Harsh Reality

I arrived in my parents’ hometown of Jigjiga on Saturday. It’s located
in the autonomous Somali region of eastern Ethiopia and the vast
majority of people here are Somali. My grandma left the states for
Jigjiga nearly two years ago to help my uncle with his two toddlers.
I’ve missed her something crazy since she has been gone and seeing her
again made me feel like I was kid again. I ran toward her crying and
just hugged her for a long time. She is thinner and looks much
older than she did when she left. I think a life of running after two
toddlers and living here is hard on an 80-year-old woman who has
already raised many children and grandchildren.

Their rented home doesn’t have running water and there is a cement
outhouse used for showering and the bathroom. Staying there for
a day helped me realize all the privileges I’ve always taken for
granted --- running water, reliable electricity, bathrooms. They’re
moving into a new American-style home this month with all the necessary
modern amenities. Thankfully she has a live-in housekeeper to help her
with the things she needs. Though it was hard to see my grandma not
living to the standard of our life back in the States I’m grateful for
the opportunity to be with her again and have the chance to visit my
homeland.

I’ve always imagined “back home” being lush, green and clean. The
people would have nice little houses, it would be quiet and there
would be brick streets you follow to visit family. The air would be fresh
and people would keep their animals in pens by their homes. The
reality here is much different. It’s dusty, arid and barely has any
vegetation. The roads are crowded with people, small taxis called
bajajs and speeding trucks. The only paved street is the main road
that runs straight through town. The rest of the streets are dusty,
rocky and difficult to walk on and plastic bags strewn
all over are a sign of the environmental degradation occurring here.

Contradictions rule this land. There are large gated homes next to
small shacks perfectly illustrating the mind-boggling wealth gap. Cows
stop traffic when they cross the street and goats pass internet cafes.
It is normal for me to drive by a camel herder leading his animals past
a 5-star hotel, small metal shacks serving as corner stores with
Coca-Cola advertisements on the side and a teenager walking over rocks
on an unpaved road while talking on his cell phone. Houses without proper bathrooms
have satellite dishes streaming 200+ international television
channels. There are hundreds of small open taxis called bajajs that
whiz by horse-drawn buggies. It’s the 2010 version of what happens
when a rural African town meets globalization.

The market is bustling. It is usually filled with women selling
vegetables, rice and wheat to support their families. Mostly Somali
men own the small convenience stores and restaurants but many also
waste their days chewing khat --- a plant that provides a mild,
relaxing stimulant that has ravaged the Somali community. Some men do
nothing more than sit and chew all day neglecting their families and
responsibilities. It’s an addiction that has worsened poverty and
other problems within the Somali community.

My people are proud people. Many have survived lives living off
unforgiving land and many others have lost everything they ever owned
due to war, floods and droughts. They’ve traveled to far-away lands
with nothing but the clothes on their backs, their children in their
arms and hope for the chance at a better life in their hearts. In
Somali culture family is immensely important and extended kinship
provides a safety net during hard times.

So when I came across a grandma sitting on the side of the road with
an overpowering sense of hopelessness surrounding her I was both
shocked and heartbroken. Out of respect for elders you address them as
grandma and grandpa in Somali or in this case ayeeyo. This ayeeyo told
me she was destitute with no family and needed help. She sits outside
all day in hopes that she can beg for enough money to pay for eye
surgery so she can see again. She reminded me so much of my own
grandma and I couldn’t fathom my ayeeyo begging on the street. I
helped her as much as I could and told her I would pray for her. I
choked up as she started kissing and thanking me in sincere gratitude.
Saddest part of it all was how surprised she was of my help. I was
raised to see the humanity of everyone and to view Somalis as family.
I still don’t know how people could pass by an ayeeyo and not help. I
hope one day we can all see each other’s humanity.


~~~~~ * I’ve been told my blog has been forwarded to family and
friends. I’m glad y’all have taken the time to join me on my journey.
I wanted to give a special shout out to Rachel Bowers’ grandfather who
reads my blog. Hi grandpa! Please let me know who is here by leaving
comments. They help keep the home sickness at bay and make my day.*
~~~~~