Remembering Somalia: Guns, poverty and hospitality

Somalian women walk as sunset approaches [Ty Faruki]

Somalian troops patrol the streets of Baidoa, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

Somalian troops patrol the streets of Baidoa, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

Somalian troops patrol the streets of Baidoa, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

Somalian troops patrol the streets of Baidoa, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

People gather to pray for rain in Kismayo, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

Having faced down a history of adversity another catastrophic drought has ravaged Somalia several times over. The horn of Africa, surrounded by water, known for piracy and civil war is barely recognised for its hardships and a Trumpian blacklisting of Somali citizens further overshadows its plight. According to the administration of Somalia, more than 360,000 people are affected by the encroaching disaster breeding famine and disease as a consequence. Little aid is delivered and agencies on the ground are beginning to struggle without the necessary media coverage to spotlight problems of the displaced.

As my plane descends over the town of Baidoa the plains of Somalia’s dune like landscapes make clear there is something terribly wrong. Scorched earth dotted by lifeless trees and slender dirt roads resembling scars encapsulate the notion from what briefings were given to me. But to witness it first-hand demonstrated what Somalia has become – a desert.

Guns, poverty and hospitality is how I will remember the country. Around every corner a soldier carries his gun like a third arm, glistening through the sweat accrued standing in the sun. Shown to my room it was evident the building had been attacked in the past; it had crumbling walls and bullet holes scarring its exterior. Barbed wire decorated the compound as did barred windows. I was fortunate that a fan had been installed in my room. The gust of it barely caught the bare soles of my feet in the searing 37 degree heat which were magnified by the enclosed walls.

Walking through the streets, the poverty struck me as children lay by themselves while parents made a short way to investigate the availability of water. As I walked I took pictures of my surroundings, heads peered from a makeshift home. Feeling threatened, some children panicked mistaking the camera for a firearm triggering them to drop what they were doing and run screaming.

Somalian troops patrol the streets of Baidoa, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

People gather to pray for rain in Kismayo, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

Somalian troops patrol the streets of Baidoa, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

Somalian troops patrol the streets of Baidoa, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

Somalis need not say anything, their story relays through the eyes, in the physical wounds and ills they carry. The bloating of feet and weathered skin a sign of drought turned famine. Flies divide amongst the air, clinging to any and everyone in their way. And, as I review the photographs at basecamp, I notice how many I have captured in the pictures.

On the faces of those who crossed our paths were paradoxical smiles offering their version of hospitality through a myriad of methods.

On the eve of leaving, I witnessed Kismayo town come together praying for rain. It was a beautiful sight. Their smiles outweighed the content of their circumstances.

The day before we were due to leave, a bomb exploded one minute drive from where we were staying. I logged onto Facebook for the first time in a while once this happened hoping my locality would offer insight into what was happening. No “mark yourself safe” offered on Facebook, nothing at all was being reported.

Beyond the shores of Africa’s horn, the helping hand was helping itself. The camps are filled with stories haunting those who dwell within them – the day to day routines they once had, a kiss goodbye to their loved ones as they waved them off to school and like a click it was gone. The sudden news of Somalia’s disaster was broadcast without warning and the delay of its absorption meant it may be too late for some. What hope can you pitch to a spirit that has broken and if you go to Somalia – yours will break too.

People gather to pray for rain in Kismayo, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

People gather to pray for rain in Kismayo, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

People gather to pray for rain in Kismayo, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

People gather to pray for rain in Kismayo, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

Somalian children stand on the remains of an exploded car [Ty Faruki]

Somalian children play on trees [Ty Faruki]

Somalian children play on the beach in Mogadishu, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

Image of dried maize that has been shrivelled in the heat due to the drought [Ty Faruki]

Somalian troops patrol the streets of Baidoa, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

Barred wires surround building in Mogadishu, Somalia [Ty Faruki]

Somalian woman stands on land in hopes of stopping it from being infertile [Ty Faruki]

Somalian man stands outside as the sunset approaches [Ty Faruki]

Somalian child in the arms of his mother [Ty Faruki]

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.