Welcome to SomaliNet Forums, a friendly and gigantic Somali centric active community. Login to hide this block

You are currently viewing this page as a guest. By joining our community you will have the ability to post topics, ask questions, educate others, use the advanced search, subscribe to threads and access many, many other features. Registration is quick, simple and absolutely free. Join SomaliNet forums today! Please note that registered members with over 50 posts see no ads whatsoever! Are you new to SomaliNet? These forums with millions of posts are just one section of a much larger site. Just visit the front page and use the top links to explore deep into SomaliNet oasis, Somali singles, Somali business directory, Somali job bank and much more. Click here to login. If you need to reset your password, click here. If you have any problems with the registration process or your account login, please contact us.

THE STRUGGLE TO SURVIVE IN SOMALILAND By Jennifer Parmelee November 14, 1992

what's happening now.

Moderators: Moderators, Junior Moderators

OUR SPONSOR: LOGIN TO HIDE
Cabdiyare89
Posts: 2
Joined: Mon May 09, 2016 4:05 am

THE STRUGGLE TO SURVIVE IN SOMALILAND By Jennifer Parmelee November 14, 1992

Postby Cabdiyare89 » Mon May 09, 2016 8:53 am

THE STRUGGLE TO SURVIVE IN SOMALILAND
By Jennifer Parmelee November 14, 1992

HARGEYSA, SOMALIA -- Welcome to the fragile heart of the self-proclaimed republic of Somaliland, a nation that would be, a wounded people living on the edge.

Four years after this city was flattened by the war machine of then-Somali dictator Mohammed Siad Barre and 18 months after Somaliland declared independence from the rest of Somalia, most of Hargeysa's battle-scarred inhabitants seem determined to get back to business the best they can. They are trying even if the international community does not recognize Somaliland as independent.

Although few shops were left standing, women in colorful print wraps sell tea, soap and tinned goods from the refurbished interiors of old shipping containers and converted troop carriers. Children chant their lessons in schools whose walls are blasted out and ceilings are open to the sky.

Money-changers in the bustling market stack piles of dollars, Somali shillings, Ethiopian birr and Djibouti francs. Electric power lines are being restrung, tin roofs restored. And each afternoon, well before the sun sets in the vast clarity of the Somali sky, men queue up to buy khat, a mildly narcotic leaf that is a staple of masculine life.

Beneath the innocuous and hopeful rhythms of daily rituals, however, drums the insistent counterpoint of anarchy and fear.

Even at midday, it's not uncommon to hear the crackle of automatic weapons fire around the city, while at night the boom of 50-millimeter guns is frequent. Vehicle theft and armed shakedowns have become routine for foreigners and more affluent Somalis, usually at the hands of young men who drive "technicals" -- pickup trucks and four-wheel-drive vehicles fitted with rocket launchers or machine guns.

This legacy of lawlessness, bred during the long years of destruction and the steady shredding of Somalia's social fabric, has been fed in peacetime by the near-total lack of government authority, the scarcity of economic opportunities -- and too many guns.

Rivalry among the dominant Isaak clans, submerged during the uprising against Siad Barre, has resurfaced during the ineffectual tenure of President Abdurahman Ahmed Ali. Ill-advised and unsuccessful military drives by the president's Habre Younis faction on the port of Berbera and the town of Burao earlier this year left Somaliland divided. Today, active and well-armed militias, including those of Moslem fundamentalists, challenge what little authority is left.

Out of 17 original government ministers, "only five or six remain," according to the president's own count. No organized legislature or security force exists. Government banks, all looted, are closed. Basic services such as health, schooling and garbage collection depend far more on community initiative and a few foreign relief agencies than they do on government.

Thanks to the resilient "social welfare" system of the extended family, an assertive network of elders and the reviving livestock industry, Somaliland has thus far avoided the complete breakdown and catastrophic starvation that characterize the southern stretches of Somalia.

Most Somalilanders seem determined to remain independent from the south, pointing to their distinct history as British Somaliland and four days of independence before it united with the former Italian colony in the south. The long years of repression by Siad Barre also helped forge a separate identity.

But the south has cast a troubling shadow: There is widespread recognition among Somalilanders that in spite of its hopeful start in May 1991, the new republic has plunged off-course. And, while the world has sent money and food to the rest of Somalia, Somaliland has languished in neglect.

"We have lost our way and must start all over again," lamented Sheik Ibrahim Yusuf Madar, the head of Somaliland's council of elders, at a recent meeting to consolidate a peace accord between the two opposing Isaak factions and to draft a blueprint for future governance. "The politicians failed us and left us in chaos."

The most pressing concern of the older generation is how to defuse the country's armed and angry young men. Officials from the Somali National Movement (SNM) that swept into Somaliland in February 1991, helping to oust Siad Barre, say the SNM's ranks of approximately 20,000 fighters have been joined by as many as 30,000 other armed youngsters. Many operate beyond SNM control, as freelance militias working for "protection money."

Although they rarely approach the level of violence of the gun-toting thugs who sow terror in the south, their unpredictable behavior intimidates foreigners and Somalilanders alike and keeps tensions high.

"If we don't quickly set up a system to create jobs and get things going, there will be total destruction," predicted SNM Col. Ibrahim Abdallahi Dagoweyne, whose own militia controls the area around the port of Berbera. "The international community can help us make a new beginning before it is too late."

The United Nations has long pondered a demilitarization scheme for Somaliland, but U.N. officials say it seems far from fruition: The absence of any central control over the country's many militias remains a major obstacle.

Somalilanders generally seem to realize that major external support will not arrive until, as Dagoweyne put it, "we organize ourselves a bit better." Many are pinning their hopes on the meeting of elders at Sheikh. Most factions would also like to see a new national reconciliation conference soon to set up a fresh government -- a move resisted by President Abdurahman.

In the meantime, the deep wounds of a decade-long guerrilla struggle and the devastation of Somaliland by Siad Barre's forces are left to fester.

OUR SPONSOR: LOGIN TO HIDE

Hello, Has your question been answered on this page? We hope yes. If not, you can start a new thread and post your question(s). It is free to join. You can also search our over a million pages (just scroll up and use our site-wide search box) or browse the forums.

  • Similar Topics
    Replies
    Views
    Last post

Return to “General - Current Events”

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 4 guests