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In a tiny, damp, oil-soaked cellar tucked behind one of Mogadishu’s bullet-pocked central streets, fragile remnants of a city’s survival clutter the rickety shelves. Their location, hidden just beneath Mogadishu’s shelled façade, is perhaps their only reason for survival.

For 45 years, Daha Printing Press has accumulated an inked archive of Mogadishu’s intricate, vibrant and violent political and social history. As governments, dictators, warlords, and militias battled for control of the streets above, Daha operated like a well-oiled machine, printing for all who walked in their door. Everybody, it seems, has something to print.

“Even warlords needed to collect taxes,” Liban Egal, the son of Daha’s original owner, asserts.

Customs declaration forms for Mogadishu’s bustling port, still written in Italian from early post-colonial days, sit freshly pressed on the table; they are being repurposed for Somalia’s new government. Tax collection slips and Central Bank account ledgers from the military rule of Mohamed Siad Barre — whose ousting in 1991 launched two decades of civil war — litter the stock room. Business cards, like that of notorious warlord Mohamed Farrah Aidid, who was the target of a failed American assassination attempt (which in turn resulted the infamous ‘Black Hawk Down’ incident), fill old wooden drawers. Even United Nations Development Program reports from the 1980′s hide under crumbling shelves.

Originally opened in central Mogadishu in 1967, Daha Printing Press was founded by 25 year-old Abdi Egal Hassan. Hassan took skills he mastered studying printmaking in Germany through a scholarship, and built a thriving enterprise.

By 1969, General Mohamed Siad Barre staged a successful military coup and took control of Somalia. He experimented with Chinese-influenced ‘scientific socialism,’ and in 1971 all private sector workers became government employees. All large businesses became government businesses. Daha was shut down.

Barre eventually switched sides during the Cold War, aligning with the US. In 1983 Abdi was able to reopen Daha Printing Press. The small letterpress shop has remained unchanged in location, machinery and employees, ever since.

Liban Egal, Abdi Egal Hassan’s son, currently owns Daha. Liban, who grew up working the printing press after school, has recently returned to Mogadishu after spending more than twenty years abroad. In addition to resuming work at the press, he is founding the First Somali Bank — Somalia’s first since the collapse of the country’s Central Bank in 1991 — along with Somalia Wireless, a mobile internet company.

With Mogadishu quivering on the edge of sustained peace for the first time in two decades, Kasim and Liban are ready to welcome the arrival of Somalia’s first real government in as many years. On August 20th, the Federal Parliament of Somalia was inaugurated, and the Federal Government of Somalia, the first permanent central government since 1991, replaced the Transitional Federal Government. On September 16th, Hassan Sheik Mohamud, a political activist and academic, was sworn in as Somalia’s newest President.

“As soon as this new government begins, that’s when we begin,” exclaims Liban “Every Ministry will need some kind of paper.”

The old Heidelberg printing press, its slickly oiled gears churning beneath the shell-shocked streets, will also press on. “We can’t forget this machine,” Kasim expresses with a wide grin. “It’s like family.”

 

All photos are by the author.

 

 

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Daha Printing Press first opened its doors to Mogadishu in 1967. Despite a brief period of nationalization during the ’70s, the shop has remained with its original owners, and printers, for over three generations.


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Though security and stability may be slowly returning to the streets of Mogadishu, even at Daha, an armed guard is still a necessity.

 


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Kasim Shiek Ahmed, 60 (left), and Liban Egal, 43 (right), and their families have been linked through the letterpress for nearly half a century. Kasim’s father was Daha’s first printer, and Liban’s father, Abdi Egal Hassan, founded Daha. The two play a game of Shax, similar to checkers, during down time at the shop.

 


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After Somalia won its independence from Great Britain in 1960, many young Somali students were offered scholarships from European universities (Britain assumed control of the former Italian colony after World War II). One such student, Abdi Egal Hassan (left), just 19 at the time, earned a scholarship to studying printing in Germany in 1961. He graduated in 1963, and returned to Somalia to start Daha Printing Press, named after his first daughter.

 


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A little-used stockroom is now a scattered archive littered with years of printed history; tax receipt books, business cards, customs forms, completed jobs forms and unpaid invoices. On the shelves areleftover national ID cards from the tumulous years of the Somali National Alliance, from 1992-2001.

 


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The main room of Daha Printing Press, a sweltering cellar beneath the former “Las Vegas Bar,” where decades of ink and sweat have spilled on the dark concrete floor. A massive Heidelberg Original Cylinder press takes up most of the space.

 


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German-made Heidelberg presses are often hailed as “the finest letterpress machines ever made.” Daha’s Heidelberg Original Cylinder was built sometime around the 1940′s, and fits Mogadishu perfectly. It’s a workhorse–cheap, reliable, and easy to maintain. Unlike newer lynotypes, it costs nearly same to print one sheet as it does 10,000.

 


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In the printing hayday of the 1980′s Daha’s Heidelberg was operating around the clock. The business was lucrative. “It’s where our family made our money before the diaspora,” says Liban. The civil war occationally ground production to halt, but most days, the printing went on.In the printing hayday of the 1980′s Daha’s Heidelberg was operating around the clock. The business was lucrative. “It’s where our family made our money before the diaspora,” says Liban. The civil war occationally ground production to halt, but most days, the printing went on.

 


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Kasim Sheik Ahmed, 60, oversees production of customs declaration forms for Mogadishu’s busy port. The same exact forms his father printed at Daha in the late 1960′s – in both Italian and English–are being repurposed for the new government.

 


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Nicknamed “Tobleno” (cartoon, in Italian,) fitting for his wiry, humorous, and highly animated presence, Kasim has worked at Daha Printing Press for 45 years, except during the 11-year period of nationalization. He still works at Daha from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m., every day except Friday, and is always found wearing a traditional somali macawiis (sarong) and tank top-and typically with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

 


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Despite working a letterpress for almost his whole life, Kasim still cannot read or write. He relies on his current assistant, Ali Abdullhi, to lay the type.

 


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Dozens of boxes of hard metal typfaces fill a wooden shelf near the printer. Each box has the typeface name, and font sizes, from 8 through 48.

 


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Kasim moves swiftly around the machine. Like a dancer, he has style, a unique way of pushing, filling, cutting, pushing, rotating, and moving. He doesn’t speak any English, but acts in effective gestures, like sign language. I check his hands–not one cut, missing finger, or bruise.

 


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Liban, who inherited Daha after his father died, leafs through a collection of old receipts. As a teenager, Liban worked in the shop with his father after school, and briefly ran it in the ’80s before moving to the US. When Liban visited in 1997, he found over $1 million in outstanding loans from the government, which had taken prints on loan but never paid. He quickly turned the shop around stating “No credit–for anyone!”

 


 

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UNDP’s Somalia Annual Development Report from 1985. One notable excerpt: “Currently, the government is not placing a high priority on the development of tourism. There nevertheless exists a considerable potential to exploit the attractions of the extensive and wholly unspoilt coast.”

 


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Receipts from the 1980s, before the Somali civil war. Some are written in Somali, others in Italian. The price, 6,650 Somali Shillings, is worth less than 25 cents today.

 


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Business card of former Col. Axmed Cumar Jees. Throughout Somalia’s troubled recent history, Daha has remained an impartial and unbiased entity, printing for anyone who has attempted to control Mogadishu, legitimately or by force.

 


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An original business card of General Mohamed Farrah Hassan Aidid, one of Mogadishu’s most notorious warlords and former Chairman of the Somali National Alliance. A failed attempt by US Army Rangers in 1993 to capture General Aidid resulted in the now famous ‘Black Hawk Down’ incident. He declared himself president of Somalia briefly, and died during a battle in 1996.

 


 

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A paper printout of the Somali flag hangs on the wall. Despite dramatic shifts of power and control since the nation’s independence, the flag, much like Daha, has remained unchanged.
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The Atlantic

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SHEDDER REFUGEE CAMP, Ethiopia, November 1 (UNHCR) – Seventeen-year-old Hodan’s eyes sparkle with joy as she clutches her new English-Somali dictionary – a congratulatory gift from UNHCR on passing a national high school exam.

She’s one of 35 teenage refugee girls in Shedder and Awbare camps, near Jijiga in north-east Ethiopia, who recently passed the national exam to make it into Grade 11. An impressive 85 per cent of Hodan’s classmates passed, triumphing over hardships that usually hold girls back in her traditional Somali society – and in the refugee camp she has called home for the last three years.

“I have to help my mother,” says Hodan. “I spend most of my time cooking, taking care of my brothers and sisters, cleaning our place. There is no time to do my homework during the daytime.” When she does have time to study after finishing her chores, “it is already dark and there is no electricity in the camp.”

Undaunted, Hodan adds: “Sometimes I get up at two in the morning and light a candle to read my textbooks and write exercises.”

Against odds like those, fewer than 20 per cent of teenage girls were attending schools in the three refugee camps in Jijiga that host more than 41,000 Somali refugees. That was before UNHCR launched a special programme at the beginning of this year aimed at getting more girls to attend and stay in school. Since then female attendance has soared to 32 per cent.

Even though education is free, families still struggle to pay for uniforms, books and supplies. If they have to make a choice, they educate their sons rather than their daughters.

With support from the United Nations Foundation, the UN refugee agency began putting more books into refugee camp school libraries and hiring women teachers as role models and mentors. Girls got their own space in the schools where they could spend their breaks and do schoolwork.

Even better bathrooms made a difference in boosting girls’ attendance and classroom performance. In Shedder Camp, all 28 of the Grade 10 girls who sat for the national examination passed, and 75 out of the 76 male students.

Another important ingredient of success was convincing parents and the rest of the community of the importance of educating girls. “We want to encourage more girls to continue studies,” says Agnes Mukantwali, head of the UNHCR sub-office in Jijiga.

Hodan, who fled the embattled Somali capital, Mogadishu, lives with her mother and five younger brothers and sisters. She says girls are often forced to drop out of school to get married at a tender age – often because desperately poor parents need the dowry money the daughters attract.

“I am not yet married and hope to be able to complete the secondary school first,” says Hodan.

Mukantwali agrees that girls’ education is essential. “If educated, refugee girls can change the life of the entire community – not only in the refugee camps, but also when they return to Somalia one day,” she says. “These girls are the future of Somalia.”

The education project is now giving solar lanterns to all boys and girls in both camps in Grade 4 and above. For Hodan, it’s a chance to study, do homework and read – even after the sun has gone down.

“My dream is to get a scholarship and go to university to study computer sciences,” she says. “Can you imagine a Somali female information technologies specialist? I want to prove that it is possible. I can do it.”

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Trust.org

By Natalia Prokopchuk in Shedder Refugee Camp, Ethiopia

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A Las Vegas cabbie is being heralded as a hero after he valiantly returned a quarter-million dollars to a gambler who absentmindedly left behind his winnings on the way to the airport.

Ethiopian immigrant Adam Woldemarim found the cash stuffed in a black laptop case and quickly returned it to his supervisor, not even once thinking of pocketing the winnings as his own.

The winner was so thrilled to be reunited with his bills he gave Mr Woldemarim a $2,000 tip, no small sum to the struggling driver, and was on his merry way.

Mr Woldemarim was cleaning out his car just after 2 a.m. on September 2 when he spotted something curious: a black laptop case shoved between the seats.

He unzipped the package and peered inside, where $221,510 dollars was tightly nestled, he told the Las Vegas Review-Journal.

Stunned by the sight, he called up his friend who had driven the cab earlier in the evening.

‘Is this yours?’ he asked his friend, who is also from Eithiopia.

‘No,’ the friend replied. ‘Take it to security.’

An honest man, Mr Woldemarim headed straight for the security office of Frias Transportation Management, which owns his company Virgin Valley Cab.

There, security officers called police and began photographing the exorbitant evidence and sent Mr Woldemarim on his way.

An hour later, he got a call from the office – he had to turn around and come back.

Waiting for him was a twenty-something man with brown hair, a plain T-shirt on and a wide grin. The man told him that he had won big at the Wynn and left his cash in the cab on the way to the airport.

‘Thank you sooooo much!’ the man told Mr Woldemarim, before handing him $2,000 for his troubles.

Mr Woldemarim said he wasn’t expecting anything, but now he’s the one who is thankful.

He works 12 hours a day six times a week for a meager $350 salary, so $2,000 goes a long way.

His friends, however, were not as impressed.

‘It would have been nice if my good friend got more money, but I think the most important thing here is that a lot of people think foreign cabdrivers like us abuse tourists or they long haul their customers or we’re just here causing problems and we don’t belong here,’ Alex ‘Baharu’ Alebachew, 50, a friend of Mr Woldemarim, said to the Las Vegas Review-Journal.

‘They never see the good side to us, the honest side. If you can just print that, that would be nice.’

Mr Woldemarim said he saw their point. In Ethiopia, $2,000 is a small fortune.

‘I’m not living in Ethiopia anymore,’ he said. ‘I’m in America.’

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Daily Mail

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At the age of 15 Halima Ismail Ibrahim was already advocating for women’s rights at her high school in Afgoye, 30 km from Mogadishu.

With or without a functioning state, as a passionate and committed human rights activist and recently appointed the Co-Chair of the Technical Selection Committee (TSC), Halima has been working for the poor, human rights and with youth for decades.

READ THE WHOLE STORY

somalia savingMOGADISHU, Somalia — For the United Nations, the war-torn Somali capital is one of the ultimate “hardship posts.” The U.N.’s few foreign employees based there are entitled to lucrative hazard stipends in exchange for living in one of the world’s most dangerous cities. But for Turkish aid worker Orhan Erdogan, it is his family’s home base.

Erdogan, a 45-year old veteran of crisis zones such as Darfur, moved from Istanbul to Mogadishu last August as the aid group he works for, Kimse Yok Mu, ramped up its efforts in response to the severe famine in the Horn of Africa. His four teenage children are now in school in neighboring Kenya, but Erdogan and his wife live together in Mogadishu. “My family lives here to share the reality with me,” Erdogan said. He doesn’t downplay the risks. “Our lives are always in danger; one can expect to die any time in Somalia. However, the satisfaction of delivering aid to starving people who face death keeps us working, whatever the security situation is.”

Erdogan is far from alone. Turkish Ambassador C. Kani Torun, Ankara’s first Somalia-based envoy since 1991, estimates there are between 150 and 200 Turkish nationals currently based in the country. At least 500 more Turks — many of them with little experience abroad — came to volunteer in the months after the famine was declared, a period that corresponded with the Islamic holiday of Eid al-Adha, the Festival of Sacrifice.

The influx of Turkish aid workers has corresponded with a fresh interest by the Ankara government in Somali affairs. In 2010, Turkey established itself as a key international player in Somalia by hosting an international conference in Istanbul that focused on security and investment in a country more often thought of for piracy and social chaos. Then last August, Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan made a landmark trip to Mogadishu, traveling with his family and a plane full of ministers and advisors. They only stayed for the day, but the visit — the first by a non-African leader in more than 20 years — made a lasting impression.

“In Turkish culture, it is believed that something good will come out of all bad experiences,” Erdogan wrote in an article for Foreign Policy last October. “In Somalia, too, this disaster [the 2011 famine] can mark the beginning of a new process by focusing international humanitarian efforts and global attention on the plight of the region.”

Turkey’s leadership in Somalia has left some international players impressed (the Turks are “ballsy,” one Western analyst told me), others skeptical (“cowboys,” said a Western aid worker), and most a bit of both. But there’s no question that Turkish aid workers have received a warm welcome among Somalis, achieving a level of access that their Western counterparts can only dream of.

“Prime Minister Erdogan smashed that wall that made Mogadishu a no-go zone,” Mogadishu mayor Mohamed Nur said. “That was the best gift that Somali people can have in the last 20 years. It completely changed the face of Mogadishu” and marked the start of a series of visits by foreign ministers from other countries, he said.

Make no mistake: Mogadishu is still extremely dangerous for foreigners, especially humanitarian workers that hail from Europe and the United States. In a grisly incident last December, a disgruntled member of Médecins sans Frontières’ own local team gunned down two of the group’s longtime employees in Mogadishu. A month later, U.S. Navy SEALs staged a nighttime raid to rescue an American aid worker and her Danish colleague who had been kidnapped in central Somalia and held for three months.

Kidnapping risks are so high and security so unpredictable that until recently few foreign aid workers were able to spend any significant time in Mogadishu, and many areas in the south continue to be considered totally inaccessible. One Western aid worker employed by a government with a long history of humanitarian engagement in Somalia said that he has only ever traveled to the capital once in seven years on the job — and then only for a day.

Remarkably, there have been no reports of Turkish nationals being killed or kidnapped in Somalia. As I walked through camps for displaced people in Mogadishu, children and adults alike shouted out in excitement, “Turkei! Turkei!” — the presumed nationality of anyone obviously not Somali. An ambulance with Turkish lettering drove by, two white faces in the front seats and no apparent security. Turkish aid workers in the camp wore bright-colored vests bearing the emblems of their organizations, not body armor. It’s a far cry from the typical U.N. approach of rolling into a camp in an armored personnel carrier, sporting flak jackets and helmets, and encircled by a group of well-armed peacekeepers.

How have the Turks managed to avoid the security pitfalls that have befallen the many outsiders who have come to Somalia — with cash, solemn pledges to help restore stability, and notions about governance — since the government fell in 1991?

“Because they are welcome here!” said a Somali businessman. “They decided to stay, even if it’s too risky here, [because] they help the people.” He said Somalis see Turks around town, going to mosque, without obviously displaying the fear characteristic of most foreigners. “Somalis see them coming and going every day and they are pleased,” he said.

Their shared Islamic faith provides an underpinning for strong Somali-Turkish relations. But it is also the Turks’ understated approach to working in Somalia, and their willingness to provide direct assistance (even, according to several aid workers, in the form of hard cash), and Ankara’s engagement at the highest levels — especially with Somalia’s Transitional Federal Government (TFG) — that has gone far to earn Turkey favored status in Somalia.

“With the Turkish mentality, as a Muslim, we aren’t separating ourselves from the public,” said Serhat Orakci of the Turkish aid group IHH, which drew international attention in May 2010 when it sponsored the Gaza-bound flotilla that was violently raided by the Israel Defense Forces. IHH has had a presence in Somalia for 15 years and boosted its efforts there in response to last year’s famine. “We live near to people, we stay in cheap hotels, we don’t go to luxury restaurants, sometimes we visit their homes and eat with them,” Orakci said.

Asked if this approach is a formal policy of IHH, Orakci laughed, wiping beads of sweat from his temple. He wore a slightly wrinkled dark suit, despite the afternoon sun. “This is our lifestyle. In Turkey also we live like this. It’s not something we planned and teach our staff; this is our way.”

The famine was crucial in bolstering popular support in Turkey for heightened engagement in Somalia, aid workers and diplomats said. “A lot of Turkish news channels came to Mogadishu and broadcast images of starving Somalis,” Orakci said. Turkish people were moved at a time when they were fasting and making sacrifices for the holy month of Ramadan — “it had a big effect,” he added. And with Turkey’s economy on the rise, logging 8.5 percent growth in 2011, people increasingly have the means to give. Aid groups launched large public campaigns that generated tens of millions of dollars for famine relief.

The combination of this private support and help from the government in Ankara has had a powerful effect. During his visit, Erdogan announced plans to reopen Turkey’s embassy in Somalia, a pledge he made good on in November. Turkish money — nearly $350 million between private donations and government contributions combined, according to the Turkish Foreign Ministry — paid for the reconstruction of hospitals and visits by Turkish doctors, opened schools, sent hundreds of Somali students to Turkey on scholarships, and rehabilitated the airport, among other projects. Last month, Turkish Airlines began twice-weekly flights to Mogadishu from Istanbul. Its first commercial jet landed at the city’s international airport to much fanfare and a welcoming party that included the Somali president.

Measured by dollar amount, Turkey’s contributions over the past year are on par with other international actors long engaged in Somalia. But Turkey is doing a better job of “marketing their assistance,” said E.J. Hogendoorn, the Horn of Africa director for International Crisis Group. Because the Turks are seen as having a novel approach and strong relations with TFG officials, they could have a major influence on the political process.

“The big question will be whether Turkey will learn [the context of Somalia] quickly enough to not get duped by the TFG,” Hogendoorn said, explaining that Somali leaders have become expert at playing international actors off of each other to get what they want. “Somali elites have been doing this for 20 years,” he said, a nod to the two decades since Somalia’s central government fell and various leaders and factions have vied for power.

Others are less charitable about Turkey’s method for distributing humanitarian aid. Rashid Abdi, an independent Nairobi-based Somalia analyst, called Turkey’s initial approach “uncritical” and “naïve,” but he said that Turkish leaders have demonstrated some willingness to learn from criticisms — for one, the importance of engaging Somali leaders outside of the capital and not “mistaking Mogadishu for Somalia.”

But Abdi is critical of Turkish aid groups and government agencies’ habit of casting aside longstanding methods for delivering assistance. “Bypassing the traditional mechanisms for aid delivery in Somalia did not make them effective; it just created the conditions for that aid to be captured by mafia-types in the TFG and elsewhere,” Abdi said. “I’m not a great defender of the Somalia aid industry. But there’s no other mechanism [in the country] that delivers aid better. Solo efforts in Somalia don’t work.”

While Turkey’s approach to aid delivery hasn’t yet tarnished its reputation in Somalia, it is likely to reinforce the view among the political class that Turkey is yet another outside power that can be easily manipulated. Somali leaders see Turkey’s humanitarian efforts “as a banner of heaven to wean off of Western aid,” Abdi said.

Istanbul will host another international conference on Somalia in June, which is currently slated to be the last major gathering before the TFG’s mandate expires and — if the process goes according to plan — a more representative government under a new constitution comes to power. (Popular elections are still a ways off.) Analysts say that Turkey clearly has strong opinions about Somalia’s political process — this conference may be the moment Ankara attempts to translate its humanitarian good deeds into political leverage.

Sitting in the garden of a pleasant but unpretentious guesthouse in a Nairobi suburb during a rare visit to Kenya, Turkish Ambassador Torun didn’t offer many specifics about Turkish policy toward the transition, but suggested that Western concern about possible TFG efforts to extend its mandate were misplaced. He said that his experience working with Somalia’s current leaders contradicts the “rumors” in Nairobi and Western capitals that the TFG is angling for an extension. “They [TFG leaders] want to complete this transition period as soon as possible, so I don’t see that they are spoiling the process,” Torun said.

Turkey is thought to have close ties with several leading politicians in the transitional government, in particular with Somali President Sheikh Sharif Ahmed, whose wife (one of three) is said to reside in Turkey. Regarding Sharif’s role in Somalia’s post-transition political landscape, Torun was diplomatic but unambiguous: Sharif’s position will “depend on the Parliament’s decision; however, I think he should have a role.”

That’s a markedly different opinion from the view held by many observers of Somali politics. Sharif has been “completely inept,” said a Horn of Africa analyst who asked for anonymity to speak candidly. “It was a big mistake in 2009 to have elected him — and this is a view echoed by Somalis on the streets. He has … squandered every opportunity to fix Somalia. I hope to God that he retires somewhere quietly.”

Torun didn’t shy away from discussing the economic opportunities also driving Turkey’s engagement. “The Turkish approach to Africa is a kind of win-win situation,” he said, pointing out that Turkey has opened 31 new embassies across the continent since 2005. “In some parts of Africa we already have historical and cultural links, but we want to extend these links and open up for business.”

Turkish private investment in Africa has risen sharply over the past decade. In 2000, there was “scarcely any” Turkish investment on the continent, according to the Turkish Ministry of Economy. That began to change in 2003, and by late 2011, investment exceeded $5 billion. The government’s engagement with Somalia has fueled private sector interest. A representative of Turkey’s largest business alliance, TUSKON, said that Somalia is increasingly on the radar of Turkish investors, particularly for its potential in construction, building materials, real estate, mining, and agriculture industries.

While these economic considerations are a factor, Torun emphasized that in Somalia the interest is primarily humanitarian, and he shrugged off critics of Turkey’s go-it-alone approach. “The typical Somalia approach by the international community, especially Western governments, deals with politicians — that’s it. Conferences, conferences, endless conferences. And people don’t have any trust, any confidence in this,” Torun said. “All the money we use we bring to Somalia through our government and agencies, and Somalis use it directly. If they deliver food, they deliver it themselves. If there is need for medical relief, we bring Turkish doctors.”

But it is precisely this emphasis on patronage that analysts say overlooks the importance of Somali initiative and dangerously reinforces the expectation of handouts that has left Somalia dependent on aid and trapped under the thumb of warlords in the first place.

With longer-term projects — like building hospitals and roads — the Turks have established a reputation of professionalism, said a non-Somali analyst. “But when it comes to emergency assistance, their approach has very much been charity-based, which is the traditional Muslim way of doing zakat [giving alms] and is done without much analysis, without much consideration for the longer term,” the analyst said. “You see someone who’s hungry, you give them food. You see a government that’s in crisis, you give them cargo.”

It’s a course long charted by a host of international actors, with little lasting positive impact. After Somalia’s more than 20 years of war, even skeptics hope Turkey can find that delicate balance between partnership and tough love. Turkey’s new humanitarians could be game changers — if they can avoid wearing out their welcome.

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Source: FP

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Nabadgelyo.

skyGaranmayno sababta ay dadka qaar maalmahaan ay u fuulfuulayaan dhismayaal aad u dhaadheer laakiin ninkani waxa uu sameeyay geesinimo dheeraad ah.

Ninkan ayaa fuulay sarta aadka u dheer ee Stalin (Moscow) isagoo aan wadan ama aysan ku xirnayn wax xargo ah ama amaan ah.

Halkan Ka Daawo

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