I am
leaving Somaliland in one week with very mixed feelings. On the face of it, I
should be chained to the airport departure gate foaming at the mouth to leave. For your average Westerner, it is not an ideal habitat; there is no gym, no cinema, no bookshop, no
park to walk in or track to run on. (If you tried to go for a run you’d
probably end up with kids throwing stones at you). There is nowhere that you
can wander to be alone with your thoughts; there is nowhere to be alone –
except at home; where solitude is mandatory and enforced by patrolling men with
AK’s. My lot is better than some; a friend had a guest removed at
gunpoint from her home by her guard. Her staff tell her the guard is mentally
unstable, one gave her a padlock for her gate ’just in case’ and yet despite
repeated complaints, the security services refuse to remove or fire him.
Guards are mandatory for expatriates; and it is mandatory for NGOs to
accept the government approved guards. The guards are rehabilitated militia,
and so these former fighters with guns, patrol private residences with god-like
authority, exercised through random and irrational decision making. Her guard
removed the offending guest and then told the town that the white woman was
having sex with him. She didn’t but she’s a white woman and in the eyes of some
locals, that’s what we are: whores, infidels.
I am
comparatively lucky; I came here for work that I find extremely rewarding. My first four
years involvement with this country were spent working with pioneering
institutions led by visionary, extraordinary individuals committed to
rebuilding their country. If this country was recognised as the nation state it once was, perhaps their stories would be internationally recognised too, instead of shuffled away under the carpet of international political embarrassment. Those individuals are still here, still extraordinary
and still some of the most awe inspiring human beings I have met anywhere in
the world. Any nation would be lucky to have them. The passion and commitment
that inspires people to greatness during moments of nation building is rare and
beautiful. There are so many devoted, dedicated, humble and good hearted men
and women who have inspired a generation of young people to follow their example;
if only they could get the chance, seeing as how so many job openings are
stuffed full by clan favours and familial interest.
The
beauty is that good always outweighs the bad; one inspiring person balances the
negativity of literally hundreds of small minded people. Referring to one
of the country’s extraordinary women, a government official said ‘we need twelve
of her’; our driver spoke of another female powerhouse and said ‘we need ten of
her’. Ten, that’s even less. In a country of 3.5 million people, we only need
ten or twelve inspiring human beings. Now, don't get me wrong, this isn't as easy as picking potatoes: the women referred to are
extraordinary, unparalleled in their kindness, service, tirelessness and
commitment. These aren’t just ‘good’ people, these are the kind of people that
legends are made of.
Still.
Twelve, ten, That’s not so hard, surely?
The
problem is, I can’t see where are these twelve going to come from. What are we
doing to nurture the next group of male or female leaders? Where is the
education that inspires young women to be confident in their own dignity and
capacity to make a difference? I’m told that girls are treated abysmally in
school, humiliated and scorned in front of their classmates not just by boys
and teachers but again, also by NGO guards. Some weeks ago a friend told me his
sister was punched by a boy of 14 years old; the boy’s father instead of being
outraged was blithely unconcerned. Worse still, rape is on the increase and yet
it is not unheard of for the girl to be asked to marry the offender ‘so as not
to bring shame on the family’. These girls are not going to be one of the
twelve. Their future has already been taken away from them because they have
learned at a young age that a man can treat them however he wants and get away
with it.
The justifications for 'getting away with it are groundless and distortive. In an
egregious distortion of a religious passage designed to ensure appropriate
distribution of property to protect and provide for familial needs, men have
proclaimed to me ‘a woman is 50% of a man! It’s in the Qur’an’. It’s not, not like that, no more than it is in
there for men to marry more than one wife ‘’so the women don’t become sexually
frustrated’’ (I do not know which particular version of the book that man was reading). Small wonder
that no-one, despite repeated times of asking, would ever give me a translated
copy (God forbid anyone should actually find out how the Qur’an really provides
for men, women, children and the weak, the strong messages about compassion, protection of the vulnerable, or the stipulations about equality of human
beings irrespective of tribe and so on). Some women don’t even get 50%; a few
years ago I read in a newsletter published by students of one of the medical
schools a about a woman who died because the men in her family refused her
treatment; the young doctors stood around the bed helpless and watched the
woman bleed to death. Yet it is written that it is the job of men to protect women.
Women
are admired, but insufficiently celebrated, there are so many hero stories of
men who have built the nation – but what about the women? They fought, they
contributed, why don’t we celebrate them more and why on earth are we not
growing more women like them? I’m told that even the greatest women will always
be ‘the little daughter’. ‘A woman in Somaliland exists only in so far as a man
allows her to’ I’m told. Hm, I only half agree with that. The women I’ve
seen do pretty well no matter what the limitations, advantages or structural
parameters put on them by men. People tell me ‘’ah! she can only achieve that
because the men in her clan allow her to’’ ... maybe but the fact remains that
she does it; she is the one who gets up
in the morning, works late at night, puts in the hours tirelessly and often
with harassment rather than thanks – she does it. No doubt the khat chewing
relatives under the tree have a say, but don’t tell me this woman hasn’t bust
her ass and achieved something. Of course you can’t take an individual
out of a community, but you can have outstanding individual contribution within a community and there could be more of
it, if we weren’t so busy killing off future potential by eroding present day
self esteem.
I
wonder if Somaliland in ten or twenty years will be the inspirational place it
was when I first encountered it. I hope so..
