Security is not in walls, gates, and things of this world but in Him alone. In the Horn of Africa, most houses have some form of wall or fence around them. These “walls” are sometimes made of bricks and cement, sheets of tin, and sometimes even branches or strategically planted thorn bushes. If the walls are made of bricks and cement, they are often topped with shards of glass along the top and rings of razor wire or “danger wire” to deter thieves from climbing over the top of the walls. The walls provide privacy from the outside world and a sense of protection.
In this region, it is often suggested that foreigners also
have a guard at their compound. I have friends with a guard who lives in
an outside room of their compound and has become like one of the family. Others have a guard that comes during the day, monitors who comes and goes
from the compound, and ensures nothing is stolen. The guard often is the one
to sweep the compound, water plants, and maintain the water tank or barrels. Some friends here have a guard that works only overnight, sleeping in the
compound and warding off intruders.
When we first moved to the region in 2020, we opted not to have
a guard, mainly because our compound didn’t have an outside space for a guard,
and we felt secure enough. Our first house was close to the main road, shared a
wall with a bar, and the previous renters ran a “massage parlor” out of the
house. The wall around our compound was only waist-high with decorative iron
fencing above. This wall didn’t provide much in the terms of privacy or
security, we quickly found out. Within the first week of being in our house, robbers easily bent the iron fencing and squeezed through the small opening. They flipped the main break to our house (an easy task as all electrical
breakers are on the outside of the houses here) and then popped the lock to our
front door. Since they had flipped the breaker to our house, our outside
lighting shut off, but it also caused our electric converter to beep, which woke
me up. I heard them pop the lock to our door, but being in a new house, I
wasn’t sure if that was a common night sound to hear here so close to that bar and main road or if it should be of concern. The thieves then turned on their flashlights inside our house, alerting us to their presence.
Fuzzy locked me in our bedroom and ran down the stairs, ready
to attack. The thieves were quick to turn and run out of the compound, managing
to grab a few small things on the way out the door and my laundry basins. We
were shaken for sure! Fuzzy flipped the breaker back, and we were able to
assess the damage. The thieves bypassed our “living room,” skipping over our
electronics and my purse. They opened the first door where we were storing our
empty luggage and had managed to roll one suitcase down the hall before Fuzzy
scared them off. Ironically the suitcase they had chosen had completely fallen
apart in transit between plains, trains, and automobiles, and I secretly wished
they would have taken it just because it was broken and the jokes on them! HA! They did manage to swipe a set of keys with the Best Aunt Ever keychain and
Fuzzy’s prescription sunglasses.
Once the sun came up, we called our landlord and our local friends to help us replace the locks and repair the fence and door. Both our landlord and our friends suggested that we get a night guard, and they knew of someone who needed a place to stay. We agreed just to give us a little piece of mind at night. We hired a young guy who had come from the countryside to the city for work but did not have a place to stay. We let him store a few belongings in a small room, and he slept outside on our porch, weather permitting. If it was raining, he slept just inside our door. He would arrive every evening just before dark or soon after. He would walk our compound and check things out throughout the night and sweep the compound in the morning before heading to work. He was an easy guard, and having a local being seen coming and going from our house let the community know that we had someone and were connected, almost like community accountability. We never had anyone try to break in again after that.
This term, having just moved to a new city, we started
renting a house a few weeks before we were able to move in. Our landlord had a
guard staying at the empty house already, so we paid him for two months,
allowing him to protect our house until we moved in and allowing us to get to know him and
decide if we wanted to keep him on long term. When we arrived, the guard was
pleasant enough, but we quickly learned that he was not Somali and didn’t
speak either of the languages we have started to learn. He was used to having free
reign over the empty house and was not willing to give up the keys to us. He
also had other guys over to our house, and they spent the day chewing Chat
(a common local narcotic of choice) and even spent the night. We talked with the
landlord and explained the situation. Once we were given all the keys, the
landlord said we were free to let him go and to find another guard.
So we are on the search! We had one guy come and chat with
us about what we expected of a guard, and he seemed promising but didn’t show
up when it came time. Our neighborhood seems to be pretty safe, so we are not
fearful but want to do what is culturally acceptable.
We know that the walls, razor wire, and locks on doors can
only protect us so much. Fuzzy has a large kitchen knife that he carries around
if there are any suspicious sounds, thankfully he hasn’t had to use it, and the
only damage it has caused is poking a hole in his ma’owis (traditional Somali
man skirt). We counted the cost of
“safety and security” when we signed up for this job and chose to live among
such aggressive people known for piracy and terrorist cells. In all reality,
if we do our job well here, our lives will likely be threatened. We have peace
knowing that we are secure in the everlasting arms of our Father.
