From: jnr@igc.apc.org (Jim Rosenfield)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.african
Subject: Re: 10/07 Wire stories on hunger
Date: 8 Oct 92 00:22:00 GMT
Nf-ID: #R:cdp:1471700165:cdp:1471700176:000:4839
Nf-From: cdp.UUCP!jnr    Oct  7 17:22:00 1992


/* Written  5:20 pm  Oct  7, 1992 by jnr in cdp:hunger.general */
APn  10/05 1234  Somalia-Orphans

Copyright, 1992. The Associated Press. All rights reserved. 

By EDITH M. LEDERER   

BAIDOA, Somalia (AP) -- One by one, Nori Isak Gedi buried her six
brothers and sisters in the graveyard outside the orphanage. 

They had survived the civil war that killed their parents but
couldn't prevail over the hunger that destroyed their bodies. 

For 15-year-old Nori, the shock of suddenly being alone was too
much. 

She stood listlessly against a wall in the orphanage compound and
only picked at food, even though she is badly malnourished. 

Like Nori, many orphans of the devastating famine in Somalia have
been traumatized by the loss of family and are struggling to
survive far from home. The luckier ones are in orphanages, but
the vast majority are forced to try to survive on the streets. 

Nobody knows how many orphans there are. Relief organizations
estimate that more than 100,000 Somalis have died, which means
thousands of children have probably lost both parents. 

Each day, as hunger and disease claim hundreds of new victims,
more and more youngsters are left to fend for themselves. 

They wander aimlessly, dressed in rags, often barefoot. If a car
stops, they surround it, begging for food and money. In the
market, they sift through garbage for scraps and sometimes steal.


The tough survive, the weak die -- unmourned. 

"They are everywhere -- the streets, the hospital grounds in the
feeding centers," said Teresa Hinkle of Scottsdale, Ariz., a
nurse for the Los Angeles-based International Medical Corp. who
works at Baidoa's only hospital. 

"At night, they'll just find a corner to lie down out in the
open," she said. "So many of them are ill and have no one to
watch over them. They just die. They die alone." 

International relief efforts have focused on getting food to the
starving, and there hasn't been time, money or manpower to tackle
the plight of the orphans. 

At least in Baidoa, orphans on the street can get food -- if they
are strong enough to walk. The International Committee of the Red
Cross, the Irish charity Concern and other aid groups serve hot
meals twice a day. 

At a Concern feeding center next to the hospital, more than 40
emaciated children, nearly all under age 10, sit on green plastic
sheeting in four small rooms set aside for orphans 

Some stare vacantly, others cough. A few cry. 

"I came here because I was hungry," says Hussein Wardera, 8,
whose mother died of starvation in his home village of Shivelo.
His father died a few days ago in Baidoa. 

"Mostly they come on their own," says Amina Shek Mohammed, 30,
the center's supervisor. 

Amina Mukhtar, 10, her belly protruding, clutches a torn black
and red cloth around her and watches one of the volunteers wash
her 2-year-old brother Hassan with some dishwater. 

"Both of my parents died. I have been here for about 20 days. I
am getting enough to eat now," she says. "I have no clothes." 

The orphanage, which opened on May 28 with only 15 youngsters, is
now packed with 570 children. They get three meals of rice and
beans and sleep packed together on dirt floors. 

Hassan Beile Omar, the orphanage director, estimates there are
1,500 to 2,500 orphans in this refugee-flooded town of 80,000
alone. But he only has sufficient supplies to feed those
currently in the facility. 

"We have asked the relief organizations to supply food to all the
orphans," he said. "But so far, we have not received a reply." 

With only a volunteer staff of 17 to cook, clean and gather
firewood for the children at the orphanage, it's impossible to
give any of the orphans the love and attention they desperately
need. 

Out on the streets, it's even worse. 

"They come up to you all the time," said Hinkle. "All they want
is somebody to notice them, to touch them. They just want some
attention." 

Abdi Nur Ali, the orphanage's assistant director, said many
children are so traumatized they've retreated into themselves. 

Nori -- wide-eyed and wrapped in a dirty, brown cloth which
didn't cover a skin rash caused by malnutrition -- spoke quietly
about her family. 

She said her parents had been killed by supporters of ousted
dictator Mohamed Siad Barre and that her sisters and brothers
died in the famine. There was nothing else she wanted to say. 

"I want to stay here," she said. "I have no place else to go." 

Ali, who helped Nori bury her brothers and sisters, filled in
some details: Nori and her siblings -- three boys and three girls
-- walked about 35 miles from their farm in Labatan Giro and
found refuge at the orphanage about 2 1/2 months ago. The last
brother died about three weeks ago. 

"She needs to get special care, but there isn't any here," Ali
said. "I don't know whether she will ever recover."