By Abdiwahab M. Ali
My visit to Mogadishu was initially conceived out of curiosity: What did the future hold for the capital, once a paradise in the Horn of Africa, as it is re-emerging from years of fratricidal civil war?
It all started with an invitation from Abdi, a close friend. “How come you do not want to visit Mogadishu?” he inquired. “It is not such a bad place.” Prior to my travel, I called my mom just as usual informing her about my trip to Mogadishu. However, her voice seemed different, she simply said “safe journey, Hooyo.” Her tone sounded neither worried nor excited. Call it ambivalent.
Renewed hope
The capital indeed was once a crown jewel of East Africa—a place sanctified with twinkling hotels, sandy beaches, perfect coastline, and palm trees neatly lined, and such heaving, historical sites that made neighboring countries green with jealousy. However, after 23 years of a brutal civil war, Mogadishu is slowly rising out of the ashes. Today, it is a tale of recovery, rebirth and bright future.
Traveling with Bajaj (a three-wheeled vehicle), I had the opportunity to observe the city, Mogadishu closely. Abdifatah, a skinny, barely 30-year-old Bajaj driver, took me around the city. Bajaj become my favorite mode of transport because it uses less petrol and maneuvers comfortably in narrow roads.
Abdifatah, a walking encyclopedia, had driven in many east and northern African cities before he finally settled in the Wardhiigley district. “There is no other place better than home,” he kept repeating.
While exploring Mogadishu, Abdifatah served as my guide in that intriguing city. Occasionally, he would became excited and passionate about explaining things to me that he would take his hands off the steering wheel getting close to endangering our lives.
Abdifatah was an expert on “Qudbo-sireed” (a secret marriage). He constantly boasted that he could win over any woman he wanted. “It is a God-given talent,” he would explain.
Mogadishu is a place of many contrasts and contradictions. It still shows the scars of the civil war: ruined homes, cracks in walls, missing roofs and patches of plaster. But like many other things about Mogadishu, there is a sign of rapid, hesitant rebirth. The sounds of construction activities were everywhere and deafening:
One Thursday afternoon, I visited Lido beach and it was always beautiful and special. Families and friends enjoyed the jovial atmosphere; some played football, others would snap and instantly upload via Facebook/ Instagram. “The number of likes in your photo counts,” said a 17-year-old Ahmed.
“Yo, this is Liido, not Miami,” parked another guy with thick Californian accent. Friday gatherings at Daljirka-Daahsoon (the Unknown Soldier) monument were also unique experience. Hundreds of smartly-dressed youth come together to take photos and watch traditional folk dances.
One day, I took an overcrowded bus. A lady next to me felt, though, I was a little bit stressed. She leaned to my side and said, “Caadi-iska dhig” (Relax, man). I howled with laughter.
Booming nights
They say, Mogadishu is better at night than day time. A lively and boisterous night indeed makes one in a state of shock.
In the evening, you will see a gaggle of youths wearing the latest fashion, walking along the Makkah al Mukaramah, the best and the most popular road in the city.
More bored young men sitting in groups sip Somali tea and juices while others watch cars go by. Mogadishu is bustling with business centers, internet cafes, restaurants with out-door-serving. Mini- market ad-signs state, “We are open 24/7.” I wonder if that is the case and are actually open all the time.
It was the final play of the European Champion league, football fans were watching Barcelona Vs Juventus at the Hodon district
“Juventus will make history,” said a cheerful young man in white-Juventus jersey. “Barcelona is up,” contradicted another fan. The atmosphere was jammed with claps and noise.
Few meters away, we heard loud and pulsating music. It was an open-air restaurant full of young boys and girls. Every square kilometer was occupied by men, and women: some smoked Hookah/Shiisha, others smoked cigarettes.
When a new song was turned, crowds would get up and dance. It was difficult to differentiate between the youth from the diaspora or the local ones.
And there were the issues of security risks. One morning, I woke up quit late forgetting that I was supposed to go to Jazeera Beach with some colleagues. When I checked my phone, I saw numerous missed calls and text messages. The first one read, “Are you safe and sound?” The second one went, “I am worried about you; it is time to go to the beach”.Such constant worries from friends showed the ever-present security threat in Mogadishu.
The encounter of the loquacious Bajaj driver, Abdifatah, the kindness strangers like the lady in the over-crowded bus showed, the photo-addicted teens at Lido Beach, and the amusing waiters who mixed Somali with the few foreign words they knew, were manifestations of a city changing fast and furiously.
Abdiwahab M. Ali
Email: [email protected]
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Abdiwahab is a freelance writer and Researcher. follow his twitter @Waberijr
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