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In 1991, when I left my homeland to Kenya and ultimately found safe haven in the Netherlands, I felt that my presence in a foreign land would be temporary and strongly believed that the civil war would come very soon to an end. Many fellow citizens and I still languish in exile for 15 long years – the thought of no end in sight to our prolonged suffering is also an excruciating dilemma. Our situation presents a real problem to the world. We are a nation refuses to exist and no one knows a viable solution to our misery and hopelessness. In 1992, when the world came to our aid, instead of being appreciative, we rewarded them with ruthless cruelty of dragging their dead bodies on the streets. Failed states like us eventually resurrect either through comprise and reconciliation or the victorious group governs the country – neither is true in Somalia. How long can we stay in an uncertain future? My use of the word “limbo” as a title, derived from Roman Catholic theology, refers to a condition of confinement or transition in the hereafter, where souls, who can’t enter paradise, remain in the front or the borders of hell. In our Islamic faith, we have a period called “AL-BARZAKH” – it is the stage between the time of death until the time of resurrection and for those whose sins weren’t cleansed will experience pangs of death, squeeze of the grave and pits of hell fire. I would be wrong if I compare our present condition to that of the grave, but no doubt about it that we have suffered enough as a result of war and self inflicted destruction. Life in a foreign land Living in exile isn’t something everyone would like. You may lose your heritage; you miss your culture and environment. Exiles are not like immigrants; they don’t want to start a new life. They think the separation from homeland will end. Before us, hundreds of thousand of exiles who had left their birthplaces thought they would be gone for few years and then return. Today, many Somalis feel a similar longing. I live now comfortably and peacefully in Northern Virginia with my family. Materially, I’m better off today than when I left my country. I have my own home; I have a decent job; I live in a good neighborhood with good schools for my children, but still feel unhappy. Some weeks pass by without even seeing any Somalis. One morning, on my long ride to work at West Virginia, while driving through the beautiful mountains of Shenandoah Valley, I listened the song of Fadumo Qassim “Dalkeygow dushaadu waa macantahee” – it reminded me that there is nothing like home. I miss the early morning noises of donkeys, chickens and the dusts of the streets; but I’m not going to return until we create a safe environment and remove the warlords and killers, who murdered thousands of innocent civilians. Wasted efforts In the past, we missed many opportunities in resolving our differences. Arte conference and most recently the establishments of transitional federal government in Kenya are among them. The new interim government seems unable to assert itself in many parts of the country for obvious reasons: lack of national army, destroyed institutions, no external assistance and divisions among the government and the parliament. These are some of the important reasons that hampered nation building and reviving the economy. Little hopeThe political trends, the neglect and lack of interest from the international community towards rebuilding a Somali State are indicative to a bleak future that points no way out from current deadlock. Somalia might become the first nation to disappear from the world map in modern times. At this moment, we are unable to bring our statehood back into existence and for a long time to come, we will remain marginalized and divided along ethnic lines. Abdisalam M. Garjex “camey”
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