A Wealth of Kindness Among Somalia's Poorest

"Where's your mother?" Abdurahman asked.

"She's at home!" the little girl said, and on it went, as Abdurahman hugged her.

In the absence of more robust international aid, Somalis are mostly relying on such kindnesses and on money from relatives abroad, as well as the clan structures that have so often been blamed for undermining attempts to form a viable central government.

"Clans can be manipulated and badly used by politicians," said Mohamed Uluso, a political leader of a powerful subclan. "But clan is part of the life and welfare of Somali society, especially because we don't have a government taking care right now."

In fact, aid groups have blamed the transitional government of Somali President Abdullahi Yusuf for thwarting the meager relief effort.

In a briefing to the Security Council last week, the United Nations' humanitarian chief, John Holmes, appealed to donor nations to send more humanitarian workers and aid to Somalia, but he also emphasized the need to address the underlying political causes of the crisis.

Checkpoints manned by government soldiers and freelance militias, for instance, are charging as much as $400 to let trucks carrying food and other aid pass. U.N. workers have been arrested by government soldiers in Mogadishu, where political assassinations are becoming commonplace.

And just last week, Somalia's security chief, quoting an order from Yusuf, abruptly shut all roads and ports south of Mogadishu, leaving 3,700 tons of food on ships anchored off the coast.

The order was lifted without explanation the next day, and a battalion of rowboats headed out to offload the sacks stamped with the U.S. flag.

The other day, a crowd of several dozen families arrived with wooden carts to haul away sacks of sorghum and split yellow peas stacked at an abandoned school that was serving as a food distribution point.

Among them was Hawa Robleh, 45, who said she was receiving food aid for the first time in her life. She has to feed not only her own eight children, but also a family of distant relatives from Mogadishu who have been with her for two months.

"Life is difficult for me, but it's more difficult for them, because they left their homes," Robleh said. "We've shared everything we had."

She added, though, that even with the food rations, her generosity may not be enough.

"Since they arrived," she said, referring to her guests, "the children have become thinner."