By Ahmad Said Aw Muse
Translated from Somali version to English by Dayib Sh. Ahmed

I still vividly remember October 24, 1969, a woman wrapped in a green cloth, her hair uncovered, wearing a traditional garbasaar, being paraded down the street by a group of people. They were shouting. They came from the direction of Manopolio. They passed by the central school, which at the time was opposed to the Ministry of Education. I believe it was the day the flag of Mogadishu was raised during the night of the revolution. They were cutting flowers along the road, symbolizing support for the revolution, the details of which remain undisclosed—its leaders, their numbers, and the politics they united under to lead the country. At the time, the country was plagued by severe drought, instability, and widespread despair. Four years after that day, I left the country.

Twenty-one years later, I saw on TV screens Mogadishu transformed into a battlefield, with women who resembled the girl who had cut the flowers, now running in fear, carrying children, or fleeing parts of their destroyed homes. The earlier image amazed me with how easily people could be led to support something uncertain, allowing them to overcome and achieve what they desired. The latter image reflected the legacy of the group that had ruled the country, a legacy marked by indiscriminate violence, oppression, and the suffering of the people who had hoped for justice. Both struggles destroyed the organizational structure of the nation.

Every event has a reason behind it, as nothing in the world happens without cause or consequence. Human ingenuity, desires, and dreams are the foundation of many conflicts that arise daily, often leading to decisions that are not easily accepted by all. Blessings and conflicts often have two sides. A nation invaded by foreign forces and one torn apart by internal strife, regardless of the reason, are both engulfed in immense hatred and hostility, leaving little hope for peaceful coexistence. It is unwise to focus solely on the 1990 explosion that led to a prolonged and devastating civil war, which deeply wounded the sense of Somali identity. Instead of dwelling on the surface, it is crucial to revisit the root causes. Beyond the spilled blood, it feels as if the collective consciousness of many Somalis is still immersed in conflict, unable to recognize that we have lost our country, with our people scattered internally and externally, seeking refuge in camps around the world.

For twenty-five years, we have lost countless opportunities for reconciliation, as various groups with their own agendas manipulate and exploit the blood of our people. Governments are established in specific locations, targeting the Somali people who are kept in the dark. Currently, we are under a federally appointed government, protected by AUSSOM forces in Mogadishu. Somaliland and the northwestern regions, which were spared the southern chaos, claim to stand independently. Will Puntland and the Jubba administration remain part of the federal government in Mogadishu? Worse yet, the dreams and aspirations for 2016 are being replaced by elections. What kind of elections? This, in my opinion, is a distraction from the failures of the government, which has done little to restore stability in the regions or reconcile the divided people.

While the world was divided between two competing powers vying for influence over smaller nations, we hastily—or perhaps were pushed into—attacking Ethiopia in 1977. With no support or assistance from any superpower and without fully considering the consequences, we embarked on a war that proved costly. In a very short time, we lost 220,000 square kilometers of Somali territory. Beyond military power and occupation, the revolutionary government failed to address the economic disparities that plagued the people and the country, ignoring the consequences of the chaos we introduced into the balance of power among global forces. We seem to have forgotten the lessons of the Hungarian uprising of 1956, where people sought to break free from Soviet control without resorting to violence, and how Soviet tanks crushed Czechoslovakia in 1968, with the West turning a blind eye both times.

Nevertheless, we entered the heart of the Cold War, inheriting a legacy of destruction—both spiritual and material—that cost us dearly, with 800,000 refugees unable to return to their homeland. Political divisions and internal instability created a sense of uncertainty, as if an unseen force was controlling the people, often labeled as enemies. This manipulation, deeply embedded in the collective psyche, was exploited by those who orchestrated the destruction of the nation, its people, and its sovereignty.

The betrayal by Ethiopia, which led to the defeat of Somali forces and the humiliating retreat, left an irreparable wound on the nation’s military pride. Shortly after, the military itself fractured, becoming part of the civil war and the collapse of the central government. The military had already begun to disintegrate internally, failing to recover from the defeats of the 1977 war, despite the support of Cuban and Soviet advisors. The Western-backed socialist experiment, though seemingly progressive, had no real interest in saving Somalia. Instead, it focused on preserving its own interests, leading to the eventual collapse and the emergence of the Manifesto movement in 1988/90, which sought to challenge the regime.

It is certain that the stability and existence of any nation depend on the preservation of its values, culture, and laws. The disease that afflicted us and the unresolved crises are rooted in the wounds of our collective identity. In the late 1970s, we were introduced to the narrative of scientific socialism and the glorification of ideologies we had never heard before. Marx, Engels, and Lenin were celebrated in songs and teachings aimed at indoctrinating children and the masses. Mohamed Siad Barre aligned himself with this ideology. On January 12, 1975, declared as Women’s Day, we were introduced to the Family Law, which contradicted Islamic religion and Somali traditions. Men and women were declared equal in inheritance and other matters. The law was accepted with some resistance, except for ten men who openly opposed it and were executed on January 19 of the same year, alongside the infamous “Wadaad Xume” (Evil Sheikh). This marked the first uprising against the regime, challenging the notion that scientific socialism could deliver divine justice. It was a movement that sought to preserve the dignity and honor of the nation. However, it was crushed, leading to the erosion of Somali values and traditions, a blow even the most determined oppressor could not deliver. It was the beginning of the end.

In conclusion, civil wars are not random; they do not erupt without reason. They are not fought over trivial matters (sticks, stones, or family disputes) but are rooted in identity and the desire for governance. Except for Rwanda, the civil wars in North America, Russia, India (the Indian Subcontinent), China, Spain, Yemen, and Lebanon were all based on political or religious ideologies. Despite their devastating consequences, they were not fought with the aim of total destruction.

It is impossible for something built on a flawed foundation to correct itself. Mistakes require correction. I believe the image we have of our nationhood and sovereignty is entirely flawed, and we will not correct it until we collectively recognize the absurdity of our mental image. It is naive to expect the international community and the United Nations, in name only, to resolve the conflicts we have created. The problem lies within us. We have yet to realize that we, as a people, have collapsed, losing every positive attribute we once had, while foreigners document our failures.

If we do not wake up to this reality, I see no hope for the glorified Somali identity or the establishment of a functional government. A divided mind cannot create unity. The lies we sang and the wars we inherited will not bring wisdom or progress, except for the absurd 4.5 system and the divisive role of clan representatives. We cannot unite the people or save the country from foreign interests. Where are we headed?

Axmad Sacid Au Muse
Email: Godobdiid114@hotmail.com

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The article appeared in Somali and translated to English by Dayib Sh. Ahmed