, definitively alien (and alienating) backwater. Because Mogadishu was never "home" to the overwhelming majority of expatriates, it was far too easy, given the construction of their lives and days, for them to forget that it was home to Somalis, and in fact, was probably the finest town most could hope to ever see.

In many ways Moagadishu can perhaps best be described as a city of walls, from police barriers on the outskirts of town, where the police and soldiers were armed, to compound walls surrounding all elite homes within the city, thus hiding the Somali elite (and those Somalis expatriates might have had most in common with) from expatriate view. The Somali language, for most expatriates, was another barrier preventing the free flow of goodwill. Few expatriates made the attempt to learn anything more than "kitchen" Somali. The fact that Somalis often addressed one another in the imperative also made it particularly convenient that the expatriates happened to learn only the gruffest of commands.

Islam, too, presented walls. Mosques were off-limits, both practically and psychologically speaking to non-Muslims. Few expatriates knew more about Islam than that it was an "Arab" religion that caused people to bang their heads on the floor five times a day; that Muslims could have more than one wife; and that women were second-class citizens and often cloistered (although this was patently not the case in Somalia). There was little curiosity about what the religion actually did dictate or about what the Koran might say. It was acknowledged that—in part due to Islam—it was not really possible to socialize with Muslims, since they were forbidden to drink alcohol, the social pastime of expatriates. Hence, Islam was not only blamed for the lack of Somalis' sociability toward expatriates, it was also thought to set westerners apart and circumscribe them as infidels as far as Somalis were concerned.³

This was particularly clear whenever expatriates discussed the meaning of the word gaal, which is how westerners heard themselves being tagged and described.

Gaal, in its uses, is similar to the words mzungu in East Africa and hawaja in the Sudan. Whatever it means literally—"non-Muslim, infidel; European; cruel person" (Luling 1987)—it was used as an identifier especially by children to alert one another. They used the term because they did not otherwise know how to talk about or address the white person (although at least some children seemed aware that gaal actually did gall Westerners). Otherwise, gaal was used by adults as a shorthand descriptive. Most often it was not meant by Somalis the way expatriates understood it. Because expatriates did not hear the terms Somalis used to describe or identify one another (which were often just as impersonal and sometimes insulting), they drew conclusions about the Somalis' disdain for their religion (and thus, their very being) from the fact that this word, which they translated as "infidel," was used. They did not listen to how it was used.

In part, then, due to the dynamics set up by the impenetrable Somali language and the not-to-be-penetrated Muslim religion, it was exceedingly easy for expatriates to accept the traditional outsiders' stereotype of Somalis as arrogant xenophobes. Grounded in the history of traveler accounts as well as in the eternal romanticization of proud nomads eking out their existence in a pitiless environment, there was still enough "evidence" in present-day Mogadishu to perpetuate this view of Somali aloofness. After all, Somalis spoke in commands, were always arguing with one another, and were fueled by Islam, which gave them the power of their convictions—that others were not as worthy. Thus, they even sounded as though they believed themselves to be superior.

Again, despite their consumption of western goods, such as VCRs, televisions, and other luxury electronic items, Somalis certainly did not appear to visibly admire the West either. Not only were Somali styles of dress the preferred fashion after hours but there were relatively few indications of just how many Somalis had traveled West: Few restaurants catered to Western tastes (there was a grand total of six in 1988-1989) although beauty parlors and boutiques did sell Western styles, but surreptitiously. Thus, without the obvious signs of, or bows to, westernizing influence it was all too easy for westerners to assume that Somalis did not aspire to their same world, or share their same developmental goals.

For many reasons, then, it became natural for expatriates to manage to ignore Somalis as individuals. Most expatriates, no matter what their nationality—U.S., British, German, Finnish—were living a "white" existence anyway, and it was this existence that attracted supplicants—a further cause for alienation.⁴

Most westerners were treated as sources of giving by many of the Somalis with whom they came into contact. Indeed, this is something that westerners were quick to recognize and to identify as one of the culture traits that they found most difficult and dislikable about Somalis. That Somalis' solicitations were rooted not only in westerners' relative wealth but also in a Somali matrix of what Somalis asked or demanded of one another is something few outsiders considered. Rather, expatriates tended to take these demands personally and to be as offended by them as they would have been had they been asked by mere acquaintances for money or goods at home.

Money, in almost every regard, was the major sticking point for expatriates when it came to Somalis. Corollary to the expatriate view that Somalis did not know how to handle money properly (which explained why they were always soliciting it) was the universal belief among expatriates that Somalis lacked the ability to maintain anything—roads, equipment, offices, projects, or, essentially, themselves. This lack of maintenance was epitomized by the phrase inshallah, which, to most expatriates, stood for and summarized Somali laziness, irresponsibility, and lack of vision. Not only did expatriates tend to interpret inshallah literally to mean, "if Allah wills" or "if Allah says" (which is also how Somalis translated it into English for non-Arabic speakers) but they also often understood it to mean something like manana.

It was common to regard inshallah as an all-purpose excuse used consciously and willfully by all Somalis. Many expatriates disregarded the fact that there were always extenuating circumstances that were beyond the control of any given individual, which is what, in large part, inshallah was meant to acknowledge by many Somalis who used it as a closure in conversation. Expatriates thought that Somalis either actually believed Allah would intercede and provide—a sentiment expatriates could easily scoff at—-or that they knew in advance they would not follow through on a promise and, therefore, voiced inshallah as a preemptive excuse.

Not only was this "out" not considered honorable by expatriates, it was openly mocked. People made fun of what they regarded to be a blatantly ill-intentioned Somali (or Muslim) penchant for using Allah as a pretext for relying on something—anything—other than themselves.

Self-reliance, then, in at least three senses was at the root of what expatriates believed Somalis were missing. First, they would not fix anything themselves because someone else was always there to help them (i.e., expatriates). Second, Somalis could not manage anything properly because they did not have the capacity to (although it was also acknowledged that willful mismanagement in the form of corruption was what made some of them so rich). This fed directly into the third sense in which Somalis lacked self-reliance: They had no civic motivation or drive to better themselves in any but corrupt terms. Remarkably, few expatriates viewed nonmaintenance and mismanagement as clever strategies. Instead, they were thought to prove the worthlessness of not only aid to Somalia but of Somalis.

In sum, what fueled Somalis—as far as expatriates could detect—was unbridled opportunism (the flip side of which was nonproductive activity or laziness) and the attendant fatalistic attitude-cum-crutch that "Allah will provide." In their manifestations, these were precisely the two things that caused Somalia to not work for most westerners—the very two things that made daily life possible for many Somalis.

2
First Encounters

Actually, the dialectic of expatriate-Somali interactions was triple-stranded. Three streams conditioned English-speaking expatriates. First was the colonial legacy. Second was socialization of expatriates by expatriates. And third was daily practice—working in bureaucracy. It was here, where expatriates and Somalis actually met, that- expatriate views not only crystallized but hardened.

The Written Legacy

Throughout Africa published accounts by the first European explorers and travelers have often colored the view of those to follow. Somalia has been no exception. Virtually all soldiers, administrators, and observers who wrote in English about colonial Somalia cited passages from Richard Burton's First Footsteps in East Africa (1894/1987) to affirm their own points of view and then subsequently built on accounts by one another.

According to these accounts, Somalis lie, cheat, and are quick to anger. They are proud, vain, and think highly of themselves.¹ At the same time, they will act courageously, faithfully, and are capable of enduring great hardship as well as intolerable pain—"Today composed, thoughtful, diligent, and resourceful; tomorrow excitable, thoughtless, lethargic, and foolish" (Drake-Brockman 1912, 105-106).

Many authors explain away these traits as a result of Somalia's harsh environment, holding pastoralism and nomadism accountable for the Somali character: "Were the accident or influence of environment entirely ignored, and this people judged by purely European standards, it might well be classed as a race of maniacs" (Rayne 1921a, 58). "If you were to take the average Englishman, deprive him of all his worldly possessions" and only give him what a Somali had, "there is little question that, should your victim still be alive a couple of years later, he would fully understand why the Somali seems so shamelessly avaricious to the well-nourished European who, comparatively speaking, has not to take thought for the morrow" (Jardine 1926/1969, 24-25). Regardless of explanations, impressions never really altered.

Noting at the outset of his journey that the Arabs called the Berbera coast Bilad Wa Issi—the "Land of Give Me Something" (1894/1987, 1:79)— Burton eventually found himself concurring with the Arabs: "Of course the Somal take every advantage of Europeans" (1894/1987, 11:81). Nearly one hundred years later one expatriate who had never read Burton (or anyone else) would summarize Somalis thus, "Somalis come in four types: liars, cheats, thieves, and a combination of the three."

Still, there are some differences worth observing. First, despite overt and public chauvinism allowed under colonialism, colonial accounts reflect a genuine level of interest in Somalis and their culture. Clearly British civil servants felt themselves integral to commitments made by their government and took an interest in Somalis if for no other reason. By contrast, expatriates in the late 1980s filled a much more ambiguous role, harbored much more ambivalent (if not cynical) feelings toward their jobs, and were far more sanguine and unconcerned about the future of a country they knew they were merely passing through. Second, and connected to the lack of real interest in Somalia, was the lack of desire on the part of most latter-day expatriates to read about Soma...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Acknowledgments
• List of Acronyms
• Map of Colonial Somalia
• Introduction
• 1 Mogadishu: The Hardship Post
• 2 First Encounters
• 3 Involvements I
• 4 Involvements II
• 5 Into the 1980s
• 6 The Coming of July 14
• 7 July 14 and Its Aftermath
• 8 "The Bush"
• 9 Pastoral Principles
• 10 Ties
• 11 Moralities
• 12 Tribalism
• 13 Marriage I
• 14 Marriage II
• 15 Divorce and Family Spread
• 16 Meanings in Mobility
• A Rigorous Ending
• Epilogue: No Ending
• Notes
• Bibliography
• About the Book and Author
• Index