Somalia blog, 24-29 January 2010, Jack Hill for The Times

Not many people go to Somalia these days, particularly Westerners. When I told some of my friends where I was off to on my latest assignment, one was particularly incredulous and asked by text if I was completely mad and told me that ‘they don’t mess around there’.  Somalia – and Mogadishu in particular -has quite a reputation but I was curious to see for myself or at least as much possible while still aiming to come back in one piece.

Tristan McConnell our East Africa correspondent had arranged to embed with the African Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) peacekeepers specifically in Mogadishu. Although embeds are not necessarily ideal (you only get one perspective – the army’s) it seemed nonetheless the safest way to visit one of the most dangerous cities in the world.

For security reasons, this blog was not published until our correspondents left Mogadishu.

Day 1, 24 January 2010
After several days in Nairobi sorting out a visa (Somalia has no formal representation in London) Tristan and I headed off early to the airport to get our flight into Mogadishu. Curiously, going though the last security checkpoint before boarding, Tristan pointed to a box of confiscated items and, amongst the lighters and liquid bottles, was a 12-inch blade…
I had heard about the beaches around Mogadishu and as we approached, they looked spectacular – long, with pristine white sand and a deep navy blue sea broken up by the crests of waves.

 
General view approaching Mogadishu; in safer times, you could imagine this as a popular tourist destination. Click to enlarge (Jack Hill/The Times)

Ilyushin cargo plane that had been shot down on landing by an Al-Shaabab RPG. Click to enlarge (Jack Hill/The Times)

 
Unusual questions on the bottom of our immigration form.  Click to enlarge (Jack Hill/The Times)

We were met at the airport by our host Major Ba Hoku Barigye or BB. BB is the AMISOM spokesman for the mission in Somalia.
Later on in the afternoon we took an accompanied walk along the beach. Our movements on the base were restricted to the officer’s mess and our accommodation, which was next to the mess. The base encompasses the airport and we were able to walk along the runway on our way to the water’s edge. Stunning landscape, like an imagined moonscape in parts where the sea has receded exposing the coral to the elements.

Self portrait with the rubber on the runway.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

View from the edge of the AMISOM base out to the shark infested waters.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

Concrete damage in the shape of Africa on the roof of one of the administrative buildings. If you look at it picture long enough it seems to change, equally if you turn it upright.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times) 

Day 2, 25 January 2010
An early wake-up with trumpets for the flag raising ceremony 06.00.  Part of the itinerary devised by our hosts was to visit the Ugandan OPD (out patients department) – a free service in the base giving Somali civilians access to primary health care – clearly popular judging by several hundred people queueing to get to see a doctor, some apparently travelling for miles, mainly with diseases such as malaria and diarrhoea or minor injuries.

 
Patients at the OPD.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

The hard realities of the situation here were brought home quickly afterwards when a mortar landed at the gate to the OPD several hours after our visit, killing six civilians and a Ugandan peace keeper. We only discovered this by chance while visiting the military field hospital, where we found a mother and her little boy who was wounded by shrapnel from the blast.

Mother and child at the field hospital.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

It is difficult to take pictures of people who are clearly distressed. You don’t know how they are going to react and it doesn’t feel good shoving a camera in their face. But if we don’t record it, how can we explain what someone is going through, what is going on?  The doctors said that the little boy would be fine.

Day 3, 26 January 2010
Today was to be the first time we get off-base, a chance to see a bit of Mogadishu proper. There was no question of our hosts allowing us to walk around, but we were to see two of the areas under their control: the port area and K4. On the way to the port, there was barely a structure that didn’t have the marks of twenty years of conflict: shelled out buildings; bullet holes in walls, many with just the skeleton of the internal structure remaining. It looked like a war zone, but still strangely attractive and you could imagine how it had once been, with Italian style tree lined avenues and piazzas, and muted pastel tones. 

A scene in Mogadishu .  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

A scene in Mogadishu.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

South African made Caspirr travelling through Mogadishu.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

When travelling out of the base, the Ugandans use Caspirrs. Shooting through the windows was pretty much the only way to take pictures of the town. Fortunately, the tinted bullet proof glass acted as a filter against the bright light. I tried shooting through one of the gun turrets, but gave up after I was directed to the forward of the two turrets. The forward one was tiny and when I went up, it became immediately apparent, that neither the gunner nor I could move, causing both of us to feel slightly uneasy – if any one were to open fire, he wouldn’t be able to fire back, I couldn’t take pictures and neither of us could move. I awkwardly got back down.
The port itself is a hustling bustling place, with trucks loaded in ways that would have health and safety officials back home pulling their hair out, in fact I didn’t see one vehicle that might pass an MOT, many looking like something out of Mad Max.

  
Heavily laden truck in the port.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

Working in such an environment can be tricky; a new area, lots of people (mainly young men) and, as you can imagine, port areas around the world can be tough places. I’m not sure what I would make of a westerner walking around taking pictures if I were a Mogadishan port hand. Everyone was mostly friendly, although many warned us that it wasn’t safe and that the Al-Shabaab had spies in the port.

Yawning after a hard days work.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

On route back to the base is the K4 (Kilometre 4) roundabout – a strategic position the Ugandans hold, where they can protect their base, the presidential palace and the airport. We arrived just after midday and the light was blinding. Obviously, photogenic, but difficult to shoot given the how bright it was, almost a white out.  However, now wasn’t the time to be fussy and, based on previous experience, there was no time to waste – not knowing whether we would be here for ten minutes or an hour. In the end it was closer to an hour, spent mostly on the roof of what used to be the Egyptian embassy. Being reminded to keep heads down in case of snipers from the Bakara market, a Shabaab stronghold nearby.

If it’s too bright outside, step in. Ugandan soldiers having some down time.  Click to enlarge (Jack Hill/The Times)

DAY 4, 27 January 2010
Today was one of those days that you can get on embeds. You sit around all day waiting for something to happen… an appointment had been made to see the President but, due to some logistical hiccup, no one had booked the transport and we were stuck in the officer’s mess. There are worse places to be but it was frustrating. To occupy the time, I edited pictures from the previous day and spent time on a new found pastime – photographing nearby birds, much to the Ugandans’ amusement.

 
Preening birds on the base.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

In the late afternoon, our host Major BB took pity on us and took us to see the new departure lounge at the airport. Hardly breaking news, but it was a welcome break from sitting and pacing around, and did offer a chance to take some fresh pictures.

Smart boy in the departure lounge, sitting on plastic covered seats.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

 
Number plate held together by a piece of rope at the port.  Click to enlarge (Jack Hill/The Times)

Damaged mosque, airport.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

Photographers are constantly looking for symbols to define the situation as a whole and, on the way back from the airport, I noticed this damaged mosque which, in turn, reminded me of the number plate I had seen at the port.

DAY 5, 28 January 2010
And an outing. Another chance to see President Sheikh Sharif Ahmed in Villa Somalia, his official residence. We were told there was going to be a surprise – which was the rehearsal for the anniversary celebrations of his first year in office. Great, a chance to meet people and shoot some colour (the background to a story). It was a colourful affair, marching bands, vibrant outfits….

Rehearsals for the anniversary celebrations.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

Unfortunately the President was tied up with other engagements and we were invited back to see him the following morning. But it was uplifting to see Somalis enjoying themselves – improbable in such circumstances, but life goes on – always.

DAY 6, 29 January 2010
A restless night, I woke up to the sound of a loud explosion at around 2.30 am.  I asked Tristan if he had heard it, and he laughed – wondering how I’d managed to sleep through the previous half hour of shelling. It sounded a way off, but difficult to tell. We could hear mortars landing, which we assumed were incoming from the Shabaab, and tank fire and katyusha rockets outbound from the Ugandans with sporadic heavy machine gun fire (Later we were to find out it was K4 under attack). The fire continued with brief pauses until around 8.30 am. It was difficult to get accurate information and we couldn’t see anything but we discovered that the Ugandans at K4 had pushed out of their position forcing the Shabaab into withdrawal or hiding…
Because of the intensity of the fighting it seemed unlikely that we could make our appointment with the President; to get there meant passing K4 on route – so it was a surprise when BB got us to hustle for our convoy.
Though it was a typical ‘hurry up and wait’ moment.  We waited for an hour or so before the convoy turned up. We were already late, and by the time we arrived at the palace (the streets looked just the same as they had on previous days with people going about their business), the celebration party was already under way. We were ushered into the main hall and, almost immediately, there was a huge bang just outside and the room started to fill with cordite-smelling smoke; a young girl was calming the older women around me. A mortar had landed just outside the hall… Within a minute or so calm was restored and the party continued as if nothing had happened, determined that the party wasn’t going to be affected – it was only interrupted by the return fire of the peacekeepers’ tanks and rockets in the neighbouring yard.

The President, Sheikh Sharif Ahmed at the celebrations.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)  

Civilians wounded from a mortar round being treated in the presidential palace.  Click to enlarge (Jack Hill/The Times)
  
We had a plane home to catch and Major BB was determined that we would catch it. So we were unable to stay for the end, and didn’t get a chance to meet the President, but it was quite a way to leave the country.

End note:
Friends and family usually ask me when I get home from similar assignments what the conditions were like. Well, they were pretty good. Our hosts, the Ugandans, had found us an air conditioned portable cabin with brand new mattresses and mosquito nets.

There was no running water so we had bucket showers, which are much appreciated given the hot and dusty conditions and, hey, I’ve never had a kingfisher join me in the shower before.

 
Tristan clearly delighted to see me waiting for him outside the shower.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)

Temperatures were running into the thirties; however, as we were on the coast, there was a cooling breeze most of the time. The other facilities were pretty rudimentary, a long-drop toilet, which was better in the day than the night when the roaches would come out to feast. We ate all our meals in the officer’s mess and dinners, invariably beans and rice with either meat or chicken, were accompanied by the African Cup of Nations which was a favourite of the officers and soldiers alike.

The ubiquitous African Cup of Nations, never did get the exposure right.  Click to enlarge  (Jack Hill/The Times)