Fatuma Noor
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Kenya: I was told that
I deserved to die –
for being a female journalist
As a Somali woman writing investigative stories, I face regular threats and my family's opposition
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- guardian.co.uk, Saturday 2 July 2011 19.06 EDT
- Article history
It's not always easy being a female investigative journalist, even in the west. But imagine going to do an interview and not being able to shake hands with the interviewee or indeed even being able to sit in front of him to ask questions.
In Somali culture – I grew up in a Somali family in Kenya – it is wrong to speak and raise an opinion in front of men or even to shake hands with a man of no relation to you. Even travelling for work unaccompanied by a relative is not permitted.
Somewhere on the Kenyan-Somali border, a Somali woman was chosen to be a town chief, but she fled from the town because of violent opposition from the elders. As a journalist, I tried to get comments from the Somali elders, but they then turned on me and threatened to punish me also.
The women who attempt leadership positions or take on roles such as journalism are often intimidated and many end up giving up the profession at the early stages of their career. Political instability and extremist groups in Somalia have posed an even greater challenge, with the introduction of strict sharia. These hardline groups even disapprove of women working in informal markets or within women's organisations.
Coming from a conservative Somali background, my parents, who buy and sell clothes, refused to fund my journalism course but were ready to pay for any other. (The need to meet and talk to men was, for them, the major problem with journalism.) Three years down the line, my choice still causes a strained relationship with the family. In a way, one could understand their reasons – as a female journalist, you face regular threats and intimidation.
I have had more than a few of those in my short career as a journalist. One time I did a story about a Somali woman who was shunned by her community and was ousted by her own sons and husband because she was suffering from HIV/Aids. I received phone calls – not what you would describe as friendly calls – from men in my native Somali community who believe that some things should not be shared with the world; suffering from HIV was certainly one of those things I shouldn't share, they thought.
One of the pleasures of being a journalist is the chance to travel and meet people. But according to the strictures of the culture in which I was raised, a woman should not travel unless she is accompanied by her brother, father or husband.
As a woman, you are then left to choose between career and family since if you choose the former, there is the risk of being banished by your family. A typical Muslim man would prefer a housewife to a journalist who travels a lot and has odd working hours. Even if you persist, you are not meant to interact with men other than your husband and immediate family members. As a reporter, this poses a challenge, to say the least.
When I started as a journalist, my editor did not fully grasp the limitations that come with my culture. But after constant pestering from my parents to fire me she got the message! (Sometimes now, she is careful when determining where I should go and what I should do, though I like to push.) To do my job as an investigative journalist properly stories often require days on the road. And this has led to a constant war between my parents and myself, not helped by some stories, on more than one occasion, almost getting me killed.
Recently, I wrote a series of stories on the al-Shabaab group, "the Taliban of Somalia", a series for which last week I was lucky enough to receive an award. The series dealt with men of Somali descent, raised elsewhere, often the US, "returning" to fight for al-Shabaab. I was travelling with recruits from different countries, heading towards Mogadishu, when we were surrounded by some of the militia.
They did not care much about who we were and seemed happy for the men accompanying me to get on with their work but my presence as a woman offended them. I wasn't married and had no relation within my group– reason enough for punishment, even execution.
There then followed an eight-hour ordeal in the hands of the militia group. They had guns fixed on my head, while smashing my belongings and discussing among themselves just what sort of punishment was fitting. The elder of the group finally decided that I should be killed and only the intervention of a contact that I had previously made, arguing vigorously in my favour, saved me.
Every single time I do any Somali-related story, to avoid problems with the family and immediate relations I choose never to disclose where I will be going and who I'm travelling with. It's perhaps then not a surprise that there should be such a small number of women in the Somali media And those who survive are more likely to work as radio presenters, not needing to go out and get stories. Even then, there can be problems. Bhajo Mohamud, who was a reporter in one of the radio stations, has had to leave the country and even in exile still gets threatening calls.
Beyond the particular problems of the Somali community, there's a general scarcity of women in our newsrooms, making it difficult for burning issues to be discussed from a female perspective.
Catherine Gicheru, a distinguished woman journalist and the managing editor of the Kenyan Star, says that a female journalist has to work extra hard so that nobody says she can't do this or that. "You must be willing to take anything that is thrown at you in order to survive in the career."
These are all issues that are faced by our counterparts in western newsrooms. But specific cultural barriers mean that fewer women, says Gicheru, want to break into the typically male-dominated areas such as politics.
As for investigative journalism, a gun to your head is not much of an encouragement.
Fatuma Noor was last week awarded the top prize at the CNN MultiChoice African Journalist 2011 awards ceremony for her investigative three-part series on the "Al-Shabaab". (You can read it at http://www.nairobistar.com/lifestyle/128-lifestyle/29535) She is at the Observer as part of the David Astor Journalism Programme.
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MY ENCOUNTER WITH
AMERICAN- SOMALI JIHADIST
IN NAIROBI
MONDAY, 27 JUNE 2011 15:43 BY FATUMA NOOR
Many Somali refugees would die to have the supposedly good life abroad. However, some young men from the Diaspora are now returning to fight for Al Shabaab in Somalia, rated as one of the most dangerous countries on earth. Our investigative writer FATUMA NOOR recently met with some of these Mujahideens from the US, Canada and Sweden and this is her gripping report.
It all started when a mother called to inquire about the whereabouts of her 18-year-old son Nuno Ahmed whom she believed was in Nairobi and had plans of going to Mogadishu. “He left with his three friends and l have just found out that they are going back home,” she told me when she called from her home in Minnesota, US. “I would rather he is arrested and stays in a Kenyan prison than let him go back to Mogadishu and die there,” she says as if pleading for my help.
She said Nuno got in touch with his family and assured them that he was fine and they should not worry. “He would say things like, we should not worry and he would be back if God had intended it to happen,” said a worried Sophia Ahmed who is Nuno’s mother.
When l eventually track down Nuno, I find him at a hotel in Eastleigh, where he and other young men from the US have been hiding out since their arrival. After much persuasion, Nuno agrees to meet with me at a restaurant in the city centre, Nairobi.
Like most of the young Somalis who have grown up in the West, Nuno speaks very little Somali. We end up conversing in English, his heavily inflected with an American twang. “Your mother tells me that you have plans of going to Mogadishu, Why?” I ask Nuno once we are done with the small talk.“Young people like me are needed there to protect our country. I can do something important over there compared to what I was doing back in the US,” he says.
The five foot six inch tall, slender, 18-year-old Nuno is a far cry from the media’s stereotype of a terrorist. His trendy clothes, leather jacket and hip sneakers do not differentiate him from the many young men passing by outside the coffee shop where we are meeting. “This is my choice and no-one has made me come here as my mother would like to believe. They have lived in Minnesota for too long and now they want to forget about home. But not me,” he says quietly and with deep conviction.
Later during another meeting in Eastleigh, Nuno introduces me to four of his friends— all from Minneapolis and all in the last stages of finalising their plans of travelling to Mogadishu.
Abikar Mohamed’s story
“It feels good to be back. We are so used to life back in the US that we are forgetting where we were born. Eastleigh reminds me so much of Mogadishu!” says 23-year-old Abikar Mohamed.
The last time Abikar was in Mogadishu was when he was seven years old. His family fled to Kenya after the fall of the Siad Barre government, languished in the Dadaab refugee camp before they were relocated to the US. It was his first time back to Kenya since those days when he was living here as a refugee. “We are all here to defend what we believe in. We are all here to protect Islam and we are going to do that at all cost,” says Abikar to partially explain why he and the others in the group would surrender a life in the US where many in the refugee camps can only dream about.
This is the same reason the others give when asked why they would leave their country of asylum to fight for a home majority of them know little about. “Moving to the US was a dream for us. I mean we had nothing left back home. The camp wasn’t the best place to live and after finally getting repatriated to the US, it meant a better future and life for all of us,” says Abikar who speaks with a strong American accent.
Once in the US, Abikar and his family lived on government support and assistance for eight years before they were finally granted citizenship. Abikar and his siblings got citizenship as his parents continue to live as refugees. “This was it for me. I thought I would enjoy the same treatment and rights as any other US citizen, but that was never to happen,” he said. Abikar says it was impossible to get a job or even a scholarship to further his education after high school. “In as much as we are citizens, we are never treated equally. What is the use of granting us citizenship if they don’t treat us equally?” he says. Abikar explains that he finished his high school at Sixth Street, Minnesota, and emerged among the top five students. “All the rest got scholarships to go to college; most of them did not deserve because they come from rich families. I was in need and I did not get it even when it was clear I deserved the scholarship,” he said.
He said this incident opened his eyes to the flagrant discrimination that the system meted out to Somali Americans and other refugee minorities. “I even went with my family to school to ask why I was denied the scholarship but they did not have any real reason for denying me the opportunity,” said Abikar. Abikar had wanted to go to college to study literature, become a lecturer and also a writer. This will not happen now.
On their arrival from the US, the four lived at different hotels and guest houses in Eastleigh as they waited to be joined by other young men, most of them in their late teens, who were coming from different parts of the world.
All of them had the same agenda: to travel to Somalia and join the Al Shabaab— the militia group loosely associated with Al Qaeda which is fighting to remove the transitional federal government (TFG) which they believe is a western imposition.
Al Shabaab seized control of much of Somalia in 2006 until Ethiopian forces at the request of the TFG and with the backing of the US invaded the country. The militia group was pushed out but has since been fighting to regain control and oust the government. This ‘invasion’ prompted the political awakening among young Somalis in the Diaspora.c“We know there is another group from Minneapolis, California and Minnesota but we have also been told others are coming from Norway and Sweden,” Abikar and his colleagues tell me.
Later that day, at 4pm, Nuno Ahmed calls saying all his friends had arrived and they were agreeable to an interview.
At the agreed venue, I meet up with Nuno and nine other young men— the youngest at 17 while the oldest was 24 years old. All of them are convinced that their reasons for making the perilous journey to Somalia are right.
None of them were born in the US or any of the European capitals from where they are from. They started their journey as refugees from Mogadishu and spent several years at the Daadab refugee camp, established in the early 1990s to take the waves of Somali refugees who streamed into Kenya after the fall of the Siad Barre government and the start of the civil war which has continued since then.
Abdirahman Gullet’s story
“From 2008 when Burhan went back to Mogadishu, we have all been seen as terror suspects. Police regularly storm our houses and conduct searches without permission,” says 19-year-old Abdirahman Gullet.
Abdirahman recalled several instances when he was walking on the street and had been forcefully taken away by men claiming to be FBI. The men would interrogate him for several hours about what he knew about Al Shabaab and demand to know whether he was a member.
“It never crossed my mind to join up with the Al Shabaab. Even when Burhan went, I thought it was a stupid thing he did. Now I understand why. I have had first and experience,” he said.
Burhan Hussein Ahmed, known as Little Bashir, was only 17 when he disappeared from his home in Minneapolis in 2008 and in November that year, called his family to say he was in Mogadishu.
The family received a call from Mogadishu informing them that he had died. The family still believes that Burhan was murdered by the Al Shabaab when he refused to carry out a suicide bombing.
A month earlier, 26-year-old Shirwa Ahmed became the first known American suicide bomber when he drove a car loaded with explosives into a government compound in Puntland in October 2008 killing 30 people. He had left Minneapolis for Saudi Arabia before making his way to Mogadishu.
Shirwa was one of 20 Somali Americans who left Minneapolis for Somalia in a trend which became the focus of a large terrorism investigation in the US. Some of these fighters are suspected to have made their way to Mogadishu through Kenya. “We came to Nairobi just like any American citizen. None of the officials at the airport suspected anything,” Abdirahman said.
Interviews with the nine young men at Eastleigh confirmed that Nairobi was the preferred jumping off point for many of those headed to Somalia to join the Al Shabaab.
Once they arrive, each of them is given the address and contacts of a place where they all converge. They did not tell me where they all congregated for security reasons. One of the contacts who organised the young men’s arrival in Kenya and was making arrangements for their trip to Mogadishu also refused to be interviewed citing security concerns.
Adan Hussein’s story
Adan Hussein is 24 years old. He is also from Minneapolis. Adan had just cleared his college studies in Information Technology at one of the private colleges near his home. “I had an opportunity to leave with my friends who left before me but I wanted to continue with my studies. We write each other mails and they send photos of how things are in Mogadishu. They told me they had even met with a cousin of mine who had been left behind when we fled the war,” he says.
It is his cousin who explained to him how half the family left behind was killed in the fighting that has been going on since the collapse of the Barre government. “He told me that through Al Shaabab they are protecting the larger part of Somalia and saving lives although the media would report otherwise,” he says.
Adan said he and his friends attended a mosque where one of the elders kept them updated with the news coming from Somalia.
“He had first-hand information about what was going on at home. He would travel to Somalia and back to the US until recently when he was banned from traveling. “They stopped him because he would come back and tell us how the US, the country we had grown up in, was helping Ethiopia to kill our families,” Adan says.
He is sad to have left his mother and two younger sisters without telling them of his plans to travel to Mogadishu and fight with the Al Shabaab.
He hoped that his mother, who in her daily devotions prayed for Somalia, will eventually understand his reasons for leaving home. “There is a chance I might never come back here and might die protecting my religion, it’s a price I’m willing to pay,” he says.
Aden like some of the young recruits could not pay for his ticket to Nairobi as most of them were students so the elders funded their trips to Nairobi and to Hargeisa, Somaliland, from where they will proceed by road to Somalia.
He denied suggestions that they had been brainwashed by the elders at the mosque. “The mosque is just a meeting place. Coming back to fight for our home is our own free will. “We are not doing this to please human beings. It’s not our intention. We are protecting our religion and our reward is in heaven,” says Adan.
Born in 1986, Adan left Mogadishu after his father was killed in 1993. Coming to Daadab, he was relocated with his mother and two young sisters to the US.“To avoid attracting any kind of suspicion, all of us will book our tickets individually while a second group of Kenyan recruits will make their way by road all the way through Liboi,” says Adan.
Omar Hassan
Omar Hassan, 22, went to Canada to join his family who had been granted asylum there. He has been living in Canada as a refugee for the last ten years. He was just a class four pupil at the Daadab camp when he left for Canada. He came to Nairobi on several occasions to plan his travel to Canada but something would always crop up with his papers. “Finally when I got the visa to travel, I could not believe it, my family had paid so much money for me to join them, I knew this would be a good thing for me,” he said.
Once in Canada, Omar did not continue his education, he joined his family’s business and at the age of 20, he married a second generation Canadian Somali woman.
Very soft spoken with plastic spectacles, Omar tells me that discrimination is a big part of his adopted country. “There has never been integration of Somalis and native Canadians. Why do you think we all live at the same place and they stay far away from us?” he asks.
He adds that the discrimination is what makes many young people join Al Shaabab and to take any chance they can get to go back home.
Omar says he knows thousands of refugees would swap places with him to have the kind of life he has had in Canada. “I am willing to give all that up for my religion. I have always cared about material things that this life has to offer but I have not seen the benefit of it,” he says.
His understanding is that Al Shaabab is not a terror group but believers committed to ensuring Shariah law is observed in all of Somalia. “Somalia is a Muslim country and the law of the Quran should be observed by all,” says Omar.
Omar denies that the motivating factor behind most of the youth joining up is the stipend that each of them gets when they join up and the monthly payment they receive. With his Somali accent, he tells me that they were promised $30 (Sh2,400) per day for their services but it’s not what motivates them, “yes I might take the money for my basic use while in Somalia but it’s not the motivation,” he says.
He tells me that the group coming from abroad were promised $ 200- $250 (Sh16,000-Sh20,000) per month and there is a high possibility that this might go up. “Like I said it’s not about the money, my family’s business makes more than this,” he added.
“It’s not about the money; it’s to protect what I believe in. This is a holy war and all the young people who have died before us have done that for the sake of religion,” he says.
Abdinassir Osman’s story
“I was only 20 when some policemen stopped me and started interrogating me. They said they suspected me of having links with Al Shabaab. They did not believe me when I told them I knew nothing about the organisation. “At the time I had no links or even knowledge of Al Shabaab. I didn’t know much about them,” recalls 22-year-old Abdinassir Osman.
Osman has been living in Ohio for the last 12 years. He said he had been unable to get a job since he did not have a high school diploma. Even when he applied for blue collar jobs, Osman said he was passed over just because he was an American Somali.
“Everywhere I would go, I would be treated differently because I am a Somali. I can understand if I can’t get a good job and I accept that fact as I quit school early, but even a cleaning job? It does not make sense!” he said. “I did nothing there. Instead I was in a gang and I know l was wrong. Now I can do something good back home in Somalia.” Osman decided to join two of his friends who were travelling to Mogadishu.
Ali Mohamud
Born in 1985, Ali Mohamud, known to his friends as Amad, left Daadab refugee camp in 1995 after his family fled Kismayu. They were relocated in Ohio. “It was cool at first. We were treated well since we were just children. But when we finished school, there were no jobs, not even for those of us who were qualified,” he said.
He and Osman listened to the stories and exhortations of the mosque elders and they decided that they were needed more in Somalia to fight for their homeland than wasting time looking for jobs. “My services are needed back home, to protect Somalia and Islam. I am here out of my will and it’s the least I can do for my religion,” he says.
He stayed with his mother and young brother who is currently in college in Ohio. “This will break my mother’s heart I know, I told her of the plan and she completely refused but hope she would understand my reasons.”
Khalif Abdi’s story
Khalif Abdi’s decision to return to fight with Al Shabaab is rooted in his belief that there is a conspiracy in the West to get rid of Islam as a religion. The 24-year-old from Sweden cites the ban of the wearing of the burqa by some of the European governments, the banning of minarets on mosques as proof of this conspiracy.
“They have done it to us in Sweden and France. We cannot do much there but at home we can make a big difference and that is why I’ am going,” he told us as he waited for his contact in Nairobi to complete his travel arrangements to Mogadishu.
He admits he remembers very little of a country he left behind when he was barely ten years old. “I have no fear of going back. I have been following what is going on there and l have decided that l should join the Al Shaabab who are protecting Islam. I want to be part of that,” he says. He like many of the young people we have talked to moved with his single mother when he was just two years. “I had no idea of what was happening, all I knew is we were in Kenya and then moved from here, but that has never stopped me from learning about my home country,” he tells me, speaking the perfect English among all in the group. “We used to go to the Madrassa and we would learn so much about how the civil war started, what is happening now and although we have been absorbed in the US culture, it’s not home,” he tells me.
Dressed in a blue sweater and black shades with clearly very expensive Nike shoes, he tells me that the elders in Sweden told them that another group was coming from the United States. “We knew they were coming and am glad that it’s a big group, it will prove a point,” he said.
He also denied claims that they were recruited back home. He says they were just told of what is happening in Somalia and they made their own choices. “I have a son, they are now staying with my mother but they don’t know where I’m since I just left but I plan to call them and go back to my son,” he said. “You know there is a chance of you not going back once you are in Somalia,” I tell him, “I’m sure that this is a war that we will win and I will go back to my family and maybe once there is peace, I will come back with my son,” he says.
Mukhtar Abdi
A Kenyan Somali, Mukhtar Abdi believes it’s his responsibility to ensure that Sharia law is imposed in every country where the majority of the citizens are Muslims. “We must and will protect our religion. The bonus is that there is also some money in this so I can send back some of it to my family,” he says.
Mukhtar was looking forward to earning $30 (Sh2,400) per day when fighting for the Al Shabaab. He said the money is enough to lure many Kenyan Somali youth who are idling in Eastleigh and other towns.
Talking to Mukhtar, I got the impression that for him the monetary reward was much more of an incentive than the religious cause. Although his payment is not as high as the Mujahideens from abroad, he says that it’s enough since he wouldn’t get it when he is just idling in Eastleigh.
“Sh2,400 is more than enough for one day. I can send it to my family back home and I can fight here for a while and make enough money to start a business in my neighbourhood,” he tells me.
For Mukhtar, joining the Al Shabaab was also an adventure. He expects to return from Somalia and regale his friends, family and relatives with stories. “I paid nothing. My flight to Hargeisa was paid by a man who was organizing our trip,” he said.
Mukhtar was completely different from the rest as his Somali was really good and could not speak much English. During the interview, while the others conversed animatedly in English, he was quiet.
I ask him what he thinks of his colleagues who have left a life abroad that many Eastleigh youths would die for.
After taking some time, he shakes his head and says that they cannot even survive in Somalia as their lives are completely different.
“Somalia is so much like Eastleigh, if I was them I would never even think of coming back to Somalia, It’s not a wise choice,” he tells me.
For him, he says, he understands that joining Al Shaabab is not a wise choice but there is good money to be made and that’s all the motivation he wants. “It’s not about religion; it’s about me making $30 per day.”
IN TOMORROW'S STAR ONLINE EDITION READ ABOUT FATUMA NOOR’S JOURNEY TO HARGEISA, SOMALILAND, WITH THE RECRUITS WHO WERE ENROUTE TO MOGADISHU
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ON THE ROAD WITH
AL SHABAAB RECRUITS
TUESDAY, 28 JUNE 2011 14:58 BY FATUMA NOOR
Why would you leave the safety and comfort of your home to go to a warzone? That is the question running through my mind at the JKIA in Nairobi as I board the plane for Hargeisa. I was on assignment to Somaliland to cover the swearing-in ceremony of the new President of the semi-autonomous region of Somalia. Outgoing President Dahir Rayale Kahin was handing over power to President-elect Ahmed Mohamed ‘Silyano’ Mohamoud.
My trip to Hargeisa coincided with that of the nine Al Shabaab recruits who had left their homes in Canada, US and Sweden to join the militia group which is linked to the Al Qaeda.
I had interviewed some of them a week earlier. Now five of them were on the same plane headed to Hargeisa and then from there to Mogadishu.
One of the recruits, Adan Hussein, told me they were to be joined by two others, Abdinassir Osman and Abdirahman Gullet, who arrived a few minutes later. Apart from Gullet who was dressed in a grey kanzu, the rest were wearing expensive jeans, sneakers, shirts or T-shirts. They each had an iPhone or lagged a laptop where they continuously updated their Facebook pages or emailed their families and friends back home.
Adan lifted his head from his laptop where he had emailed his mother to tell her he was in Nairobi and not to worry. He said he promised her he would keep in touch. “Frankly I’m scared, I do not know what to expect. It’s weird. It feels like it’s my first time to go to Mogadishu and yet I was born there! But my mind is made up,” he tells me. He says he does not know who is paying for his trip from the US to Kenya and now to Hargeisa. “I think it’s from a maalim at the mosque, we all just had tickets booked for us,” he says.
We go through the security checks at the JKIA then we board the plane which lands in Hargeisa’s Egal International Airport two hours later. The immigration process is smooth and not as intense as it is in Nairobi. We each pay $50 (Sh4,000) for the visa.
Immediately we all get a Somaliland Telecom SIM card which comes with a dollar as airtime. We exchange numbers with the recruits and I leave them to go and attend the swearing-in ceremony. Hours later, I joined the recruits at the lobby of the Star Hotel where they were waiting for their contact to arrive.
As we sip our soft drinks, the recruits are increasingly quiet. Twenty-year-old Omar Hassan who during our interview in Nairobi had been talkative and exuberant is now very quiet. He says little.
It is late afternoon when we are joined by an elderly man in his 50s whose long beard is dyed with red henna. He asks for a cup of coffee before greeting us. He is Mohammed Jimale, the recruit’s contact person in Hargeisa.
He is taken aback by my presence and demands to know who l am and what l am doing there. I tell him l had got permission from the Al Shabaab spokesman Mukhtar Rubow to interview the recruits and accompany them to Mogadishu.
He reaches for his phone, dials a number and walks away to talk. He returns smiling and in a more relaxed manner. “How are the young Somalis in Eastleigh. I have been there a lot you know,” he says. He abruptly turns to the recruits and tells them: “You all know why you are here; Allah will grant you heaven as you are protecting our religion. “Fight in the cause of Allah those who fight you, and slay them wherever ye catch them, and turn them out from where they have turned you out; unless they (first) fight you there; but if they fight you, slay them,” the old man continues quoting the Quran.
He tries to clear any doubts that any of the recruits may have by saying that their mission was godly. “Allah has said it. It is clear in the Quran that there is reward for all those Mujahideens who fight to protect Islam,” he says. “If any of you wants to go back they can do it now. I am sure most of you left when you were still young. All you know of Somalia is what you have seen on TV in the comfort of your lovely homes. The situation is not as it’s reported,” Jimale says. “They do not report how many of our sisters, mothers and wives that they have killed, they say we are oppressing women while all we are doing is protecting Islam. What is wrong with introducing Shariah law in an Islamic country,” he tells the new recruits.
Omar Hassan who is a Canadian citizen is worried and wants to know what they should expect in Mogadishu. “How bad are things there? What happens once we get there? Will there be security for us?” he asks. “You’re the soldiers; you’re going to protect Islam. Do not worry. You will have a place to stay but your mission is not to come back and stay but to fight,” Jimale says, adding with a chilling finality: “Mujahideen should not care much about this life but the after life.”
Jimale warns me that it is not safe to go to Mogadishu with the recruits even if l had been given permission by Rubow. “It’s not safe my daughter. I think you have your story already” he tells me in impeccable English. “I’m a Danish citizen. I came to Somalia six months ago and then moved to Hargeisa, I want to do some business here and also bring my family members,” Jimale tells me when l ask him where he is from.
He asks the recruits when their colleagues would be arriving. “They would be flying in by 3pm as we used different airlines,” said Adan Hussein in halting Somali. Jimale laughs and makes fun of the way Adan and the others speak the Somali language. “You boys need not to forget where you come from even if you have grown up around the wazungus,” he says.
Before he left, he said once the others arrive, the team will be picked by two Land Cruisers and travel to another base where they will get final debriefing before starting the jihad. “Mujahideens like you need to be fit and prepared for the battle,” he concludes.
Three other recruits— Ali Mohamud ‘Amad’ from Ohio, Khalif Abdi from Sweden and Mukhtar Abdi, a Kenyan — arrive an hour later and join their colleagues. “This place is developed; they have nice buildings and architecture. It’s completely different from what we expected,” says Amad in his American twang. “Even the hotels are state-of-the-art and the internet is fast,” says Abikar who was using his iPhone to stay connected to the net. They, however, agree that the presidential palace needs an upgrade and a facelift.
I still have a nagging question: Why leave the safety and comfort of home for a warzone? Is it only about religion or is the financial reward an added incentive? “We have been told we could be given $250 (Sh20,000) per month as foreign recruits which is a lot of money in Somalia,” Abikar says. “We all make more than that back home. Even those of us who don’t have jobs get that as pocket money, so it’s not about the money. It’s about what we believe in,” he tells me.
Jimale returns with a younger man in his 30s who introduces himself as Ahmed. He asks me to leave as he wants to brief the recruits on their plans and destination. He tells me to join them after an hour.
When l join them later, l am told that the vehicles are ready to leave. I get in the back seat of one of the Land Cruisers together with five other recruits and we are off to Mogadishu. Seated next to Omar, l can see he is nervous and afraid. He tells me that I should stay behind. I am more concerned about him. “I’m scared but I cannot change my mind now. It’s finally real. I have come too far to go back,” he tells me.
The recruits joke about what they hope to find in Somalia. “For those who are single, this is a good place to get a wife who will always obey you,” Abikar says with a laugh.
After driving for hours and through several security checks in Somaliland, we make a brief stop over in Gaalcayo, a small town in Somalia. It’s here that we encountered the ruthless Al Shabaab militiamen.
In the last part of our series tomorrow, read about how the Al Shabaab recruits saved Fatuma Noor’s life
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Somalia:
How Al Shabaab Recruits
Saved My Life
Fatuma Noor
29 June 2011
After driving for hours and through several security checks in Somaliland, we made a brief stopover in Gaalcayo, a small town in Somalia. The driver asked us to take a short break before we could continue with our journey. "Any of you who wants to relieve yourself, this is the place and time," he said pointing to the open sandy ground. It reminded me of the numerous trips I have made from Wajir to Mandera.
In yesterday's issue, Fatuma Noor told you about her flight with the nine US, Canadian and Swedish mujahideens to Hargeisa, Somaliland, and the gruelling road journey into Somalia. In the last part of the series, read about her brush with death after coming face to face with the ruthless Al Shabaab militants.
All the young recruits got out and I was left alone in the car. As a Muslim woman, I couldn't even contemplate going for a short call at the open ground even though I was very pressed. After what looked like a long time, they all came back. We were about to leave when all hell broke loose. Right in front of us, seven men appeared from nowhere wielding guns pointed at us. What I had been dreading all along had come to be: I was looking at the ruthless Al Shabaab militants in the face. They surrounded the two Land Cruisers we were travelling in.
This was unexpected as Gaalcayo is one of the strongholds of the US-backed Transitional Federal Government headed by Sheikh Shariff Sheikh Ahmed. I kept thinking of the old man who told me I shouldn't go past Gaalcayo as it is unsafe for a woman.
"All of you get out of the car," one of the Al Shabaab men who looked like their leader thundered. We did what we were told without question. The militants proceeded to inquire about who we were and what our mission in Somalia was.
By their looks, the oldest was probably 25 and the youngest couldn't have been more than 13 years. The boy who was barely in his teens was dressed in an oversized blue shirt with brown pants. "Is he here by choice? Does he even know how to use the rifle that looked heavy for him?" I wondered.
My silly thoughts were interrupted by our driver. "My name is Abdi, I have been sent to pick the new recruits from Hargeisa and we are heading to Mogadishu," he said.
It was clear that the young militants who were all dressed up shoddily had no idea that the group was expecting new recruits as they continued to issue threats.
Despite the fervent explanation from our driver, who had been joined by the other driver in arguing our case, the mean-looking Al Shabaab men could hear none of it. I couldn't help but notice that the new recruits had all kept mum, probably realising the gravity of the situation. "Give us your money," they ordered the recruits who nervously gave the militants all the money they had in Somali currency. They had exchanged the money at the Egal International Airport in Hargeisa. "Who is this girl?" one dressed in a blue Maawis (Somali attire) asked. "I'm a Kenyan Somali journalist and I am here to do a story. Robow has given me the permission to accompany the recruits," I said quickly, hoping that the name-dropping would defuse the tension.
Robow is one of the officials of Al Shabaab. He was formerly the spokesperson of the insurgent group. "Is she married or related to any of you?" the same man asked. "No," I answered although the question was not directed at me.
Clearly they were not amused and they kept on asking questions why l was traveling with men who were not my relatives. I tried in vain to explain that I was just a journalist doing my work after being granted permission by their leader but that fell on deaf ears. "This is what we are discouraging; a Somali girl to act like some 'Adon' (means Kafir - infidel - or derogatory for a black person) and not obeying what our religion requires of her," the leader said pointing his rifle at my head. Knowing that none of the new recruits would come to my rescue as they were probably more scared than I was, I decided to try and reason with one of the militants.
"I'm not here to do anything to harm your mission; I am just here to do a story. I have travelled with the new Mujahideens from Nairobi; I did not know it's against your rules," I pleaded with their leader but he could have none of it.
He started consulting with his colleagues on the appropriate punishment they should mete out on me. Ideas were bandied around as we silently watched. The men were discussing my fate and there was absolutely nothing I could do. There has never been a time I have been more scared for my life than that moment.
For a moment I regretted travelling with the recruits in the first place. I questioned myself why I allowed my journalistic instincts to override my security concerns. However, there was no time for this. It was too late now. I was so sure they would kill me that I started making a silent prayer to Allah.
All this time, our drivers were frantically trying to contact the officials expecting us in Mogadishu. When the call went through, one of the drivers interrupted the insurgents who discussing my fate. Their leader took the phone and spoke for a while with the person on the other end. He kept insisting that I should be severely dealt with for going against the dictates of Islam. "It's fine for the rest of you to proceed but we have to punish her," he said after returning the phone to the driver. "Empty your handbag," he ordered me.
Just as I was about to empty my bag, my phone started ringing. Luck was not on my side that day. Al Shabaab had recently banned ringtones, arguing that it was unIslamic and here I was, with my handset unleashing what sounded like a very loud ringtone. One of them grabbed my phone. He told his colleagues that I could be a spy and without a moment's hesitation, he proceeded to drop the phone on the ground and crashed it. I made another dua, knowing too well that I was the next to be crashed.
The militants then ordered the foreign Mujahideens to enter the vehicles and drive off without me. It's then that one of the new recruits, Abikar Mohamed, gathered courage and spoke for the first time. "Let her not proceed from here but please allow her to go back to Hargeisa." The militants brushed him off, insisting that I will be punished for disobeying Islam. The driver who was for the second time trying to get in touch with Robow gave the phone to the militiamen's leader. The few minutes that he was on phone talking to Robow felt like a lifetime. "Ok, she can go back to Hargeisa. She will have to wait here for a taxi that's going to take her there," he said giving the driver back his phone. I sighed with relief and thanked Allah for saving my life.
Ali Mohamud, another recruit, also chipped in. He asked the Al Shabaab militants to allow our driver to take me to the nearest town from where I would take a taxi to Hargeisa. Their leader grudgingly agreed.Aden Hussein, one of the new recruits, who had also been awfully quiet, intervened, perhaps after getting reassurance that they were needed by the insurgent group. "We have been here for the last four hours, not a single car has passed, we cannot just leave her here," he said.
Still shocked, I said my goodbyes to my new friends, promising to keep in touch. I promised myself I would never return to Somalia again - not until peace prevails in the country. My brush with death had made me wiser.
NOTE: This is the third of a three-part series first published in 2010 for which Fatuma Noor was awarded the top prize at this year's CNN MultiChoice African Journalist Awards. For the entire series visit this Topical Focus page.
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