Somalis Find Little Refuge in Kenyan Camps

On a patch of sun-blasted sand in the vast arid scrubland of eastern Kenya, tens of thousands of Somali refugees have sought refuge from murderous clan warfare in their homeland.

They face harsh conditions on the inhospitable terrain--too little water and food, banditry and even squabbling among the humanitarian organizations caring for them. They are also threatened by conflicts between the same clans that sparked their mass migration.

Authorities say nearly 600 refugees--mostly children under 5 and predominantly new arrivals--have died since September of starvation and dehydration.

Many of the new arrivals said they walked for weeks across 200 miles of barren desert from the Somali capital of Mogadishu, which has been ravaged by three months of fighting. More than 20,000 people have been killed or wounded in the divided seaside city and as many as 400,000 have fled.

U.N. Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali opened peace talks Wednesday at the United Nations to try to reach a cease-fire between the warring clans and arrange a reconciliation conference.

Most of the refugees fleeing Mogadishu have camped out on the rocky scrubland surrounding the city, but lack of food and water forced others to make the tortuous journey to Kenya.

The refugees began arriving in Kenya after rebels ousted former President Mohammed Siad Barre in January, 1991. But renewed fighting in November sparked a new exodus, and hundreds of refugees pour across the border daily.

“It was horrible,” said Mohamed Abdi, 30, an unemployed laborer who lost his wife and four children in the fighting and a fifth child during the trek. “War is a dirty game,” said Abdi, clad in torn brown polyester pants, a worn brown shirt and sandals.

A shortage of food, water and medicine in refugee camps at Liboi and nearby Ifo has contributed to the death toll. The two agencies responsible for caring for the 68,000 refugees--the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees and the African Medical Research Foundation--have accused each other of negligence.

The U.N. agency’s representative in Nairobi, Sylvester Awuye, said the African medical foundation had been ineffective and was being replaced by Doctors Without Borders, a French humanitarian agency. The African foundation accused the U.N. agency of not providing enough food, water and sanitation.

During a recent visit to Liboi, a handful of severely malnourished, skeletal children lay on half a dozen wooden beds in a tent serving as the camp’s pediatric ward. An aluminum structure nearby housed adult patients, most of them lying on straw mats on the floor.

All the patients interviewed complained of inadequate care and no medicine.

Dr. Elizabeth Lary, who had been in the camp three days with the U.N. agency, said there were insufficient drug supplies and poor monitoring of their use.

In addition, many of the sick and dying do not leave their beehive-shaped grass huts to seek treatment.

“Their system of reporting deaths is that they . . . collect the shrouds,” said Larry Hollingworth, the U.N. agency’s senior field coordinator. “But counting the dead is the least of my worries. I want to feed and water the living.”

Liboi was established as a transit camp, but refugees have been reluctant to move to more permanent housing in Ifo because they fear they will be unable to rendezvous with fleeing relatives.

Water shortages have plagued Liboi, where water must be pumped from bore holes sunk into the sandy soil.

“If I get in line for water on Tuesday, I won’t reach the front of the (line) until Thursday,” said Katra Ismail, who lives with 16 relatives in a single hut.