Sorry for not posting yet this week. It’s not that nothing happened, it’s that I wanted to get the whole story first.
On Monday we took Marnie’s Somali friend Sahra, her husband and another guy to Pretoria to the UN offices. We didn’t know we’d be taking two additional people until we got to Sahra’s in Mayfair, so our poor Corsa took on a clown car appearance driving up the M1 during rush hour.
When we got to the UN building around eight, a crowd had already formed two lines by gender in front of the barred doors. When the gates finally lifted a half hour later, a lot of pushing and shouting was taking place in the men’s line. The guards were allowing non-Somali’s to cut to the front. Some of the Somalis and a few Burundians had spent the night outside on the street, and many told us that they had been there numerous times without getting in the door. Some women were pregnant or had young children in tow. Marnie and I were even asked if we were immigrants, presumably so we could cut in line as well.
The problem, we were told, is that Somalis will not pay bribes. When Marnie confronted the dreadlocked screener, whom the Somalis called Rasta, as to why people were allowed to cut in line, he responded that, “We are not here just to help Somalis.” Ironically, a number of people were there just to make sure they were registered with the UN, in order to be sponsored by family abroad to resettle elsewhere.
The mob was understandably upset, particularly the ladies. That’s when Marnie got her camera out, and things got tense. After snapping a few pictures, an ADT guard policing the gates pulled Marnie aside and told her that if another photo was taken, he would call the police. Despite the fact that we had every right to take pictures outside on a public street, Marnie relented. Later Rasta said that someone wanted to speak to Marnie inside, alone, about why she was taking pictures.
This understandably freaked us out, and we left immediately. We returned to the shopping center where we parked, but could not get Sahra on her cell phone. Worried sick that we had endangered our friends, she finally called back a half hour later. Rasta had agreed to let her in, but she didn’t know how long she’d be, so she told us to take off and she would catch a ride later.
Marnie felt absolutely awful to cause trouble for the people she had intended to help, but we found out that our actions had been vindicated the next day. Apparently Rasta had interrogated the Somalis for hours as to Marnie’s purpose, but none of them owned up to knowing her, though they helpfully suggested she may be a journalist or UN employee. I guess he was quite tearful about the whole ordeal, and was so anxious, in fact, that every Somali there got an appointment to get inside.
A tiny victory, but satisfying none the less. Let’s hope it lasts.
On Monday we took Marnie’s Somali friend Sahra, her husband and another guy to Pretoria to the UN offices. We didn’t know we’d be taking two additional people until we got to Sahra’s in Mayfair, so our poor Corsa took on a clown car appearance driving up the M1 during rush hour.
When we got to the UN building around eight, a crowd had already formed two lines by gender in front of the barred doors. When the gates finally lifted a half hour later, a lot of pushing and shouting was taking place in the men’s line. The guards were allowing non-Somali’s to cut to the front. Some of the Somalis and a few Burundians had spent the night outside on the street, and many told us that they had been there numerous times without getting in the door. Some women were pregnant or had young children in tow. Marnie and I were even asked if we were immigrants, presumably so we could cut in line as well.
The problem, we were told, is that Somalis will not pay bribes. When Marnie confronted the dreadlocked screener, whom the Somalis called Rasta, as to why people were allowed to cut in line, he responded that, “We are not here just to help Somalis.” Ironically, a number of people were there just to make sure they were registered with the UN, in order to be sponsored by family abroad to resettle elsewhere.
The mob was understandably upset, particularly the ladies. That’s when Marnie got her camera out, and things got tense. After snapping a few pictures, an ADT guard policing the gates pulled Marnie aside and told her that if another photo was taken, he would call the police. Despite the fact that we had every right to take pictures outside on a public street, Marnie relented. Later Rasta said that someone wanted to speak to Marnie inside, alone, about why she was taking pictures.
This understandably freaked us out, and we left immediately. We returned to the shopping center where we parked, but could not get Sahra on her cell phone. Worried sick that we had endangered our friends, she finally called back a half hour later. Rasta had agreed to let her in, but she didn’t know how long she’d be, so she told us to take off and she would catch a ride later.
Marnie felt absolutely awful to cause trouble for the people she had intended to help, but we found out that our actions had been vindicated the next day. Apparently Rasta had interrogated the Somalis for hours as to Marnie’s purpose, but none of them owned up to knowing her, though they helpfully suggested she may be a journalist or UN employee. I guess he was quite tearful about the whole ordeal, and was so anxious, in fact, that every Somali there got an appointment to get inside.
A tiny victory, but satisfying none the less. Let’s hope it lasts.
What an experience! Perhaps we should rename it the USN, United for Some Nations . . . I would be torn as to whether getting inside could eventually lead to a clean-up of an apparently corrupt system or jeopardizing my main reason for being there.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad it worked out the way it did.
Love you both!
What really pisses me off is that those guys are there to provide security ONLY. It is not their job to decide who gets in and when (and at what price). The folks inside must have known something was up, because I was told that a UN employee came outside later that day and posted a sign (in several language) that said paying bribes is forbidden. Why don't they just fire those guys? They're not good people.
ReplyDeleteIf refugees can't go to the UN for help, where can they go? It was blatant discrimination against Somalis. Absolutely shocking.
I'm going to meet with the Forced Migration Studies director to discuss what happened, as he has contacts at the UN. Somalis' (and all migrants') lives are hard enough here that one would think the UN would provide the help they need.