I remember reading about AK-47s and RPGs (rocket-propelled grenades, not roleplaying games) for sale on the streets of Somali cities years ago (around the time of Blackhawk Down), and it reminded me of D&D characters buying magic arms & armor.
Anyway, a recent Economist article describes the current situation in Somalia:
There are two ways to run a business in Somalia. You can pay off the local warlord, not always the most trustworthy of chaps, and hope he will stop his militiamen from murdering your staff. Or you can tell him to get stuffed and hire your own militia. After 13 years of civil war, businessmen are increasingly plumping for the latter option, and their defiance has been rewarded. A veneer of normality is returning to the world's most chaotic country. An economy, of sorts, is beginning to thrive.
Somalia's first Coca-Cola bottling plant opened in the capital, Mogadishu, last month. That its carbon dioxide chambers are encased in mortar-proof reinforced concrete is almost beside the point. Somalis now have the opportunity to rot their teeth like anyone else, and that feels good. Countrywide distribution will be smoothed by the presence of hundreds of experienced security guards, who are also responsible for protecting the odd foreign expert who drops in. Newcomers are encouraged to calm their nerves by firing off a few rounds or lobbing a hand-grenade shortly after arrival. “It really works,” enthuses a visiting Kenyan engineer.
Perversely, this renaissance has been made possible by Somalia's continuing fragmentation. There is still no proper central government but, where once there was only a handful of warlords, there are now at least 24, and that is only the serious ones. With smaller fiefs to pillage, few can now afford the $100,000 or more that it costs to wage a six-hour battle, so such battles are less common. This is what passes for peace in Somalia, and it is enough to tempt many homesick exiles to return. They bring money as well as skills and contacts. In the past few years, hospitals, schools, businesses and even a university have appeared.
In some ways, anarchy makes doing business easier. There are no formal taxes—given how heavily-armed the average Somali is, these would be hard to collect—and no regulation whatsoever. But the costs of chaos outweigh the benefits. You can roar through a warlord's road block unmolested if you have ten gunmen in the back of your pickup, but you have to pay your gunmen. Nationlink, one of the country's three mobile-phone operators, employs 300 guards to protect 500 staff.
Anyway, a recent Economist article describes the current situation in Somalia:
There are two ways to run a business in Somalia. You can pay off the local warlord, not always the most trustworthy of chaps, and hope he will stop his militiamen from murdering your staff. Or you can tell him to get stuffed and hire your own militia. After 13 years of civil war, businessmen are increasingly plumping for the latter option, and their defiance has been rewarded. A veneer of normality is returning to the world's most chaotic country. An economy, of sorts, is beginning to thrive.
Somalia's first Coca-Cola bottling plant opened in the capital, Mogadishu, last month. That its carbon dioxide chambers are encased in mortar-proof reinforced concrete is almost beside the point. Somalis now have the opportunity to rot their teeth like anyone else, and that feels good. Countrywide distribution will be smoothed by the presence of hundreds of experienced security guards, who are also responsible for protecting the odd foreign expert who drops in. Newcomers are encouraged to calm their nerves by firing off a few rounds or lobbing a hand-grenade shortly after arrival. “It really works,” enthuses a visiting Kenyan engineer.
Perversely, this renaissance has been made possible by Somalia's continuing fragmentation. There is still no proper central government but, where once there was only a handful of warlords, there are now at least 24, and that is only the serious ones. With smaller fiefs to pillage, few can now afford the $100,000 or more that it costs to wage a six-hour battle, so such battles are less common. This is what passes for peace in Somalia, and it is enough to tempt many homesick exiles to return. They bring money as well as skills and contacts. In the past few years, hospitals, schools, businesses and even a university have appeared.
In some ways, anarchy makes doing business easier. There are no formal taxes—given how heavily-armed the average Somali is, these would be hard to collect—and no regulation whatsoever. But the costs of chaos outweigh the benefits. You can roar through a warlord's road block unmolested if you have ten gunmen in the back of your pickup, but you have to pay your gunmen. Nationlink, one of the country's three mobile-phone operators, employs 300 guards to protect 500 staff.
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