"The hyenas in Kenya are quite shy actually," said Cheik our driver as he negotiated around a crater in the red dirt road. "Hyenas across the border are different though." He changed his tone. "They kill people."
Cheik went on to explain how hyenas across the border had developed a taste for human flesh after feasting on an abundance of dead bodies left lying around during years of conflict. It was a simple yet chilling insight into the drastic difference between the relative calm of Kenya and the part of the world towards which we were now heading, the Gedo region of Somalia.
It was to be my first visit to Somalia and while no stranger to East African disorder having spent time working in Darfur last year, I was surprisingly nervous knowing Somalia's reputation for turmoil.
For several months we have been operating a medical clinic in the El Waak district in cooperation with our partner agency, Humedica. My mission on this particular trip was to assist in the coordination of the next phase of our project: the distribution of relief goods to the inhabitants and ever-increasing number of internally displaced people arriving in El Waak.
Like others in nearby Sudan, many of the internally displaced people of Somalia have fled for their lives from violence. They have experienced the same terrors, loss, fear and despair and have migrated in search of security and food. However, unlike Sudan, there are no foreign-run camps where Somali IDPs can seek refuge.
The insecurity of Somalia is so bad that it even makes working in Darfur, where aid agencies can barely function due to security threats, seem like a breeze. The refugees in Darfur are, on the most part, provided for by foreign aid and have access to food, water, shelter and shaky but nevertheless apparent security. Somali refugees are at the mercy of warlords, militia and clansmen as desperate as themselves.
The recent Ethiopian invasion of Somalia and subsequent movement across the border of Islamic militia forced the Kenyan government to close the frontier and in doing so they inadvertently cut off humanitarian access to the most severely affected area, Southern Somalia. If life for Somalis was not hard enough already, severe flooding over the last few months has caused a wave of mosquitoes, bringing with them deadly malaria. To add to the suffering, a recent outbreak of Rift Valley Fever, an incurable disease that causes victims to bleed to death, is ravaging the region.
With the border closed and insect borne disease spreading quickly it took some hard negotiating to get access to El Waak. We were eventually granted "special permission" and headed towards the Kenyan-Somali frontier with a payload of thousands of mosquito nets.
There was no border crossing, no fence, not even a line in the sand. Only our GPS unit could tell us when we had entered the land without rule. It didn't take long for us to come across our first sign of civilisation - and what a shock it was. Out of a crumbling, roofless building men toting machine guns poured out to block our path.
Having grown up in the Middle East and worked in war zones for several years now, I was used to seeing men with guns. This time it was different. As they surrounded our vehicle I noticed that our driver was whispering nervously to our Kenyan coordinator and out the window I caught a glimpse of a hand grenade hanging from the belt of a teenaged gunmen.
As the adrenaline surged I was gripped by the thought that these men could easily kill us for our valuables and never be hunted for, let alone caught. I grew even more nervous when the men began to climb on board the vehicle but as we began to drive on again, gunmen in tow, it was explained to us that they were our security detail and were there for our protection. I was very slightly relieved.
Through a cloud of dust the outlines of our clinic became visible and as we pulled into the compound we passed lines of Somali women and children who had been eagerly waiting our arrival. Our "security" team jumped off the truck and took up position around the perimeter wall, each one fulfilling the stereotype required - from the sunglasses and cigarettes to the AK47s held Rambo-style across their chests. In fact, even the landscape and people could have been seen as a cliched image of African suffering.
In amongst the initial chaos of our arrival I was able to get a better view of the women and children. Immensely different from their Kenyan neighbors, their colorful clothing couldn't hide the desolate stares they gave. One elderly woman in particular caught my eye. From behind her headscarf peered two bloodshot, sorrowful eyes. One could only imagine the horrors and anguish that those eyes have seen.
As I circled the clinic, sweating in the intense heat, I saw El Waak in all its pain. A place that once had life was now barren and hostile; schools lay in ruins and the wells only held dust. Like many towns in the old American Wild West, which were ruled by guns and later became ghost towns, El Waak is a ghost town but the gunmen have remained.
There are very few places on Earth that have no system of governance and no written law. Although Somalia is one of these places it was interesting to learn of the alternative they had in place. As in ancient times, the people here exist in clans and inter-clan disputes are often settled through battle. Despite the hardships, within each clan exists a system of welfare whereby the people look after each other the best they can.
Two major clans live side-by-side in El Waak and many of the IDPs are distant relatives who have come to their families in search of shelter and protection. There is often friction between the clans and each has a keen interest in keeping the other "in check". This, as it turned out, was very helpful when identifying recipients for humanitarian aid. Clan leaders regulated the other clan's decisions as to who had access to aid, giving priority to the IDPs, identified as the most desperate faction of the village.
And so in the shadow of machineguns, through the shouts of the clan leaders straining to keep control and under the intense sun, we began distributing mosquito nets to the people. A team of educators was on hand to explain the importance and method of using the nets. Every once in a while one of the women would smile as she received one.
Something as simple as a mosquito net can save a life. As we drove back towards Kenya I hoped we had saved thousands of lives that day. Later assessments will tell. We dropped off our gunmen guards, who by that time had become friendly with us, and crossed back into a land of laws.
The border remains closed and we have stockpiled a huge amount of relief goods in Kenya that we are trying to get to El Waak as soon as possible. If the recent war does bring stability then it can only be a good thing because whatever happens, it would be hard for things to get any worse.
