I was in Mogadishu, Somalia courtesy of a work assignment and everyone back in Kenya I told about it responded in predictable fashion. “Oh God! Jesus! Are you safe? Be careful”.
Ever since the civil war in the 90s following the toppling of strong man Said Barre, Mogadishu has been synonymous with words such as disaster, war torn, lawless.
Despite, the images from the American movie “Black Hawk Down” and every Al-Shabaab atrocity I had witnessed on news reports, I remained cautiously optimistic.
We landed at the Aden Adde International Airport at about 11.30 after an uneventful flight. The airport is located right next to the sea front and it feels like landing on water. The airport lobby had a single overhead fan operating and it was fairly chaotic packed with agents, non-uniformed officials operating randomly and everyone speaks up.
Old men wearing faded beige khaki uniforms in dark glasses with protruding bellies barked directions, threatening to poke the disorderly with their ceremonial staffs.
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Past the visa booths, African Union (AU) soldiers, mainly Ugandans offered a sense of reassurance for the simple reason that they all spoke Kiswahili.
The women were all covered up in hijabs and I would not see a single thread of female hair throughout my stay. Moments later our transportation arrived, a twin cabin Toyota Hilux. Five men hopped onto the back, all dressed in fatigues and AK 47s slung over their shoulders.
The men were of different heights and girth. Reminded me of an expatriate touch rugby squad in Arusha. The leader wore open sandals, had a scar right across his cheek and I noticed he had an injured eye visible through his shaded glasses.
His belt was unfastened, held up by the straps on his combat shirt but weighed down by gun magazines, his belly unrestrained. “Welcome to Mogadishu” my host would say reassuringly, “Our sakuriti (security) is good. They fight Al-Shabaab many times.”
WATCHMEN WITH AKs
We arrive at the hotel to meet an imposing gate fronted by a thick metal barrier. At the sides were concrete metal barriers. The walls were high, easily 15ft. Not even our military barracks have walls that high.
The adjacent wall had bullet holes. The watchmen all carried AKs and as we lowered our windows, they really checked you out. Between the airport and my hotel, I had seen more guns than I could count. Security presence is a way of life in Mogadishu. Once you get over the presence of guns, the city life was reassuringly familiar though distinctly commercial rather than touristic like most East African coastal towns I know of.
SLEEP OUTSIDE PEACEFULLY
It is easy to dwell on the negative stereotypes that we have come to associate with Somalia. Like in any other African city, if you go looking for them, you will find them. The city functions, if a steady Internet connection and cable TV are your priorities. The main roads are well tarmacked and there is solar street lighting. Mostly importantly, it is safe in a most ironic way. Five days in Mogadishu and I did not hear a single gunshot.
No windows had burglar proofing and I never had to lock my hotel room once despite the fact that I left my laptop and valuables while out at work.
As one resident told me when I enquired about the security situation, “It depends on what you mean by security. In Nairobi, I would never leave my doors unlocked. Here we sleep outside peacefully.” Mogadishu is certainly more than sum total of the stereotypes that trail it and it is rising while the ignorant mock it. There is an old Somali Proverb: “Get to know me before you reject me.”
