Yusuf’s Blog

31/8/2011

A belated Eid Mubarak to everyone. I hope everyone had a joyous day celebrating the last day of Ramadan with their families, and I also hope that everyone spared a thought for those who are less fortunate than themselves. I certainly did.

I’m a bit sad, saying goodbye to all the people I’ve met over the past month, not knowing what the future may hold for them. I’m writing this on my laptop as we’re driving along a familiar road. It’s so odd seeing the dusty desert turn from sand to pebble to concrete, but it’s a real representative of how removed from a developed world the people at the horn of Africa are.

The buildings are getting taller and the people are getting less tragic. Right now I’m wondering how long it’ll take for me to recover from being surrounded by the people in the refugee camps. I’m sure I’ll never forget the people I met, and the experiences I had.

This is my last blog post for the Feed the Fasting campaign. It’s been a long journey, and a fruitful one.

I hope you’ve found this as insightful as I have.

29/8/2011

My last day with the refugees is soon coming. It’s been an enlightening month, I’ve learned so much from the people here, and my time here reminds me of why I’m so proud of the work that goes on from aid workers all around the world. But I don’t want to talk about myself too much. I caught up with my friends in the camp for one last time, I asked the what they thought they future held for them, I asked if I’d ever see the again, where I’d find them a year from now.

Abdi had developed higher spirits. His family was feeling better and even though it’s only been a month, he’s thinking of moving to Kenya and starting again.

“It will be an uphill struggle, but if we have the right attitude, the Kenyans will be very hospitable. My regrets for Somalia are over for now, it will take a while for the country to recover, but the people are still working hard. It makes me overjoyed to see my family in good health again. We can sit down and talk over a meal again, we can eat our food without fear of contamination or theft, and we finally feel like we have a future.”

Abdi is looking forward, like he always has been, it’s nice to see that he hasn’t lost sight of his dream of making sure his family stays safe and comfortable.

Halima was quite sad that I was leaving. I managed to get some words out of her when I asked what she planned for the future. She had quite a different answer:

“I don’t know. I’m giving it time.”

She’s been quite emotionally drained recently because of a lot of the drama in the camp. She’s been getting less talkative over the past few days.

“I don’t think about it that much any more. I’m going to take things one step at a time, I need more people to talk to about what I can do with myself. I don’t know if I can do it on my own. We’ll see.”

A dismal way to look at things. But if there’s any consolation, it’s that Halima comes across like a very capable girl. I personally think she’s going to be fine. We’ll probably never meet again, but she’s been given a second chance at life, I don’t think she’s going to waste it.

27/8/2011

Another child starved to death. He came to the camp too late and the treatment to stabilize his metabolism was too little too late.

The family is distraught, two brothers and one father, all of whom who are also extremely malnourished. This sort of thing has been going on for months, so people are used to it, many of the people in the camps aren’t shaken at all. But I am, I was more aware of this persons death because I was down at the camps and saw that child in the morning when he arrived. I learned of his death a few hours later.

It’s weird knowing that someone you just saw had just suddenly died. What was worse was the intense, mutated body he had developed from not eating. It made me wonder what’d happen to me if I were in his situation. I’d look like a completely different person, and who knows what’d happen if I had no-one to help me. Would I even have to tenacity to look for help?

As I write this I’m on the road back to the main town. From the car it’s amazing to see how the road changes from dry dishevelled desert and nothingness to a normal road with tarmac and buildings, I’m filled with a sense of guilt about how there’s such a divide in the way people are living only a few miles in difference.

I remember when talking to Abdi just the other day, he said he remembered he had hoped he make it to town and get a job. Maybe move far away. And Aziza had developed a lot of hopes for the future too. It’s not completely word for word, but Abdi said that it was a blessing that he was allowed to live, and he would be selfish to let that blessing go wasted. Aziza said, similarly, that she must have been given a purpose if it was the case that she was spared from death.

What I admire is that a lot of the people in the camps showed selfless desires. A lot of them travelled for hundreds of miles and went through hardship for others. For their friends and families people have gone through so much suffering. And of course it has cost a lot.

Anyway, I’m still having trouble getting over that child’s death. What would his hopes and dreams have been had he survived?

26/8/2011

Let’s talk more about food today. Two elements: the good and the bad.

First the good: Did you know that we supply tea to the people at the camps? In terms of physical health there’s no nutritional value in tea really. However there is a priceless value on how the tea can calm the refugees down, give them something to talk over, and generally bring the ladies and gentlemen of both the aid workers and refugees together.

Now the bad: Some children are starving so badly that they now can’t eat food because their body has rejected it. It reaches a point where if you feed them any reasonable amount of food (for a normal person) it can even threaten their lives.

This means we’re forced to feed the children through their noses in tiny parts, slowly increasing the doses of food over the weeks until the child has a reasonable appetite. I’m glad we have the technology to do this.

25/8/2011

A woman and four of her six children died today. I didn’t know them, and the woman’s husband doesn’t want to talk. Actually it’s hard to get opinions on the matter here, people have suffered so much that they want to not think about it anymore, even for a moment.

For an objective view I decided to talk to Aid worker Mahmud.

“What more is there to say? I’ve been here for two months now, and it really has been happening all the time. It happens too much. When it happens so much that people consider it commonplace, and are actually desensitised to it, that’s when you know it’s become too much.

“The children are still playing, and the adults are still gossiping and acting like a community. If something like this had happened in London the news would be all over it for weeks. In the camps, it’s just another day.”

In a time of threat, the brain processes emotions far more quickly. It’s easy to ignore something when it becomes white noise. But there’s no doubt that death and starvation should never be white noise.

Every donation brings us closer to stopping this.

24/8/2011

Here are a few stats for you:
Our food packs contain:
25kg of rice
5 litres of oil
Sugar
Beans

It’s enough to feed five families.

And with £35 it’s possible to feed an average family for a whole month.

And let’s think about what month it is. Ramadan is a time when we should be even more charitable than ever. This is one month we should make sure the people from the drought are given reasons to smile.

How easy is it for you to make a difference? We at Muslim Aid make sure there is 100% Zakat to beneficiaries, so you’ll always know where your money is going.

23/8/2011

Halima has grown quite fond of me and her friends over the past few days. It’s nice to see her happier in the face of such adversity, and her optimism has still not managed to waver.

“I like playing snap because I win a lot. All the boys are slow, even the adults.”

We don’t talk about the drought too much, she lives her life day to day, which keeps her happy. She’s developed a lot more energy these days thanks to the food that we’ve supplied. This also means her reactions have gotten much faster, and she beats me at snap a few times.

“I don’t run too much when playing though, because that makes me hungry, which isn’t good. We have to keep the amount of food we eat low. I used to like running a lot back home, so that makes me sad. Games like snap help me stay quick though.”

This begs the question, is she happy? I don’t want to ask. The answer might be obvious, saying that she’s lost her home and a lot of her friends. But she’s smiling; she doesn’t seem to be upset. In a roundabout way I asked her how she felt overall.

“I don’t know. I’m sad. But I don’t let it get to me. Everyone has given me some hope for the future. I’m sad and happy at the same time.”

I made sure to keep the image of her smile burned in my mind so that I could write about it in this blog. Her face looked still and upset, but her mouth still wavered in the way a quivered smile would. She had described the way she felt perfectly, by looking at her, you could tell she was a girl who knew that the only way to deal with the world was to forget about the past and learn to survive.

To that degree I felt even more proud of what we were doing. We’re giving people the opportunity to live on, meaning we’re offering a door to the infinite amount of possibilities that follow.

I’m reminded of what I talked about with Abdi though.

What are those possibilities?

It’s the crisis point of the moment that we need to think about now for that question to even be open. This is why we still need those donations.

21/8/2011

Thanks to everyone who has donated so far. I just got told about the figures. More food, more survival, more smiles!
I talked to an elderly couple about their opinions of the drought and the aid they’ve been receiving. The husband says:

“It has never been this bad. We are dependent on our crops, and in the many years I’ve spent farming, I’ve always hoped nothing this bad would ever happen. Starving is pain that I can’t describe”

The wife adds:

“We had a cow with us on our journey here. We had to slaughter it and cook it on our journey so as to survive, it was such a hardship, and I am so relieved that for now, we have some food.”
I asked them what life was like for older people in camps.

“People show us nothing but respect. The people at Muslim Aid respect us completely, and we believe in them because of the many years they have spent here, and how well they treat us. We haven’t met such friendly and unthreatening people in a long time.”

I’m proud to be part of Muslim Aid, because of how much respect the people in Somalia have in us. It’s heartwarming to see that so many people have faith in us.

Be a part of the Muslim Aid family by donating!

19/8/2011

Every day brings new surprises, and yet at the same time things don’t change. The food and aid we give to the people in the camps offers a glimmer of hope to a hopeless situation, through all the suffering and agony, we’re here to help them.
At the same time, there is a continuing dependence on what our camps have to offer, and we’re need to keep up the pace. It’s now when I have to start talking more sincerely about the need for continuing aid. An aid worker Sahir had this to say:

“We’ve had a strong presence here in Somalia. We have offices that are directly situated in the surrounding area, so the people know of Muslim Aid, and they trust us. We have a strong bond here because we put the effort to reach out to them.”

As the slogan says: Reach More, Do more. To those who want to read more into what our slogan says, it talks about how Muslim Aid has offices around the world, and it gives us access to the people in need in more ways than one. Not just a physical access but a personal one. I talked to Abdi again about what he thought about the people of Muslim Aid:

“Many people in the camp have told me that they’ve grown fond and trustful of the Muslim Aid workers. There are many people who have been here for months on end, working to help us.”

The number one thing to remember about Muslim Aid is, we reach out, we trust, we bond.

This blog exists to remind and reassure people about the sincerity of their donations. We know there are good people out there who are willing to give aid. And this blog here is to let you know, you really are helping, and the money is going right where you want it to.

35 pounds… and you’ve helped an entire family eat for a whole month.

17/8/2011

In other news, there’s an appeal on Channel S today. Muslim Aid will be on TV again! Be sure to check it out.

16/8/2011

Whups, the net over here is messing around a bit. Well ok, I thought I’d take the time to talk about the living conditions for the aid workers and people like me. This is for anyone who wants to volunteer any time in the future.

We spend a lot of time with the people in the camps, it’s hot, it’s tiresome, it’s stressful. But I can tell that it’s ultimately quite rewarding.

I’ve been given a little hotel to live in right now. Someone in the comments asked how it’s possible to update blog posts from Somalia, surprisingly, the telecommunications systems in Somalia aren’t that bad, and they offer internet to some 100,000 people, that’s up from just 200 people back in 2000. You’ll find internet services in hotels and internet cafes.

All the volunteers live out of the camps, this is so that there’s never any danger that they get kidnapped or hurt in some way or another, we keep our volunteers safe so that they can help the needy for another day.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say for now. Look for the next post where I talk about sanitation in the camps! Fun!

15/8/2011

Abdi and I have still kept in contact. Obviously seeing as the camp is so crowded and we’re tending to so many people, it’s so hard to keep track, but I took some time to catch up with him and see his thoughts on the living conditions of the camp after a week of staying here, and any other thoughts he had.

“A lot of people are losing hope. More and more are coming barefoot, malnourished and completely dehydrated. Actually, I feel like I was better off in a few ways.”

Despite Abdi’s observations, he seems to be in higher spirits,

“Despite the sorrow and hardship though, we are all really grateful for what people have been doing for us. When I came here I met many people here who looked like they were disfigured from starvation. There were babies who looked like skeletons with skin on them, and elderly people who were on the brink of death. Now the children are healthier and the elderly are slightly more active.”

It’s a mixed response really; I have a similar feeling of both optimism and harrowing hopelessness. We’ve helped these people survive, but what’s the next step? And can we keep this going?

“Right now our plan is to start a new life in Kenya if we can, and see where to go from there. It’ll be a long trek, but we’ve survived so far. There’ll be a lot of competition though, we’re not the only people with that idea.”

Not to mention the fact that Kenya has it’s own problems, and they are having problems with looting from some of the Somalian refugees anyway. At the moment our only way to help these people get a kickstart is to provide them will all the donations we can.

I wish Abdi the best.

10/8/2011
The people who were really hit hard during the drought were people who had the hardship of being pregnant around December. This is of course, because having to eat for two during a famine is close to impossible. I think the fact that Fatima and her husband managed to make it to the camp at all is a miracle, I’ve heard too many horror stories of people being left on the road.

“Obviously I can’t leave my wife and child behind. It makes me sick thinking that other people can bring themselves to leave loved ones and family on the road. I would rather die with them.”

I don’t try to play devil’s advocate. But who knows what every person’s story is? I don’t think people who had to leave people behind want to be spoken to. But who knows? Fatima’s husband Junaid thinks it’s disgusting.

“The drought hit us with no warning. We needed to rain to farm, obviously. When things started getting bad it was really distressing for us all. I want our child to grow up healthy and strong, and I want my wife to be with me. At a moment like this it seems like the whole world is against you. When we made it to the aid camp with you and the others it was comforting to know there were people who were there to help.”

I think Junaid knows we’re all weak in the face of fate and nature. If there’s a drought, the people here try their best to survive, we can’t change the weather, but with enough funding, the people here can change the way they live so they don’t have to rely on the unpredictable weather.

9/8/2011
Even though this is an immediate threat there are loads of long term issues here that will carry on for many years. A lot of people don’t understand why Africa keeps needing aid, as if we’re giving charity and it’s going nowhere. Africa is a beautiful continent and the people are great. But if the land is dead, there’s no water for miles, and very few tools or machinery to work with, why shouldn’t we help? An estimated 3.7 million people in Somalia — around a third of the population — are on the brink of starvation and millions more in Djibouti, Ethiopia, Kenya and Uganda have been struck by the worst drought in the region in 60 years.

Unforeseeable drought and disease is no-one’s fault, but there’s a way we can help prevent it.

I could do with some mosquito nets too. My skin seems to attract them.

8/8/2011
One of the kids I mentioned from yesterdays post. Her name is Aziza, 15 years old. She’s more shy today than yesterday, where she was having a lot of fun playing with the cards. She’s been given some nice bright shorts and a t-shirt, her hair is still a little scruffy, but I think she likes it like that. She’s been kind enough to let me interview her for the blog. She obviously misses her home, but somehow, I think she’s coping betting with moving than the older people in the camp. She’s had an easier time making friends than the adults after all.

“Nazia and Aisha are my friends, they’re so friendly. They talk more than me. Also Abdul is nice, I liked playing snap with him even though he always won. I met them when I came here with my mother. I was really sad that I had lost contact with my other friends, but then the Aid workers were really helpful and got me to talk to other kids. I still really miss my old friends, and I wonder how they are doing.”

It’s a tad uncomfortable topic, but Aziza seems extremely comforted when thinking about her friends. I think she’s certain that he friends survived the drought.

“I always pray that my friends are doing well. I think the reason I’m surviving is because they did for me. My best friend from home always looked out for me, so I think she is worried about me. That’s probably what makes me the saddest – I want to tell her that I’m ok.”

Aziza’s optimism is uncharacteristic in comparison to the older people in the camp, a lot of whom who are filled with hope, but in general seem to have given up hope. It’s understandable, in an inescapable situation like this, the people here don’t seem to have any option or freedom to look after themselves and their immediate family. Friendships are torn apart. Still, the camps exist to help people, I think Aziza’s hope is admirable, as well as her faith in us and our aid.

“With my mum and all these people helping me, I managed to survive so far – My mum said we’re probably not going to go back home though.”

Unsurprisingly, Aziza looked really down when saying this. A lot of people in these camps will have to try and start new lives. Meaning going to different countries, getting new jobs, getting new houses… a lot of people will have to start from the bottom up. Still I’ve met Aziza’s parents, and thankfully they look like people who have hopes for the future.

7/8/2011
A morning post. I’m making friends quite easily here, it shows how people here have good hearts. Even though I’m a pretty awkward person, the aid workers are friendly. The refugees are understandably frustrated and sometimes they want to be left alone, or lash out at others. But last night I played snap with a couple of kids and it was great. Some of those kids have pretty good reactions despite the shortage of food!

3/8/2011
“Returning to Somalia isn’t the question anymore, right now, it’s the survival of my family that matters the most.”

Abdi-salaam is someone who I’ve grown to know over the past couple of days, he’s in his late teens and has five other siblings; he’s the eldest of all six. We both set foot on the camp for the first time on the same day. He was one of the first people I met, and one of the first to affect me profoundly.

“I’d imagine our village is complete empty now. We used to rely on crops to survive, but due to the drought, they’re all gone. I don’t remember it ever being this bad, I’ve heard its one of the worst droughts to happen in a lifetime. The fact that my family has survived seems like a miracle.”

I’ve been talking to him a lot recently, and he talks about his family relentlessly. But the first time he talked to me I wasn’t able to say anything, at the time his toils were far too much for me to understand, I just sat and listened. Today he speaks about how grateful he is about his family’s survival.

It has only been a few days, but he already looks brighter, his disheveled clothes are now clean and more kempt, and his previously malnourished body is on the way to recovery. When I met him however he looked like he was fifty years older. He had the weight of the world under him, he could barely walk, and his skin was noticeably pale and pastel. With his family following suit, his younger sister on his back and sweat dripping off his skin, he had an overwhelming look of exhaustion and relief when he approached the camp.

3/8/2011
Ahmed is an Aid Worker at the refugee camp. He showed me around. It’s so crowded, the Aid workers are doing their best to keep the reams of people coming in under control. I have no idea how these guys can keep such a busy place under relative control!

“Actually this camp is completely fully booked, but there are loads of people who just came here and have nowhere else to go.”

I asked him how he managed to cope with the increasing numbers. It wasn’t hard to notice that there was no space for people. Many were sleeping on the floors, there was pushing and shoving to sign up. My eyes couldn’t keep track of anything because there was so much going on.

“We try our best, but really we need more people, we need more people down here who care about what’s going on and are willing to help.”

Muslim Aid’s particular initiative is called “Feed the Fasting”. There is a real shortage here, this is the place where the line between “fasting” and “starving” is drawn.

“Most of the people here are Christian or Muslim. If they can, the Muslims here will observe Ramadan, people shouldn’t underestimate how important how dedicated Muslim people can be with their traditions”

I admire Ahmed a lot, there’s a lot of work to do. There are a lot of hungry people to feed.

1/8/2011
I am so worn out. I’m completely out of my element sitting on the floor while covered in sweat. So hot. I could complain about the delays in getting here, how I didn’t have time to prepare (I had intended on starting this blog earlier) and how sick I’ve been feeling the past few hours, but that’s not important. I’ve talked to a lot of people on my first day alone, there’s a lot of stuff I need to process before I can write about it all.

This post is to remind people who are starting to fast today how many commodities they still have to keep them going through the day. This place is totally stripped down. Anyway I’ll post one of my interviews in a bit.

30/7/2011
My name is Yusuf Ahmed, a writer who aims to help gain donations for the current crisis in Somalia. But I’m completely humble in comparison to how powerful you, the donators are – my job here is just to help spread the word, it’ll be up to you guys to make the real difference.
We’ll be writing this blog non-stop for almost two months! Talk about dedication right? For you: it’s not hard. A couple of clicks, a card, that’s all you’ll need to make a world of difference.

I’m kidding. I really relish in the opportunity to write for this, helping other people need not be a chore, Muslim Aid exists to show how easy it is to reach out to people who need help from all over the world.

I’ll talk to people who’ve struggled through the unimaginable hardships because I believe a simple news reporter describing what’s happening isn’t enough. I want to humanise the people there, I want to show what their thoughts and feelings are, and find out how the aid relief is helping them on a personal level. I don’t care about pictures, I want to hear their stories, a picture of a forlorn face says a lot, but you know what says more? The voice behind that forlorn face.

This blog could either be very disturbing or very enlightening, who knows? In my mind, people in such different cultures are very alien to me; to what degree can I empathise with them? I’ll update every two days with a new entry throughout the entirety of Ramadan.

Not every one person thinks the same way. But we hope to expose the one universal way to make someone smile.

DISCLAIMER: These posts are based on real life accounts. Names have been changed to protect the identities of the people interviewed.