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African
country reflects Iraq and Afghanistan: Fears over Somalia,
an important land to America
Posted by Jonathan Curiel jcuriel@sfchronicle.com
The parallels to Iraq and Afghanistan are so obvious, it's
as if history has quickly repeated itself. There's the
presence of American military in a Muslim country. There's the
hunt for members of al Qaeda. There's the warning from the
camp of Osama bin Laden that it will "break (the)
back" of the United States and its allies. And there's
the suspicion among critics that U.S. involvement is really
about oil.
But instead of Baghdad and Kabul, the capital of this failed
state is Mogadishu. And instead of the world holding its
collective breath to see what happens, there's a din of
silence. Or at least a muted response that surprises those who
think the events in Somalia should make the East African
country a priority for anyone concerned about the domino
effect of global affairs. What happens now in Somalia could
lead to a wider war in the strategically important horn of
Africa that eventually draws in the United States and Europe
for years.
"There is a need to secure this country," says the
United Nations' special envoy to Somalia, Francois Fall, in a
phone interview from Nairobi.
Last week, a U.S. Air Force gunship flew over Somalia and
fired on suspected al Qaeda targets -- at least the second
time Washington has launched air strikes since it helped
depose the country's Taliban-style government four weeks ago.
The last time the American military was in Somalia so deeply
was 1993, when its troops patrolled a country whose warlords
were vying for control of Mogadishu. In October of that year,
Somali militants killed 18 American servicemen in the
now-famous "Black Hawk Down" battle, which prompted
President Clinton to withdraw all U.S. forces in March 1994.
For 12 years, Somalia continued to be a chaotic, lawless
country, which is why some Somalis initially welcomed the
Union of Islamic Courts, the extremist government that took
control of Mogadishu last July and brought a measure of safety
and stability to the country. But Said Samatar, a Somali
American professor of history at Rutgers University, says that
government implemented Draconian measures: Music was banned;
soccer was banned; taking photos of people was banned; the
chewing of qaat, a leaf that produces a natural buzz, was
banned; and women were required to wear black veils.
Somalia is 100 percent Muslim, but most Somalis are moderate,
and they resented the government's dictates, says Samatar.
Complicating matters: The government was controlled by the Ayr,
who are one of Somalia's ethnic sub-clans. Somalia is divided
into four main ethnic clans and many sub-clans, who are
(generally speaking) more loyal to their clan than to any
religious ideology.
Somalia may be perceived as a country of violent, al Qaeda
loyalists (the movie version of "Black Hawk Down"
certainly fueled this impression), but most Somalis rejected
the way bin Laden's organization tried to use their country as
a beachhead against the West. Because most Somalis also
rejected the government's use of radical Islam to maintain
power, they welcomed the intervention of the United States and
Ethiopia -- two powers that sometimes have been enemies of
Mogadishu.
Cabdi Daahir, a Somali American who lives in Santa Clara, is
among those who supported the military action that chased the
Ayr-led government from power. Daahir takes issue with Ayman
alZawahiri, al Qaeda's No. 2, who said in a speech released
last week that Bush's "slaves" would be killed and
driven from Somalia.
For Somalis, their country's connection to its Arab neighbors
can be a sensitive issue. Somalia is a member of the Arab
League, and its proximity to Yemen and Saudi Arabia gives it a
pan-Arab identification. But, as Daahir points out, Yemen has
been the only Arab country to take in large numbers of Somali
refugees, who have poured out of the nation in droves since
1991, when the ouster of President Muhammad Siad Barre led to
turmoil and warlordism. Saudi Arabia and other Arab countries
have tried to prevent Somalis from settling there, while
Somalis who do make it to these Arab countries often face
discrimination and hardship.
"Only one Arab country supports Somali refugees,"
says Daahir, sitting in the San Jose home of his friend, Ahmed
Dirie, a Somali American who has lived in the United States
since 2002. "All the other (Arab countries) kill Somalis,
put them in jail, don't permit them to work, nothing. Or they
just help the warlords."
Then there's the subject of oil. Like its Arab neighbors,
Somalia has petrol reserves, but these deposits have gone
untapped in the almost two decades since oil companies
including Chevron signed deals with Somalia's government. In a
sign of the relationship between these companies and American
involvement in Somalia, Conoco reportedly let the U.S. Embassy
use its Mogadishu compound in December of 1992, when Marines
landed in Somalia to begin what was at first a humanitarian
mission. In 1993, Conoco's then-representative in Somalia,
Osman Hassan Ali, told Toronto's Globe and Mail newspaper that
the "strategic value" of the country's oil reserves
was a factor that propelled Washington to send troops there.
One reason the United States went back to Somalia this winter
is to capture al Qaeda members who participated in the 1998
bombing of the U.S. embassies in Kenya and Tanzania, which
killed more than 200 people. After the United States left
Somalia in 1994, it became a safe haven for terrorists.
Regardless of why the United States is back in Somalia, it's
important for Washington to stay there and support the
transitional government, and to pour millions of dollars into
the country's reconstruction, say Daahir, Dirie and Shuaib
Dualeh, a Somali American who was also interviewed in San
Jose. If the United States doesn't invest in Somalia, they
say, the country could easily slip back into an anarchic
state. Like Daahir, Dirie and Shuaib welcomed U.S. military
involvement in Somalia.
In 1992, Americans cared deeply about Somalia. When famine and
fighting gripped the country in 1992, President George H.W.
Bush ordered troops and assistance sent there in 1992. Bush
himself visited Somalia that December, after the American
media showed live coverage of U.S. troops landing on Somalia's
beaches.
Like last time, though, the United States "could fall
into a trap," Dirie worries. With its factional clans,
history of warlordism, and changing fortunes, Somalia "is
so complex," says Dirie, former head of the Bay Area
Somali Community, a group that helps the estimated 5,000
Somalis who live in the Bay Area. "If anyone looks at it
with one single lens, you will never get the whole
picture." Ignoring Somalia because of this complexity
would be a mistake, says Fall. Somalia is on a precipice from
which it can either be stabilized or knocked over by a faction
of extremists who are still in the country.
Last week, militant Somalis attacked the presidential palace
in Mogadishu but were repelled. An Iraq-style insurgency could
happen. To prevent that, the United Nations is encouraging
talks with former members of the Union of Islamic Courts. A
delicate peace process is under way.
"I'm sure it will be a long process," says Fall,
"but we can't afford to lose momentum."
Momentum is something Somalia has lacked since the United
States was last there. This time, things may turn out
differently for Somalia and the United States. Without
American involvement, says Dirie, there would be little hope
for Somalia's future.
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