Nighttime Outting for Tea

A few nights ago the AT team walked out to Abaarso Village at sundown for a little tour of the village and to have some Somali tea and sambusas, the traditional way to break the Ramadan fast. En route we discussed the difficulty of taking a census of such a village, as “properties” are very vaguely defined – many people lay claims to the same plot of land – and so there may be several housing structures (huts constructed of corrugated sheet metal, cardboard, and scraps of cloth) to a section of land, and several families living in these huts, or even sharing them. Perhaps the goat is a metaphor for the Somali definition of property: goats roam freely throughout the village and over the land that pleases them, but when night falls, they know where “home” is.

Continuing on a winding and loosely defined path toward the village main road we passed small herds of cows – 2-3 per group – and here and there a shackled donkey, its front legs lashed together with rope so that it would not wander far. In the US we build fences, and even electrify them, but we let our donkeys walk freely within their clearly defined pens. In Somaliland, fences have no place. One simply knows where one should go, and where one should not go. The donkey, valued for its labor, and less common than the goat, must stay close to its owner at all times, but without the assistance of a stake in the ground. The goat who is at any moment just one of a hoard, and nearer than not to his death in the dinner pot, has the pleasure of freedom and latitude. It is strange that the animal that must work for its supper suffers in its leisure time, shackled such that any movement is a spectacle, while the animal that will soon become supper lives an easy and natural life, apparently ignorant of its destiny.

We finally stopped at the three-sided corrugated-steel-and-cardboard hut of a Somali woman serving tea. In we went, removing our shoes, and sitting cross-legged on the burlap carpeting over the dirt floor, preparing to be served. The light was somehow bright and glowy, and so despite my close proximity to a convention of cockroaches crawling the walls and floor, I was at ease. Still, I just couldn't bring myself to guzzle Somali tea. It seems to me that Somalis are actually having tea with their sugar and milk, not the other way around, but for me this beverage wouldn't make for a comfortable evening. Nonetheless, I was absolutely grateful for the generous service, and for the chance to sit on the ground and share an evening tradition in Somaliland with happy company.