By Karl Muth
After past trips to Somalia and Somaliland, I’ve argued that Somalia is really the westernmost province of China. But, today, I argue there is – in turn – a westernmost province of Somalia in the American midwest. November in Somaliland is a peaceful time, with no Detroit Lions games on the television, no explosions from poorly-supervised methamphetamine laboratories along empty stretches of Interstate 75, and no rumble of 6.2-litre V8 engines through the exhaust systems of Flowmaster-equipped Chevy Camaros. No neon signs advertise casinos, no doe-eyed eighteen-year-old blondes stare at the roadway from spotlight-lit billboards hoping trucks will delay their journeys at a movie-theatre-turned-strip-club off Ten Mile.
Instead, a junk hovers on the horizon, its sails unmolested by time or wind. Tankers named in multiple languages, in multiple alphabets, skate along the edges of the lane. The sea salt in the breeze is strong, strong enough that you can taste it on your lips after a morning looking out at an ancient harbour where Egyptian triremes, Greek merchant ships, and Syrian traders have gathered over the last 4,000 years. Occasionally, a particularly strong combination of wind and wave whips into the shore, coating the worn stucco facades of buildings in Berbera with a crystalline sheen. Men call out from the fish stands, eager to sell their harvest before it spoils. Kiosks and inlets of ancient buildings, many with Italian inscriptions, are subdivided once and then once again to make the intimate surroundings of the souks. The prettiest engine note in town is that of Toyota’s three-litre inline six, always near idle, never turning a revolution in anger.
Read more: Is Detroit a suburb of Somalia
Source:LSE
