By Nuraddin Farah

Editor’s note: As part of our ongoing remembrance of Said Samatar, Nuruddin Faraah, Somalia’s eminent writer, and a longtime acquaintance of Prof Said ,was gracious enough to once again republish his timeless essay for this occasion. It is befitting that this piece, the third in a series, which initially appeared on the Horn of Africa Journal in October/December 1978, a Journal managed by the late Said, reinforces our objective of remembering Said through Somalia’s political history. WardheerNews previously published this piece in 2010

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Part I

Shall we let the flames illumine the unlit sections of our memory? If we do that we shall learn, for instance, that there have been wars fought for the control of the Horn of Africa and its long coastline. We learn that for centuries, foreign powers have alternately come, conquered, and colonialised the peoples of the area. For centuries, the Horn has been the scene of big-power showdowns, manoeuvre diplomacy, of conquests and re-conquests. The Ottoman Empire. The Khedieve of Egypt whose viceroies controlled the entire stretches of the Somali and Eritrean coastlines. Italy. France. Britain. Portugal (even if briefly). Name one colonialist, and you needn’t name them all. But why all these diplomatic manipulations, why these wars for the Horn. Why? Ensconced in the darker shades of the fire’s flames, there are the ghostly figures of Yohannis, Menelik and Haile Sellassie. Soft are their voices; hesitant, too. Quiet their movements. Now you meet them in the corridors of diplomacy, initialing sealed letter to the Kings and Emperors of Europe. Now you meet them amass firearms. But let us take a break while we can, let us ask a question: Is today’s war in the Horn significantly different from the previous ones? Granted, it rains a skyfull of MiGs, it shells T-62s and polemicised accusations. Granted, it is a war in which a world superpower fully backs a 30-million Ethiopia against a 3-million Somalia. But think of Shoa, a small inland kingdom, Tigre another. Think of Somalia whose sandy shores smell of the incensed fire, and Eritrea, too. Imagine ….

I suggest we turn a few pages of documented history, Indeed, I suggest that we let Ethiopia’s Kings and Emperors come out of their hiding places and speak for themselves. I suggest we watch Ethiopia change her leopard’s skin; that we listen to her kings contradict themselves. I am afraid, however, that before we are in position to do that, we need to clear a jungle of present-day contradictions. For example: Has Somalia any reason to fear that Ethiopia (supported by a foreign power, give it whatever name you please) might invade Somalia with the intention of taking Berbera and Zeila? Has this incident any precedent in the history of the Horn: some incident, some event which leads one to think that Ethiopia might stretch its long arms solely to grab and occupy the ports of Berbera and Zeila? I shall dismiss the Soviets and the Cubans if you don’t mind, as a latter-day invention of history ‘of ideology if you will, or better still, of twentieth century technology. But has Ethiopia in a recent or distant past ever used a foreign power or the services of a foreign power to take any port on the Horn of Africa? Has Ethiopia ever connived or interested other powers in occupying ports which belonged to other countries directly or indirectly? Has she ever planned to diplomatically manoeuvre the conditions in order to acquire an outlet to the sea? To answer these questions, I shall let Ethiopia speak for itself through its Chieftains, Kings, Kings of Kings, and Emperors.

Part II

Shoa had been an inland kingdom, small in size as was her king in stature, a king who, although small, had grand ambitions, large and uncontainable like the waters of the sea. A small kingdom, Shoa was isolated, for centuries sandwiched between the highland mountains like saxifrage. Encircling it were rival kingdoms such as Gondar, Gojjam and more importantly that of Tigre. There were constant seismic wars between these kingdoms, seismic wars which shook the foundation of these feudal eggshell state-structures. History had taught these rulers a few things. For instance: whoever had arms and European assistance had an upper hand in case of conflict. Yohannis, the King of Tigre, had proven this. His kingdom had been for a time the strongest because he had received the benevolence of the British Government and gifts of arms in abundance for having done unto the British a favour. In return for these services, it was promised that he would be granted the free use of a port. Yes, after all these years a port of import-export, a port of importance, a coast.

But the coastline had always remained the possession of other peoples, whether they were foreign powers that had conquered or local peoples such as the Eritreans, the Somalis and the Danakils. And so we see these Abyssinian Kings, their Emperors and their aides change tactic, change strategy, tone of voice, and request; we see them assume different positions; we see them change stands. We listen to them appeal to the Christian solidarity of Europe when it is the Turks and the Egyptians (Muslims) who have control of the Red Sea coast. Then we listen to them as they make gross and unfounded territorial claims later when a European power doesn’t, for political reasons, allow them the free use of the coast. Menelik, the King of Shoa and later Emperor of conquered territories, for example, makes declarations defining the boundaries of his dreamed ideal when astraddle a bed of high fever and anger. Whether for Menelik or for Yohannis we note with sufficient documentation that the Kingdom’s essential “commodities” are the coast and arms. Who has the latter, they believed, has a chance of gaining access to the former by conquering it. Who has the coast (or easy access to it on account of a European power’s granting the use of it) has more of a chance to acquire arms to help him expand territorially.

Read more: Which way to the sea

Nuraddin Farah