Last month, I visited Mogadishu thirty-four years after I had left for an EU country for a three-year postgraduate course. Had not the civil war resulted in state collapse, I would have returned to Somalia as early as 1992. My dream came true in 2022.
The decision to visit my place of birth after three decades of a diasporic existence was influenced by a family commitment pertaining to overseeing a renovation project for our properties. I stayed at a hotel near KM4 but socialised at Hamarweyne most of the time. As a Shangaani-born lad (grandfather to be exact), I envied our rival district — Hamarweyne — which managed to maintain a little bit of its urbanite roots. There were odd trespassers who built stores in unpaved paths that, before 1991, were used by cars, motorcycles and people. I made a rough calculation that 15% of stores, shops and restaurants in Hamarweyne operate at illegally built premises.
Hamarweyne was the business centre of pre-war Mogadishu. Wholesalers, boutique shops, jewellers, bookshops, most of the cinemas and high-end restaurants were located there. Hamarweyne did not suffer great structural damages that reduced Shangaani to an inhabitable quarters, but its traditional glamour disappeared three decades ago when, I was told, armed clan militias looted shops, offices, museums and the national library among other places in the city Ibn Batuta visited more than six centuries ago. Hamarweyne is a semi-barracks district. Armed soldiers roam the streets. They do not look disciplined, but they are not very intimidating. My friend told me that he no longer fears soldiers because “they get paid on time and do not resort to mugging”. He told me that I “don’t have to use my iPhone outdoors”. I had to buy a popular niicle — Tecno, by brand name — to be able to make calls and pay the bills through a Hormuud-owned payment system.
Dollarisation of the Somali economy might be irreversible. I asked a retired economist why the federal government “is reluctant to print Somali shillings”. His answer served as a tutorial on monetary policy for a country that experienced state collapse. “For a government to print money, its writ must run throughout the country. If a federal member state does not use government-printed money, the status of the Shilling as a legal tender will get weakened. The government does want to tinker with the monetary policy. The Somali Central Bank depends on financial services conglomerates to follow national monetary trends” he told me.
One morning I ventured into Shangaani via the road from Afar Irdoodka past Ufficio Governo (Municipality HQ) and ex-Cafe Nazionale. A part Corso Primo Luglio (1st July Road) near the Central Bank was cordoned off. I stood in front of Jirdeh Hussein building to reflect on the day, 34 years ago, I bought a copy of Newsweek there. The far end of Unlaye building opposite to the Finance Ministry was temporarily sealed off: I remembered Mariotini cafeteria that I used to frequent.
The premises of the former Somalia Commercial and Savings Bank bore the brunt of shelling during the three-month war between forces loyal to rival warlords. I walked past Cappucetto Nero building not too far the building that once housed United States Information Service, near Bergola restaurant just a stone’s throw from the Syrian-owned Abulkheir restaurant, the former US Embassy building and Shareero Phone-Photo & Arts. I walked towards Secondo Lido to explore the district I was born in and lived since my sixth birthday. Most parts of Shangaani are deserted. Old buildings became more dilapidated because the area has yet to recover from the exodus of locals — Banadiri — whose ancestors laid foundations of Mogadishu.
When I reached the road to Scoula Media Centerale (Bartamaha), I turned left and walked 30 seconds and stopped to reflect on where Somali Arts studio was located. It was when I realised that the destruction of old Mogadishu quarters set Somalia back several centuries. Mogadishu is one of the oldest cities in Africa. Hamarweyne and Shangaani symbolise historical roots of Somalia’s capital city. Men wearing military fatigues were manning a roadblock. My friend later told me that they “are militias who may rob a person” of a mobile phone. “They are second generation militias who replaced fighters loyal to a warlord who controlled Shangaani fiefdom” my friend said.
The State Printing Agency premises looked like a disused dispensary. Shangaani once boasted prime real estate land, but now it is one of the least sought-after districts in Mogadishu. It is a political tragedy that powerful clans who claim Somali cities as their stronghold remain indifferent to war-induced marginalisation imposed on Banadiri communities.
Unplanned construction
Mogadishu today has more shanty towns of varying sizes than it had thirty-one years ago. I visited Wardhiigley, Hawlwadaag and Hodan districts. What grabbed my attention was the distortion of the planning norms that came into effect from 1970 — the 13X13 tredici plots of land. Land Department of Mogadishu municipality’s planners used a master plan that gave new Mogadishu districts a suburban feel.
From 1991, many people have built house on unpaved and unnamed streets in Mogadishu neighbourhoods. The risk of unplanned neighbourhoods grows when one goes to area near the Industrial Road (Jidka Warshadaha) once known as zona militare (military zone). In that area, people built houses without any guidance from the municipality. There are fewer alleyways. The standard 13X13 houses are rare there. The legacy of lawlessness seems to be difficult to shake off in Mogadishu as far as planning is concerned.
Mogadishu is no longer the melting-pot it once was. The way of the unscrupulous hustlers reigns supreme in Mogadishu, my friend told me. “What is the ‘way of unscrupulous hustlers ’?” I asked him. “Having no a sense of what belongs to you and what we share as a community” he said in a tone of self-assurance while pointing out to me a park that was illegally occupied and turned into retail units. Property and land disputes are on the rise in Mogadishu, so is violence relating to disagreements on family inheritance.
Property prices in Mogadishu rose by 70% since 2013, mostly in Hawl-wadaag, Hodan and Waaberi districts, a broker told me. “That is why property inheritance remains the foremost cause of intra-family violence in Mogadishu” the broker suggested. Mogadishu lost its diverse residential areas. The 1990s civil war predisposed locals to prefer living in an area specific to one’s close paternal relatives. This way of living in the capital city of Somalia reinforces the stereotype that the way of the nomads has prevailed over the ways of the city residents .
The fear factor
People in ‘government areas’( Maka- Al Mukarama Street, KM4 and airport areas, for example) feel relatively safe from Al-shabaab operatives who assassinate soldiers and government staff. The extremist group’s justice system is preferable, my friend told me, to the federal judiciary when it comes to land and property disputes. I was told that Al-shabaab “collects Zakat from many businesses in Mogadishu” (extortion money, according to its critics).
In Mogadishu, rival clan militias keep a low profile, and this persistent security menace gets ignored. The combined government and African peacekeeping forces contain the threat of armed militias. Somalia is way too far from addressing basic security problems in Mogadishu. Youth unemployment rate is high. No wonder young Somalis prefer to try their luck with tahriib (illegal immigration). After a four-week stay in Mogadishu, I have come to the conclusion that it serves the interest of Somali political classes to keep Somalia in a fragile state.
A. M. Ibrahim
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