Residents were busy with their daily activities during the Ramadan fast. I was speechless until we reached Taleh residential area.
WEIGHTED SCREEN CURTAIN DRIVER
Surprised at my anxiety and restlessness, the driver said: “My friend, stay calm, this is normal.” I smiled to respond positively but did not say a word. Gunshots, I was told, are used as “traffic lights” to disperse jams and as warning shots. The traffic is hectic and it is controlled by traffic police, military and administration police. This road is also one of the busiest roads in Mogadishu it directly connects State House and the airport.
WEIGHTED SCREEN CURTAIN WINDOWS
It is Maka Al-Mukarama road, known for nearly non-stop hooting vehicles - mainly small shuttle buses with overloaded passengers, some hanging onto the doors and windows while the conductor clings to the rear side as he shouts for more passengers. We turned onto another highway that was also very scary for newcomers like me, but normal for local residents. That day was unique in particular because it was the 17th day of Ramadan, a day on which every year are known to carry out deadly attacks to commemorate one of the Islamic holy wars that took place on this day in history.
I thought they were clearing up the aftermath of a fight in the city, but little did I know that this was the order of the day in Mogadishu. I was extremely scared and could not believe my eyes. We drove along the airport road, one of the city’s most dangerous, with heavily armed security personnel at frequent road blocks. I was driven by a colleague in a taxi through many checkpoints with heavily armed guards comprised of AMISOM and Somali troops. It was far from international standards - with all the signs of the wreckage of war and unfinished reconstruction under way. The small airport and its facilities were very busy and chaotic.
Almost all the passengers in the plane I was travelling in were Somalis, mostly returning from abroad. I arrived at Aden Ade International Airport in Mogadishu on 26 July, a Friday morning. I wanted to live on the soil of my ancestors away from the congested refugee camps of Dadaab and far from the tall buildings of Nairobi that hosted me temporarily and offered me an opportunity to be a citizen in a second home where I grew up and studied peacefully.Īfter almost two decades in Kenya, I finally decided to return to the country of my origin after getting an exciting opportunity to work with the Ministry of Education in order to bring hope to the next generation and give back my skills and knowledge to my community. My journey back to Somalia, my home country, was a dream and a choice I always wanted to achieve.
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