1,000 Displaced Families in Garowe to Receive New Homes and Facilities

Deeqo lounges on the stoop of her shiny new home, a significant upgrade from eight grueling years in an IDP camp. Photo by Hoodo Ahmed/Ergo

In Garowe, the bustling heart of Somalia’s Northeastern State region, the winds of change are brewing. A thousand internally displaced families are leaving behind the gritty hustle of tin shacks and entering the permanence of actual homes. Who’d have imagined? It’s a cultural shift, one that offers a poignant chapter of new beginnings rather than the endless loop of makeshift living.

Located in the promising landscape of Hoodaale, each family now calls home a solidly constructed stone abode. Each comes complete with a toilet — a 180-degree turn from their dire past. These are 169 square meters filled with hope. And while this December opening was underpinned by an earnest agenda, it’s about much more than land; it’s about freedom and fear flicking off the switch.

Picture Meymun Abdi Abdullahi, 36, one of the resilient ones, who alongside her spouse and five kiddos, found themselves kicked out of the Jillab IDP camp thrice — all over a mere $5 a month rent. The audacity of such an ask for shelter that hardly keeps the rain off your nose!

“We lived in such a flimsy setup, every creak a potential visit from a thief or sudden fire hazard. Just leaving it empty made my heart skip beats. Rainy seasons were the worst, imagine sleeping in unintended indoor pools!” Meymun chuckles at her traumatic memory. “Now, when the heavens open up, I actually smile. We have a real roof over us.”

The reality there was less Robin Hood and more just hood — charging $0.10 for a 20-liter jerrycan of water. Now, life’s a breeze with complimentary water and the full suite of services. Sounds too good to be true, but look:free healthcare.

“We’ve got clinics dishing out pills like Saint M&Ms, a spruced-up school awaiting its maestros, and even a law-and-order station. Quality of life, check!” Meymun’s eyes sparkle at the irony of the flip-and-switch.

Five years have ushered them away from a goat-losing, drought-determined farm life in Nugal. Now, with services sewn into the fabric of life, Meymun revs up a mini tailoring gig, needle in the groove. It’s a self-made $5 to $7 daily victory lap.

“These days, I stitch away to afford a cuppa tea or splash of milk. Call me what you will, but reliance on self caters better than chasing impossible bills. Past hardships quelled my hope, but with these walls, sunshine peeks in easier,” she remarks with the finality of someone who’s found inner peace in stitching.

This Hoodaale Resettlement Programme bucks the trend via World Bank bucks and a hearty combo of Garowe’s civic planners, the International Organisation for Migration, and the Norwegian Refugee Council. Talk about a motley crew, right?

Meet Sahro Mohamed Adan, who did the camp shuffle for two long decades, handing over cold hard cash for a sodden shack rental. She beams like hope incarnate because, “Today, it’s neither rent nor water worries. Imagine? Seven kids born with landlords leering over our heads. Miss a payment? It’s out on the street, too. Not anymore,” Sahro’s voice laced with palpable relief as she fondly recalls fresh furniture.

Despite a cute snack-peddling gig, with her spouse’s construction paycheck of $5-10 when Lady Luck smiles down, ends only tentatively meet. It feels like trading water in kaleidoscopic buckets.

And here’s Deqo Mohamed, her joy unquenchable: the magic of having a proper home with water and life-saving healthcare.

“Priority was given to big clans like mine,” she explains, recalling their struggle in areas late to the service party (no water, doctor, or loo). Those days, she assures me, are gone.

Deqo swung by Garowe in 2017, weathering a 150-goat drought smackdown. But since July, the cut-off from a now-extinct WFP stipend, life’s like lugging a wagon uphill. “We’re down to alms and no noble income,” admits Deqo, painting a stark tableau. “My husband and I, jobless. Our aid cards? Nellie the Elephant packed them in. Times are severely tight,” she sadly waxes.

Flash to Garowe’s municipal secretary, Mohamud Ali Hasan, ticking off resettlement program goals with a methuselah-like wisdom suggesting an economic phoenix strategy.

Report By Axadle

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