Faizel Patel, Radio Islam News – 18-06-2017
It was the first time that I saw rain on my trip to Somalia with the Al-Imdaad Foundation and little did I know the rain would echo my tears later on when I visited the Baidoa Hospital.
The showers brought a welcome relief to the intense heat we’ve been experiencing over the past few days.
While temperatures ranged between 30 and 35 degrees, we were told this was not even the summer.
I had a difficult night before we left for Baidoa. While initially being cautious about the food I ate, I decided to taste a little more of the local cuisine which was a mistake.
Around 11pm, a sharp intense pain ripped my right side. Tossing and turning until just past 1:30am this morning the pain was stubborn and refused to dissipate.
It was three hours later the pain decided it had tortured me enough and decided to make a hasty retreat.
We departed for the Aden Abdulle airport in Mogadishu at about 6:30am and went through the usual security checkpoints which was frustrating.
After boarding one of those old propeller planes, we all sat “first class” with magnificent views of the country below.
The Shaati Gaduud International Airport in Baidoa is quaint and the runaway gravel, but hey we were not squealing, we finally arrived after numerous challenges. It was time for a bout of humanitarianism.
Our first stop with Al-Imdaad Foundation was a refugee camp where cool fresh clean water was being distributed to the locals. The angst on their faces and appreciation in their voices made us realize that water is such a precious resource and source of all life.
Next stop was the Baidoa hospital and many will know I am a sucker for children, I love them to bits.
I picked out a little fellow sitting on the concrete floor, he could not have even been four and I reached out to him. He took hold of my hand and clutched my fingers… Totally heartbreaking.
As we walked along, Yacoob Vahed from Al-Imdaad pointed in the direction of the registration desk of the hospital which was situated under a tree.
I then saw him, looking right back at me. He looked frail, a classic case of malnutrition, extremely thin with bones visible and large head. He was in a blue bath which was attached to a scale.
I did not get his name or the reading on the scale. He just looked at me with those eyes.
After taking the picture of a little boy being weighed, I was shattered. How can innocent children suffer like this? I pray that Allah have mercy on these children and protect them with all His love.
After experiencing the heartache of watching how innocent children suffer, the pain I felt was a million times more severe than I felt the night before.
Sadly time was up and a short while later we left, but a piece of me stayed behind with that little child in the blue bucket. I will never forget him… How could I?
Following another food aid distribution to about two thousand women, time was running out and we had to rush to the airport to catch our private aircraft back to Mogadishu.
You would think that after the day we had, things would go smoothly. How wrong we were. A guard named Mulau from Ethiopia at the security checkpoint refused to let us through despite having hired a private plane.
It was only when our aides called his superiors he allowed us to pass. As we boarded the plane, the anguish and sadness was clearly visible on the faces of all the people on board, including members of the Zam Zam Foundation, IHH, Al Imdaad and journalists.
Today was an experience nobody would forget.
After a weary flight where everyone including myself were slumbered in our seats, we reached Mogadishu and swiftly passed through the airport.
A quick visit to gauge the facilities at the Arafaat Hospital which was initially in Al Shabaab territory and also damaged a few years ago by fire we headed back to the hotel for some rest before ifthar with orphans.
This experience made us feel embarrassed and awoke the reality that many people don’t realize how much food they waste when these orphans are grateful for the little they have.
When we entered the orphanage a little boy in orange ran to me and I picked him. He was a cute and bubbly and had that mischievous smile that all children his age have when they are up to something… If only I could take him home.
The Ifthar with orphans was an experience that we will all cherish, all sitting together at the table and they even joined us for salaah after.
After we returned back to the hotel, reality struck us like a bolt of lighting… time was up.
Our stay in Somalia had come to an end.
While I couldn’t gauge what members of the Al Imdaad, Zam Zam Foundation and IHH teams were feeling, I sensed that they were heartbroken.
For a week we were supermen trying to help the people who needed it the most, the Somali’s
As journalists myself and Azhar Vadi experienced emotions and challenges that we hope will resonate with you and awaken your conscience to say, ‘I have to do something, they need us’.
Bags packed, hearts sore and experiences shared, it was time to “Goodbye Somalia”, I may never see you again but you will never be forgotten and we hope that the stories were wrote, pictures and videos we took and shared will travel across the world and leave an indelible mark on all those that read and watch our experiences.
With that I played the Nasheed ‘Ana Somali’ by Abdul Rashid Muhiadan. He is right, even if it was only for a few days, we were all Somali’s and proud of it and our longing for her will continue until we eventually return one day Insha’Allah.
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