Every year Somalia produces the highest number of people displaced within their country as a result of the chaos and conflict raging on in that ill-fated country. More than half of these displaced people and a considerable number of others who are mainly young people go into a sea adventure as they flee from the strife and clan fighting in this Horn of Africa nation. It is with great sadness to write that 70% of the boat people perish in the red sea while trying to reach to the port town of Aden, Yemen. Bosasso, a capital town of Puntland administration (part of Somalia)is the focal point of all adventurers who wish to travel by sea. The boats are in desperately poor condition and are not sea worthy but due to the rampant corruption they make money out of human blood by packing their wooden boats beyond their capacity. It had become common that boat owners bail people in the middle of the voyage by saying the boat can not go on with such a heavy load unless some of you are tossed into the seat. Then fighting would begin inside the boat as everyone tries not to be thrown into the sea. As the situation of the boat grows so tense and chaotic, boat owners then take up guns to shoot their human cargo indiscriminately with the aim of diminishing the weight to a favorable level. Despite all these atrocities and hardships, risks and atrocities, Somalis still flee their country as the wars are not coming to an end. It came to my mind several times to take that risk but I don't think I should die in the sea while I have several death options of which the best one is to die while serving my country instead of disppearing in the sea while running away from warlords and their likes.

Bombs detonated and exploded
Over the roof bullets ricocheted
Gunshots echoed, reverberated
Buildings drowned in flames
Fire balls billowed in the air
Schools set alight and looted
People fled to safer location
But there was no safe place
In the bush they walked weeks
But hardly did they reach anywhere
In feeding camps they have ended up

In the old days they were producers
Now they turned out to be consumers
Militia destroyed their farm lands
Looted their reserved seed banks
Burned and pillaged their houses
Reduced them to mere beggars

People fled from the country
They ventured into a sea voyage
But wicked boat owners
clubbed some to death
Threw others in the sea
And out of despair
Some others jumped into the sea
All bodies have been washed ashore