Went to Somalia, Got to Somaliland

k, if you look on your map you will see framing the horn of Africa a country called Somalia with a capital city called Mogadishu that you may have heard mentioned on the news. But maps can be a bit misleading sometimes (my huge Time Magazine atlas of the world doesn’t have Palestine listed in the index… that really pisses me off, perhaps I should write a strongly worded letter)


Somaliland is the top right bit of Somalia. They declared independence 15 years ago and have been their own country ever since. They have their own government, own currency, own flag, own key rings, t-shirts, hats and ‘I love Somaliland’ bumper stickers. The only thing they don’t have is international recognition. No one outside of Somaliland sees it as a separate country. It must be incredibly frustrating for them. I recognize Somaliland.


We reached the capital Hargesia late, the first hotel we were shown commented on men with long hair. It was explained to them that I was in fact a female with trousers and exposed hair. We were rejected but got a better place in the centre of town with the luxury of single rooms and a hot shower. Ah.


Hargesia was cool, chilled, friendly and full of inquisitive people who often asked if we were journalists. This could have had something to do with Tristam’s huge SLR camera, but we were asked frequently even when the cameras where packed away.


The most striking impression that I will always remember about Somaliland is a moment from the first morning we were there. The others were sleeping but I had got up early in search of a cup of tea. I sat down at a stall and ordered my cup. They serve tea in large sized cups with camels’ milk and sugar. Delicious. As subtly as possible I counted out from my few 500 shilling notes what I thought was the price of a cup of tea. As I kept a wary eye out for potential thieves, pickpockets, con-artists, and beggars, a man walked past with a wheel barrow filled with cash all bundled into stacks and piled high. No bodyguards, no dogs, no guns, just a guy taking his cash to the market in a wheelbarrow.


I ended up going to the money changers who sit behind a small wall of money. Beggars come and go but no body touches what is not theirs. The highest note is 500 shillings and is it worth about 0.07usd. It denotes that there may have been an inflation problem by the government overprinting money. I’ve noticed his is common in these parts.


We hung out in Hargesia for a few days; we spent some time with ‘Mike’ who is the son of a diplomat recently stripped of his diplomatic passport and privileges. He showed us around, which was cool but then he started asking Darius and Tristam for money. It was an odd situation for me, cause normally I’m alone so deal with things in my own way (aggressively, dogmatically with zero-tolerance and always prepared to play the help-I’m-a-victim card). Mike wouldn’t deal with me (I’m just a girl… ready to play the help-I’m-a-victim card).), so the guys handled it, I got to sit back (which I’m not used to but could learn from) and the guys got to have a complete African travel experience of dealing with someone who sees you as an opportunity for easy money.


Sarah, Darius and myself had been itching to see the sea. Liam who had been to the coast a few months before hadn’t given the coast a rave review “dead dogs” but it was our only chance to see ocean for another few months so we piled into a minibus… waited a couple of hours while the filled the minibus with enough people, then we headed sea-wards.


We had been told several times that we would need to travel with guards, and that we would have problems at the police check points. There was a check point and the boarder line of each town and each state. When we saw a checkpoint we simply pretended to be asleep. We traveled though dusk and nighttime, Sarah and I had headscarves, Darius a hoodie and Tristam his kafiye (the I’m-an-Arab, pizza-hut-tablecloth scarf) so we were not noticed.


The port town we reached was Berbera. We were obliged to clock in with the police who said we needed security guards, and then changed their minds after hearing that we were only planning to stay a couple of days, yay. We all spent one fabulous day at the beach playing in the sand and swimming in the waves. Not a dead dog in sight, there was a few live camels though and a school of catfish in the waves. We all got sun burnt.


Sarah left early to return to Hargesia and caught a flight back to Addis, Darius spent a day recovering from sunstroke and Tristam and I slowly meandered around the port and the town. The port boasts clear turquoise water and brilliant tropical fish; it is also filled with rusty boats that for some reason look spectacular rather than dirty. If Somaliland does get international recognition the ports would fill with living ships and the beaches with the waste of tourists.


It was an excellent trip… a bit too short though. I miss-predicted the time it would take us to get back. Because we were traveling to a deadline (Tristam’s flight) I thought it better to have a day up our sleeves in case an axle broke or one of us got food poisoning, we ended up getting back two days before necessary, it gave us time to go on a hash walk and check out a museum in Addis.


Tristam is safe and well back in London where they have footpaths and toilet paper that you flush. Meanwhile Sarah, Darius and myself have returned to planning, teaching and grading. Mandy was not here when we arrived back, she had a death in the family and has returned to South Africa, she left behind a sweet black and white cat who has also since left us.