Somali peacelord.

OMER ARTEH GHALIB sits cross-legged on the cushioned floor of the majlis (guest receiving room) in a Riyadh villa, sipping gahwa turquia (Turkish coffee), quietly speaking fluent Arabic with a visitor. He is, clearly, completely at home in his surroundings. A month later, Arteh, prime minister of the provisional government of the Somali Republic, is sitting on a sofa in a drawing room in Washington, sipping instant Folgers, quietly speaking idiomatically fluent English with the same visitor.

He is equally comfortable, and equally determined that he be understood-and accepted--on his terms: leader of the Isaq, the dominant northern Somali tribe; head of government of the extremely fragile provisional national government; at once peace-seeker and damnifier of those who would further damage his brutally destroyed land.

The prime minister has spent the last seven months outside Somalia with four senior members of his cabinet, quietly stating the case for peaceful confederation of his tortured peoples, firmly identifying the difference between most of the tribal elders and the relatively few "warlords."

"Why can't your colleagues take the time to learn that there really are very few leaders who are wedded to war in our country? It seems to be the same 'instant expert' issue that causes them to so thoroughly misunderstand our tribal culture. (Incidentally, we have tribes in Africa, not some derivation of Scottish 'clans,' as the press seems determined to call them.)

"Our president, Ali Mahdi, for instance, has always been as dedicated to a peaceful resolution of our troubles as he is today. On the other hand, the so-called General Farah Aidid has always been a cut-throat. None of us ever trusted him, not even Siad Barre when Aidid was chief of his presidential guard.

"Can we forget so soon that, while I was writing Boutros Boutros-Ghali urging a peacekeeping role, Aidid's troops were forcibly taking control of the warehouses where most of the humanitarian relief supplies were stored? For him, the worst thing possible was for UN forces, not to mention inquiring journalists, to be on the scene in Mogadisho."

Omer Arteh is unfazed when questioned why he was not in Mogadisho during the critical weeks before and during the arrival of UN forces.

"Ali Mahdi and I are in daily contact; he and our other leaders are handling the domestic political isthe Somali political situation, at the same time as I try to keep the northern and southern portions of the country together.

"The issue of maintaining the Somali Republic is very delicate. We are having a meeting of the elders of the northern tribes-in Borama, on the 25th of January, where we will review all our political options." The northern tribes account for 55 per cent of Somalia's ten million citizens; of these, the Isaq, of which Arteh is leader, is far and away the largest.

"In the north, we are frankly very frustrated. Many of our people, as you know, wanted total and immediate independence. I hope to convince them to continue to give a chance to the Somali Republic.

"We pray that in any case there will be no more war. We have always wanted peace and free association of the peoples of our land; it is only a very few who have tried to take power by force.

You know, Farah Aidid is really a very special case. He attended the meetings in Mogadisho in April, when we did the impossible: the leaders of six armed movements came together and agreed to cease hostilities. When the council of one hundred elders selected the provisional government, Aidid was one of six siguateries to the declaration that announced the governrnent's formation and our initial decrees, including a commitment to democracy, to the free market, and to the West. "Nevertheless, within one week he came to me and pressed me to force Ali Mahdi to resign as president, and to support him for the job! Then, only a few days after I left on my foreign mission, Aidid's troops launched attacks against his own tribe's people, who were Ali Mahdi's main support, and in the process utterly devastated Mogadisho."

Arteh is no stranger to coping in difficult circumstances. He recalls Siad Barre's sudden change of direction (he was serving Barre as foreign minister at the time). "In the early days, we all supported Barre; he seemed compassionate, committed to the peaceful, free-market developmentd of our land. Slowly, however, his personality changed, until, on a quickly arranged visit to Moscow in 1976, he said to me that it was clear that the Soviets had the solution to society's ills.

"He took me completely by surprise. He had been totally snubbed by Brezhnev during our visit. I said to Barre, 'The man has humiliated you and our nation, and what's more, the Soviet Union does not work. When we were in New York, you could not believe the wealth and comfort of everyone; here, I cannot believe the poverty and disillusionment on the faces of everyone I see.'

"Back in Mogadisho, without telling any of his cabinet, he announced over the radio that Somalia was thenceforth to be a socialist state. Within a week I was removed as foreign minister and given the expedient position of minister of higher education. Ultimately, he brooked no opposition whatever, and had me thrown in jail for six long years"--a prisoner in solitary confinement.

The calling card of the provisional prime minister of the Somali Republic has no address. Under the name and title, at the bottom, the word "Telephone" is printed, followed by a space for the number, wherever he may be. "I am determined," Omer Arteh notes, half wryly, half wistfully, "to be able to print a card with full and permanent contact particulars, very soon. I do hope the city location will be Mogadisho, but if not, it will be Hargeisa, our northern regional capital."