On the Kampala Bombings

By Sagal Abshir

The first time I heard K'naan's "Waving Flag," I was in a hip New York shoe-store-turned-music-venue in February 2009, crowded up against the young and restless downtown crowd. He played the song a cappella, and his voice rose above the crowd, his words touching me deeply. Somehow, he managed to articulate the hope, the nationalism, the tragedy, the irony, the nostalgia — the same qualities I heard in my parents' voices as they tried to describe to their inquisitive daughters what had been great about Somalia, how it had gone wrong, and how the hope lay in the next generation.

Fast forward a year or so, and I heard K'naan's song again — this time all muscular and techno in the run-up to the greatest party of the decade, the World Cup in South Africa. How proud was I to see that, as Somalia, we had found a way to be part of this African renaissance, without a country or a government, much less a national team. The Somali flag flew at the opening ceremonies — that was more than many other African countries could say.

Fast forward three short months, and my heart is broken. Somali suicide bombers have killed 74 people and injured many more by blowing themselves up during a screening in Kampala of the final match. Even now, three days later, I'm struggling to wrap my mind around this fact. Instead, I'm fussing over and examining the shards of glass, obsessively picking out the reflections and patterns. Location: Uganda, in East Africa; like the Kenya and Tanzania U.S. Embassy bombings in 1998. All three countries are home to millions of Somalis, like my parents, who were simply seeking a peaceful place to raise their kids. The suicide bomber blew himself up at an Ethiopian restaurant; my mind jumps to the memory of a long debate with an older African-American gentleman in Central Park, him schooling me that in fact there was no difference between Ethiopia and Somalia. The final match was between Spain and Netherlands — the Spanish football players certainly recall the Madrid train bombings in 2004. When and what are we going to hear from former Dutch-Somali MP, Ayaan Hirsi Ali?

Earlier this week, I was sitting in a classroom at the Kennedy School of Government when I learned that Al-Shabab had claimed responsibility for the attacks. The professor was walking us through global governance indicators and how to understand the data underlying them. Somalia ranks at the very bottom of the world on political stability, government effectiveness, rule of law, control of corruption. My classmates are sympathetic, as I'll have a hard time completing the assignment (use these indicators to draft talking points for your country's president who is up for reelection).

No, my president is not up for re-election because we don't hold elections. We are not even sure how he got there, actually. He doesn't exactly have a team. In fact, he doesn't really control the country. All he has are 5,000 brave African Union peacekeepers surrounding his home and acting as a human shield against the daily attacks from a group that calls itself Al-Shabab. In this Kampala attack, Al-Shabab have targeted the home of the Ugandan soldiers, and they have threatened to inflict similar damage in Burundi.

It makes me sick. And furious. And ashamed, like I would feel if my alcoholic husband beat up the neighbor who is kindly dropping off some sugar. I don't have answers or policy prescriptions or encouraging words. I just wanted to say something. I hope many of us say something.

Perhaps then, in K'naan's words, "When we get older, we will be stronger — they'll call us freedom, just like a waving flag."

My deepest sympathies and condolences to the victims of the Kampala bombings and their families. My sincerest prayers for the millions of Somalis forced to live under the tyranny of Al-Shabab.

Flickr photo by ISN Security Watch used under a Creative Commons license.