By Asha Ahmed Abdalla
Editor’s note’s : This is an excerpt from an upcoming book titled Somalia failing due to bad leadership by Asha Ahmed Abdalla, a political activist and former parliamentarian and Assistant Minister.
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Columbus, Ohio
It was a nice, splendid lovely afternoon in Columbus, Ohio at 12:30 PM in the Summer of June 2000; it was a time when all the employees of the Columbus Metropolitan Housing Authority (CMHA) had gone for lunch. I went home for lunch which was not far from my workplace. In my town house, there was a special room that I always loved to sit and watch television. It was my lovely living room and comfortable place to sit when I was in a bad mood or experienced jolts of tensions. My favorite channel, CNN, was on and broadcasting the possibility of an anticipated Somali peace process taking place in Arta, Djibouti, soon. The president of Djibouti, Ismail Omar Gelleh was on the news making his second appeal, for he wanted the upcoming conference on Somali peace and reconciliation to held in his country.
He also indicated that he wanted the international community to join him, as well as the Somali people in making the process a reality. He was requesting and appealing the same on various TV channels especially when he was attending the United Nations Conference. His main appeal was to convince Somalis to attend the Arta Peace Process. The news went on further with the president of Djibouti saying that the traditional elders, women politicians, civil society, youths and the intellectuals were all welcome to the Somali peace process.
President Gelleh believed that if there was no compromise between the Somalis-domestically and internationally, and should the general peace and reconciliation process become unsuccessful, the United Nations would automatically place Somalia under a trusteeship for ten years. It was realized that there was an absence of government and governance for too long, therefore, it was the right time to act without the least hesitation to avert further loss of lives, unprecedented destruction and the suffering of innocent human beings. This hypothesis was undisputably and undoubtedly true and clearly meaningful because, there is no way in this modern world, for a country like Somalia to have remained without a government for ten years without UN intervention.
I was of the opinion that most Somalis were either conscious or did not agree with the United Nation’s malicious plan. They called each other and reacted right away; some even started to book airline tickets to Africa. Many Somalis became highly attentive; others were utterly hypersensitive and alert about the political situation and the alarm raised by President Gelleh. Gelleh’s exhortations were clear and to the point. It was up to the Somalis to take the lead in securing their country, or else, its disappearance was imminent. Regardless of Gelleh’s motives, the delegation would be selected from the civil society and politicians for the anticipated Arta Peace Conference.
When I started working for the Columbus Housing Authority, the city resembled like a ghetto; businesses have been relocating or moving away elsewhere; other businesses closed for good until the arrival of Somali families overturned the previous grim economic quagmire. Unfortunately, no one came to the aid of the Somalis until my employment with the CMHA brought a sigh of relief for the Somalis especially in the allocation of housing and the revitalization of the crumbling small business ventures. For any institution dealing with a multicultural society, an equal representation of case workers, interpreters and translators and counselors, helps alleviate human needs. I became the main bridge that connected the new Somali community to the various social sectors, hence, language barriers and culture shock retarded many Somalis yearning for a change in life, and the willingness to integrate or assimilate. My job with CMHA was not an easy one. Somali families searching for subsidized, affordable, and decent housing frequented my office in large numbers, especially on week days, such that, at times, I felt overworked.
Since CMHA represents the United States Housing Department, our agency was providing both Section Eight and conventional homes. Therefore, most Somali families, who were residents of Columbus, Ohio, lived in government housing. Since I was the only Somali working for the CMHA, I took more responsibility to help them, even the days and times when I was off duty. Some of the things I assisted with my fellow Somali refugees included housing, translation, community work, reintegration, and working with women groups and the youth.
Nevertheless, periodically, there were extended long lines in front of my house with people, mainly new applicants, some on waiting-list, and newly-arrived refugees seeking help for housing opportunities. This was really bothersome to me especially during my lunch hour. Surprisingly, some of the applicants I served in my office, would come to my residence to drop off their applications for housing instead of delivering them to the main office. This caused me a lot of stress and lack of privacy. At that time, the Housing Authority was experiencing acute housing shortages and I could sense the needs and desperation in many families.
The other problem was that the United States could not subsidize enough housing for the low-income families regardless of whether they were new comers, refugees or naturalized Americans. So I prayed hard to Allah Almighty to help those who were mostly in need especially those who were struggling to have roofs over their heads. Sincerely, I did my best to assist those seeking new housing.
I went back to work and told my friends and co-workers what I had seen while I was on lunch in my home on the CNN breaking news. They spoke about my country and said there was a peace process conference taking place in Arta, Djibouti. I pondered over leaving to partake in the peace process that was taking place in Arta, Djibouti. My friends and co-workers encouraged me to go and see for myself the Somali peace process in Djibouti, because, as they portended, I was one of the most respected Somali personality in Columbus, Ohio. They were of the opinion that, if peace prevailed, it could have resulted in many Somalis voluntarily returning home and probably stop risking themselves travelling long distances in the future. Some of these displaced Somali people would have gone home for better living conditions and enjoyed assured security rather than suffering in bureaucratic United States and elsewhere.
I was thinking of how the process could be successful and fruitful for the Somali people; so they could have their dignity back once and for all. At the same time, I was worried of leaving my children because I was a single-mother. A few days later, I received telephone calls from Osman Abdi Qac, my best friend who was concerned about the conference. He wanted me to represent our community in North America, especially the people of Las Qoray in Somalia’s Sanaag region. I was thinking of my children in schools; and what their future would look like. Also, how and who would take care of them was another issue that bothered me most. I was a single-mother who was working hard to supporting them and I was thinking of the unimaginabale years ahead of them. Unfortunately, I took the hard choice of leaving for Djibouti, a tiny, mainly Somali-inhabited nation located in the Horn of Africa. Finally, I took the hard choice and after thoroughly discussing with my family, especially those who were in the United States, it was concluded that I attend the upcoming conference.
My family told me to grab the opportunity, and promised to take care of my children and all the other things that mattered most to me. To help bring peace and stability to Somalia, I sacrificed my life and left behind my own children. Regardless of taking the hard decision of embarking on a strenuous journey that was aimed at salvaging my beloved nation and people, I felt very proud my children managed themselves. The way they conducted themselves and adjusted their living conditions motivated me to move on and never turn back without at least returning with something tangible. My kids remained supportive of my political will, and as their mother, I felt emboldened by their continuous support domestically and politically. I felt appreciative and happy with them but I always felt guilty about my prolonged absence. Over all, they recovered and made lots of improvements and progress although they wanted me to be with them for their success rather than stay in Somalia.
Anyway, I took a rental car and drove for about seven hours alone from Columbus, Ohio to Washington DC in order to catch a connecting flight at Dallas International airport. I could not fly that day because I arrived late, so I stayed overnight in Virginia with my cousin and best friend, Muna Jama Abdi and departed the next day on July 6, 2000 after taking a local flight from Dallas international airport to New Jersey airport where I got a connecting flight with Ethiopian airlines to Djibouti. After fourteen hours of air travel, finally, the plane landed at Addis Ababa International Airport, where I took a local flight to my intended destination, which was Djibouti.
Initially, my expectation of the conference was very high, but when I got there, things were relatively different from my previous thoughts. I was assuming the conference would have the hallmarks of equal representation and equal opportunity for most qualifying people. I was anticipating people would be selected according to their merits, credibility, accountability, patriotism and their levels of commitment and confidence. I thought everyone would attend including Somali intellectuals, politicians and political party stalwarks, armed factions mainly warlords, businessmen and women, minority groups, youths and elders so that divisionalism, clannism, and protracted anarchy would be overcome and put to rest.
Unfortunately, the scene was totally different because a few unreliable hand-picked select groups were invited and that was the main reason the entire Arta peace process failed to accomplish its objectives or reach its intended goals. A few reliable warlords who would have contributed to the process were missing while many political doyens who would have added sensible ideas were either ignored for their political views or were deliberately left out so the facilitators would a have field day.
Astonishingly, when I arrived at Djibouti airport, counter clerks were directing the delegates to a newly-formed hallway exclusively created to distinguish conference attendees from the rest of the travelers. They divided the delegates in to clan groups. Besides, they were instructing convention-goers to join their clan members. They were also asking what clan one belonged to or hailed from. I found such actions by the counter clerks to be undiplomatic and unprofessional in context. Without the least hesitation and without fear of apprehension, I politely told them that I was there for the Somali peace process, and sought their help in directing me to the convention venue.
I was dismayed and flabbergasted at how delegates were sorted out in to clan lines. To avoid altercations and unnecessary arguments with people lacking leadership and management skills and devoid of professionalism, I was left with no other option, but to follow their rules regardless of the visible distortions and maladministration. My main ambition in Djibouti was to partake in the reclammation of Somali sovereignty and the resuscitation of our people’s lost integrity and universal influence. At last, I was directed to the venue where the peace process was to be held. Because the venue was far from Djibouti City, I tried to stay in a hotel for the night. However, because of the absence of international tourism and travel, and the upsurge in the number of delegates, all hotels were fully booked. At last, I chose to reside for the night at Aunt Aisha’s palatial home in Djibouti City. Aunt Aisha was married to the mayor of the City of Djibouti. The next morning, Aunt Aisha drove me for 80 miles to the reconciliation conference venue in Arta.
At Arta, I chose to stay with one group from Somalia’s Gedo region and truly they treated me nicely and in a dignified manner. Even though we did not know each other before, we interacted humanely and attended together the tented hall that was exclusively reserved for the invited delegates. At the conference hall, the scene was reminsicent of an animal zoo because of people chattering like apes. Others displayed cantankerous and lackadaisical behaviors by singing nonsensical and befuddled poems in praise of their clans and exalting their distorted ideological foundations. People called each other names and hurled expletives at each other with others foaming their mouths like agitated venomous snakes. It is worth noting that some of the men were high on Qaad, a chewable cathonine-inducing drug that is widely chewed in the Horn of Africa mostly by the male Somali population. Having chewed Qaad the previous nights, some suffered from depression known as ‘Qaadiro’-a mental stage where one suffers hangover, perspires profusely and emits putrid smell. The raucous noise made by some of the clannish-minded delegates was to seek attention and to be heard by others. However, what they failed to realize was that the venue was being televised and transmitted.
Asha Ahmed Abdalla
Email:[email protected]
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