THE HUSTLE THAT TORE THE HORN OF AFRICA APART

MOGADISHU, SOMALI DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC, 1978. THE TELEX MACHINE IN THE FOREIGN MINISTRY HERE SPITS OUT MORE BULLSHIT THAN A PRIZE-WINNING BULL AT THE TASHKENT AGRICULTURAL FAIR. I’VE SEEN IT. IT’S A BIG BULL. BUT IN LATE 1977, IT SHAT OUT A GEOPOLITICAL MASTERPIECE, A KREMLIN CYPHER SO PROFOUNDLY, SO BEAUTIFULLY MANGLED, IT DESERVES TO BE HUNG IN THE LOUVRE. THE SOVIETS, YOU SEE, WERE TRYING TO PLAY FOOTSIE WITH BOTH SOMALIA AND ETHIOPIA, A DIPLOMATIC FEAT AKIN TO JUGGLING LIVE BADGERS. THEY’D BEEN BEST BUDS WITH SOMALI PRESIDENT SIAD BARRE, BUT NOW THEY WERE MAKING GOO-GOO EYES AT MENGISTU’S DERG REGIME IN ADDIS ABABA. SO MOSCOW SENDS A TOP-SECRET CABLE TO REASSURE BARRE. IT’S SUPPOSED TO SAY SOMETHING LIKE, “WE ARE DISPATCHING ADVISORS TO ASSIST OUR ETHIOPIAN COMRADES IN *SECURING KEY POSITIONS* AND *CONSOLIDATING IDEOLOGICAL DISCIPLINE*.”

UNFORTUNATELY FOR EVERYONE, THE CABLE WAS TRANSLATED BY A LOW-LEVEL FUNCTIONARY WHOSE RUSSIAN WAS LEARNED ENTIRELY FROM DUBBED GIALLO FILMS AND A BULGARIAN PHRASEBOOK HE’D NICKED IN SOFIA. IN HIS HANDS, “SECURING KEY POSITIONS” BECAME “LEARNING THE RIGHT MOVES.” “CONSOLIDATING IDEOLOGICAL DISCIPLINE” BECAME “GETTING DOWN WITH THE PARTY LINE.” AND THE WORD *DISKOVAT*, A SLANG TERM FOR “TO DISCONCERT” OR “THROW OFF BALANCE,” WAS TRANSLATED LITERALLY. THE FINAL MESSAGE THAT LANDED ON SIAD BARRE’S DESK, A DESK ALREADY GROANING UNDER THE WEIGHT OF HIS OWN EGO, READ: “WE ARE SENDING INSTRUCTORS TO TEACH THE ETHIOPIANS THE *DISCO*.”

THE REACTION WAS NOT, AS YOU MIGHT EXPECT, MILD CONFUSION. IT WAS A VOLCANIC ERUPTION OF PURE, WEAPONS-GRADE PERSONAL OFFENSE. BARRE, A MAN WHOSE IDEA OF CUTTING A RUG WAS REVIEWING A FIRING SQUAD, SAW THIS NOT AS A MISTAKE BUT AS THE ULTIMATE COLD WAR SNUB. THE RUSSIANS DIDN’T JUST DUMP HIM FOR A NEWER, MORE IDEOLOGICALLY FLEXIBLE REGIME—THEY WERE TAKING HIS REPLACEMENT TO THE FUCKING PROM. THEY WERE TEACHING THE DERG… *THE HUSTLE*. THE SHEER, UNMITIGATED GALL. AN AIDE LATER TOLD ME (OFF THE RECORD, OVER SEVERAL WARM BEERS) THAT BARRE SCREAMED, “THEY THINK THEY CAN DO THE BUMP ON MY BORDER? I’LL SHOW THEM A BUMP AND GRIND THEY’LL NEVER FORGET.” HE WASN’T LOSING THE OGADEN. HE WAS LOSING FACE. HE WAS NO LONGER THE COOLEST MARXIST AT THE NON-ALIGNED NATIONS HIGH SCHOOL DANCE.

AND SO, THE SOMALI NATIONAL ARMY THUNDERED INTO THE OGADEN, NOT WITH THE ROAR OF PAN-SOMALI NATIONALISM, BUT WITH THE FAINT, ANGRY ECHO OF A REJECTED LOVER. THE SOVIETS, UTTERLY BEFUDDLED BY WHY THEIR ALLY HAD INVADED THE VERY COUNTRY THEY WERE TRYING TO COURT VIA DANCE-BASED DIPLOMACY, WERE FORCED TO PICK A SIDE. THEY PICKED ETHIOPIA. CUBAN TROOPS, PROBABLY VERY CONFUSED WHY THEY WERE BEING SENT TO FIGHT OVER A BEE GEES-RELATED INSULT, POURED IN. THE SOMALIS WERE ROUTED. BARRE’S “REVOLUTIONARY” GOVERNMENT WAS LEFT A WRECK, THE COUNTRY A BASKET CASE, AND THE UNITED STATES—NEVER ONE TO MISS A CHANCE TO BACK THE WRONG HORSE—STEPPED IN TO BECOME MOGADISHU’S NEW BEST FRIEND. THE WHOLE SORRY AFFAIR PROVES THE OLD WIRE-SERVICE ADAGE: NEVER START A LAND WAR IN AFRICA, ESPECIALLY IF YOUR ENTIRE CASUS BELLI IS BASED ON A MISUNDERSTANDING ABOUT ‘NIGHT FEVER’.