Somalia's New Cabinet: Business as Usual

The new cabinet appointed by Prime Minister Abdiweli Shaikh Ahmed on January 17 has been raising  uproar. The naming of a cabinet has been perhaps the most grueling process in recent Somali history. The president was heavily involved in the selection of the appointees and his prints are all over. Some of the hopefuls were promised positions—others were even invited to Mogadishu—only to be rejected in the eleventh hour. The new cabinet was announced in the wee hours at 2 AM. The dramatic responses have already begun and protestations are being heard from all corners: the cabinet is too big; two of the appointees resigned the same day of the announcement; women are upset for being marginalized; some clans are up in arms; groups like Ahlu Sunnah Wal Jama have vowed to boycott the federal government; Dammul Jadiid is monopolizing power; and too many inexperienced persons are in the cabinet. The features of this new cabinet are as follows:

Size: This cabinet is big. It has 25 ministers, 25 deputy ministers, and five state ministers. The previous cabinet was unusually lean with only ten ministers, however, this one is unnecessarily large, and is a clear manifestation of a bloated government. In reality, all of these appointed ministers are merely officials by name. Many have no basic infrastructure such as offices, nor do they possess the necessary manpower that should go with their big titles.  

Resignations: The most embarrassing moment for the president and the prime minister was when two deputy minister appointees, including the Mayor of Mogadishu, resigned in protest of what they called the “lowly” positions they were given. Mogadishu mayor, Mohamoud Ahmed Nur “Tarzan” called for an immediate press conference in which he said he had not been consulted about the position. “I will not accept the position of a minister,” he declared, “let alone a deputy minister.”

Tarzan’s appointment as deputy minister was humiliating and purely Machiavellian on the part of President Hassan Sh. Mohamoud. The president could have replaced Tarzan quietly with another mayor, but he had neither the courage nor the decorum to ask Tarzan to resign. It is the president, after all, who appoints the mayor of Mogadishu. Perhaps, either Ali “Amerika” (the Somali ambassador to Kenya) or Abdirahman “Yariisow,” (the government spokesman), might replace Tarzan. That is, unless the president comes up with another option in the last minute.  The president wanted to humiliate Tarzan publicly and he got his wish. Now, it is unlikely that Tarzan will last in his current position.  Tarzan, a man of an outsized ego, finally got his match in the president. One wonders how the president and his prime minister managed to appoint individuals to these positions without first consuling with them. It is, at best, sheer unprofessionalism.

Women: President Mohamud’s earlier promises to give women equal representation in the government have hit a snag. The new cabinet has only two women out of 25 (5%). This is a downgrade from the last cabinet in terms of percentage (20%) which had two women in powerful posts out of ten. One of the newly appointed ministers has been given the traditional portfolio of women’s affairs, and the other has been promoted from deputy minister in the ministry of public works to full minister. There are two new female deputy ministers out of 25 and no female state ministers. Mohamoud has alienated many groups and clans, but his alienation of women, who represent half of the population, is tragic.

Dammul Jadiid: This secretive but powerful group is still occupying key positions. There are more than a dozen appointees in the cabinet that belong to Dammul Jadiid, including the new deputy prime minister and minister of religion. Traditionally, deputy prime ministers are chosen from key posts such as finance, foreign affairs or defense.  The new deputy prime minister has all of the qualifications that President Mohamoud likes: he is inexperienced, a member of Dammul Jadiid, and hails from the north. Dammul Jadiid’s naked power grab is now in epic proportions.

Farah Abdulkadir, the architect of President Mohamoud’s election, was appointed as Minister of Justice and Constitution. This is a clear indication that President Mohamoud is already laying the ground work for his re-election in 2016. Abdulkadir is the right man to help Mohamoud influence future amendments of the provisional constitution.

Abdikarim Hussein Guled, another stalwart of Dammul Jadiid, is also back as the minister of national security. This new position is usurpation from the interior ministry, which is traditionally responsible for the police and intelligence services. Guled now is the new chief of security and intelligence, and he has his own ministry.

Jamal Barrow, deputy foreign minister, and Mohamed Nur Gacal, state minister for foreign affairs, two Dammul Jadiid figures, were not so fortunate. Barrow is replaced by another colleague of his in the group. Gacal was slated to be a minister of education, yet his contentious relationship with Foreign Minister Fowzia Yusuf ended up hurting him. Mohamoud decided to leave these two out of the new cabinet. “My friend,” the president has told Gacal, according to a source, “I am sorry, but you will not be in the cabinet.”

Inexperience: Inexperience is a major feature of the new cabinet. Unfortunately, many of the appointees are inexperienced in government affairs. Many were brought there not because of their qualifications but instead for their clan credentials. This has been the hallmark of President Mohamoud’s administration: to avoid qualified and educated people who might overshadow him. Mohamoud’s selection of two prime ministers in the span of a year who are remarkable for their inexperience is a good example of what kind of cabinet the president desires.

Sharif Sakiin: After Dammul Jadiid, the second big beneficiary of the new cabinet is Sharif Hassan “Sakiin,” former speaker of the parliament. He has at least six of his allies appointed as ministers, state ministers and deputy ministers. President Mohamoud has struck an unholy alliance with the controversial former speaker and future leader of what is now proposed as the South West state. Sakiin has become a king-maker, and was instrumental in gaining votes for Mohamoud in the parliament during the ousting of PM Shirdon.

 

The new cabinet will be confirmed in due time, but it would be unrealistic to expect any miracles from these ministers. For the time being, it will be business as usual: the president will keep running the show from Villa Somalia, and the new ministers will obey his marching orders. They will retain their fancy titles and fat paychecks. In my estimation, though, they will be lucky if they last more than a year.

 

Extrajudicial Killings in Kenya: The Easier Route

On December 20, the head of Kenya’s National Police Service issued a report about the country’s 2013 crime rate. The good news was that crime rates had fallen 8 percent compared from the previous year. Inspector General David Kimaiyo attributed the decrease to what he called “public cooperation with the police and the increased police mobility.” He even introduced the notion of “community policing,” a popular model based on engagement and partnership between the police and the community. 

According to the report, economic crimes decreased by 21 percent, theft of livestock by 17 percent and offenses against persons by 7 percent.  The bad news, however, was an increase in some crimes, such as robbery (10 percent), homicide (6 percent), rape (22 percent) vehicle and other thefts (3 percent) and robbery with violence by 9 percent. There were also 509 incidents of mob injustice in 2013. The terrorist group Al-Shabaab killed 111 persons, 71 of whom died during the Westgate Mall bombing.

Oddly, the police report was remarkable in what it failed to mention: extrajudicial killings.  Kenyan human rights organizations have criticized the government for sponsoring such crimes. In November 2013, Muslims for Human Rights (MUHURI) and the George Soros-funded Open Society Initiative issued a report titled, “We Are Tired of Taking you to Court: Human Rights Abuses by Kenya’s Anti-Terrorism Police Unit,” that concluded the Kenyan government was running a police death squad that targets suspects with links to terror groups.  Most of the extrajudicial killings take place, according to the report, in the heavily Muslim populated city of Mombasa which has become a hotbed for Al-Shabaab recruitment. In 2012, Sheikh Aboud Rogo, a cleric on the U.S and UN sanctions list for providing “financial, material, logistical or technical support for Al-Shabaab”  was killed in the streets of that city. In October 2013, Sheikh Ibrahim Omar was also shot dead in Mombasa after allegations of involvement with the Westgate Mall bombing. More than 20 others met the same fate in 2013 or simply disappeared. According to the report, a Kenyan police officer told a detainee, “We are tired of taking you to the court. Next time, we will finish you off in the field.”

The government resorts to these unlawful killings, according to human rights groups, when it is unable to build a strong case against terror suspects. These groups have asked both the United Kingdom and the U.S governments to suspend aid to the Ant-Terrorism Police Unit (ATPU) due to its direct involvement with these unlawful killings. The unit receives training and funding from Washington and London. This elite counter-terrorism unit has regularly arrested suspects but the number of terrorists convicted in courts remains dismal.

The Kenyan government denies that it is culpable for extrajudicial killings. The usual government response has been that the suspects died in a gun battle due to intra-rivalries (for good effect, the police display weapons to the mass media), that rogue political officers are the ones to blame, or, in the case of disappearances, the suspects simply fled to Somalia. A radical cleric in Mombasa has in fact lamented, “The government is murdering us.”

Extrajudicial Killings are not new in Kenya. In 2008, a government-funded group, Kenya National Commission on Human Rights, issued a report, “The Cry of Blood,” that identified police as responsible for the killings and disappearance of more than 500 young men. The report classified these extrajudicial killings as crimes against humanity because they deprived the victims of all due process.

The general view among human rights groups is that the extrajudicial killings, instead of stemming the tide of religious radicalism, alienate many Muslims who could otherwise serve as partners in the war against terror. As Jonathan Horowitz of the Open Society and the co-author of the group’s report has argued “[The ATUP’s conduct] has “eroded the rule of law in Kenya and created distrust between the public and police, creating conditions which can provide fuel for terrorists.”

That is, after all, what Inspector General Kimaiyo has been advocating: community policing.

(Written by Hassan M. Abukar. Reprinted with permission from African Arguments, January 16, 2016).

Abdiweli Gaas and Villa Somalia: A Cautionary Note

Dr. Abdiweli Gaas surprised many with his victory as the new president of the regional government of Puntland. There was a general perception among many that the incumbent Abdirahman Farole would be re-elected. Gaas won by a single vote. As he said immediately after his election, the work has already begun. Villa Somalia, the seat of the Somali presidency in Mogadishu, welcomed the new Puntland president. The exuberance by President Hassan S. Mohamoud might though be short-lived. Gaas may surprise many with the way he will lead his administration and regarding his relations with Villa Somalia.

Gaas ran for the Somali presidency in 2012 and lost. In the last round of the election, he supported the current president, Mohamoud, against Gaas’ old boss, the incumbent President Shaikh Sharif Ahmed. Mohamoud had promised the position of premier to Gaas, if the former won, as part of horse-trading. It turned out Mohamoud had made similar promises to others including Ahmed I. Samatar. Then, after Mohamoud was elected, he gave an interview to Voice of America pleading to “his friends” not to get angry with him if he did not choose them as prime minister. His statement raised an obvious question: To how many of his friends had he promised the position of next prime minister?

Then, a month ago, according to a source, President Mohamoud told Gaas that he had reserved the position of the prime minister, which had become vacant after the ousting of A. F. Shirdon, for the latter’s clan.

 

Now, things have changed between Gaas and Mohamoud. While Gaas is president of a regional government, he is, in all practical senses, a co-equal of Mohamoud. Mohamoud favored Gaas over his rival, Farole. However, the dynamics of their relationship have changed for the following:

1.     Gaas’ first and foremost responsibility now is to the people of Puntland, not Mogadishu.  That means he should focus on the interests and development of Puntland. Each president has his own constituency. While the two can cooperate on national issues, Gaas is unlikely to kowtow to Mogadishu.  President Mohamoud is not popular in Puntland because he has twice failed to appoint a Puntlander as the premier. Gaas will have to balance between his working relationship with Villa Somalia and his job as the head of Puntland.

2.     Gaas may have to be extra careful in dealing with President Mohamoud. First, Mohamoud has a history of equivocation and breaking promises. Second, he has shown to the world that he is a dictator. It is either his way or the highway. His hoarding of power in Mogadishu is palpable. There is fear by some that Mohamoud’s goal is to make Puntland a puppet regional government that he is only interested in extracting its resources. Corruption, after all, has been the culture of Mogadishu. The recent meltdown in the Central Bank is a good example of the allegations of corruption. The UN Monitoring Group report on Somalia has accused the regime in Mogadishu of widespread corruption. The bank, according to the report, has become a “slush fund” for regime officials.

3.       Moreover, the regime in Mogadishu has lost its luster and is now viewed by donor nations as hopelessly incompetent. The Western donors are leery of trusting Mohamoud with the $2.5 billion donated to Somalia a year ago. Gaas has an excellent relationship with many in the international community. He can tap some of these needed funds to help develop Puntland and make it a strong viable regional government in Somalia. A strong Puntland is not only good for Puntlnaders but also to the rest of the country.  A weak Puntland government, on the other hand, is a burden on the nation. Unlike Somaliland, Puntland has never attempted to secede from the union.

4.       Being one of the architects of the Roadmap, Gaas is in a position to positively influence the amending of the provisional constitution and future power sharing arrangements with the federal government. Unfortunately, there is no strong federal government based in Mogadishu. Mohamoud is unable to exert his control on many parts of south Somalia. It might be wise for Gaas to give the regime in Mogadishu time to get its house in order.

Gaas was once a prime minister of Somalia and, in his short stint, had accomplished a lot. Now that he is the president of Puntland, he will have more room to implement his political, economic and social program.  He is, after all, the big fish in Puntland.

 

Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel was President Obama’s first chief of staff. He decided to quit his job and run for mayor of Chicago. After winning that position, he started implementing his political, social, educational and economic program in the city. Some time ago, he was talking to his predecessor, Richard Daley. Rahm looked at Daley and said, “Rich, you lied to me. You told me this was a good job. It is actually a great job. If I had known how great, I would have [ran against] you.”

Al-Shabaab in 2013: Boom and Bust

For Al-Shabaab, 2013 was a year of many twists and turns. It started in January with an ominous threat by the Al-Qaeda affiliate to the American jihadist Omar Hammami: Surrender in two weeks or face death. This was followed by the brutal killing in February of Shaikh Abdulkadir Nur Farah, a prominent Somali scholar in his seventies, while he was praying in a mosque in Puntland. After such a perverse start, the year ended when on December 20, the group killed another foreign jihadist, Abdirizak “Burundi” (The Burundian). For Hammami, January was a point of no return. The Al-Qaeda groups, after all, are not paper tigers; they mean business.  Nine months later, Hammami was killed in an ambush ordered by Godane, the emir of Al-Shabaab. Gone were the professed brotherly love and the years of comradeship and struggle. Such was the unceremonious end of the Hip Hop jihadist who once sang rap songs in praise of the militant group. For Al-Shabaab, issuing threats and killing are just two sides of the same coin. The year 2013 was no exception.

The year manifested the hounding and the marginalization of foreign jihadists, loss of more territory, a power struggle among the group’s leaders, a deadly terrorist mission abroad, an unusual military victory, and an unprecedented infiltration of the weak Somali government.

 What was unique about last year was the grumbling and opposition of key jihadists, foreign and local, against the imperial leadership of Godane. Hammami, Ibrahim Al-Afghani, and some of their colleagues went online and lashed out at the emir of Al-Shabaab. However, it is the tragic story of Abdirizak Burundi that seems taken from a Gothic novel: A former Christian who converted to Islam and immediately joined a religious terror group only to be killed by his colleagues. Abdirizak (last name unknown) was born in Rwanda, fled that country in 1994 after the brutal massacres of the minority group Tutsi by Hutu militias and their supporters. He was a Hutu and fled to Congo; from there he went to Uganda, then he settled in Nairobi, Kenya. It was in Kenya and after working for a non-religious Somali merchant that Abdirizak became interested in Islam and converted. He came to Somalia that same year, 2007, and was recruited by Al-Shabaab which at the time was fighting the Ethiopian forces in the country. Abdirizak mastered Somali, participated in terrorist operations with Al-Shabaab, and opened businesses in Mogadishu and later Barawe. He was critical of Godane’s treatment of foreign jihadists. In May, he traveled to the Bay region to visit one of his wives and new-born daughter but was intercepted by Al-Shabaab fighters who thought the foreigner was on his way to join the renegade Omar Hammami. Abdirizak was detained by the radical group and kept in a make-shift prison in Jilib for eight months. In December, his family was notified of his death without further explanation.

Al-Shabaab lost Mahadaay, a strategic town 113 km (75 miles) north of Mogadishu.  For consolation, though, Al-Shabaab is rejoicing to see some of the territories it once controlled in Lower Shebelle being destabilized by a militia allied with the government and led by Yusuf Indhacade in a campaign to disenfranchise the indigenous people. The biggest town Al-Shabaab controls now is Barawe where in June two of its top leaders were killed by forces loyal to Godane and another leader, Hassan Dahir Aweys, escaped only to fall into the hands of the government.  Two of the eight Al-Shabaab figures on whose heads the U.S had put a bounty in the last two years (Hammami and Ibrahim Al-Afghani; $5 million each) were killed by Godane.  Moreover, Mukhtar Robow, who also has a $5 million bounty on his head, is estranged from Al-Shabaab. By the rate Godane is going in killing his former colleagues, it means the U.S has saved millions in bounty payments, and it might even save more as Godane’s grip on the group’s command and control tightens.

Al-Shabaab succeeded in its attack on the Westgate Mall in Nairobi, an incident allowing global jihadists to revel in a moment of pride and exuberance. For a short period, the terrorist operation gave Al-Shabaab a nodding approval from Al-Qaeda which had recently reacted with shudders to the murdering and marginalization of foreign jihadists by Godane. Moreover, Al-Shabaab succeeded in repelling an operation by U.S Naval SEAL Team 6 in Barawe, the same elite force that was responsible for killing Osama Bin Ladin. The operation was an unmitigated failure and embarrassment for the American Special Forces but a resume-enhancement for the terror group. The message was clear: Unlike Al-Qaeda central, Al-Shabaab can protect its own leaders from the Americans. It was that same year that the radical group also foiled a rescue attempt by the French forces to free France’s agent, Dennis Alex, who was held by Al-Shabaab.

Perhaps, the most embarrassing moment for the Somali government was in July when the United Nations Monitoring Group for Somalia and Eritrea issued a report which claimed the terror group had penetrated the security apparatus of the government, the very body that is supposed to fight terrorism. In August, former Prime Minister Ali Khalif Galeyr and a current parliamentarian, also accused President Hassan S. Mohamoud of being in cahoots with Al-Shabaab. In an interview with a Somali channel in Minneapolis, Galeyr claimed the existence of what he termed “Gacan-saar” (a secret handshake; an understanding between two parties) between government officials and Al-Shabaab leaders especially in Jubbaland. Galeyr mentioned telephone exchanges between these two parties: “These dealings between the federal government and Al-Shabaab are what led to the last minute cancellation of President Mohamoud’s invitation to attend the G-8 summit.”  President Mohamoud’s secret dealings with Al-Shabaab, stated Galeyr, is the biggest concern some Western and neighboring countries have about him. Another former prime minister, Ali Ghedi, added more fuel to the issue when he chastised the government for its inability to avert the spike of Al-Shabaab violence in Mogadishu. “The regime in Mogadishu has strayed from the correct path,” he said. Perhaps, it is the issue of corruption that has alienated the current regime in Mogadishu from Western powers and given Al-Shabaab an opportunity to strike with impunity. For example, an Al-Shabaab terrorist accused of the attempted murder of the country’s deputy army commander escaped the Central Prison in Mogadishu. The government fired the warden and four correction officers for taking bribes.

 

The former American secretary of defense, Leon Panetta, declared in October that Al-Shabaab posed a global threat and, hence, should be hunted down with drones and other means. In December, Ali Dheere, the spokesman of the group, issued his own proclamation by naming the U.S enemy number one and the UK enemy number two. This is an upgrade for the Americans in terms of ranking as previously the African terror outfit mostly focused on the Somali government, the African forces, Ethiopia, and Kenya as their main enemies. The radical group is beginning to sound more like other global jihadi outfits like Al-Qaeda in Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) and Al-Qaeda in Islamic Maghreb (AQIM).

Unfortunately, the year 2014 might not bring much relief for the Somali people already suffering from Al-Shabaab’s terror operations because of the chronic corruption in the government, which has given the group an unusual opportunity to become emboldened. Mogadishu today has made great progress in rebuilding and encouraging business, but, alas, it is less safe than it was in 2012. The Somali army is nowhere near being a viable force that can eradicate the terror group, the African forces (AMISOM) are underused with a limited mandate, and Al-Shabaab is not expected to provide any letdown in its terror campaign. Therefore, sit tight and brace yourself for another year full of twists and turns.

 

Malawi: President Banda Dogged by Cash-gate and Demands of Re-Election

During Nelson Mandela’s burial ceremony, Malawi President, Joyce Banda, received a standing ovation from foreign dignitaries and the South African audience. She eulogized Mandela and called him “a great reformer.”

A prophet, it is said, is not respected in his home country.

Back in Malawi, Banda is a besieged and bruised leader who has been engulfed by a string of corruption allegations. She came to power last year when President Bingu wa Mutharika, a man who had attempted to fire her from her position as vice president, suddenly died of a heart failure. She became the first female president of Malawi and the second female president in the entire continent of Africa. Banda won accolades and international recognition as she spearheaded a campaign against graft. She sold her government jet, slashed her salary by half, and regained the confidence and the support of Western donors. Her predecessor had denounced foreign donors for meddling in the affairs of the country and trying to topple his regime. He simply told them to “go to hell.” In contrast, Banda courted the donor countries and they rewarded her by releasing frozen aid.

The influential American money magazine Forbes named Banda “the most powerful woman in the world.” Time magazine, not to be outdone, listed her as one of the most influential 100 people on the planet. Banda’s memorable stand against the Sudanese president, Omar al-Bashir, a fugitive of the international court, earned her widespread commendation from the West; she refused to host the African Union’s annual summit if al-Bashir attended.

Recently, the pendulum has swung to the other extreme and the once-lauded Banda has become a politician reviled for her failings. She has become embroiled in a corruption scandal aptly called Cash-gate. Government coffers have been systematically looted by civil servants. A priest of Malawi’s Catholic Church recently called Banda the “greatest thief in the world.” In testimony before the Parliament, Peter Chinoko of the Catholic Commission for Justice and Peace (CCJP) accused President Banda of being “part and parcel” of the Cash-gate scandal. The genesis of the scandal, according to Chinoko, was an attempt by Banda and her supporters to raise funds for the upcoming elections that will take place in May.

The most damning report regarding corruption in Malawi was issued last month by a UK-based Malawian attorney and former presidential legal advisor, Z. Allan Ntata, tersely titled “License to Loot.” The 67-page report is a disparaging assessment of a presidential leadership in which endemic corruption is the norm, not the exception. Speaking in absolute terms, Ntata called the Cash-gate scandal “the biggest fraud case ever recorded in the country.” According to Ntata, corruption is perpetrated by the executive branch and there is an elaborate and deliberate scheme to cover it up. The following are examples of this corruption:

1. An accountant in Banda’s office, Frank Mwanza, authorized a payment of $3 million to a ghost firm.

2. In a police raid, a junior government official, who makes about $100 per month, was found in possession of $25,000.

3. Patrick Sithole, an account assistant in the Ministry of Environment and Climate Change, was arrested in possession of an equivalent of $310,000 in various currencies.

4. Fourteen government officials have been arrested in relation to the Cash-gate scandal.

5. Three months ago, nine police officers were convicted of fraud involving $164,000.

6. The budget director of the finance ministry was shot three times in dubious circumstances to uncover juicy details of the Cash-gate scandal.

Banda issued a curt denial of the allegations of corruption and portrayed herself as a victim of insidious innuendo. In an interview with Al-Jazeerah TV, she tried to obfuscate: “We have not failed [fighting corruption].” Banda shifted the blame to her predecessors by saying that the problems of graft started 15 years earlier. She has refused to declare her own assets or appoint an independent commission to investigate corruption. Currently, all the entities investigating graft—including the Anti-Corruption Bureau, the Financial Intelligence Unit, and the police—report to the president. In October, Banda dismissed her cabinet and then re-instated it save for four ministers.

Western donors have frozen their aid to Malawi, which constitutes 40% of the government’s budget, until February 2014 when the International Monetary Fund will conclude its review. Banda, however, seems unruffled. In an interview with the UK’s Telegraph, she dismissively pointed out that it was not the first time that Western donors had walked away from Malawi. “They [donors] come and go and come and go but we are here, we did not die,” she scoffed.

President Banda is not the first African leader who has become the darling of the international community while at the same time being vilified at home. This bifurcation of trying to appeal to two different yet mutually exclusive audiences is taxing. The Western donations are badly needed and, in many cases, are the key pillars that sustain a developing country like Malawi. However, other domestic factors need to be considered if an African leader like Banda is to survive politically. One drawback of being an international icon is that the status does not necessarily translate into actual votes at home. Banda has been saying the right things to Western donors about fighting corruption and instituting measures of austerity. However, when all is said and done, she is a politician who is concerned about re-election. Staying in power in a semi-democratic country may involve patronage and the greasing of palms. In other words, it involves a set of rules and practices that may not be acceptable in the countries that provide aid. It is, perhaps, this dilemma of reconciling one’s international standing and the reality of politics at home that is haunting President Banda.

(Reprinted with permission from African Arguments).

12 Years in Somali Prison: The Forgotten Senegalese Prisoner

Abdullahi Jama, 60, is a Somali professional in Seattle, Washington. He is a man of medium height who has legal training and is multi-lingual. He speaks Italian, English, Russian, and, of course, Somali fluently. He is a walking encyclopedia having witnessed the historical events of Somalia. He was born in the 1950s in what is now the Somali region of Ethiopia but grew up in Mogadishu.

He was sent to several European countries for officer training and law courses and later reached the rank of colonel in the army. He worked in various government ministries, including a stint in the president’s office under the Siad Barre regime. Amazingly, Jama knows who is who in Somali politics and can regale one with tales from his various sojourns in government.

However, one incident has left a bad taste in his mouth. “It was a scalding moment of embarrassment for the government,” he said. The unusual encounter with a foreigner left a lasting impact on both men. Jama told me he only remembers his first name.

Abdisalam, a young Senegalese freelance writer, came to Mogadishu in 1976 to interview the country’s officials and people.  He was vibrantly intelligent, gregarious, and demonstrated princely manners. Abdisalam was excited to write about Somalia, then an African regime that had adopted socialism. He visited Ethiopia first, and then came to Somalia through Djibouti. Somalia, during that period of heightened ideological fervor and rhetoric, harbored anti-West sentiments, and the officials were suspicious of foreigners. The fear was that some of these foreign visitors were under cover spies commissioned by the American CIA or European governments. As was the custom, Abdisalam was questioned by agents of the Somali National Security, better known by its Italian acronym of NSS.

Abdisalam was a man of mystery to the secret police. He was Senegalese by birth, but his mother was Gambian, thus making him a man of dual nationality. He had visited an arch enemy of Somalia (Ethiopia) and—most damning of all—he was a roving journalist. Somalia’s dictatorial regime did not allow room for free press or give foreign journalists the opportunity to roam the country.

The secret police were at a loss of what to do: They opened a case file on Abdisalam and took him straight to Laanta Buur, a notorious prison 40 kilometers south of Mogadishu. Abdisalam was confused, helpless, and petrified. He was in an alien country and had lost his freedom. He felt that his life was in utter shambles.  No one told him why he was in prison.

That was 1976.

Twelve years later, in 1988, something odd happened. Colonel Jama and Abdisalam came face to face for the first time. Jama was asked to inspect Laanta Buur prison. He was talking to inmates when someone tapped on his shoulder and asked, “Excuse me sir, do you speak English?”
Jama answered, “Yes."

Jama did not expect to encounter a foreign inmate among the Somali prisoners. Moreover, to the officer, Abdisalam did not stand out: A black man, lean-built, and haggard-looking. “Can you help me?” the foreigner requested. “I have been in prison for 12 years and no one has told me why.”

Jama conferred with the man on the side to learn his story. Upon hearing the man’s ordeal, Jama’s face contorted in pain. The Senegalese man seemed oddly relaxed for someone whose life had been taken from him. Jama wondered how this man had spent 12 years in a prison without anyone charging him with a crime or checking on his welfare. It was stunning news that drew incredulous stares. Gasps of disbelief echoed in the corridors of the prison administration. Abdisalam himself could not provide an adequate answer about his presence in the prison. Jama first notified his boss, General Ismail Ismail, the head of the country’s prison bureau. Jama then contacted the NSS to inquire about the man’s case. To his astonishment, the Senegalese man’s file was bare and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There was neither an ongoing investigation nor a closed one, a case of purgatory coming early, only no one knew Abdisalam’s sins.

Furthermore, there had been no entries since the foreigner’s initial arrival date in the country. This was a serious matter and a ghastly tale. Intelligence officers are paid to be suspicious, but this was a case of smart people making elementary mistakes. No one had followed up on the case for 12 years.

President Siad Barre was immediately informed. Barre was shocked and asked for more information about Abdisalam.

The secret agents went through Abdisalam’s luggage and made a discovery, one that turned the case upside down. The Senegalese man had written laudable articles about Barre and his socialist-leaning government.  Some of the clippings of his writings were worn out, others torn, but there was no iota of doubt that the writer was progressive in his ideas and supportive of the regime. Barre ordered Abdisalam released and he was taken to Shabelle Hotel. The International Red Cross was immediately contacted to locate the man’s family. Jama told this writer that the government apologized profusely to Abdisalam and gave him $20,000 in cash as compensation for his ill-treatment. He left the country in 1988. His important message to Somalia was one left unsaid: “I have survived.”

The president of International Red Cross was pleased with Jama and his hard work of doing all the legwork in the process of releasing Abdisalam. Jama received an award from the international organization. “This is the best job recognition and award I have ever received,” said Jama. That, however, did not provide solace for how badly he felt about the case. ”It is the saddest incidence that I ever witnessed in my long civil service career,” he added.

Sometime in 1988, Abdisalam contacted members of the Somali government and told them he wanted to visit Somalia again. It was not clear whether his request was a sign of Stockholm syndrome—a psychological condition in which one develops positive feelings toward his captor— or whether Abdisalam was  seeking closure to his harrowing ordeal. He was politely advised not to come to Somalia due to the political turmoil the country was experiencing. “No one has heard from him since,” said Jama. “I wonder what he is doing now.”

Like a camera revealing an image, Abdisalam’s case exposed a web of incompetence, cruelty, and a broken system of injustice and accountability. The case was a tale of sadness and tragedy. No one was blamed for the string of catastrophic errors. Jama makes no excuses: “The Somali government messed up, big time,” he laments.

(Reprinted with permission from Sahan Journal, December 11, 2013).

Crossing Swords: Siad Barre and Professor Said S. Samatar

 “You have to know the past to understand the present.”—Carl Sagan

 

It was either in 1984 or 1985 that Siad Barre’s regime was weakening. It was a period not far removed from Somalia’s war with Ethiopia in 1977/1978, a tragic miscalculation by President Barre. Perhaps the aftermath of that costly war is what led to the beginning of the disintegration of the Somali state. A BBC Somali service reporter interviewed Said S. Samatar, then an assistant professor of history at Rutgers University (USA) about the current Somali politics. Samatar, a blunt-spoken man with an air of cynicism, criticized the authoritarian tendencies of Barre and went even further when he mentioned that he had recently met a relative of his in London who was a Somali government official.  According to Professor Samatar, the official was less than optimistic about Barre’s regime, but when another Somali official approached the two his relative was suddenly effusive in his praise of the government. Samatar was mystified by his relative’s change of course. In the BBC interview, Samatar did not mention the name of his relative but, through the process of elimination, it could have been no one but Khalif Muse Samatar, a Leelkase deputy minister. Khalif was at the time the only Leelkase cabinet member in Barre’s government. He later denied being the source of Professor’s Samatar’s story.

Barre was furious with both the BBC and Samatar. The next day, he went to the Academy of Arts and Science in Mogadishu and told the scholars there that they were basically useless and worth nothing. “A young scholar in the U.S. by the name of Said S. Samatar is reigning in the mass media and is being interviewed by the international media while you sit around here,” Barre admonished, according to a member of the Academy who was present in that meeting. Then, Barre went on Radio Mogadishu and blasted Professor Samatar again. This time the dictator’s attack was vicious and personal. “He comes from a small group and a religious family, but this is the same man who had changed his religion [from Islam to Christianity],” Barre said.

Samatar’s kinsmen, the Leelkase, are known to be religious. His father was an Islamic magistrate in Ethiopia even though Samatar did not grow up with him. Samatar was raised in the rural area in what is now the Somali region in Ethiopia. At age 12 or 14, Samatar decided to look for his father and asked a man to help him locate the old man. The two traveled from town to town until they reached Qalafo. They came upon a group of elderly men playing shax (Somali chess) and the guide told the young Samatar, “There is your father.” It was a bizarre spectacle: a lad meeting his unassuming father for the first time. However, young Samatar recognized his father instantly because he was a carbon copy of his brother Ismail.  

“Father,” the young Samatar called. The elderly man addressed the young man in a generic way without knowing his identity: “Son, if you have a legal problem, why don’t you come to the office tomorrow.” Obviously, Samatar realized that his father did not recognize him.

“You are my father,” said Samatar.

“Ah, what wife?” asked Sheikh Samatar.

“[So and so].”

“And what is your name?”

“Said.”

“Ah, there was such a child.”

Then, Samatar, for the first time, started going to Qur’an school. His father also encouraged him to attend a learning center run by Sudan Interior Mission (SIM) in Qalafo in Ethiopia. Many years later, Professor Samatar would call his father “a bit of a coward” because the elder Samatar was an Islamic judge and supposedly a pious man but who nevertheless worked for what Professor Samatar called the “Ethiopian Christian system.” Samatar’s father also had the habit of defending Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie and his government. Moreover, his father encouraged young Samatar to seek knowledge from the missionaries and use “Taqiya”—a Shi’ite doctrine in which the believer practices something and conceals his true intention. In other words, Samatar’s father was asking his son to associate himself with the missionaries out of educational pragmatism. Young Samatar did exactly that and joined the missionaries. Incidentally, another young man, a contemporary of Samatar in Qalafo, by the name of Nuraddin Farah (who later became a renowned international writer) studied at the missionary school but did not dabble in the religion his teachers proselytized. Samatar studied at the missionary schools, met his future wife, an American, and married; he worked with the missionaries and finally won scholarship to the U.S. The winners of such scholarship were interestingly dubbed “The Believers Group.” In an interview in 2005 with Professor Ahmed I. Samatar (no relation) for Bildhaan (Vol. 6, 2006), Professor Samatar remarked that he had gone “from one kitab (book) to another. And now I am returning to the original kitab.”

After the BBC interview with Samatar, Barre went into battle mode. The dictator indirectly pointed out the size of Samatar’s clan and his family’s religious background, but he dropped a blitzkrieg bombshell when he mentioned Samatar’s embrace of Christianity. It was a staggering revelation for many of the Somalis who regularly listened to the BBC. There was no doubt that Samatar came from an Islamic religious background as was manifested by his father’s profession as an Islamic judge, not to mention that the young Samatar studied and memorized the Qur’an. Barre’s indirect mention of the size of the Leelkase clan also was not accidental. It was obvious that Barre was not happy with the conduct of Khalif Muse Samatar, the only high-ranking Leelkase official in his cabinet. Professor Samatar, in an article in Wardheernews (“A Leelkase Captain Ahab, April 7, 2005), wrote that, in fact, his Leelkase clan was “largely a clan of mullahs with no material or numerical significance.” Whether these remarks were written in jest or resignation, Samatar added, “I daresay my kinsmen are likely to disown me for saying this.”

Barre’s aim was to discredit Samatar by letting Somalis know that the young scholar had ‘betrayed’ his own religion, and hence turned his back on his family and his clan’s stellar religious credentials. In essence, to Barre, Samatar had no credibility. The BBC called Samatar again and asked him about Barre’s remarks. Samatar did not dignify them with a response. Then, he was asked about Barre’s potential successors. Professor Samatar argued that the bigger tribes (the Hawiye and the Darod) were obviously vying for Barre’s position but that Vice-President General Mohamed Ali Samantar, who came from a smaller tribe, was more likely to replace the dictator as a transitional figure. However, the professor interestingly pointed out that General Samantar might out-maneuver and out-fox the other contenders from bigger families. Then, the professor astutely mentioned that in Kenya, when the strongman Jomo Kenyatta died, the Kikuyu and the Luo politicians jostled for power but, in a compromise, settled on Vice-President Daniel arap Moi of the smaller Kalenjin tribe:  Moi outmaneuvered all of them and would stay in power for 24 years.

In 1977, while collecting research materials for his dissertation about Sayid Mohamed Abdille Hassan’s poetry, Said Samatar briefly spent time in Barre’s jails and the censors confiscated his research materials because they contained poems full of clan references. In the 1970s, Barre’s regime had waged war on tribalism and, hence, clan references were frowned upon. It was Dr. Mohamed Adan Shaikh, a Somali cabinet member, who ordered Samatar’s release and the return of his research materials.

Siad Barre is long gone; he passed away in the 1990s in Nigeria. Samatar is still teaching history and sees the dictator leaving a legacy of destruction. In the interview with Bildhaan, Samatar depicted Barre as a dictator who could have built a nation in the 21 years he was at the helm, but instead “he went out to undermine, to destroy.” Samatar grudgingly depicted Barre as “an evil genius who knew our weaknesses as a people…our greed, our excitability, and our vanity.” Furthermore, according to Samatar, Barre “inflamed group against group, kin against kin, until we just went ballistic, crazy.”

Somewhere in Gedo, Somalia, Siad Barre is turning in his grave and probably saying his trademark remark about his political opponents in the Somali Salvation Democratic Front: “Waxaan ilaahay ka baryayaa inuu soo hanuuniyo kuwa gidaarrada ku qufaca,” (I ask God to guide those who linger around street corners [pontificating]).