A GLIMPSE OF SOMALIA

 It's like visiting two worlds, to emerge from the noisy, chaotic bedlam that is Baqqara Market and stand on the ledge of Dolphin Hotel, Mogadishu Liddo Waterfront. 

Baqqara is like Eastleigh on steroids; it gives the heady, money fuelled energy that hovers one short step from madness.

The energy at Liddo is calming, with a sweet breeze blowing in from the impossibly beautiful azure waters of the Indian Ocean. 

It's Independence Day, and Mogadishu is teeming with optimism.

Blue flags all over and the mojo is infectious.

Even the aged militiaman who frisks me for hidden weapons is relaxed, doing so while sitted, his rusty, ancient Kalashnikov at his feet and a cigarette jauntily clamped at the corner of his mouth.

The signs of a nation rising cautiously but boldly from its ruins are all over.

Behind me, the ancient, bomb scarred ruins of warlord Ali Mahdi Mohammed's former HQs and palace are now flanked by a spanking new, multi-storey apartment complex. 

Children play excitedly along Banadir Street, where once, brigands in the employ of Mohammed Farah Aideed exchanged large caliber rounds with those of Nur Mohammed Shatigudud.

Still, we rise.

Somaaliya.Somaliyadeena. Our Somalia.

courtesy : Itote kiboi - Facebook 

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