Al-Shabaab has become the big elephant in today’s Somalia—and
it’s a force to be reckoned with. While
the organization was dislodged militarily from Mogadishu several years ago, it still
maintains a sinister presence in the capital. This presence is so threatening
that the government’s security forces do not venture into some areas of the
city. Extorting local businesses is the group’s modus operandi and its lifeline
for survival. Most disturbingly, members of the radical group have melted into
the city, so it is difficult to distinguish between actual Al-Shabaab members
and those who are sympathizers. To paraphrase U.S. President Donald Trump’s
conspiratorial phrase, there is a “deep state” in Mogadishu that revolves
around the shadowy Al-Shabaab and its draconian brand of justice.
Terror by phone
Abdi is a family friend I haven’t seen since 1977. He has
lived all his life in Mogadishu, fathered several children some of whom live in
Europe, and engaged in various business ventures—some very successful and
others not so much.
As a child, Abdi was like a big brother to me—kind, caring
and generous. He was young, single, gainfully employed, and so committed to
improving his life that, in his spare time, he took English classes at the
American Mennonite Mission in Mogadishu. Occasionally, Abdi also took my cousin
and me to a restaurant where we ate ravenously.
During my visit to Mogadishu, finding Abdi proved to be a
Herculean task. I had his cell phone number, but the man did not answer.
Finally, I asked my sister in California to try to call him, hoping he would
answer an international call rather than a local one. She called him, but to no
avail. After many calls, he finally answered. She asked him why he didn’t
answer his phone, and he was as honest as one gets:
“I only answer the phone for one hour every day,” he said,
“from 5 to 6 p.m., so the kids can use the Internet.”
“Hassan is in Mogadishu and he wants to see you,” my sister
said.
“Oh, let him text me.”
I texted Abdi as instructed, but still had no luck. After that,
I called him many times but ended up leaving Mogadishu without meeting him or
talking to him. My sister, never one to give up easily, tried her luck again.
After two days of calling him, he finally answered. This time, Abdi admitted he
had another cell phone number, which he only answers if it is an international
call.
“But why?” my sister asked.
“I do not answer the other cell phone because there are
people—bad people—who I do not want to talk to,” he said sheepishly.
“Who are these bad people?”
“I can’t talk about it now, but one day I will.”
For Mogadishu residents, the “bad people” Abdi referenced is
a euphemism for the Al-Shabaab radicals. The group has been engaged in a
systematic terror campaign by calling people and threatening them if they do
not pay extortion money. Sometimes the terrorists call innocent people to warn
them to refrain from working for the government or the mass media. At other
times, the calls are simply verdicts issued to the receivers who are to be
executed.
Trying to establish how Al-Shabaab militants get access to
people’s contact information is like trying to find out how the Mafia generates
its revenues. Members of Al-Shabaab have infiltrated government institutions, law
enforcement agencies and telecommunication companies in Mogadishu.
For instance, Hormuud Telecom, a giant telecommunication
company in Mogadishu, has an Electronic Virtual Cash (EVC) mobile money-wiring
service that has a $300 limit. Instead of carrying cash and exposing themselves
to danger, many residents in the city use a cell phone to pay their bills. I asked
why there is only a $300 limit on such phones and was told there are varying
accounts. For Hormuud Telecom officials,
the limit is set at $300 limit for security reasons to protect customers from
fraud or theft.
However, there is another sinister explanation.
“It is what Al-Shabaab wants,” a government official told me.
“The $300 limit on the EVC is a way of punishing the government and, by
extension, civil servants, because monthly salaries are above $300.”
In Mogadishu, sometimes it is difficult to separate truth
from conspiracy theories. A noted tribal chieftain swore to me that Hormuud
Telecom, which has 31 branches in Mogadishu, pays Al-Shabaab a monthly
extortion fee of $1000 per store. Claims like this one—and the widespread
rumors and innuendos that abound in the city—are always difficult to verify.
In fairness, Hormuud Telecom is not the only company that is
widely rumored to pay extortion money to Al-Shabaab. Almost all other major
businesses in the city and even some civil servants cough up money to
Al-Shabaab.
A year ago, the government passed a decree to punish all businesses
paying extortion money to Al-Shabaab. Instead of rejoicing, Mogadishu merchants
protested against the decree because the government was in no position to
protect them against Al-Shabaab’s wrath. Consequently, the decree was quietly
shelved.
I heard that a civil servant with the city’s court system had
received a call from someone who claimed to be an Al-Shabaab representative.
“You will pay us $30 per month effective immediately,” the
anonymous caller demanded.
“But I am married and have several children. That’s too much
money to pay.”
‘Ok, how about $20 per month?”
“That’s much better. I can do that.”
“Deal!”
“But who do I give the money to?” asked the civil servant.
“The treasurer where you get your salary. Just tell him to
deduct the $20. He will know.”
The person who told me this bizarre story is a successful
businessman and close relative of the civil servant who was extorted.
As disturbing as this story is, other Al-Shabaab phone calls
have come with sinister and hair-raising overtones.
An aide to General Gaafow, then head of immigration, received
a phone call in which he was told: “We know you are now in General Gaafow’s
home, so be careful.” The aide was terrified that the militant group had
tracked his whereabouts. He started sweating and became panicky. After he left General
Gaafow’s house, he got another call informing him that the previous call had been
a prank. He was enraged that his friends considered this a practical joke.
Death of a fruit
merchant
Muse Macow, a Benadiri merchant, was asleep at his humble
home in the Hamarweyne District when his cell phone rang in the wee hours of
the morning. Nobody called at that time of the day, but there was no mistaking
the murderous tone of the voice on the other end of the line that struck terror
into his heart:
“You have failed to heed our warnings, so soon you will die.”
On March 8, 2018, Muse Macow was gunned down. Local media outlets
reported that the merchant had business dealings with the soldiers of the
African Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) in which he purchased fruits and then resold
them.
When I talked to the merchant’s relatives, a tragic story of
the targeted killing emerged. Macow was a popular merchant who had made a name
for himself through his tenacity and hard work. He had a wife and three
children, one a month-old infant. He made his living by purchasing food
products from AMISOM soldiers, and then reselling them for a tidy profit. He
had received threatening calls from Al-Shabaab to refrain from doing “business
with the enemy.” Macow, whether from sheer bravery, or as one relative said, from
“misguided stubbornness,” refused to heed the threats.
“Quutul yawnkeyga ku
jira tijaaradaan,” (My daily sustenance is in this business) he is said to have
told the radicals who threatened him. It is widely believed that Al-Shabaab
terrorists killed him and then vanished in the night. It was a tragic loss for
his young family, his parents, and the many customers who adored him—they were
all left inconsolable and despondent. The police promised to investigate the
crime, but that offered little but rhetorical solace.
Secret courts
When Al-Shabaab is not killing innocent people and extorting
money, it conducts secret mobile courts to settle disputes among citizens. The
government’s court system is riddled with corruption, some claim it is justice
for sale. This is how Al-Shabaab pitches its supposed fairness and honesty. A plaintiff
contacts Al-Shabaab representatives and orally files a complaint against a
defendant. According to various reliable stories, Al-Shabaab militants call the
defendant and ask him or her to come to Aw-Dheegle, a militant-controlled town
37 miles west of Mogadishu on a specified date. The case is settled at that makeshift
court.
A freelance journalist, who contributes to Italy’s
prestigious daily newspaper, Corriere
della Sera, told me about an incident that happened while he was visiting
Beledweyne in early March. A woman had complained that her estranged husband
was not supporting her financially. Her husband was no ordinary man—he was a
police officer. When Al-Shabaab ordered him to appear at a makeshift court in Booc,
a town near Beledweyne, he was terrified. However, the man came to the
fatalistic conclusion that the terror group could get him easily if he ignored
the summons. He reluctantly agreed, thinking he would not return safely.
At the makeshift court, the woman accused her husband of
financial negligence. The man denied her charges and told the court he regularly
left substantial amounts of money for her at a shopkeeper in Beledweyne every
month. When the court officers called the shopkeeper to verify the husband’s
claim, it turned out to be true. In addition, the shopkeeper happened to be an Al-Shabaab
sympathizer, which made his testimony even more credible. The court proceedings
ended with a ringing exoneration of the husband, and his wife was censured.
“I saw the man return to Beledweyne unharmed,” the freelance
journalist told me.
Of course, Al-Shabaab’s brand of justice pales in comparison
to its atrocities and reign of terror in the country. The justice the group
delivers is based on strict interpretation of Sharia (Islamic) law. In criminal
cases, the punishment is not proportional to the actual crime. The trials are
not deliberated carefully and thoroughly and the verdicts are issued swiftly. The
draconian punishments sometimes result in the loss of limbs, flogging or decapitation.
As long as the government is unable to protect its citizens
and businesses by instituting a justice system that is fair and free from
corruption, Al-Shabaab will continue to be a sinister presence in Somalia.
