I still write here on Substack, at Rachel Pieh Jones. Join me there!

I also have a writing, ghostwriting, books, and more newsletter at LinkedIn if you would like to keep up with writing news. Follow: Stories Without Borders: learn the art of storytelling that travels.

Thank you for reading along, and I look forward to seeing you on one of these other sites!

On Tuesday Djibouti celebrates Independence Day. Already for weeks there have been flags popping up almost every business place and many homes, little flags on cars, khat stands with fresh coats of paint in the Djibouti flag design. There will a big parade and much celebration and then the next day is Eid Al-Adha so this party week around here.

On to the stories

Somali/land

Muslim Mother Teresa Wins Templeton Prize. It is interesting to me how Mother Teresa has become almost more symbol than human. I also compared Annalena Tonelli to Mother Teresa in Stronger than Death (though others said she would have hated that). I think I maybe shared this two weeks ago but it is always fun to read about Edna.

Somalis look for love online but don’t call it dating

The US ambassador to the UN met with Somalia’s president

Las Geel ancient rock art draws international visitors (video)

Young refugees from Somalia caught between open prison and unstable homeland

8 killed in violence in Puntland

Mogadishu’s vanishing heritage

A young Somali activist shaping Somalia’s future through environmental activism

Al-Shabaab attack and kill five civilians in Kenya border towns

Djibouti

Business and tax discussion in Djibouti

Is there a forgotten food and water crisis in Djibouti?

Djiboutian singer Yanna Momina passes away

Fascinating article on the economics of construction in Djibouti

See you next week.

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Once upon a time there was a man called Igal Shiidaad. It was night and Igal Shiidaad was traveling in the countryside. He saw what looked like a lion sitting in the middle of the path. He was a coward. He thought, "Oh, this is a lion." Igal Shiidaad stood where he was. He took his shield and spear, and got ready to fight the lion. He yelled loudly, trying to scare the lion away. But he was not able to scare it away. It just stood there. Igal Shiidaad was too scared to pass.

In the morning he saw the tree stump. He went closer to the stump, and he said, "Stump, you are one thing, and what I saw was something very different. What will I do? I thought you were a lion about to attack me, but you are only a stump. I will never travel at night again." (http://lyndale.mpls.k12.mn.us/uploads/07.pdf)

This is the first folktale I learned about Igal Shidaad, the Somali coward. I read it while living in Minneapolis, home to thousands of Somalis, many of them my neighbors at the time, in Cedar Riverside Plaza.

In 2003 my husband, two-year old twins, and I moved to Borama, Somaliland. He taught at Amoud University and I focused on managing these toddler twins and life in a strange, new world. One of my favorite things about living in Somaliland was the discovery of local folktales and folk heroes. I begged neighbors to tell me stories and they talked about Dheg Dheer (a cannibal woman), Araweillo (a mighty queen), the Diin iyo Dacwo (Turtle and the Fox) and, of course, Igal Shidaad.

I couldn’t relate with the cannibal woman or the queen who castrated all the men but I could relate with a coward. I understood his perspective, the fear that paralyzed him in the middle of the road in front of a tree stump/lion. But while I empathized with Igal Shidaad, I didn’t want to be like him. So I had to learn from him. What could Igal Shidaad teach this foreign woman about how to live and thrive in the Horn of Africa?

Don’t rely on first impressions

Igal Shidaad walked in physical darkness, at night, and he failed to see beyond his initial idea about what he thought the tree stump was. Despite the fact that the lion-shaped form never growled and never moved all night long, he couldn’t imagine it as anything else.

I walked in cultural darkness. I still remember one of my first walks to the village market. Small stones struck the backs of my legs as I tripped over rocks and cacti, following a woman hired to help me. The stones were thrown by young children who stood in the doorway of their home. My first reaction was that they were being cruel, that the stones were intended to insult or injure me. But when I looked up at the children’s faces, I saw wide smiles, bright eyes, and hands eagerly waving. They had simply wanted my attention, to greet me.

When surrounded by a foreign language and by a culture we don’t understand, the human tendency is to feel defensive, to assume people are against us. This reaction is related to fear and insecurity, to feeling vulnerable as an outsider. In reality the lions, the people we fear or the stones we assume are an insult are harmless tree stumps, they are welcoming gestures. I now know I can’t trust my first impressions.

Naming things accurately matters

In order to name things accurately, we have to discover what they truly are. This requires investigation, curiosity, an open mind, and a willingness to adjust assumptions. It took Igal Shidaad all night to finally see the stump for what it was. Some versions of the story have him traveling to find lost camels. He wasted all these hours and the camels wandered even further away, because of his fear.

News reports stir up fear and Islamophobia by perpetuating the lie that Muslim=terrorist. Or Somali = al-Shabaab. When I told people we were moving to Somaliland, some asked about this. What about all those scary people and all that violence?

What I discovered in Somaliland was that yes, there were some scary people and there was some violence. But that was the miniscule minority. There were also mothers. Students. Teachers. Neighbors. Doctors. Musicians. Shepherds. I’m not going to be like Igal Shidaad. I’m not going to waste time being afraid because of a failure to accurately name the people I encounter.

Being brave means engaging with what I am afraid of

In order to discover what things truly are, in order to accurately name them, I have to engage with them. If Igal Shidaad had approached the stump, he would have quickly discovered his error and moved on. Armed with a spear and shield, he did try to frighten the ‘lion’ away by shouting but he didn’t try to fight it. Had he launched his spear and started a fight, he would have discovered his mistake and continued along his way.

It is scary to be the outsider. Sometimes it is uncomfortable to be the American, the white skin, the non-Muslim. I stick out, the only goat in a camel herd. But if I stand outside and only ever look in at my host culture from a distance, I won’t be able to see it for what it is – a world rich with relationships and tradition and a world view that provides a sharpening challenge against my own. And so I engage, ask questions, learn.

Be prepared for the unexpected

Igal Shidaad didn’t expect a tree stump to be in the middle of his path. He expected danger, a lion. So that was what he was prepared for. And that’s what he found, or thought he found.

Especially when living in a foreign country, we have to be ready to see and experience things that we don’t expect. When asking for directions a man climbs into the car. Instead of explaining the way, he prefers to show the way. He isn’t a thief, he is trying to help. When buying halwo candy in the market and the vendor loads a baggie with far more than I asked for, he isn’t trying to wrangle the foreigner out of more money, he is communicating pride in his handiwork and wants me to enjoy it, it is a gift.

Once a coward, always a coward

Even though in the morning Igal Shidaad discovered his error, he still swore he would never again travel at night.

I think that by following the first four ideas, Igal Shidaad could overcome his cowardice, but he seemed to sink deeper into it and continued to do cowardly things, like trying to hide inside a rolled up rug and pretending he was dead to hide from soldiers. It is as though by acting like a coward, he became a coward and couldn’t shake the reputation.

I have done cowardly things, like making wrong assumptions and judging situations inaccurately. Sometimes I feel like a coward, afraid of silly or not-so-silly things, but coward isn’t my identity.

*****

“You are one thing and what I saw was very different. What will I do?” Igal Shidaad said and then decided he would never travel at night again.

Me, an alien in a foreign land, what will I do?

I will question my first impressions, name things accurately, engage with what I fear, try to be prepared for the unexpected, and, for as long as possible, not be a coward.

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I started running in Djibouti, in 2008. I thought it was horrible. But I kept on because I loved spending time with the women who ran with me and now I look back and can hardly believe what running has brought to my life.

When we travel I love to wake up early the first morning in Athen or Paris or Istanbul or Penang, Bangkok or Doha or Zurich, and go for a run. The early morning sounds and smells of foreign cities are delightful and fascinating.

But my home running turf has been Djibouti and even though running in Djibouti is hard because of the heat, I am thankful to have become a runner here. I feel like if I can run for fifteen years here, I can do anything.

I got my first paid writing work thanks to running, have run 4 marathons in three countries, raced more than a dozen other events from New York City to Arta Town. I’ve been on the cover a magazine(!), been involved in a Runners World and Saucony international film project, peed in a porta-potty next to Shalane Flannagen, met Haile Gebrselassie, trained on the same track as Ayanleh Suleiman (he would cheer me on as he lapped me, and lapped me again, and again), traveled with the Djiboutian team to Ethiopia, and so much more.

I’ve won a few trophies but let me let you in on a big secret: it is easy to win trophies in races no one else is running.

You might not be interested in these photos, this is kind of a personal message. But, I had fun skimming back, and my heart filled up.

Before my first-ever official race, Grand Bara 15k, with my inspirations

Minnesota 5k with my son

Signing people up for the 5k Fun Run we sponsored in 2008

In Ethiopia at the Pan Africa games with the Djiboutian and Somalia teams. This is Samia, you can read her tragic story here.

Marathon #1, Twin Cities, Minnesota. My cousin passed me water and ran for a few meters with me.

Marathon #2 - Fargo, North Dakota, PR!

Marathon #3 - Hargeisa, Somaliland. I won second place and took so long to finish my trophy was stolen and the stadium shut down. I was vomiting from mile 12 on. But I did it!

Marathon #4 - Djibouti City, Djibouti. I made it up and ran alone, so that I can say I’ve run a marathon in every country where I’ve lived

Arta Town trail race.

My first trophy win, second official race and another example of my trophy winning technique. I was literally the last person to cross the finish line but was third woman. Apologies to the elite runners who had to wait a whole extra hour for me! I had no idea there would be trophies.

My first triathlon, with my brother

Pandemic Grand Bara. I have run this event six times.

Some of my extreme weather experiences

Henry Wanyoike came and spoke at our school, he is one of the world’s fastest visually impaired marathoners

Running with sisters

More siblings…they came to New York to celebrate the running film premiere. I love these people

The names of all who supported my Somaliland Marathon run and education fundraiser. We sent two students to four full years of university!

I guess my daughter wasn’t impressed with her mom on the cover

Girls Run 2. These women are incredible

Hey voila, a decade and a half of running. What will the next 15 years bring? I already have one race on the calendar for in Minnesota.

What thing did you start doing that surprised yourself, and what did you gain?

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Download Stronger than Death FREE this week at Plough!

From the Plough Publishing Website:

ABOUT THE BOOK

Bronze Medal, 2020 Independent Publisher Book Awards

Amid a volatile mix of disease, war, and religious fundamentalism in the Horn of Africa, what difference could one woman make? Annalena Tonelli left behind career, family, and homeland anyway, moving to a remote Muslim village in northern Kenya to live among its outcasts – desert nomads dying of tuberculosis, history’s deadliest disease.

“I am nobody,” she always insisted. Yet by the time she was killed for her work three decades later she had not only developed an effective cure for tuberculosis among nomadic peoples but also exposed a massacre, established homes and schools for the deaf, advocated against female genital mutilation, and secured treatment for ostracized AIDS patients.

Months after winning the Nansen Refugee Award from the UN in 2003, Annalena Tonelli was assassinated at one of the tuberculosis hospitals she founded. Rachel Pieh Jones, an American writer, was living a few doors down, having moved to Somaliland with her husband and two children just months before. Annalena’s death would alter the course of her life.

No one who encounters Annalena in these pages will leave unchanged. Her confounding, larger-than-life example challenges our assumptions about aid and development, Christian–Muslim relations, and what it means to put one’s faith into practice. Brought vividly back to life through Jones’s meticulous reporting and her own letters, Annalena presents us with a new measure of success and commitment. But she also leaves us a gift: the secret to overcoming the fear that pervades our society and our hearts – fear of disease and death, fear of terrorism and war, fear of others, and fear of failure.

“A searing account of a person, place, deadly disease, unspeakable violence, and, ultimately, faith, love, and sacrifice… Why would anyone leave everything they ever knew behind to travel to a remote Muslim village in northern Kenya, to live among desert nomads dying of tuberculosis? Annalena Tonelli, a self-described “nobody,” was a humanitarian from Italy, and a revolutionary in her own humble way.”

BookList

“My life has been shaped by the examples of faith heroes: Dorothy Day, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X. In this book, Rachel Pieh Jones introduces me to one more – Annalena Tonelli. Her example of immersive, selfless service combined with learning from different traditions should inspire us all.”

Eboo Patel

“Annalena Tonelli’s story challenges readers to believe in themselves and reminds us that we can choose acts of kindness and love even during difficult circumstances. Her courage inspires us to challenge evil: everyone can make a difference.”

Mariam Mohamed, former First Lady of Somalia

Watch the Book Trailer here

And get your free Stronger than Death download today!

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The International School of Djibouti, the best school around!

BikeSKILL, meeting all your biking needs in Djibouti and training local entrepreneurs.

Wells Woodworks, high quality wood products and investing in Djiboutian craftsmen.

An Old Essay

This is a new section in which I will link to one of my own older articles. Enjoy!

“Bring a Big Knife to School” Day, in The Smart Set, published in 2013

Awarded a *2013 Best American Travel Writing Notable Essay.

On to more stories from the Horn.

Djibouti

Girls Scouts in the USA ship cookies to the military base in Djibouti. I remember my daughter’s troop one year were part of passing out cookies. They had 10,000 boxes! Every soldier got two boxes of each kind of cookie and the girls brought home boxes upon boxes. No complaints here!

Djibouti, Berbera, and Dar ports all pass Mombassa’s port in new World Bank ranking of ports. Djibouti ranks among the best on the continent.

Djibouti football team to play Pakistan and Kenya

Somali/land

Al-Shabaab attacks African Union peacekeepers, high death toll feared

Mogadishu regulates rickshaws to ease traffic jams

“Arday” is the first TV series filmed in Mogadishu in 30 years, a 10-part series about high school students

Quadruplets born in Mogadishu

Boxing is making a comeback in Somalia

US confirms strike against al-Shabaab in southern Somalia

Dr. Edna Aden wins prestigious Templeton Prize

Diaspora

Mosques vandalized in Minneapolis and St. Paul

Have a wonderful week.

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On our final family camping and whale sharking trip we built a small cairn of stones on a hillside that holds decades of memories. We’ve shed sweat, tears, and blood on that hillside. I’m sure the rock tower has tipped over by now. We commemorated our time in other ways that I’ll hold close, and we have plans for a few more into the future.

But, I also asked the kids, what is one more thing you’d really like to do before leaving?

My youngest wanted to revisit our old houses and her old schools. That meant we had two former houses to visit and two former schools.

We weren’t sure if the schools would let us in or what the current renters would think about us knocking on their door and asking if we could poke around inside. We did it anyway. My dad is a firm believer in, “All you can do it ask and all they can do is say no. Or yes. So ask.”

So, we asked.

We drove to what we call our “tennis court” house because it is a half block from the courts and she played there 3-4 times a week for years. The renter was home and he seemed surprised but delighted by our request to come into the yard. (He even thought we were French, which thrilled me, based on my accent). We took photos of the yard and her old tree house spot, we remembered her pushing the bunny on the swing, and learning to shoot a bb gun.

She loved this house and I did not. We talked about all the reasons why, a practice in holding each other’s memories as precious and recognizing how different each of the five Joneses’ experiences have been.

Next, we drove to the junior high and they allowed us to walk around. She reflected on the bike racks, the cement play space, the library, the walkways, the games she used to play there with her sweet friends, the garbage can where she tossed love letters from overeager boys, the space where she danced to K’naan’s Wave Your Flag (we tweeted him about her project and he responded, a great moment for a kid!)

Then we drove to our “Ambouli House,” where we were living when she was born. We lived upstairs and the landlord and family lived below us and I could not have designed a better place for us to spend our first 8 years. This Djiboutian family welcomed us with abundant generosity, affection, care, and warmth. They taught us and guided us and protected us. Our kids grew up together, like cousins. There were floods and weddings and birth and deaths and thieves and football matches and Easter egg hunts and goat feasts and so many conversations.

We walked up to the front gate which now has a khat stand next to it. The man at the khat stand said, “Hey, I remember you! You used to live here!” I explained that we would like to look inside the yard and he started to tell a bystander all about our family. “Come in, come in,” he said. It was Ramadan and the man living in the house currently was sleeping so we didn’t go inside but wandered all over the yard and talked about the trees the kids climbed, the day our landlady egged our new car and we learned about cultural blessings, my baby’s (the one graduating) afartanbax party on the rooftop, the bunnies, the kittens, the dogs, the games, the friends.

Then we drove to the old elementary school. We walked into the secretary’s office and her immediate words were, “Welcome back!” I could have cried. All the families she sees and all the years in between our last time there and she still remembered our family with joy. The guard and another employee, all Djiboutians, came at the sound of her voice, and each one remembered us and started reflecting. You started the football club! That led to the launch of the after school extra curricular programs. You joined the Somali and Afar dance group. You chaperoned field trips and sports days…

They gave us an escort, as per school guidelines, and we walked the sidewalks inside the walls, and remembered. Marbles and skinned knees, temper tantrums and favorite teachers. Then we sat in the director’s office for a bit and reflected together about our years in Djibouti.

As my daughter and I drove home, we talked about how things looked now compared to her memory of them. About how graciously people have welcomed us over all these many years, exemplified by the warmth we felt during this little tour. About the different ways we remember.

People often ask how and why we have stayed here so long. There are many answers to that question but one of the foundational answers is that we have been welcomed and received well by the local community. They have been patient with our language and cultural faux pas, they have served us when we needed help and guidance, they have laughed and cried and celebrated and mourned with us.

Teachers, administrators, neighbors, guards, classmates, tutors, coaches, doctors, landlords…

Thank you.

Have you ever gone back to the places you lived and loved or lived and hated? What did you find?

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You can find Incredible Lives and the Courage to Live Them here.

Loads of links this week! On to the stories…

Djibouti

Djibouti’s President IOG jets off to England for the king’s inauguration

Djiboutian and Rwandan governments discuss Horn of Africa security

The two nations also eye new economic ties

Missing sea yacht turns up in Djibouti after being attacked

US embassy in Djibouti hosts a naturalization ceremony

Camp Lemonier hosts an artisan bazaar (I still think they need to sell my books on the base but this has never happened. Any tips?)

Dispatches from the Cowgirl, a new book by a wife of a navy officer who spent some time in Djibouti. Disclosure: I have not read this.

In April Djibouti launched a crackdown on illegal migrants. In the year 2022 more than 220,000 people entered Djibouti illegally, usually hoping to use Djibouti as a throughway, not necessarily an end stop. That is the equivalent of 1/4 of the total population.

Somali/land

Woman awarded $10,000 by Somali government for averting an Al-Shabaab attack by standing up to the terrorist organization

Somalia evacuates 73 citizens from Sudan

Italy reckons with its fascist and colonial past

Why it is so hard to be a journalist in Somalia

Protests in Borama, Somaliland

Iftin, a band of Somalia’s “golden age”

Somalia’s all-women media outlet is thriving

Is Wagner pivoting to Africa?

Is Dengue Fever on the rise in Somaliland? I know it is in Djibouti.

Diaspora

Afro Deli Owner wins small businessperson of the year award. “I believe in the American dream”.

The Horn

No End in Sight in Sudan’s Conflict

Kenyan cult ends in what some are calling a massacre. This is such a sad, horrific story.

Thank you for all the wonderful emails and comments and messages about The Stuff of a Life post from last week. I love hearing about your own stuff and your own stories.

Have a great week.

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I remember saying, “Well, people eat food and aren’t naked there, so we’ll be able to find what we need.”

This was in the days of 70-pound luggage, not 50-pounds. And, we totally weighted down those carryons. We even carried heavy things in our pockets. I put my son’s backpack on him and he literally tipped straight over backward and lay, flailing, on the ground.

Somehow over twenty years stuff accumulated. Almost like stuff gave birth to stuff. How did this happen?

It happens by doing this multiple times:

Do this enough times and voila…a house full of stuff.

Last week we held our sale. Sojourners know these sales well. I sent out the list of items and within thirty seconds my phone exploded with requests. We joke that these moments turn people into vultures and I can say that because I have very much been that vulture. If you don’t jump on the good stuff immediately, it is gone. As soon as a rumor starts that someone is leaving, we start scoping out their possessions. That is how I got the only 220-volt waffle maker in Djibouti at the time, way back 19 years ago (to the great envy of other chefs). It is how I got a fabulous set of weights and an elliptical. No shame.

As people started to purchase things and dig through our massive FREE pile, I had flashes of memories.

The friend who sipped coffee with me in those chairs.

The day I bought those platters with blue and white flowers in the Somaliland market and the day I left them behind when we fled and the day they turned up again on my doorstep in Djibouti.

The afternoon I spent driving to every single dukaan (store) in the city to find marbles for my son who needed them to play with friends at recess.

The day my youngest, then a toddler, tried to force her head through the bars on that bed and got stuck.

All the Thanksgiving Chicken Dinners at that table and the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and the card games and the birthday singing.

The novels and nonfiction books that brought me out of this world to another space in my imagination.

The family we bought that tea set from and the family they bought it from and the woman they bought it from.

At first, as people scanned through our things, I felt rather exposed and a little protective. Maybe we’d made a mistake, maybe we should shut it all down and stay here forever. It feels easier in many ways to stay.

Then I saw a woman pick up one of the platters. I told her that was from Somaliland and that it was my first set of dishes in the Horn of Africa. She had just arrived a month ago. She beamed. “I’m glad to know some history, it helps me feel connected here.”

I started to say to people when they grabbed certain items, “Hey, can I tell you about that? Can I tell you about the students who gave that frisbee to me, the woman who sewed that curtain, the kids who played that game all night long, the reason there is an iron-shaped burn on that rug?”

I understood then. I could bless people with stories and with my things as they set up their new lives, or add to their already established lives. I didn’t pester everyone! But once in a while, I gave some background, and I took notes for myself.

We’re leaving but our things remain. I still go to friend’s houses here and see tables or plates from a long-gone friend, and I tell the new owner about the previous owners. Now those previous owners are us.

I wonder what kinds of stories will be told about our stuff? What meals will be served at the table? What conversations will happen on the couch? What language lessons will be studied using our books and materials? What muscles will build with the weights?

Everything has a story and everyone has a story. What stories do your possessions tell?

(p.s. still for sale: my CPR/First Aid training equipment and several curtains and books and books and books!)

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Now…we turned on the air conditioner to sleep at night sometime back in early March. Have we turned into squishy wimps? Reasonable adults? Is it because we are older, wiser, weaker, busier? Is it because I sweat more now, after cancer?

I don’t really care why we have started to use the air conditioner more and am simply happy that this is the case.

It is hot.

Last week I was moving things around, organizing to start packing, and streams of sweat poured from my nose onto the items. I think sometimes when I say things like that people wonder if I am exaggerating, using a bit of writerly poetic license. I am not. I mean streams of sweat pouring from my nose, and chin, dribbling onto everything I moved.

You could complain, “It is so hot!” or you could say, “Free sauna!” I do both. I know next year in Minnesota February I will be saying things like, “It is so cold!” and, “Free refrigeration!”

On to the stories from the Horn…

Djibouti

US moves more troops to Djibouti to prepare for a potential evacuation of American citizens from Sudan

How the crisis in Sudan accentuates the strategic importance of Djibouti

US citizens evacuate from Sudan and arrive at Camp Lemonier in Djibouti

A private yacht shows up in Djibouti after being attacked at sea

Why does Japan have a military base in Djibouti?

Urban malaria may be spreading by wind

More about Djibouti’s coming $1 billion dollar spaceport. Will the road to space be as bumpy as the actual road to the spaceport? We will see…

Djibouti hosted its first international book fair

Somalia/land

Was the Garden of Eden located in Somaliland?

Diaspora

A Minnesota Somali father couldn’t find a book about Somalia for his daughter. So he wrote one.

Minneapolis becomes the first American city to approve the five times per day year round Islamic call to prayer

Mo Farah reveals his last race and retirement

Kahin, owner of the wonderful Afro Deli in Minnesota, wins another small business award and meets President Biden. Congratulations, friend!

See you in two weeks with more stories from the Horn!

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US moves more troops to Djibouti to prepare for a potential evacuation of American citizens from Sudan

And, as foreign nations evacuate their citizens, many of them are landing in Djibouti

I’m sure I’ll have more on this developing story from Sudan next week in the links letter.

I started to write about harassment and was going to tell you about the man who threw a big rock at me, bruising my ribs, last week. But I’m tired of writing about it. You can read this post and the other links.

I realize harassment happens in the USA as well. According to Runners World 84% of women have been harassed, assaulted, or even murdered while running and that was written in the USA. So I know I’m not moving to a place where this will never happen. But I also know that I won’t miss the specific ways it happens here, or the frequency of it.

"But it is in these desperately barren

landscapes you have come to learn:

this Glorious Living Water

running wild through your veins

is entirely

unafraid

of the dry, scored places of your fears.

So take heart when fear is raging.

Seek courage over control.

Learn to let go into the wild of things…”

- Morgan Harper Nichols, All Along You Were Blooming

And so I run on, letting go into the wild of things.

Kind of like packing up.

Kind of like starting over.

Kind of like who-knows-what-is-next.

Into the wild.

Running here has taught me that I am stronger than I think, that I sweat more than I ever thought humanly possible or reasonable, and that taking a walk break to cry over bruised ribs or because it is 110 degrees is not weakness it is gentleness.

I’m assuming there are broader life lessons there.

Do you have something you won’t miss about the place you live?

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On Easter weekend we attempted to reach “the island”, a sliver of beach “five points” over from Arta Plage where we camped out the night before. My daughter, a friend, and I took off with water and wearing beach shoes and swimsuits and shorts, over the hills along the coast. My husband took the kayak and we planned to meet at the island and snorkel back.

After more than an hour of scrambling over rocks and pressing through thorn bushes, each of us with sliced up bloody shins and hands, we approached halfway and realized the island was still really really far away and the return swim was really, really, really far. We were already quite tired.

Thankfully, we managed to wave down the kayak. He pulled up to the beach, we slipped and slid down the hill, grabbed our snorkel equipment and started back. The water was really, really wavy and really really murky, and swimming along the coast means cutting in and out, not shooting straight across, which felt perilous. This increased the length of the swim dramatically.

We all started to get sea sick and took turns in the kayak, which didn’t help.

Finally, we made it back and sort of limped/swam up to the coast. The whole thing took 3.5 hours and we only went halfway.

We didn’t make it. But we tried. And that makes all the difference.

I’m the most cowardly among my family, always the most cautious. I’m thankful that they push me and their onward! style of courage, their we-can-do-it attitudes are partly, I think, a product of living in the Horn.

Onward!

now to the stories…

The Horn Region

Fierce fighting erupts in Khartoum, Sudan. The Presidents of Djibouti, Kenya, and South Sudan plan to travel to Sudan to work toward peace.

TV show “Hunted” star Jordan Wylie honored. Jordan and I met during the Somaliland Marathon event in 2018 and he graciously endorsed my book Stronger than Death. He has done several charity projects around the Horn of Africa. He is also the author of several books which touch on his adventures in the Horn region:

Running for My Life

Citadel

The Power of the Paddle

Islamic and Christian groups on the “frontlines” in the looming famine crisis in the Horn. Interesting article. I have a few issues with it - “Somalians” for example - do better reporting before writing that. Also, are these groups on the frontlines or are the people suffering on the frontlines? And finally, I recently learned that there are specific requirements necessary for the declaration of famine and tossing the word around lightheartedly can be detrimental, actually, to regions receiving the help they need when they need it.

An OpEd about youth unemployment in the Horn. We see a lot of this in Djibouti. It is so hard, even for university educated people to find work.

Ethiopia’s Amhara region hit by massive protests blocking a major road

Somalia

The Hunger Crime, a novel about humanitarians in Somalia and around the world. I have not read it, just sharing it as a new book based in this part of the world.

Farmers turn to sunflowers in light of a khat export ban

Female journalists pressing on in Somalia, despite dangers

A day in the life of a Somali healthcare worker. This contains beautiful and devastating photos.

Somalia banned guns from the streets of Mogadish

Djibouti

The Doctor Traversing Djibouti’s Deserts

A bit dated now but super interesting 8-minute video produced by my husband’s research organization. He is the voice, reading their work.

Interview with Ismail Omar Guelleh, Djibouti’s President. This is all in French.

All for this week!

Celebrating Easter in Djibouti has also meant a lot less chocolate. No chocolate. We learned that lesson our first year when we hid chocolate candy inside plastic eggs and then had to wash out the eggs because the chocolate turned to liquid.

(this is one of my favorite Easter pictures)

I am reminded every year at our sunrise service that in this country my faith is a minority faith. That reality forces me to examine it again. Do I believe this wild story about resurrection and new life? Am I able to sit with the pain of Good Friday? What do I do with the massive theological questions about Holy Saturday? (I talked a little bit about the darkness of Holy Saturday on the Upwardly Dependent Podcast recently)

The questions also make me wonder about other people living with a minority faith. How do they celebrate? Do they feel stronger in their convictions by nature of being outsiders? Do they feel threatened? Does spirituality carry a preciousness because of this dynamic?

In Pillars, I wrote about an Easter party and how it led to a complicated conversation with a friend about Trinity and the word/Word. What will change for me about Easter when I celebrate it next year, not in a Muslim-majority country and with all the candy and bunnies and commercialism? How do I carry the lessons I’ve learned into a new context? And, even more importantly because I want to always be growing and transforming, how do I open myself to learning again, in this new context?

I’ll use my own words to inspire myself toward an open, tender heart. May I bring an attitude of expectation, a curiosity ready to experience awe, and a willingness to celebrate. Even in the USA!

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This weekend a friend took my family out on a boat and we were able to spend time on a sandbar that only appears at certain times based on the tides, in the middle of the sea. It was like walking on water, until the tide rose and the sandbar disappeared again. I’ve wanted to see it and walk on it for years and finally had the chance. Then we snorkeled around while the tide remained low and swam so close to eels, turtles, cuttlefish, clownfish, the water like glass. It was a stunning last-birthday week gift.

(Not taken in Djibouti, but looks just like this)

On to the stories…

Djibouti

Tragically yesterday (April 3) THREE cars flipped over in separate accidents in Djibouti. Accidents of this nature are rare here because of so few people and so few roads on which you can (should) drive fast. I drove past one of them and it looked horrific. At least one person was killed, several were injured.

Djibouti makes the list of top 10 green projects underway in Africa

Djibouti and Ethiopia agree on building a road to connect the two countries

Chabelley airfield celebrates 10 years

Confucius Institute inaugurated in Djibouti

Here is a view from up above downtown Djibouti

And a street view from 1931

Diaspora

Mo Farah’s trafficking hell

The New York Times features Somali food for Ramadan. I don’t know anyone who calls sambuusa “sambuus” and I have never seen the other two dishes before. The honeycomb bread does look delicious. Where is this magical food made?

Feminists need to oppose hijab bans and hijab mandates This is a good opinion piece. What do you think of her arguments?

An article in the NYT about the Great Salt Lake in Utah. It includes information about other salt lakes around the world but doesn’t include Lac Asal’s, Djibouti’s salt lake. Oh well. Interesting read anyway.

Somaliland

DP World expands offerings at port in Somaliland

Tributes pour in to honor Amina Abdullah Hersi who died in March in Somaliland

Somalia

No Justice, No Peace in Al-Shabaab’s Legal System in the Harvard Review

Breaking the fast in Somalia with only water TIME

Somalia’s all-female media team BBC

Have a great week!

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When: July 2023

Why: Because…

What’s next: No clue

I’ve known this for quite some time and all my “real-life” people know it. I haven’t known when to share it in my writing spaces. That is one of many reasons I’ve pulled back from public writing during this season. But now feels like the right time.

Many of you have been reading along since one of my sisters told me to start blogging and built my first website in 2007. We had dial-up internet in Djibouti and it took several hours to load photos into emails. It was faster to post things on the internet for family to keep up with our life. In 2008 my first story was published in a now-dead print magazine called Get Born. The article was My Little Garbage Collector. By 2012 I was published in the New York Times, had a new website and a growing readership, and was working on a book. And on it went, all under the moniker Djibouti Jones.

And now, after nearly 21 years (20 years and 7 months to be exact, but I say I’ve earned the right to round up) in the Horn of Africa, this summer my youngest (the one born here) graduates from high school and we will transition to that exotic, wild, unfamiliar country of the USA. I first wrote “transition back to that exotic…” but I deleted “back”. We’re moving but we can never move back. We have changed. The USA has changed. We are moving forward.

There are many reasons to make this move now, the primary one being it simply feels right. That can be hard to explain but as we look at our family in the USA, our professional and spiritual goals for growth and contribution in the next season of life, the excellent people trained and ready to step into our roles here, and more, my husband and I have an abiding peace that it is time to go. Time for something new. Time for a new challenge and a new adventure.

What happens when the Jones is no longer in Djibouti?

These 20+ years have forever changed me, forever transformed the lenses through which I see and experience the world. I will not live in Djibouti anymore but my stories, my faith, my experiences will always be filtered through dusty decades in this place. The cliche is true, you can take the Jones out of Djibouti but you can’t take the Djibouti out of the Jones.

I don’t know what that means yet, not exactly. I have helped dozens of people leave here and transition to their passport countries. I have never done it. I have a lot to learn. I suspect it will be harder than I’m anticipating. I suspect we are more weary than we understand. I know we’ve experienced more beauty than I thought possible.

I will miss many things and many people. There are many things and people I will not miss. Lots to reflect on, celebrate, grieve, and cherish. Much of that will be just for me and my family. But, as you started and have been on this adventure with me for so long, I want to bring you forward, too.

I plan to spend the next few months alternating with the Stories from the Horn emails. Those come out every other week. On the opposite week, I plan to write more personal posts about those things I want to reflect on, celebrate, grieve, and cherish. Maybe just photos. Maybe some thoughts dreaming forward or reflecting back. Are there things you wonder about? Drop a question in the comments and I’ll try to address it.

For now, thank you for reading Djibouti Jones, Rachel Pieh Jones, the books and essays, some of them I am now embarrassed by and wish I could erase, some I’m still proud of.

The day before we left the USA, in New York City, 2003. I was 24-years old, only out of braces for 1.5 years, not old enough to rent a car, but parenting twins and off to Somalia.

My first kitchen, in Somaliland. You might notice the refrigerator. It was for storage, we only had power a few hours in the morning and a few hours at night. I would also like to note that I still have that pot - dented and charred but after we evacuated, it came with the random assortment of items eventually shipped to Djibouti (for more about all that, read Pillars) and it makes the best popcorn, though the cover is almost too warped to work, the handles wobble, and I will be leaving it behind.

Here’s to the next stage!

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Ramadan starts this week, the month of fasting in Islam. Life tends to slow down and people spend a lot of time with their families.

On to the stories…

Djibouti

The Logos Hope ship spent a week in Djibouti and saw over 30,000 visitors! Staff run a bookstore, conversation events, and a restaurant and also engaged in various service projects throughout the city.

Satellite Internet in Djibouti. Who writes this stuff? ChatGPT? ChatGPT would probably have done better. Satellite internet in Djibouti is incredible and provides very fast internet speeds! (which is why it took an hour to upload a 1MB photo today and why we can’t stream shows). Also, one challenge is so many providers to choose from! Except there is only one. One provider. The article suggests comparing price points and service ranges. Hmmm…only read this for laughs.

Poet Joyce Kilmer’s crucifix was carried to Djibouti by US military personnel

Qatar Airways in Africa. We have flown them many times out of Djibouti.

Djiboutians regain eyesight after Chinese doctors perform cataract surgeries

The donkey’s origin story

Upcoming webinar event on March 29 on War and Water in the Horn of Africa

The great rift, where part of Africa will break off. This article made me laugh as it talks about news outlets “picking up the story” and how “exciting” the prospect is. It also says the process will likely take 10 million years. I think news outlets should not be too much of a rush to be the first to break this exciting story. Also, this will affect the people living there and potentially make waste disposal a challenge. Should I feel worried?

Somaliland

Somaliland clashes in Las Anood kill over 100

DP World and Somaliland open an economic zone in Berbera

Dahabshiil recognized for uplifting women

Kenya

Protests erupt in Kenya over last summer’s election results and rising cost of living

Diaspora

Afro Deli Owner (and my friend Kahin) won the Minnesota Small Business Owner of the Year award! Congratulations! And if you live in MN, go to one of his delicious restaurants. This is the restaurant that generously hosted my launch party for the publication of Stronger than Death.

Have a nice week.

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Somalia

US strikes kill 12 al-Shabab leaders in Somalia

Somalia’s neighbors to send troops

Djibouti

The ship Logos Hope to arrive soon in Djibouti

New hotel in Tadjourah

US soldiers shootin’ in Djibouti

Djibouti sends medical supplies to earth-quake stricken Turkey. Interestingly, Djibouti sent heaters. Why does Djibouti even have heaters? I imagine the country was glad to have a place to send them, since the lowest temperatures around here hover around 75 degrees F.

New visa renewal office and hours in Djibouti for expatriates who need an extension

Polls close in Djibouti’s Parliamentary Elections

The Island of Socotra, paradise off the Horn of Africa

Somaliland

Tens of thousands flee fighting in Las Anod, Somaliland

For more on the fighting in Las Anod, see this tweet, shared with my by HH:

Diaspora

Somali Americans rally in Washington D.C. urging an end to violence in Somalia

Have a great week!

They asked such thoughtful questions and I was encouraged by how they are engaging with the book and with friends across religious and cultural boundaries. So many people can see those boundaries as dividers. I see them as opportunities to practice curiosity and kindness. Then, in a relationship, they become distinctive boundaries that mark us each as unique but they do not have to divide.

If you’ve read Pillars or plan to choose it for a book club, let me know! I’d love to jump on a call with your group and hear how you are working through the ideas in the book. I’ve participated in several already and it is always fascinating.

On to the stories…

Djibouti

Wooooow! Djibouti’s Ibrahim Hassan wins Japan Marathon February 5! 2:06:42. Felicitations! A course record!

For other athletes or active people in Djibouti, check out BikeSkill! They just did a bike giveaway last week and are open for business.

Why is Djibouti important to India?

I’m not sure what to think about this story, the headline and photo are enough to make me scratch my head and wonder…Djibouti signs 1 billion dollar deal with Honk Kong to build a spaceport…Other papers got the headline correct and here is another more serious piece at Quartz.

We always joked that this is Djibouti’s “space center” but it sounds like there will be a new one for launching rockets, finished in the next five years. I wonder if that is when the bridge to Yemen will be finished too?

Book Club in Djibouti at the Cultural Center

Somalia

Surprise surprise, Somalia made the list of 19 countries the USA tells citizens not to travel to

Somaliland

At least 34 killed in clashes in Somaliland

Frankincense earns companies millions but the women who collect and sort it in Somaliland work for $1 a day. This is an in-depth well-reported important story.

Torture exposed at Somali rehab clinic

One Father’s Desperate Plan to Save His Son from America. This is a terribly sad story about a struggling son and his parents, all of them seemingly without hope.

Cactus and Khat Keeping Camels Alive in Somaliland

Diaspora

Somali Minnesotans star in Apple TV show, camel meat on a stick at the State Fair, anyone?!

The Somali funk spirit that overcame anarchy and exile

Ayaan Mohamud Writes the Somali Characters She Didn’t See in Books Growing Up

I will leave you with these stories, there are always more but these could keep you reading for hours. Enjoy and see you in a few weeks.

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I am also nearing the end (sort of…) of my double masters program and classes are kicking my butt this term. In my attempt to take an easier load due to travel and family responsibilities I…failed and signed up instead for a PhD level course which welcomes a few (2) Masters level students. Let me just say that I have to use Google for a lot of new vocabulary words.

Here is a link to an important conversation I had with the Upwardly Dependent Podcast about The White Savior Complex.

On to the news stories

Somalia

Fighting Al-Shabaab

Uprising by Somali Clans puts Al Shabaab on the Defensive

Somalia faces crises on many fronts in 2023

Why Somalis are starving but officials won’t call it a famine

Extremists storm government building in Mogadishu, at least 5 dead

7 killed in Al Shabaab attack on Somalia military base

Somalia government and Al Shabaab deny peace talks

US extends deportation protection to Somalis

Hundreds rally against Al Shabaab

Djibouti

New book from Djiboutian author Abdourahman Waberi: Why Do You Dance When You Walk?

The White Mosque: A Memoir by Sofia Samatar. Mennonite history in Central Asia? A Somali-Muslim Mennonite? Border crossings and international survival adventures along with beautiful writing? This is a surprising, lovely book.

US provides agricultural tools to famers in rural Djibouti

Ethiopia

Amhara forces withdraw from Tigray region

Tigray rebels start handing over weapons

President denies the declining value of the birr

Have a lovely week and see you again soon.

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On to the news…

Djibouti

IOG, the President of Djibouti arrives in Qatar for the opening ceremony of the World Cup

Damaged roads cause issues for Ethiopian truckers in Djibouti

Djibouti enhances logistics hub through robust cooperation with China

80 soldiers greeted by family in Nashville when they return home from Djibouti

3 dead, 28 missing when ship sinks off coast of Yemen

Invasive mosquito threatens malaria progress in Africa

Djibouti economy slows due to global crises and severe drought

Somalia/land

Why I left San Francisco for Somaliland

Political turmoil in Somaliland

Fascinating interview with Sada Mire, Somali archaeologist

Women cry foul when livestock are banned from Hargeisa city

The Fragrance Hunter (radio show)

Ethiopia

Ethiopia starts exporting electricity to Kenya

The ancient civilization rivaling Roma, Axum

New Books to Know About

Beyond Our Walls: Finding Jesus in the Slums of Jakarta by Anita Rahma

Unruly Saint: Dorothy Day’s Radical Vision and Its Challenge for Our Times by D.L. Mayfield

Have a great week.