Somalia: The Instinctive Truth

You would never imagine the serenity that surrounds the beautiful Mogadishu skyline in the early hour of the morning. Standing at the balcony this morning and watching the rays of the rising sun shimmer across the great blue ocean, plunged me into a reverie that looked, well, more presumption than a possibility. There was no rattle of gunfire in the background or the sounds of mortars landing or even the clamour of voices in the crowded streets of Mogadishu. Everything seemed peaceful and calm; a feeling that is hard to come by in this part of the world. A gentle breeze whistled through the silent streets, playfully breathing life into the old cardboard boxes and plastic bags lying around in the dust. Even the melodious notes of the chirruping birds seemed to be quite in harmony with the tranquil setting for once.

Amid the stillness of the surrounding, the loud clanking of metal coming from a shop across the street immediately distracted me. A young shop owner was receiving a delivery of some stock. Three sturdy men unloaded the goods and carried them on their backs and stacked them inside the shop where the owner had instructed them. For a while it was somewhat pleasant to watch their neatly choreographed movements in the way they organised and unloaded the goods. They’ve nearly emptied the truck when another car, a Toyota 4×4, zoomed in from the distance, horns blaring. The delivery truck was blocking the road and the three men hurriedly tried to unload the last few remaining items in order to clear the road for the approaching car. But they couldn’t manage that in time. The car, which was driving at quite a speed, soon approached and forcefully hit the brakes at the delivery point, still beeping the horn.

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