AIS: During the years when SNM was based in Dire Dawa on the Ethiopian side of the border, a leadership group visited with my maternal uncle, Mohamed Abdillahi Kahin, commonly known as Hogsade. At that time, he was the richest Somali in Ethiopia and his main office was in Dire Dawa. They pleaded with him to make a financial contribution to the struggle against the regime of Siyad Barre. This appeal carried with it an emphasis on his tribal identity as a member of the Issaq kin group. Where you approached and with the same plea?
Dahabshiil: Yes! But remember that at this time, I was not as prominent as Hogsade was. Those who came to me were not serious people. Later, when Burao lay in total ruin, it was not appropriate to ask me or others for money. We lost most of our assets. In the early years of the SNM, though, I declined some requests to contribute. The reason was that it never dawned on me that some group calling themselves Jabhad would successfully challenge the national state with its large army, vast weapons, and fighter planes. After all, I said to myself, this was the national armed forces that a decade ago defeated Ethiopia until the Soviets, Cubans, and Yemenis intervened. At that time, then, I never believed that relatively small bands of young Issaq men will successfully challenge the state. In addition, my economic circumstance was quite brittle. Thus, I made no contributions during this period.
AIS: Hogsade told me years ago that he replied to the plea by saying to the SNM, “if you are asking for a financial contribution to help with the plight of the displaced Somalis, I will do my best. However, if you are soliciting money for war, I could not be part of such a scheme.” Please, continue…
Dahabshiil: During the closing days of the war in Burao, I returned to the town to look at what became of my Bakhaars. I meet with Colonel Mohamed Kahin (current Minister of Interior in Somaliland) who was now among the military officers of the victorious SNM contingent. I told him that I had loaded one truck with items that I deemed necessary for the family group I left behind in a rural outpost. He laughed at me and inquired if I was afraid that the regime’s troops and authority might return. This exchange took place at a building that belonged to the Technical School, where there were assembled a number of SNM offices, besides Kahin. Colonel Kahin rejected my request. Our encounter was taking place while the sounds of heavy gunfire could be heard to an extent that the noise kept disrupting our conversation. While this was happening, I was informed that a cannon had hit my house. Two people were killed immediately. Quietly and deep inside me, I thanked Allah for making me leave the house in time! Finally, I went back to the house and decided to bring the loaded truck without permission, but in a situation where gunfire was coming from many directions, I drove the truck to where I left the family and others. When we arrived, there was a quick stampede by all to get hold of whatever was edible. That is all I salvaged from the five full Bakhaars I owned in Burao.
AIS: So, this was the end of a major chapter of your business life, right?
Dahabshiil: Yes, I lost almost everything! We will now join the hundreds of thousands of destitute Somalis from the North. For me, the only capital left was the tiny sum of 30,000 dirhams that a few individuals owed me in Dubai.
AIS: This meant that you had to start all over again?
Dahabshiil: Right! I had nothing. Consequently, I made a decision to go West into Ethiopia towards the town of Jigjiga. Remember, prior to this moment, I have never had an encounter with officials of the Ethiopian state. I was, therefore, in misery and high angst, but still itching to redouble my effort to rebuild my life and that of our family.
AIS: Does this mean that you had given up on life in Burao and the old country?
Dahabshiil: For the time being, yes! The destruction and mayhem I witnessed were overwhelming. Given the unevenness of the collapse of the national institutions, for us in Burao, the violent decomposition started in May 1988. I was there and witnessed the full beginning and the crescendo of the dark times enveloping the whole country.
AIS: I assumed that at this time you are getting ready to go to Ethiopia to restart rebuilding your life?
Dahabshiil: Yes! One day, I crossed the border, and after a ride on another truck, I made it to the town of Gashamo – the place that my current passport identifies as the site of my birth. I inquired about the name and address of a small businessman that I used to trade with. I arrived at his building, he recognized me and offered me a seat, tea, and water to wash the dust off. I bought some food with the little cash I brought with me. The main documents I had at this time were the Somali Republic passport and the work certificate from the Emirates. My ultimate objective was to return to Dubai, but, for now, to examine business opportunities in Jigjga and Dire Dawa. The businessman in Gashamo secured me a permit to travel and stay in Ethiopia. His truck took me to the small town of Harshin. After a couple of nights in a town, I did not know anyone, I discovered that Harshin was a center of refugees from Hargeisa and its surrounding towns and villages. Here, the UNHCR brought food aid to distribute to refugees. Some of that food was resold by some households, and large lorries were loaded to deliver the food in other places inside Somalia and along the border. At night, I slept inside covered trucks to shelter from the constant rains; while during the daytime, I walked the muddy-cum-dusty byways. This was such a comedown for someone who, barely a year ago, was among the most prominent traders in the major urban town of Burao.
AIS: So, what little details of everyday life do you remember from the brief time in Harshin?
Dahabshiil: A most undeveloped place by any measure. There were very few public toilets or showers. Therefore, one was condemned to use empty spaces in the midst of total darkness. The further problem was one of over-crowdedness. One day, while I was watching large lorries being loaded, I asked about who the owner was. I was told that all belonged to a businessman by the name of Hogsade. I asked for some details about him. I found out that he was a Sacad Muse man, highly successful in business, whose headquarter was in Dire Dawa. I implored one individual to help me hitch a ride to Jigjiga. I paid a small fare and took a seat by the driver. We arrived in Jigjiga, and the driver dropped me near the center. I inquired about lodging and found a very dingy motel. This place, like all others, had no showers or toilets inside the building. The only facility available was another adjacent building with a scruffy bar where alcohol was sold to non-Muslims.
AIS: (laughing) Did you go and use that facility’s toilet?
Dahabshiil: (laughing) I observed that customers of the bar went there frequently and then urinated while standing up! All in all, this was a strange town compared to the Burao I had known. I was compelled by circumstances then, to improvise as best as I could. The next day, I talked to the manager/keeper of my cheap motel about bathroom facilities. While I was in my room, I found out that there was a small plastic container (like a kettle) placed underneath of my bed. She replied that she put the container there in the event that I needed to urinate in the middle of the night, rather than going out into the dangerous darkness outside. She added that, if I used the container, the staff of the motel will pick it up in the morning and empty it. This was a new yaab (disbelief) for me that underscored a dismal feature of the extreme undevelopment of social and public dimensions of the town of Jigjiga at the time. Furthermore, Jigjiga was in the midst of its cold season, so it was most difficult to get any sound sleep, particularly with the urine container underneath the bed (laughing). In addition, it was not safe to go outside into the dark night. In a nutshell, these were difficult nights. One early morning, over breakfast, I met other individuals from Burao, who were in the same circumstances. I wanted to understand the context that I had found myself in and explore what might lay ahead. A few minutes later, a notable businessman originally from Buraos, Abdi Sheed, appeared before us. He had just returned from the Emirates. He came by way of Addis Ababa, with an entry visa granted by the Ethiopian authorities. He was keen on hearing about conditions in Burao, where his family and extended relatives lived. We gave him a thorough report. Furthermore, I and others around the table were eager to hear about his travels. On that day, he invited us for lunch and then gave us small pocket money.
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