Assalamu Alaykum, and welcome to Somaliland

Okay, heeeeeere we go. I'm settling in Somaliland, and have had some time to collect my thoughts.

The trip out here was a bit long, requiring several steps: from the US to Dubai, then on to Djibouti, and from there, to Hargeisa. But I found myself in the good company of four of the other new AT teachers, and so the experience was enjoyable. During a 7 hour layover in Dubai (from 7:30pm to 3:00am) we all met up with another AT teaching-couple who showed us around some of the city. We went to the Dubai Mall for dinner at a relatively high-end Lebanese restaurant (we felt the mall would be a safe bet in terms of avoiding GI issues for those of us who were new to the region), and after dinner took a water taxi to Old Dubai for a stroll. Even in the dark, Dubai was impressive, if only because of the heat and humidity. The wealth and prosperity of the region is obvious at every turn, as is the society's reverence for the native Emirate. My travel companions and I came to the general consensus that, while glamorous, and a remarkable tribute to the possibilities of wealth, ingenuity, and urban planning, Dubai would be much more interesting if it had more of a substantial history – like that of its neighboring UAE states – Abu Dhabi, or Oman, or even Yemen. Since not one of us was in a position – financially, or in terms of luggage space – to partake of the most readily accessible entertainment (shopping,) the glitz of the place seemed a distant frivolity, almost irrelevant. Still, there certainly are worse places to endure a 7-hour layover.

When preparing to board our plane out of Dubai International to Djibouti, the other female teachers and I decided it was time to cover ourselves with the traditional Muslim headwear for women – the hejab. I was quite self-conscious for the first few minutes wearing it. I felt like a fraud, I worried someone might think I were mocking the culture, wearing such unnatural (to me) and striking things, the head scarves. After about 5 minutes, though, I realized that no one even noticed – nor cared. And just when I had nearly forgotten I was wearing the flowing cloths, while walking down the aisle to my seat on our plane, a woman praised me for my modesty and cultural respect, asking with a smile, “Do you always cover like this?” expressing her approval of the behavior. Now, a few days later, I'm no longer worried about the possible implications of my adopting this customary wear; instead I worry about securing it tightly enough to withstand the strong Somaliland winds. It feels sort of – elegant, chic even – to wear the scarves now, and they do a wonderful job of keeping the dust out of your hair. And at the end of the day – no tangles! Nothing's windblown! So the hejab has its advantages.

For these few days I've been wearing my Western-bought Pashmina scarves with my (modest) Western clothing – we haven't acquired the full Somali “dirrha” or day-dress, yet; maybe I'll feel differently as I adjust, once again, to that style of dress. Time will tell.

Landing in Djibouti felt magical – it was my first Africa-moment, at 5:30am. The Djibouti airport is, of course, right on the Gulf of Aden, so coming in for landing right over the water was fun. The air in Djibouti is hot, dense with humidity. The civil/commercial part of the airport is small and old but very neat, with signs in French and English. The American military base there is much larger, and sprawls with quansit huts that hide F-16s in the sandy terrain. While military operations run according to a seemingly tight and heavily active schedule (several planes departed and/or carried out touch-and-goes on the runway during our 2-hour layover), the commercial operations are less driven by the march of time. We boarded our plane 45 minutes after the scheduled departure time, and this was not, apparently, anything out of the ordinary. This didn't bother me at all - I enjoyed the extra time to look around.

We flew a 1960s era Russian Ilyushin-IL 18 into Hargeisa, a cargo plane that had been converted for passenger use. It was by far the most pleasant leg of the flight for me – soothing turbo prop engines with that comforting drone lulled me to sleep, despite my desire to take in the aerial view of the landscape at such a low altitude. Ah me!

The change of climate upon landing in Hargeisa was very welcome – suddenly the air was cool, there was a stiff wind, everything was dry. There were few flies, and no mosquitos thanks to this steady and gusting desert-mountain wind.

We were met at the airport by the head Abaarso Tech (AT) staff, we waited for our luggage, (which all arrived on time - apparently a rare phenomenon. When the planes are fully loaded with passengers, there is not sufficient room on the plane for luggage. Because our plane was not full to capacity, our luggage came with us, Praise Allah.) As we proceeded with the exchanging of passports and luggage collection it became clear that things are slow, pleasant, and done in their own time in Somaliland. Eventually we carried on with a drive around Hargeisa in a couple of LandCruisers, en route to the Abaarso Tech campus. Along the way we stopped for watermelons at a stand; the unusual frequency of the rains this year has made conditions for the watermelon crop particularly favorable, and so lots have been produced. This has made the price of watermelons in the Hargeisa market very cheap, but this day our driver Hassan explained that the price had just gone up ever so slightly.

The main currency here is the American Dollar, with the Somali Shilling used as change. The conversion factor from the shilling to the dollar is ~6,200 to 1. Merchants in the city have this rate down cold, and are immediately aware of any changes, it seems. Merchants in Hargeisa operate according to the invisible hand of the free market, setting prices and constructing stands according to supply – demand – and opportunity cost. Merchants have even set up shop right outside the AT compound, which is an 18 kilometer drive from Hargeisa, far away from any other substantial settlement, for the sole purpose of marketing their goods (food, qat) to the construction workers and students on campus.

The merchants operate with a surprising ethic of honesty in their sales, in my experience so far, and this has been corroborated by the stories of others. The salesmen (and women) will not let you pay more than something is worth, no matter how gullible a foreigner you are.

My primary experience with the merchants to date was in purchasing a few cloths to have made into dirrha, the Somali day-dress, and the accompanying underskirt and hejab. We were encouraged to buy the cheapest, paying no more than $2.50 for the large sheaths of cloth. We have yet to get them tailored, but the cost of this service, I'm told, should come to no more than $2. So with a $7 underskirt that will go with every dirrha (or “moo-moo” as we affectionately call them) and roughly $5 for the hejab (combination skull-cap (not the offical term) and overhanging scarf), a total of $16.50 will get you at least one whole outfit. “Tailoring” your Somali dirrha is its own unique experience – you can get the most basic tailoring job done for just a few cents! The few-cents job is such that your tailor will cut and hem holes for your head and arms, and hem the sides and bottom of your “moo-moo.” This is the true “sack of potatoes” look, but unbeatably comfortable. The fabric patterns and colors of the fabric for the dirrha are not subtle. Somalis flaunt loud fabric patterns and bright colors. It's refreshing, actually. No need to worry about the latest Vogue while here. And the dirrha seem so cheerful and happy in their colors and patterns – the total opposite of, say, New York black and skinny jeans.

Just after my debut as a customer in the Hargeisa marketplace, the AT team went to dinner at a Hargeisa restaurant, supposedly one of the best around. The place was called “Fish & Steak.” Unfortantely, that night Fish & Steak had no steak, but I was saved by a plate of boiled goat. It was, actually, in all sincerity, pretty darn good. We ate outside in open air, in a yard filled with screened-in hut-like structures, which normally serve female clientele. These structures are to give women a bit of privacy to enjoy their meal while maintaining their modesty. The most eventful part of the dinner was the behavior of the feral cats roaming the area, mewing out pleas for our table scraps. There was a brief spat between two cats under our table, but no one was harmed.

***

One Hargeisa characteristic I noticed immediately, and that I was not expecting, was the litter all over the place. In the countryside, throughout the town, on every tree, there are blue plastic bags. The blue plastic bag is what every merchant gives with every sale. And because there is no waste-collection service in the country, the bags, and all of their non-biodegradable contents, end up all over the landscape. Figuring out an environmentally sustainable waste-management system at Abaarso Tech is a longterm but very important goal. Insh'allah, AT will figure this out post haste.

Garbage in a valley, west of Hargeisa, by Abaarso Village

Speaking of Post...this is also lacking from the Somaliland scene. There is no postal service. None. So don't bother with any care packages, and please don't expect any post cards. FYI.

Breathing space in Somaliland, outside Hargeisa

To shift the focus from the lack, I must take a few lines to say that there are many, many things in abundance here - goats, camels, land-tortoises, ants, guavas, and kind, good-hearted, peaceful people make me feel rich with joy and blessings. Most of the land is very pure and ruggedly beautiful. Rocky desert terrain dotted with acacia and desert aloe is the backdrop in which herds of goats and sheep roam. The wind gusts, and sometimes howls, the sun is almost always shining, its light broken by an occasional rainstorm. Rain here brings life to the red-rocks of the high hills, greening all manner of hardy desert plants. Somaliland is breathtaking and heartwarming and complicated and full of history and the potential of its people. This is what I've learned so far.

Goats in a valley