Life of Hopeless (Oromo) Refugees

It is with a heavy heart and shell-shocked spirit that I begin this blog. What is it that has brought me down and dampened my spirits? These past days, news have been coming in about the mistreatment of our Oromo brothers seeking asylum. This has been all too familiar for the average Oromo refugee, specifically those stuck in a life of limbo in the cruel streets of Hargeisa. For you see, they live in a strip of land where they hoped to see the end of persecution under the hands of the Ethiopian government just to enter a country that is, in essence, an agent-state of Ethiopia. This state is called Somaliland.

I always heard harrowing accounts of misery and suffering amongst a people who, if I remember correctly, we sheltered from the ruthless and relentless oppression of Ziad Barre. Dozens of news articles of appeals from the hapless refugee community to the outside world to hear their story, yet so far, these cries for help have fallen on deaf ears. In the meantime, the Somaliland government only obliges to do the dirty work of their Ethiopian masters. (See Persecuted in Ethiopia, Hunted in Hargesa, Oromia Support Group for more details).

 

Refugee discontent reached its climax when they held demonstrations in front of the UNHCR, the UN body responsible for the welfare of these displaced folk. Their peaceful protests were met with gunfire from the security apparatus and mass arrests. The government followed this by subsequent and speedy deportations of these detained refugees, just to return them to the very thing they were escaping – the Ethiopian government (Check:http://hornwatch4rights.blogspot.com/2012/01/somaliland-deports-ethiopian-refugees.html). However, this has been the case for so long – so what is it that has made my sad and spur anger within me? This was caused by a story of a man whose case left me silent for hours.

An Oromo refugee this morning hung himself on top of the tallest building being built in Hargeisa. His method of suicide was wrapping a tight electrical cable round his neck and throwing himself off the top of the building. This was after he had been weeping all day in front of the local police precinct, commiserating about his plight and how he had been robbed by locals. He was quite aware that for a refugee, especially an Oromo, Hargeisa was a land without mercy. Days he would cry yet no-one would hear him out or extend a helping hand. His depression and sense of hopelessness spiralled till he decided that the world was too cruel a place to continue living. Yet, what was disgusting was the fact that he was left to dangle on the wire for a complete night – no-one (neither the guards at the building nor the police at the precinct nearby) bothered to save him. It was only in the early morning when the city was buzzing with activity that people noticed something hanging from the rooftop. The poor soul was noticed just too late.

This is a case unheard of, yet not surprising when taking into account the miserable conditions the Oromo refugee has been forced to deal with. The deceased's man frustration encapsulates what it means to be a refugee and Oromo. A people who were persecuted in Ethiopia and hunted in Hargeisa – hope is hard to keep alive when the conditions are that bad.

The following poem in my next blog goes out for him – the Oromo who lost hope!