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How Al Shabaab Recruits Saved My LifeJul 01, 2011 (Nairobi Star/All Africa Global Media via COMTEX) -- 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. |