By the time the SNM met in Burao in April 1991 to chart a course for the future, the outcome was practically a foregone conclusion. Elders from clans across the northwest had already agreed that the original act of the Somali Union should come under review. When, during the first days of the congress, radio reports suggested that the SNM would attend reconciliation meetings with the southern leaders, crowds of civilians and soldiers surrounded the congress hall in Burao to demand secession. Tanks took up positions and trained their cannons on the building. The declaration of independence was passed by the assembly without abstention or dissent and on May 18, 1991, Somaliland repossessed the sovereignty it had surrendered 30 years before.
In the three and a half years that have followed, Somaliland’s declaration of independence has been neither recognized nor unchallenged. Parties from all of Somaliland’s minority clans have argued vociferously against secession, despite the unanimous endorsement of the declaration given by their clan elders at Burao and again at Borama in 1993, when a new National Charter – including an affirmation of Somaliland’s existence as a sovereign state – was approved by leaders from all of the country’s communities. Non-lsaaq clans are now better represented in Somaliland’s governance than at any time in the past, with members of minority groups holding key posts like the vice presidency and defense, and enjoying a greater share of the seats in the national parliament than ever before. The speaker of the Somaliland Parliament is himself a member of the eastern Dhulbahante clan, who were closely identified with Siyad Barre’s government until the very end. “Now the fight is finished,” he affirms, “No more claims. No more hate. No more misunderstanding. The war is over.”
Only the United Nations Operations in Somalia (UNOSOM) seems determined not to let Somaliland’s sleeping dogs lie, having recently recognized a group of Somaliland’s opposition parties as to the legitimate representatives from “north-western Somalia.” The cornerstone of UNOSOM’s policy is Abdirahman Ahmed Ali “Tuur”, Somaliland’s first president and the man who declared its independence, who abandoned his retirement in London to campaign for a federal arrangement between Somalia and Somaliland. Given the manifest lack of support for his platform within Somaliland, Tuur’s sudden change of heart appeared inexplicable, though a report from the Uppsala-based “Somalia News Update” has even claimed that UNOSOM offered him $200,000 for his trip to Mogadishu.
Interference of this kind led the administration to expel UNOSOM definitively from Somaliland in August, though relations between the government and the UN have never moved far out of the deep freeze. Despite written assurances from the secretary-general that the UN has no intention of interfering in Somaliland’s internal political arrangements, UNOSOM’s recent courtship of Tuur and other opposition groups reeks of bias. Even the name ‘Somaliland’ is effectively banned from UNOSOM’s vocabulary, which official documents still refer to as the Northwest region (actually the name of the administrative area encompassing only Hargeisa and Berbera). Nor, according to Egal, has Somaliland reaped any benefits from UNOSOM’s enormous budget: Apart from several months’ salary for a handful of police officers, the government claims it has seen nothing in terms of assistance with demobilization, de-mining, or rehabilitation. Egal’s position is firm: “We are better off without UNOSOM.”
Other UN agencies and international NGOs seemed to have avoided UNOSOM’s difficulties. UNDP’s project officer in Hargeisa enthuses about Somaliland’s improvements over the past year, especially security. “We have a tremendously good relationship with the community at all levels. This is an area where we can do sustainable development. We can leave the postwar period of pessimism and uncertainty behind.”
Much has already been done without the help of the international community, however. Hargeisa’s population has largely returned, refurbishing the roofs of their houses with silvery sheets of corrugated iron and daubing the walls of homes and shops with the bright colors of happier times. The mines in and around the city have been for the most part removed, allowing people to move about safely and without fear. Air and telecommunications services, the work of Somaliland’s burgeoning class of entrepreneurs, far surpass the offerings of the archaic, state-run enterprises of the Barre era. Practically everywhere, from public buildings, to shop counters, to the windshields and bumpers of the ubiquitous bush taxis, fly smaller or larger versions of the green circle and white field of the Somaliland flag, both the symbol of the country’s commercial and moral revival and a gesture of defiance in the face of the international community’s indifference “Things here are improving in spite of us rather than because of us,” the director of one international NGO reflects.
Lack of international recognition and the modest trickle of assistance has left Somalilanders undaunted. With the war firmly behind, they have their faces set towards the task of reconstruction and recovery. “Somaliland is an instrument for the people to realize their aspirations,” reflect Boobe. “That part is done, we have the state apparatus. Now we have to begin healing the wounds of the war, to get on with recovery.” Few people see any point in looking back “We lost a lot of lives, a lot of material,” asserts Mohamed Hashi, but there is not one of us who regrets.”
Charged with the awesome government portfolio of reconstruction and resettlement, Mohamed Barud is more reflective. “It is not a waste of time to create a country where our children can be free. We were striving for that and we have succeeded. We are on the right path, we are improving all the time and the way ahead is clear.”
Whatever the way ahead may hold in store for Somaliland, it will not soon lead to any kind of unity with the south Somalilanders have fought long and hard for their independence and they will not be persuaded to relinquish it now – neither through negotiations nor through force of arms. Egal’s own resolve echoes the sentiments of their people “Our arms have been repaired and are kept clean. We are ready to defend our independence. If they try to come here from Mogadishu to force us back, we will bury them here.”
Matt Bryden has been living and working in Somaliland and Somalia since 1990. He has worked for various NGO’s, the U.N., and as an adviser to the Canadian ambassador to Somalia
Copyright: African-American Institute Inc. 1994.
From Africa Report, November-December, 1994, p35(5).
