By Rakiya A. Omaar

The assassination of an Italian doctor, Annalena Tonelli, in Borama on 5 October has shocked and saddened people in Somaliland, nowhere more so than in Borama itself where her dedication to the sick, the poor and the vulnerable won her the affection and gratitude of its people. Dr Tonelli inspired many Somalilanders, who felt it was a privilege to work with her.

A memorial service was held in Hargeisa on Thursday, 9 October, in honor of Dr Tonelli, attended by the Vice-President, several Ministers, the Chairman of the Elders’ Council—the Guurti—representatives of the UN, international and local organizations, the media, her co-workers from Borama and many friends. Because she had been in their midst for six years, running the TB hospital and raising awareness of communicable diseases, including HIV/AIDS, the most heart-felt tributes came from the people of Borama, among them the imam of the local mosque, who spoke simply, but movingly. There is no doubt that they feel bereft of the presence of an exceptional person who was hard-working, courageous and fair. And so it is a source of anguish for them that her life should have ended in the very place where she gave so much of herself.

The government attended the ceremony in a show of force, both to express their appreciation for the work of Dr Tonelli, but also to send a message to the international community that her murder will not go unpunished. This was important, but it provides no guarantees. Will justice be done? We all hope so, in memory of Dr Tonelli, to reassure foreigners, and for the sake of ordinary Somalilanders. Two men have now been arrested in connection with the murder, and although we may hope to hear further details in the days to come, it is extremely difficult to imagine what motive anyone could have had against a gentle 60-year-old humanitarian worker. The murder of a German staff member of GTZ in Burao about two years ago, whose assassin was identified as a mentally unstable man may, however, provide a clue.

One question we should ask in the aftermath of Dr Tonelli’s murder is: why are there so many mentally disturbed people walking on the streets of all our towns? We have as yet no statistics on the extent of the problem, but it is undeniably prevalent. Whether you live in Berbera, Hargeisa, Burao or Borama, you come across them every day. In fact you live in fear of them. They are mainly men, many of them in the prime of life, and often armed with knives, swords or heavy rocks. But there is a troubling increase in the number of women who are evidently in mental distress. And even more tragic are the far greater numbers we don’t see—chained to beds in their homes by desperate relatives who do not know where to turn to for help. Some families are looking after more than one patient.
Every Somalilander who reads this article knows an individual with some form of mental health problem; they are our relatives, friends, colleagues, classmates and neighbors. We also know the terrible price each family is paying in the absence of even the most basic services—the psychological trauma, the economic burden and the social consequences of looking after disturbed and sometimes very violent people. The lack of support and guidance is creating new problems as families resort to unregulated medicine and serial marriages in the hope that marriage will bring stability for the young men. It has merely destroyed the future of countless young women and left many children without a stable home. This phenomenon is not only a tragedy for the individuals and families concerned, but is likely to undermine stability and growth on a national level.

In Albert Camus’ celebrated book, The Plague, the central character, Dr Rieux, made this observation about how best to tackle the disease: “It’s not a matter of heroism, it’s a matter of honesty. It’s an idea that may seem laughable, but the only way of fighting the plague is honesty.” On the rare occasions that we debate the explosion in mental illness, we tend to blame the conflict that devastated Somaliland in the 1980s. And there is little doubt that years of oppression, the war and exile in the camps in Ethiopia wreaked havoc on our social fabric and weakened the coping mechanisms which helped us in the past.

But there is another simple truth: the surge in mental distress is a direct consequence of the dramatic increase in the consumption of qat. Qat is a drug, and a potent and addictive one, considering the resources and time it is draining from more productive activities. Until we have the honesty to admit this, and the courage to address the issue of qat in the serious manner it deserves, there will be many more senseless deaths on our streets, and the welfare and health of the people of Somaliland will suffer. The unprecedented use of qat at all hours of the day, and in huge quantities, may itself be linked to the uncertainties of conflict. This provides a context for understanding the roots and nature of the problem; it does not explain why we have chosen to do nothing about it.

It is not only the large number of mentally disturbed people roaming the streets which highlights the dangers of complacency. You only need to look at the absurd economics of qat, with vast amounts of cash leaving our borders every day into Ethiopia. Don’t expect to see civil servants, including senior officials, attend a meeting in the afternoon, no matter how important the subject under discussion is to the prospects of Somaliland. The dirt in our towns, littered with thousands of the multi-colored plastic bags used to wrap qat, would be a sufficient reason to ban it. Not to mention the destructive impact on family life and our educational system where it is not uncommon to see secondary school students more interested in qat than in their studies. It is not, in fact, possible to measure the cost of qat to our society.

And it is not a problem that only affects us here in Somaliland. Many of our communities abroad have been damaged by this insidious habit. In the UK, for example, young Somali males are said to register the second highest rate of suicide among the different groups, no doubt while under the extreme and prolonged influence of qat.

In the 16 months I have lived in Somaliland, I have attended a fair number of meetings where the government and representatives of civic groups have sought to explain our needs and predicaments to foreign visitors. Speaking from the heart, and echoing each other, we state our pride in bringing our internal conflicts to an end by digging deep into our history, culture and collective reserves. We tend to regard that period, recent as it is, as somewhat “in the past”, as if, by bringing about an enduring peace, we are no longer required to solve other pressing priorities. But we have not changed; we still have the same capabilities and capacity to work together in a common endeavor. But do we have the will?

Responsibility lies, first and foremost, with the government itself. But mindful of the tax revenues the qat trade generates for its coffers, fearful of a popular backlash, but also wary of powerful businessmen who have invested in this lucrative sector, successive governments have failed to take any initiatives. And it is not only the government that must act with a sense of purpose. The Guurti, parliament, opposition political parties, traditional and religious leaders, civic groups, women’s organizations and the media must contribute in the search for solutions and mobilize different constituencies. Most importantly, these individuals should lead by setting a personal example to others and give inspiration to the lives they touch every day.

Several NGOs in Somaliland have carried out research into the harmful effects of qat. It is not lack of information, which prevents us from facing this demon, but the absence of resolve. Leadership is about doing difficult things when necessary. On this topic, I found the attitude of all the political parties who contested the recent presidential elections particularly disappointing. None put qat at the heart of their message to the public; on the contrary, stockpiling on qat was considered a shrewd ploy for attracting voters. With rare exceptions, both the government and its opponents literally chewed over their options while under the influence of qat, a fact that is unlikely to reinforce confidence in our politicians, whatever their party allegiance.

It would be short-sighted to underestimate the difficulties; a strategy must be realistic if it is to be effective. But the obstacles, real enough, do not justify the failure to act. No one who lives or visits Somaliland can dispute the importance and urgency of lifting this darkness which casts a shadow over every aspect of our lives. As a tribute to the memory of Dr Tonelli, the Vice President proposed naming the TB hospital in Borama in her honor. That is one step. A far more significant initiative, which would change the lives of the people of Somaliland to whom she showed such devotion, would be to begin eradicating this cancer at the heart of our society.

* Rakiya A. Omaar is the director of the international human rights organisation, Africa

 

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