The Somalia Higher Education: The Systemic Barriers to Somalilanders
My fellow Somalilanders, distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen, Good Evening. It is a great honor for me to be part of this joyous celebration: The 21st Anniversary of our Independence.
At occasions like this, we need to count our blessings during the last 21 years of Somaliland independence. We have to also reflect on the trials and tribulations of the wilderness years, the 31 years that Somaliland was under the political domination of the South, especially the 20 years under the military dictatorship of Siad Barre’s regime, 1969-90.
Let me start with our blessings. Since our new independence, Somaliland has made a name for itself: the best kept secret in Africa. Today, we are the envy of our neighbors. We have achieved great success in the last 21 years much more than what we could have achieved under Somalia.
We are the beacon of democracy in the Horn, but our brothers in the South are a breeding ground for Piracy and Al-Shabab. We have peace and stability for over 20 years, but our neighbors in the south have chaos, violence and never-ending peace-talks. Our economy is growing and our private industry is booming, but our neighbors in South are on life-support under the mercy of handouts from the international donors.
We have made great strides in the area of Higher Education. We have more than seven universities and colleges. Our ministry of Education and Higher Studies has recently set up a Higher Education Commission to set standards for accreditation and academic excellence in Somaliland universities and colleges.
Today, our high school graduates who are bound for college have have choices. Choices, old folks like me, never had. They can choose a university in their own region or the region next door. They can choose from: Amoud University or Eelo University in Borama, Tima’ade University in Gabiley, University of Hargeisa or Golis University in Hargeisa, Burao University in Burao, and Sanaag University in Erigavo, or Nugaal University in Las Anod.
And I am very proud to say: my Intermediate School in Gabiley, Qallax, is now the campus of Tima’ade University; my high school in Hargeisa, First July High, is the campus of University of Hargeisa; Above all, the Ministry of Education and Higher Studies has benefited from the steady leadership of my Lafole classmate, Minister Marwo Zamzam Abdi Adan.
Lest we forget, nights like this, we should reflect on our past, the 30 years of wilderness in Somalia Union. We should remind ourselves the injustice, the trials and tribulations our twenty-year olds went through during those difficult wilderness years.
Nights like this, I think of the barriers that young Somalilanders faced in their pursuit of higher education during the wilderness years. I would like to share with you a story about what was it like for old folks like me during the Wilderness years. The message of the story, simply put, is: We Somalilanders got the short end of the stick.
The main character of the story said: these days, whenever he hears the word “roadmap”; he gets flashbacks of the hardships that his 1974-75 graduating class of First July High School in Hargeisa went through. He remembers the barriers that they had to face in their pursuit of higher education and a better future.
He said: My friend, for our generation, when Siad Barre came to power in 1969 he cancelled all scholarships to UK and USA, but not the scholarships to Italy and Russia. As a result of the hopelessness under his military dictatorship, an exodus to Arabia was the dream for all Somalilander youth. The lucky ones dropped out of school before grade 12 and fled to the riches of Arabia: as stowaways in ships bound to Arabia or Europe; as illegal immigrants in boats bound to Yemen; or as migrant workers in airplanes bound to Arabia.
Those were the lucky ones who could afford the hefty bribes necessary for getting a passport and visa to Saudi Arabia, Kuwait or the Emirates. But one has to travel to Mogadishu to get a valid passport and Visa. Those of us who were not lucky enough were left behind. Every time, we heard someone had made it, it was very disheartening for us.
He said: But the unlucky ones like me had no choice but to carry on and finish high school! What an irony! There was only one option left for the unlucky ones, one destination: Mogadishu. It was a 1000 kilometer trip down south to the Wilderness of the Blues Cafes, the Bar Ala’als of Wardheer and Benadir Restaurant, right at the heart of Mecca Mukarama Avenue in Mogadishu.
But there were only two choices waiting for us in Mogadishu: Join the military or Go to Lafole. But first, one had to do the time as we used to call it: six month military training at Halane Military Camp in Mogadishu and a one year national service in the Wilderness of the South.
He said: I remember the journey down South very vividly. My friends and I, five of us in total, planned our journey to arrive at Halane two days late. We planned alright, but the regime decided to change the schedule. As our truck was entering Mogadishu, we heard an unsettling announcement over the radio: Halane Training Schedule is postponed for seven days. Imagine! We had no money for hotels and no relatives in Mogadishu. We had to look for our senior friends in the National Service who had work placement in Mogadishu primary schools.
He said: I remember the scholarships that were not given away to the best and brightest top graduates at Halane Camp. Our scores in the standardized national exam were among the top twenty out 4000 students. In fact, I scored the second best in the final official results. Ten Scholarships for military doctors to Italy and ten scholarships for military engineers to Russia were handed out in two weeks.
The selection was not made public. But you could see the jubilation of the so-called winners: the sons of Generals and Ministers from the South. To this day, I get flashbacks of our devastation. Imagine being at the top of your class academically but overlooked simply because of being an unwanted Somlailander.
As a result of that devastation, many of my fellow classmates from Hargeisa, including two of my four friends, gave up and opted out for Local military Academy. The rest of us carried on to do a one-year national service in the wilderness of Down South.
He told me that the systemic barriers did not stop there. After the completion of the national services, those of us who wanted to attend the Somali National University had to do a six months Italian intensive course. Why? Italian was the medium of instruction for Somali National University, except the Lafole College of Education.
What a twisted logic? All Somalis studied in English up to grade 12, but this barrier was put in place just to screen out the Somalilanders. How? Many of us could not find relatives to live with in Mogadishu during the Six-month intensive Italian. Remember the university had residential accommodation with free meals for those who complete the intensive Italian course.
He told me this: There was only one choice left for the majority of Somalilanders who could not find relatives in Mogadishu: Lafole College of Education where English was the language of instruction. But to qualify for Lafole, one has to fake dump in the university placement exam. If you score high in the exam, you were placed in the departments were Italian was the medium of instruction. We faked dump and that was how the remaining three of us ended up in Lafole.
The story that I have just shared with you can be the story of many Somalilanders like me. But it is my true story.
Fellow Somalilanders, nights like this, I think of the young Somalilanders, like me, whose dreams were shattered because of their ethnicity. I think of the many Somalilanders who were never given the chance to become doctors or engineers.
Nights like this, I think of my schoolmates who joined the movement as military commanders. I think of the diaspora in Arabia, including my schoolmates, who raised funds for the liberation movement.
Nights like this, I think of the sacrifices of our freedom fighters. I think of the national leaders -like Hassan Issa Jama and others – who founded our liberation movement in UK. I think of Ibrahim Meygag, God bless his soul, our president and others who deserted Barre’s regime to lead the movement. Most importantly, nights like this, I think of the unsung heroes of our movement: the Mahatmas who gave solace and comfort to my generation.
Fellow Somalilanders, let’s pay tribute to our unsung heroes: Abdi Qays, Hadrawi, Gaariye, and Mohamed Moogeh Liban, May God bless his soul!
God Bless you, and may God bless Somaliland!