Riftvalley
VIP
By
Nancy Hartevelt Kobrin, PhD
My Official Visit to Somaliland — July 2023
It might seem unusual that I write today about Somalia and Somaliland in the context of my fifth book, The Last Two Jews of Mogadishu: Living Under Al Shabaab’s Fire, while Israel is under constant threat from Iranian ballistic missiles and drones. And yet, I remain committed to exploring regional relationships and promoting normalization — especially with Somaliland, a de facto functioning and stable geopolitical actor in the Horn of Africa.
Despite the war, I believe this moment in history holds the potential to usher in regional prosperity, including in the Horn. I remain cautiously optimistic, and never naive, even after having to run to the shelter three times last night and physically feeling the impact of missiles aimed at Tel Aviv.
A Personal Homecoming
In July 2023, I had the extraordinary opportunity to travel to Hargeisa and Berbera. After years of studying Somali history, culture, and geopolitics, stepping foot on the soil of the Horn of Africa felt like a kind of homecoming. The cover photo on my iPhone is of my maternal DNA which reminds me that 250,000 years ago, my ancestors walked out of this very region. As the plane descended, I had an uncanny feeling — I had been here before. The land looked exactly as I had imagined it.
I was warmly greeted at the airport by my host, kayd, who had invited me to the Hargeisa International Book Fair. He calls me Harbaryar meaning "auntie" in Somali. Though I didn’t formally present my book, I distributed copies and was graciously received. Of course, some were skeptical — I did not hide that I was an Israeli American. I am reminded of Einat Wilf’s observation: “I may look white, but I am a Jew.” This is often difficult for African societies to fully grasp — that we Jews do not see ourselves as white in a conventional Western sense. We are, in Hebrew, a Zan Nadir — a rare species.
Encounters That Mattered
The Hargeisa Book Fair is much more than a book event. It’s a cultural festival — with panels, performances, and deep, rich conversations and even an art exhibition to which you can see the painting I bought posted above by a young disabled artist. I met with deputy ambassadors, ministers, mental health professionals, and business people. We spoke informally about the possibilities for deepening ties between Somaliland and Israel.
A highlight was meeting Mama Edna Adan, the legendary founder of Somaliland’s maternity hospital. We had tea together and spoke briefly in private. She thanked me on behalf of the 65+ children brought to Israel by the Save a Child’s Heart Foundation. Many more are waiting. She told me she hoped to visit Israel some day, and I truly hope that promise is fulfilled.
Another unforgettable moment came during our drive to the coast to see the Port of Berbera. On the way, we visited the ancient Las Geel cave paintings etched into the cliffs. Seeing those prehistoric drawings made me reflect again on my maternal lineage once again — how much we share, and how often we forget our common humanity.
The Port of Berbera itself was dazzling — especially the newly constructed, high-tech facilities developed with support from the United Arab Emirates. The potential for trade, technology, and regional cooperation was palpable. I could feel it.
The Isaaq Genocide: A Wound Unhealed
No visit to Somaliland is complete without acknowledging its greatest trauma: the Isaaq genocide. Between 1987–1989, Siad Barre’s regime conducted a brutal campaign of extermination against the Isaaq clan — the majority in what is now Somaliland. Cities like Hargeisa and Burao were bombed. Tens of thousands were executed. Entire communities fled to Ethiopia. Mass graves are still being uncovered today.
And yet, Somalia’s government has never fully acknowledged this genocide. This denial should be understood in part as a kind of old terror which grips its communal soul, even though this generation did not directly participate in it. In my opinion this remains a primary obstacle to reconciliation between Somalia and Somaliland. As a psychoanalyst specializing in PTSD, I can say unequivocally: no trauma heals without recognition. Like the Shoah, only through acknowledgment, education, and empathy can we prevent the intergenerational transmission of trauma — for both victims and perpetrators. Violence unspoken becomes violence recycled.
Stability and the Case for Recognition
In contrast to Somalia’s instability, Somaliland has created a functioning democracy — despite limited international aid and recognition. While often reduced to being “Isaaq-dominated,” Somaliland is in fact diverse, and its relative security and governance are remarkable compared to Mogadishu, where Al Shabaab and ISIS remain serious threats despite billions in foreign assistance.
I write this with a heavy heart, because I deeply admire my Somali friends and students — especially one extraordinary young man trained in Israel at IDC (now Reichman University), who calls me “Ayeeyo” (grandmother in Somali), and whom I call “Awow” (grandson). I would have given anything to visit Mogadishu but it has not been possible. The risk is too great.
I also remain emotionally connected to Abraham Mordechai and his mother, Ashira Haybe, the subjects of my book. As fellow Somali Jews who survived the civil war and the murder of their loved ones, they carry the deep intergenerational trauma that I understand — and that I have treated in many patients.
Minority Castes, Discrimination, and the Yibir
My concern extends to the Yibir who bear all too often the ethnic slur Yahud, Jew and other minority caste groups who are trapped between two dominant political entities. the Yibir are considered to be related to Beta Israel. To be labeled "Yahud" in Arabic, as Ayaan Hirsi Ali has written, is the worst insult imaginable in many parts of the region. This is not a healthy foundation for any society. Recognition, inclusion, and human dignity must be extended to all. Somaliland, for all its progress, must continue to address this form of caste-based discrimination.
Child Development and the Foundations of Peace
About one month ago I was told that I was the first person to give a lecture to MALAM, the acronym for what translates in English as the Center for the Legacy of Intelligence Services to Mossad, Shin Bet and Aman (IDF military intel) in Hebrew by zoom concerning early childhood development and the dysfunctional violent jihadis.
If a society wants peace, it must prioritize childhood development. A violent family produces a violent society, as the Egyptian professor of sociology Halim Barakat has written in The Arab World: Society, Culture, and State. Without secure attachment in early childhood — free from terror, cortisol floods, and domestic chaos — there can be no empathy. And without empathy, democracy is impossible.
This is not geopolitics. This is basic human behavior.
A Citizen Diplomat’s Path
As some of you know, I’m what might be called a citizen diplomat. I created informal WhatsApp groups to promote normalization between Israel and Somalia, and later between Israel and Somaliland. This initiative grew out of my academic and clinical work — I hold a doctorate in Islamic literature (16th-century Western Islamic Spain), and later trained as a psychoanalyst. These two paths have always been intertwined — both are about understanding the human being in context. I even became a military contractor with BAE Systems seeking deployment to Afghanistan in 2009 in order to see it on the ground. All this before my aliyah, immigration to Israel in 2010.
My medieval studies taught me about the importance of the Umma (community), while psychoanalysis taught me about the development of the self. Over time, I began asking deeper questions about terrorism, trauma, and perpetrators — not just victims.
Looking Forward
Finally I have several other special relationships with Somalis. One is my good friend and colleague, a Somali historian Aweis Ali who works endlessly promoting religious freedom as a Christian. Another is a wonderfully gifted young woman Nina who lives in Sweden and is a lover of Zion. And then there is the very special connection to Andrew and Liban, two fellows, one a Jew and another a Somali, who found a friendship in the common ground of writing. These relationships may not have happened twenty years ago but so much has changed. As Lovers of Zion, they show that we must be careful not to stereotype. Change is a foot and there is no turning back.
Even as war rages on between Israel and the head of the octopus Iran, back channel conversations are continuing. I can say with certainty, based on my visit and my professional experience, that Somaliland is a capable partner for peace, stability, and mutual development. It is time to recognize Somaliland de jure — not just de facto.
This is not about abandoning Somalia. It’s about acknowledging reality — and supporting those who are already building the future. May we build that future together.
Nabad iyo caano
[af-Som. Peace and Milk]
Nancy Hartevelt Kobrin, PhD
My Official Visit to Somaliland — July 2023
It might seem unusual that I write today about Somalia and Somaliland in the context of my fifth book, The Last Two Jews of Mogadishu: Living Under Al Shabaab’s Fire, while Israel is under constant threat from Iranian ballistic missiles and drones. And yet, I remain committed to exploring regional relationships and promoting normalization — especially with Somaliland, a de facto functioning and stable geopolitical actor in the Horn of Africa.
Despite the war, I believe this moment in history holds the potential to usher in regional prosperity, including in the Horn. I remain cautiously optimistic, and never naive, even after having to run to the shelter three times last night and physically feeling the impact of missiles aimed at Tel Aviv.
A Personal Homecoming
In July 2023, I had the extraordinary opportunity to travel to Hargeisa and Berbera. After years of studying Somali history, culture, and geopolitics, stepping foot on the soil of the Horn of Africa felt like a kind of homecoming. The cover photo on my iPhone is of my maternal DNA which reminds me that 250,000 years ago, my ancestors walked out of this very region. As the plane descended, I had an uncanny feeling — I had been here before. The land looked exactly as I had imagined it.
I was warmly greeted at the airport by my host, kayd, who had invited me to the Hargeisa International Book Fair. He calls me Harbaryar meaning "auntie" in Somali. Though I didn’t formally present my book, I distributed copies and was graciously received. Of course, some were skeptical — I did not hide that I was an Israeli American. I am reminded of Einat Wilf’s observation: “I may look white, but I am a Jew.” This is often difficult for African societies to fully grasp — that we Jews do not see ourselves as white in a conventional Western sense. We are, in Hebrew, a Zan Nadir — a rare species.
Encounters That Mattered
The Hargeisa Book Fair is much more than a book event. It’s a cultural festival — with panels, performances, and deep, rich conversations and even an art exhibition to which you can see the painting I bought posted above by a young disabled artist. I met with deputy ambassadors, ministers, mental health professionals, and business people. We spoke informally about the possibilities for deepening ties between Somaliland and Israel.
A highlight was meeting Mama Edna Adan, the legendary founder of Somaliland’s maternity hospital. We had tea together and spoke briefly in private. She thanked me on behalf of the 65+ children brought to Israel by the Save a Child’s Heart Foundation. Many more are waiting. She told me she hoped to visit Israel some day, and I truly hope that promise is fulfilled.
Another unforgettable moment came during our drive to the coast to see the Port of Berbera. On the way, we visited the ancient Las Geel cave paintings etched into the cliffs. Seeing those prehistoric drawings made me reflect again on my maternal lineage once again — how much we share, and how often we forget our common humanity.
The Port of Berbera itself was dazzling — especially the newly constructed, high-tech facilities developed with support from the United Arab Emirates. The potential for trade, technology, and regional cooperation was palpable. I could feel it.
The Isaaq Genocide: A Wound Unhealed
No visit to Somaliland is complete without acknowledging its greatest trauma: the Isaaq genocide. Between 1987–1989, Siad Barre’s regime conducted a brutal campaign of extermination against the Isaaq clan — the majority in what is now Somaliland. Cities like Hargeisa and Burao were bombed. Tens of thousands were executed. Entire communities fled to Ethiopia. Mass graves are still being uncovered today.
And yet, Somalia’s government has never fully acknowledged this genocide. This denial should be understood in part as a kind of old terror which grips its communal soul, even though this generation did not directly participate in it. In my opinion this remains a primary obstacle to reconciliation between Somalia and Somaliland. As a psychoanalyst specializing in PTSD, I can say unequivocally: no trauma heals without recognition. Like the Shoah, only through acknowledgment, education, and empathy can we prevent the intergenerational transmission of trauma — for both victims and perpetrators. Violence unspoken becomes violence recycled.
Stability and the Case for Recognition
In contrast to Somalia’s instability, Somaliland has created a functioning democracy — despite limited international aid and recognition. While often reduced to being “Isaaq-dominated,” Somaliland is in fact diverse, and its relative security and governance are remarkable compared to Mogadishu, where Al Shabaab and ISIS remain serious threats despite billions in foreign assistance.
I write this with a heavy heart, because I deeply admire my Somali friends and students — especially one extraordinary young man trained in Israel at IDC (now Reichman University), who calls me “Ayeeyo” (grandmother in Somali), and whom I call “Awow” (grandson). I would have given anything to visit Mogadishu but it has not been possible. The risk is too great.
I also remain emotionally connected to Abraham Mordechai and his mother, Ashira Haybe, the subjects of my book. As fellow Somali Jews who survived the civil war and the murder of their loved ones, they carry the deep intergenerational trauma that I understand — and that I have treated in many patients.
Minority Castes, Discrimination, and the Yibir
My concern extends to the Yibir who bear all too often the ethnic slur Yahud, Jew and other minority caste groups who are trapped between two dominant political entities. the Yibir are considered to be related to Beta Israel. To be labeled "Yahud" in Arabic, as Ayaan Hirsi Ali has written, is the worst insult imaginable in many parts of the region. This is not a healthy foundation for any society. Recognition, inclusion, and human dignity must be extended to all. Somaliland, for all its progress, must continue to address this form of caste-based discrimination.
Child Development and the Foundations of Peace
About one month ago I was told that I was the first person to give a lecture to MALAM, the acronym for what translates in English as the Center for the Legacy of Intelligence Services to Mossad, Shin Bet and Aman (IDF military intel) in Hebrew by zoom concerning early childhood development and the dysfunctional violent jihadis.
If a society wants peace, it must prioritize childhood development. A violent family produces a violent society, as the Egyptian professor of sociology Halim Barakat has written in The Arab World: Society, Culture, and State. Without secure attachment in early childhood — free from terror, cortisol floods, and domestic chaos — there can be no empathy. And without empathy, democracy is impossible.
This is not geopolitics. This is basic human behavior.
A Citizen Diplomat’s Path
As some of you know, I’m what might be called a citizen diplomat. I created informal WhatsApp groups to promote normalization between Israel and Somalia, and later between Israel and Somaliland. This initiative grew out of my academic and clinical work — I hold a doctorate in Islamic literature (16th-century Western Islamic Spain), and later trained as a psychoanalyst. These two paths have always been intertwined — both are about understanding the human being in context. I even became a military contractor with BAE Systems seeking deployment to Afghanistan in 2009 in order to see it on the ground. All this before my aliyah, immigration to Israel in 2010.
My medieval studies taught me about the importance of the Umma (community), while psychoanalysis taught me about the development of the self. Over time, I began asking deeper questions about terrorism, trauma, and perpetrators — not just victims.
Looking Forward
Finally I have several other special relationships with Somalis. One is my good friend and colleague, a Somali historian Aweis Ali who works endlessly promoting religious freedom as a Christian. Another is a wonderfully gifted young woman Nina who lives in Sweden and is a lover of Zion. And then there is the very special connection to Andrew and Liban, two fellows, one a Jew and another a Somali, who found a friendship in the common ground of writing. These relationships may not have happened twenty years ago but so much has changed. As Lovers of Zion, they show that we must be careful not to stereotype. Change is a foot and there is no turning back.
Even as war rages on between Israel and the head of the octopus Iran, back channel conversations are continuing. I can say with certainty, based on my visit and my professional experience, that Somaliland is a capable partner for peace, stability, and mutual development. It is time to recognize Somaliland de jure — not just de facto.
This is not about abandoning Somalia. It’s about acknowledging reality — and supporting those who are already building the future. May we build that future together.
Nabad iyo caano
[af-Som. Peace and Milk]
