With
Spotlight on
Pirates,
Somalis on
Land Waste
Away in the
Shadows
By JEFFREY
GETTLEMAN
11/10/08
"New York
Times" --
AFGOOYE,
Somalia —
Just step
into a
feeding
center here,
and the
sense of
hopelessness
is
overwhelming.
Dozens of
women sit
with
listless
babies in
their laps,
snapping
their
fingers,
trying to
get a
flicker of
life out of
their dying
children.
Little eyes
close.
Wizened
1-year-olds
struggle to
breathe.
This is the
place where
help is
supposed to
be on its
way. But the
nurses in
the filthy
smocks are
besieged.
From the
doorway, you
can see the
future of
Somalia
fading away.
While the
audacity of
a band of
Somali
pirates who
hijacked a
ship full of
weapons has
grabbed the
world’s
attention,
it is the
slow-burn
suffering of
millions of
Somalis that
seems to go
almost
unnoticed.
The
suffering is
not new. Or
especially
surprising. This
country on
the edge of
Africa has
been slowly,
but
inexorably,
sliding
toward an
abyss for
the past
year and a
half — or,
some would
argue, for
the past 17.
United
Nations
officials
have called
Somalia “the
forgotten
crisis.”
The causes
are
unemployment,
drought,
inflation, a
squeeze on
global food
supplies and
a war that
will not
end.
Fighting
between
Somalia’s
weak
transitional
government
and a
determined
Islamist
insurgency
has been
heating up
in the past
few weeks,
driving
thousands
from their
homes and
cutting
people off
from food.
The hospital
wards here
are one
indicator of
the
conflict’s
intensity.
“In the past
two months,”
said
Muhammad
Hussein, a
doctor at a
feeding
center in
Afgooye,
“our
patients
have
doubled.”
In August,
200 women
with
emaciated
babies lined
up outside
his clinic
every day.
Today, there
are 400.
More than
three
million
people,
about half
Somalia’s
population,
need
emergency
rations to
survive.
Nobody seems
to like it.
Many say
they feel
humiliated.
“That’s all
we talk
about: when
will the
next handout
come,” said
Zenab Ali
Osman, a
grandmother
raising her
daughter’s
children.
Before
fighting
drove her
from
Mogadishu,
the capital,
to Afgooye’s
endless
refugee
camps of
gumdrop-shaped
huts made of
plastic bags
and in some
cases soiled
T-shirts,
Ms. Zenab
used to wash
clothes for
a living. On
a good day,
she made the
equivalent
of 80 cents.
The civil
war has
eviscerated
the economy,
leaving so
many people
to survive
on pennies.
But out on
the high
seas, it is
a different
story.
Pirates
thrive off
this same
lawlessness,
making
millions of
dollars by
hijacking
ships in
Somalia’s
unpatrolled
waters and
demanding
hefty
ransoms to
free them.
On Sept. 25,
a band of
pirates
seized a
Ukrainian
freighter
full of
tanks and
other
weapons
bound for
Kenya.
The pirates
are asking
for $20
million, an
unfathomable
amount here.
Negotiations
are still
going on,
and the
price will
probably be
closer to $5
million. No
one wants to
pay the
pirates, but
in this
case, with
20 crew
members
being held
hostage on a
ship full of
explosives,
giving in
may be the
safest way
out.
But the
pirates may
be growing
impatient.
According to
The
Associated
Press, they
threatened
Friday night
to blow up
the ship if
they were
not paid the
money within
three days.
“I pray to
God they are
caught,”
said Dhuho
Abdi Omar, a
mother who
was waiting
at a feeding
center in
Afgooye with
her
2-year-old
girl, who
had not
eaten for
two weeks.
“These
pirates are
blocking our
food.”
Not everyone
agreed. Many
young men in
the camps
seemed to
lionize the
gunmen of
the seas.
“They’re
tough guys,”
said
Muhammad
Warsame, 22.
“And they’re
protecting
our coast.”
The pirates
have made
the same
argument,
saying they
hijack ships
in response
to illegal
fishing and
dumping.
“They’re our
marines,”
said Jaemali
Argaga, a
militia
leader.
Somalia has
not had any
marines, or
national
army or navy
of any
significance,
since the
central
government
imploded in
1991.
Clan-based
warlords
carved the
country into
fiefs,
preying upon
the
population.
People
eventually
got fed up,
and in the
summer of
2006, a
grass-roots
Islamist
movement
drove away
the
warlords.
Ethiopia and
the United
States
accused the
Islamists of
sheltering
terrorists,
and in the
winter of
2006,
Ethiopian
and American
forces
ousted the
Islamists.
But the
Islamists
are back.
Supported by
businessmen
and war
profiteers,
Islamist
guerrilla
fighters are
viciously
battling the
weak
government
forces and
Ethiopian
soldiers.
Civilians
are often
caught in
between.
Thousands
have been
killed in
the past
year and a
half.
Many aid
workers have
fled. The
United
Nations
World Food
Program is
one of the
last
organizations
with a large
staff inside
Somalia.
Denise
Brown, the
deputy
country
director,
said the
environment
was
increasingly
hostile. And
desperate.
Thousands of
hungry
people
besieged a
convoy of 35
United
Nations-chartered
food trucks
moving
through
Mogadishu
two weeks
ago. They
stripped the
trucks
clean,
looting more
than two
million
pounds of
food.
“It’s
unprecedented,”
Ms. Brown
said “Things
just went
haywire.”
That has
taken food
out of the
mouths of
people like
Ms. Zenab,
whose
daughter was
one of the
20 street
sweepers in
Mogadishu
killed by a
bomb in
August that
was buried
in a pile of
garbage.
She is now
helping
raise
several
grandchildren.
Amina, 13
months old,
will not
eat. The two
sat the
other day on
a cot
covered with
flies. All
around them
were babies
looking up
at the
ceiling with
round wet
eyes, some
with faces
covered in
tape because
they were
too sick to
swallow and
were being
fed milk
through
their noses.
Whom does
she blame?
“Those with
guns,” Ms.
Zenab said.
“Whoever
they are.”
Copyright 2008 The New York Times Company
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