CHAPTER 15 – A NICE LITTLE CHAOTIC TOWN
The Somali city of Galkayo in better times, after the Somali Civil War.
23:50 (Somalia Time)
Sunday, November 16, 1997 ‘C’
The ‘Norway Hospital’, Galkayo
Central Somalia
Doctor Sven Gunnarsson felt deadly tired as he sat down on a chair of the small coffee lounge used by the medical staff of the humanitarian hospital he ran in Galkayo. His work seemed to him without end, with sick or wounded Somalis showing up continuously at the hospital in a nearly endless stream. His international team of doctors and nurses and the brave, dedicated Somali medical workers who worked with him at the hospital truly did their best but the conditions in and around Galkayo only kept getting worse. The town was already dotted with a dozen or so refugee camps filled with Somalis displaced by the civil war, persons who were desperately poor, had lost everything and were bordering on starvation, with only international food aid keeping them alive. Gunnarsson couldn’t help sigh in exasperation when the noise of some kind of gunfight echoed from some distance away, in the direction of the demarcation line separating the north and south parts of the town, which were each controlled by opposing separate militias from the two main clans present in Galkayo.
‘’Those damn thugs are at it again! When will this senseless bloodshed end?’’
Unfortunately, he already knew the most probable answer to his question: probably never.
He was getting up from his chair in order to make a last tour of the patients wards before going to sleep when he started hearing a growing noise he had not heard before. Curious, he went out on the porch of his hospital facing Hospital Avenue to see if he could locate the source of the noise. More hospital staff members soon joined him outside as the noise kept growing rapidly. Gunnarsson’ heart jumped in his chest when he finally recognized the now loud noise.
‘’AIRCRAFT! WE HAVE AIRCRAFT ON APPROACH! HELP IS ARRIVING!’’
His words made his staff members present cheer out loud, with the cheers getting even louder when the first aircraft appeared just over the roofs of the surrounding buildings, flying slowly towards the hospital. However, that aircraft was like nothing he had seen before: it basically looked like a flat, rectangular object with four large shrouded propellers attached to its sides. If anything, that aircraft looked more like a helicopter than anything else.
‘’What the hell is that?’’
Gunnarsson then watched the strange craft as it landed vertically in the nearly empty surface of the street block facing the hospital, raising a big cloud of dust in the process. Then, he saw a second similar aircraft approach and land next to the first one, while another four aircraft started circling around, waiting for their turn to land. More cheers came from the hospital staff when dozens of soldiers and a number of small four-wheeled vehicles started coming out of the two landed aircraft. As soon as those soldiers were out of the way, the two aircraft that had landed first then took off, freeing the vacant space for two other aircraft to land. As the ballet of aircraft continued, with already over forty soldiers on the ground, one soldier came to Gunnarsson, who had walked to the edge of Hospital Avenue to greet the newcomers. That soldier stopped in front of him and saluted him in a military fashion.
‘’Excuse me, sir, but I am looking for Doctor Sven Gunnarsson, in charge of the Norway Hospital.’’
‘’That’s me!’’ replied the doctor, who then shook hands with the soldier. ‘’You don’t know how happy I am to see you here, mister.’’
‘’Lieutenant Kenneth Gomer, of the United States Sixth Marine Regiment. We were sent here to provide protection to your hospital and your staff and patients.’’
‘’And how long are you going to stay here, Lieutenant?’’
‘’That is still undetermined, Doctor Gunnarsson. We received the request for help from the ICRC only early this morning and things are still fluid. Right now, my most pressing need is to find a secure place to lodge my marines and park my vehicles. Do you have any space available in your hospital?’’
‘’Unfortunately, my hospital is about as full as an egg right now, Lieutenant. We had to rearrange our own staff quarters in order to make room for more patients. However, there are two local hotels within a block from the hospital where some of my staff, including me, have relocated recently. I believe that there are still a few rooms available in those two hotels. As for your vehicles, they may park in the parking lot of the hospital, behind me.’’
‘’Hotels…’’ said Gomer, not sounding too enthusiastic about that solution. ‘’How dependable and sanitary are they?’’
‘’Well, I can vouch for their owners and their hotel staff, as I know them quite well: they have been suffering from this civil war as much as us and would be more than happy to receive more paying customers. Presently, the ICRC is paying for the room and board my staff members get there. What about you, Lieutenant? Is your government ready to pay those hotel owners?’’
That question made Gomer smile.
‘’Don’t worry about that, Doctor: the U.S. Navy Department pays a very honest sum for temporary accommodations overseas. They do accept American dollars here, I hope?’’
It was then the turn of Gunnarsson to be amused.
‘’Accept? The mighty American dollar is king here, Lieutenant.’’
‘’Excellent! Could you show me that empty lot behind your hospital?’’
‘’Sure! It is actually the designated parking lot for my hospital and is surrounded by a low brick wall, so you won’t have to worry about someone simply stealing one of your vehicles and driving it off the lot. Follow me!’’
With Gomer walking alongside him, Gunnarsson quickly went around his hospital, which was actually a collection of single-story buildings attached together. The parking lot he then showed to Gomer seemed to satisfy the marine officer.
‘’This will be perfect for our use. I am going to guide my vehicles to this lot now and will place permanent sentries here as well. Once that is done, if you could show me those two hotels you spoke about.’’
‘’Sure! Uh, how many soldiers do you have with you, Lieutenant?’’
‘’I have 73 men and one woman with me, Doctor. However, they can easily crowd themselves a bit and sleep with four or five men per hotel room. Is the plumbing in those hotels in working order?’’
‘’Yes! Despite the complete lack of government services here, the hotel owners, like all other owners of shops and businesses in Galkayo, have been paying out of their own pockets to have their systems maintained and repaired by local artisans and technicians, many of whom are officially unemployed. So, those hotel owners will be more than happy to receive your men…and woman. Is that woman a nurse, by chance?’’
‘’No! She is one of my rifle squad leaders, and one of the best as well.’’
‘’Wait! Is that woman the one known on television news as ‘the Viking Shield Maiden’?’’ asked Gunnarsson, grinning. That nearly made Gomer laugh.
‘’Wow! She is already this famous here? Yes, Doctor: Sergeant Greta Visby is the one who made the news recently. She was born in Sweden, by the way.’’
‘’That’s great! A couple of my hospital staff members are Swedish. They will love to be able to speak in Swedish with her.’’
‘’Well, don’t forget that she came here with me to help protect your hospital, not to start a Swedish group club, Doctor.’’
‘’Of course! I will wait here for you while you organize your people and direct your vehicles to here.’’
‘’That won’t take long, Doctor.’’ promised Gomer before walking away.
Effectively, the first four-wheeled vehicles started to roll inside the parking lot a mere two minutes later, with Gunnarsson counting a total of eighteen of them when they were all in. A group of five marines, one of them a woman, then apparently took charge of mounting guard on the parked vehicles. Intensely curious about her, Gunnarsson went to the female marine, a tall, athletic and young blonde with blue eyes, presenting himself to her in Swedish, which he could speak fluently.
‘’Sergeant Visby? I am Doctor Sven Gunnarsson, director of this hospital.’’
‘’Pleased to meet you, Doctor.’’ replied Greta while shaking his hand. ‘’You do speak a good Swedish, Doctor.’’
‘’I am Norwegian, Sergeant. I also have two of my staff who are Swedish and who will love to meet you later on. From where exactly are you in Sweden?’’
‘’I am originally from Skaulo, a small village in the Lapland region of Northern Sweden. Skaulo is at the same latitude as Bodo, in Norway. I however moved to the United States with my father when I was fourteen and was living in Alaska before joining the Marine Corps.’’
‘’No wonder why they call you ‘the Viking Shield Maiden’ on American news. I…’’
The return of Lieutenant Gomer then interrupted his conversation with Greta and he faced the young officer, who had stopped and had politely waited in silence close to him.
‘’I will now show you the two hotels I spoke about, Lieutenant. They are the Al Jazeera Hotel and the Hotel Jubba. The Jubba is the closest and largest one of the two and is in fact just beside the lot where your aircraft landed.’’
‘’Then, let’s go visit this Hotel Jubba first.’’
Leading Gomer around his hospital and crossing Hospital Avenue, Gunnarsson then veered a bit to the right and walked towards a large walled compound containing one two-story building and a number of smaller buildings and sheds. At the same time, he spoke to Gomer as they closed in on the hotel compound.
‘’The Jubba Hotel is owned by a man named Majeed-Hassan Mahmood. While a consummate businessman, he is also a most decent man and he also happens to be a cousin of the warlord who controls the northern part of Galkayo, Majeerteen-Omar Mahmood, so you shouldn’t have problems with the local militiamen. You should like that hotel owner. By the way, I occupy a room in his hotel and I can certify that the toilets and showers in it work. However, you must tell your men to be scarce with their use of water, as the hotel gets its water from a private well which has a limited capacity.’’
‘’I will pass the word to my marines, Doctor. What about the local food? While we have brough our own field rations with us, would the local restaurants be safe to eat in if my marines decide to vary their menu?’’
‘’Uh, they will have to be selective in their choices of restaurants if they go eat local food. Only a few restaurants around the hospital would pass the hygiene standards we would consider as minimal in our own countries. However, I can recommend to you the restaurant of the Al Jazeera Hotel, which serves good Arabic food like couscous, rice, kibbe and shawarma, as well as the Forage Fast Food, which serves some good skewered grilled meat. My staff and I have eaten many times in both of those restaurants without suffering any gastro-intestinal problems.’’
Gomer took the time to note all that information down as he walked with Gunnarsson.
‘’One last thing, Doctor. I have been authorized by my commander to hire and pay at least one local person who could serve as interpreters for us. As you may have guessed already, none of us speak Somali, while I have one man who can speak Arabic.’’
‘’I can definitely help you with this, Lieutenant. My hospital staff already employs a small number of local people as interpreters and would have hired more if my limited budget allotted by the ICRC would have allowed me to do so. How many such translators would you need?’’
‘’I would say four at a minimum, Doctor. However, we will need to have good confidence in those translators, for obvious reasons.’’
‘’It shouldn’t prove to be a problem to find such local interpreters, Lieutenant: there are plenty of young, well-educated people around Galkayo who are unemployed or have only poorly paid menial jobs at present. Some of them are in fact the kids of some of my local medical staff, so should be quite reliable.’’
‘’Excellent! Your help is proving to be quite useful, Doctor.’’
‘’And the presence of your soldiers will take a big weight off my shoulders, Lieutenant. My hospital has already been looted once by militiamen who took all our drugs in order to resell them on the black market. One of my local staff members who tried to protest was then murdered.’’
‘’I am truly sorry to hear that, Doctor. My marines will do their best to protect your hospital while we are here. While I don’t know yet how long we will stay, I expect to be here for at least three to four weeks, maybe longer. It will all depend on the decisions taken in Washington about Somalia.’’
While Gunnarsson didn’t reply to that, he mentally wished then that Gomer could stay for at least a few months, but frankly had low expectations about that happening.
When the duo entered the lobby of the Jubba Hotel, they found it half-dark and lit by only a handful of electrical lamps, probably in order to save on electricity. There was also a lone young man sitting behind the reception counter, looking bored. He however regained his focus on seeing Gunnarsson enter with Gomer.
‘’Doctor Gunnarsson, what were these strange helicopters which landed near the hotel a few minutes ago?’’
‘’They were American aircraft bringing in American soldiers tasked with protecting my hospital, Aziz. Lieutenant Gomer, this is Aziz, one of the sons of Majeed-Hassan Mahmood. He customarily is on the reception’s night shift. Aziz, this is Lieutenant Gomer, the leader of the soldiers who just arrived by air. Could you please wake up your father? I believe that he and the lieutenant will have to discuss some serious business together.’’
The word ‘business’ seemingly acted like a catalyst on the young man, who then quickly disappeared through a door at the back of the counter. While waiting for his return, Gomer looked around at the hotel lobby. While the furniture was fairly old, the place was reasonably clean and had been swept recently. After a couple minutes of waiting, the young Aziz returned with a tall, thin man with graying hair and wearing glasses. The newcomer then went around the counter to shake hands with Gomer while speaking in a fair English.
‘’Welcome to the Jubba Hotel, sir. I am Majeed-Hassan Mahmood, owner of the hotel. So, I gather that you would like rooms for your soldiers, right? How many soldiers do you have with you?’’
‘’I have a total of 73 men and one woman with me, Mister Mahmood. Of course I don’t expect you to have 74 rooms available at this time, but I was planning to pack four men or more per room, as we only need place to sleep and wash. How many rooms do you actually have available in your hotel tonight?’’
Majeed-Hassan had to restrain himself from showing his glee then: business for his hotel had been next to non-existent for months, until the arrival of the ICRC medical team had filled at least a few of his rooms. If those American soldiers were ready to pay even a minimal rent for his remaining rooms, then it would allow him to at last make a profit and be able to put money aside for some much-needed repairs and renovations.
‘’Right now, I have a total of nineteen rooms available, sir, all with a private bathroom. I gather that the American government will be ready to pay for their rent?’’
‘’You gather correctly, Mister Mahmood. Do you accept American dollars?’’
That question made the hotel owner grin widely.
‘’Sir, the American dollar is king here! However, you will need to pay cash, as we don’t have the electronic connections needed to accept payments via credit cards.’’
‘’That will not be a problem, Mister Mahmood. I will take all of your nineteen rooms that are available. How much would you charge per night for them?’’
The owner made a quick mental calculation in his head before quoting a number while smiling.
‘’I would be ready to let them go as a package deal for a thousand dollars a night, sir.’’
‘’Hum, that makes roughly an average of 53 dollars per room per night: still well within accepted DOD commercial accommodation rates. You have a deal, Mister Mahmood.’’
‘’And for how long will you need those rooms, sir?’’ asked Majeed-Hassan, whose smile had just widened to a grin.
‘’I still don’t know for how long my mission here will be, but it will be for a minimum of at least a few weeks.’’
‘’Excellent, sir! If you would like for some extra services for your soldiers, I have good contacts that could provide your men with special services.’’
Gunnarsson hid his face with his hands, while Kenneth Gomer smiled, having guessed what kind of ‘special services’ Mahmood was alluding to.
‘’Thanks for the offer, Mister Mahmood, but we won’t need special services. My marines have to stay focused on their duties while in Galkayo.’’
‘’Very well, sir. Since your soldiers will be three or four per room, I will give you two keys per room and will let you distribute them as you wish.’’
As Mahmood was sifting through his key press behind his reception counter, Gomer took out of a cargo pocket a large envelope full of cash that Lieutenant Colonel Wilkinson had given him before his departure from Eyl, then counted out 7,000 dollars on the counter. When Mahmood turned around with his hands full of keys and returned to the counter, his eyes lit up at the sight of the pile of big denomination American dollar bills.
‘’Here is the payment for the first week of room rental for my marines, Mister Mahmood. Could I bother you to provide me with a signed receipt in English for that payment?’’
‘’Of course, sir!’’ replied the happy hotel owner as he dropped his keys on the counter, then quickly counted the dollar bills before producing a receipts pad. He filled a form, then signed it and applied his business stamp on it. He gave to Gomer the signed receipt before pocketing the cash money and shaking hands with the marine officer.
‘’It is a pleasure for me to do business with the American government. I wish you and your soldiers a nice stay in Galkayo, sir.’’
‘’Well, that will depend on others than me, I guess.’’ replied philosophically Kenneth Gomer while smiling.
10:06 (Somalia Time)
Monday, November 17, 1997 ‘C’
Market place, three street blocks from the Jubba Hotel
Galkayo
Having completed the first duty shift for her rifle squad in Galkayo and having slept a few hours, Greta had decided to go explore the area around the hospital and, since the orders were to never wander around alone, had taken Private Jaghir Singh with her. Despite the obvious generalized poverty permeating the town, the market place they found some three street blocks to the Southeast of their hotel was a surprisingly busy place, prompting a remark from Singh.
‘’Where do they get their money for buying stuff here, Sergeant?’’
‘’I don’t know, but I suppose that black market activities are part of the answer. Still, this place is quite a colorful one.’’
‘’Indeed! It actually reminds me of a few places I saw in the Punjab.’’
Greta was not surprised to see that she and Singh were attracting a lot of curiosity to them from the Somali merchants and their customers in the market place. However, she didn’t see or feel outright hostility towards her and Singh, just a mix of curiosity and surprise. Passing by a mixture of mobile stands and of more permanent shops occupying actual brick buildings, they came to one particular shop that instantly attracted Greta’s undivided attention. For one thing, its front display was full of weapons.
‘’A gun store? I guess that I should have expected to find one in an anarchic place like this. How about visiting it, Private Singh?’’
‘’I am certainly curious about it, Sergeant.’’
They were about to enter the shop when Greta spotted a large sign bearing the words ‘MARWAN GUN STORE’ in English, Somali and Arabic. There was also a long sentence in Somali written under the name of the store. Curious, Greta approached what appeared to be an employee of the store that was keeping an eye on the weapons displayed in the front counter. That employee also happened to be armed with a pistol tucked in his belt.
‘’Excuse me, sir. Do you speak English?’’
‘’I do, miss! What can I do for such a well-armed woman today?’’
‘’I was wondering what was written under the name of the store.’’
‘’Aah, that!’’ said the man, smiling. It is my favorite moto for my business. It says ‘If it can kill a man, we have it’.’’
Greta couldn’t help shake her head at that, while Singh briefly laughed.
‘’That’s what I would call the right spirit for this kind of business, Sergeant.’’
The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow on hearing the word ‘Sergeant’ directed at Greta.
‘’You command male soldiers, miss? That’s unusual, I must say.’’
‘’It is still a bit uncommon in the United States but I earned my rank in combat, mister. Uh, I realize that your business probably concentrates on weapons that go ‘BOOM’ or ‘BANG’, but I was hoping to find an old sword, preferably a saber. My soldier here is also an amateur of blade weapons.’’
‘’A perfectly understandable interest in what were true warrior weapons, miss. While I have an assortment of bayonets in my store, I don’t have swords. However, my brother owns the boutique next door and he specializes in antiques. I know for a fact that he has a varied collection of swords on display inside his store.’’
‘’Yes! I will certainly go visit him next. Uh, do you mind if I look inside your store, out of curiosity, mister?’’
‘’Please do, miss!’’ replied the old shopkeeper, smiling. ‘’May I ask in turn what kind of weapon you have, miss? It looks quite interesting…and unusual.’’
‘’Of course! I can show it to you but I can’t let you handle it. Sorry but it is against regulations.’’
Greta then unslung her combo rifle-grenade launcher and held it in front of her to let the shopkeeper look at it.
‘’This is a Winchester M1985A2 assault rifle, the standard rifle of the United States Marine Corps. Its caliber is .243 Winchester, or 6.2mm, and it is fed by a 25-round box magazine. What you see under the rifle barrel, inside an integral handguard, is a single-shot grenade launcher able to fire a variety of rifle grenades.’’
‘’An impressive weapon, I must say, miss. If you will follow me, I will give you a quick tour of my humble shop. MARWAN, COME AND WATCH THE FRONT DISPLAY WHILE I LEAD THOSE CUSTOMERS AROUND THE STORE.’’
‘’COMING, HADID!’’
Soon, Greta and Jaghir were following the old man around the shop, which was literally filled with firearms and weapons of all kinds, going from the simple pistol to the rocket-propelled grenade launcher and hand grenades. There was also a variety of bayonets on display. One model of bayonet, which looked at first quite ordinary, had something different that attracted Greta’s attention. She thus pointed it to the shopkeeper.
‘’That bayonet looks a bit different to the others. It also has Russian markings on it.’’
‘’Aah, it looks different because it is different, miss. This is a very special knife used by Soviet special forces soldiers during the war in Afghanistan. A Somali mujahedeen who fought the Soviets there brought this back and sold it to me. It is actually a spring-loaded blade knife able to project its blade and kill a man from a few paces away.’’
‘’Really?’’ said Greta, instantly interested, while Jaghir Singh also eyed the Soviet knife with renewed interest. ‘’Can you show me how it is used?’’
‘’Of course, miss! Watch that thick wooden beam: I will stick that blade into it from two paces away.’’
Watched with intense interest by Greta and Jaghir, the shopkeeper grabbed the knife from its display and took it out of its scabbard, then pointed it at the wooden beam before pressing on a hidden button which was part of its handle. The razor-sharp steel blade then flew out at an impressive velocity and planted itself deep in the beam with a resounding ‘TONK’. Going to the wooden beam, Greta tried to pull the blade out but had to use a good part of her strength before she could extract it from the beam. She was grinning with glee as she eyed the steel blade she now held in her hands.
‘’I want this! How much, mister?’’
‘’For you, my American friend, I will let it go for sixty dollars.’’
‘’Sold! I may empty my wallet for this, but it is worth it. Show me how to reload the blade and operate the knife, please.’’
As the shopkeeper explained the functioning of the knife to Greta, Jaghir watched on, a bit jealous.
‘’Damn, I wish that you had a second one like that, mister.’’
‘’Unfortunately, this is a rather rare piece, mister. Maybe you could find one in another weapons shop in the city but I doubt it.’’
Another five minutes and the two marines left the weapons store, with Greta having already attached the Soviet ballistic knife and scabbard to her web gear. However, the shopkeeper insisted on guiding them to the antiques store owned by his brother, speaking briefly with him in Somali before returning to his own store. The owner, a man in his fifties with a long beard, bowed to Greta.
‘’I am honored to get your visit, miss. You are looking for old swords?’’
‘’Yes! I do hope that I have enough cash money left on me for it, but I would like to find an old Arabic scimitar, while my friend here is looking for a saber.’’
‘’I can loan you some cash, Sergeant: I have hardly spent any money in the last few weeks and my wallet is quite full.’’
‘’You would? Thanks! I will remember that. Let’s see what we can find in this shop.’’
‘’Follow me, please.’’ said the shopkeeper. ‘’I keep my sword collection in the back. I must say that, with all the various conquering armies which went through Somalia in the past and with Somali warriors returning from wars in other countries, I have been able to accumulate quite a varied collection. Some of the older swords are however understandably no more in perfect conditions.’’
‘’That is understandable, mister.’’ replied Greta, feeling some excitement as she followed the man towards the back of his store. Soon, she and Jaghir stopped in front of a wall display where over twenty different types of swords were suspended. As the eyes of both marines opened wide at the view of the sword collection, the shopkeeper went to one sword and unhooked it from the wall before presenting it to Greta.
‘’Here is a recent copy of a scimitar sword, as it was used during the Crusades, some 800 years ago. I do have an authentic scimitar in my collection but, being a certified antique piece, goes for a lot more than this copy and is also quite rusted out. This sword has been sharpened, by the way, so be careful while handling it, miss.’’
Greta made a grimace when she cautiously passed a finger along the cutting edge of the sword.
‘’It is indeed sharp. How much?’’
‘’I will let go for one hundred dollars, miss.’’
Greta in turn looked at Jaghir, who nodded his head before taking out his wallet and handing a hundred dollars to her. As Greta was paying for her scimitar sword, which came with its own scabbard, Jaghir went down the sword display, to soon stop in front of a highly curved saber.
‘’That one looks really nice, mister.’’
‘’Aah, a kilij, an Ottoman sword from the end of the 19th Century. A redoubtable weapon that could cut a whole pig in two with one single blow.’’
‘’Really?’’ said Jaghir, a bit incredulous, making the shopkeeper nod his head once.
‘’If you sharpen it carefully, yes!’’
‘’Then, I’ll take it! How much?’’
As Jaghir and the shopkeeper started to haggle about the price in celebrated Arabic fashion, Greta also reviewed the swords display but decided that she already had bought enough for today. Anyway, her wallet was now close to empty and she already owed a hundred dollars to Jaghir, so she left the shop after he had paid for his kilij and had also bought a knife sharpening kit from the shopkeeper. Both of them wore proudly their new swords hooked to the back of their tactical vests as they continued to tour the market place. Seeing a small co