Freedom of speech can kill you

[Juje]

Freedom of speech can kill you

Saturday, October 27, 2007

 

Mogadishu, Tribune correspondent Paul Salopek encounters reporters who are afraid to even go outside—with good reason

Paul Salopek is the Tribune's Africa correspondent.

 

MOGADISHU, Somalia — Bashir Nur Gedi, the acting director of Shabelle Media radio, was too frightened to visit me recently in this embattled African capital.

 

Gedi was sitting in his office only about 20 blocks from my safe house. But it may as well have been a thousand miles away, given the dangers journalists face today in Mogadishu. Indeed, when it comes to media workers' safety—or the lack of it —this desert city is starting to resemble another arid metropolis: Baghdad.

 

"I'll send over some other staff to talk to you," Gedi promised via cell phone. "I don't like to go out."

Like scores of other Somali journalists, Gedi, a jovial businessman who had switched to reporting, was receiving anonymous death threats. He was too scared to even go home, he explained. His house was being watched. So he was sleeping at a different location each night—including at his radio station, on a floor mat.

 

Ten months ago, Ethiopia invaded Somalia and toppled a radical Islamist regime. The U.S. lent a covert hand. This was supposed to be a blow for freedom and democracy in the Horn of Africa. Yet since then, for many working in the Somali media, exercising the right to freedom of speech has gotten more, not less, hazardous. Some would say it's gotten suicidal.

 

Eight Somali journalists have been murdered this year, according to media watchdogs. The usual technique: a faceless assassin armed with a pistol and a getaway car. Extremists associated with Somalia's growing Islamic insurgency are doubtless to blame for some of these killings. But rights groups implicate the fragile transitional federal government as well. Human Rights Watch counts more than 40 reporters detained by federal authorities this year. Touchy officials here don't like to be portrayed as weak.

 

Last month, it was Radio Shabelle's turn. Government troops shot up the radio station, one of Somalia's few independent news outlets, and briefly detained 16 of its employees. The two staffers that Gedi managed to send me were terrified.

 

They showed up in what they called "civilian clothes." This was ragged attire that helped them blend in with Mogadishu's illiterate poor. They had walked from the radio station. Riding in a car would have drawn too much attention, they said. For the same reason, they declined my invitation to pay their taxi fare back.

 

Both men presented me with their journalist IDs. They set the laminated cards on the table in front of them, as if to say: Here we are, part of the brotherhood. I don't know why, but this plaintive gesture, the wildly misguided hope in it, made me feel ashamed. How many times has this happened before? It was like hearing the distant appeals from a refugee ship fleeing Nazi Germany. Or the pleading at the gates of the U.S. Embassy in Saigon.

 

Their names were Abdulrahman Yusuf, the head of programming, and Hassan Sheik Abdullah, a producer. They were trapped in Mogadishu without passports. They recounted the threats, their sleepless nights, and the paralyzing fear that comes with being stalked. Near the end of our conversation, Abdullah said he regretted ever becoming a journalist. They didn't want money. They each drank a Coke, and left.

 

A few days later I received an e-mail.

 

Gedi was dead. They finally got him. Two unknown gunmen shot him on the street, 14 times, outside a Mogadishu cafe.

[Castro]

The first casualty of war is journalism. May Allah grant these brave souls his Jannah.

[Juje]

Somalia: Journalists suffering worst time since 1991 state collapse

 

With the murder on Friday, 19 October of journalist Bashir Nur Gedi, Amnesty International today said that the situation of journalists in Somalia is currently the worst it has ever been since the disintegration of the Somali state after the overthrow of the Siad Barre government in 1991.

 

Throughout the subsequent years of conflict without a functioning government, newspapers and other private media were gradually established and journalists became able to report -- without the same scale of violent repercussions they now face.

 

 

Since the capture of Mogadishu from the Union of Islamic Courts by Ethiopian forces supporting the Transitional Federal Government (TFG) in late December 2006, the situation for journalists has continued to deteriorate, with eight journalists killed with impunity this year. The most recent killing was of Bashir Nur Gedi, acting manager of the Shabelle Media Network, who was shot dead by unidentified gunmen at his house on the evening of Friday, 19 October.

 

Amnesty International called on the TFG to conduct prompt, effective and impartial investigations into these criminal acts of killing or threats of violence against journalists and to bring those responsible to justice through fair trials and without the application of the death penalty. They must also meet their responsibility to protect journalists and media workers from these attacks.

 

The TFG must also put an end to its practise of repeated closure of media houses and arrests of journalists by its security forces. Such actions have created an environment where attacks against journalists by the TFG security forces and armed opposition groups -- in reprisal for their reporting -- have become commonplace. Intimidation of journalists has become a stratagem by all parties to the conflict in Somalia.

 

Amnesty International also called on armed groups active in Somalia opposed to the TFG to end their practise of intimidation, threats of violence and the criminal act of killing journalists.

 

These attacks on journalists by the TFG and armed groups violate the rights to freedom of expression and the media, as recognized in international and regional human rights treaties and Somalia's Transitional Federal Charter.

 

Since Amnesty International's last statement on the dangers faced by journalists in Somalia, particularly in Mogadishu (Urgent need for protection of journalists, 7 September 2007, AI Index: AFR 52/015/2007), attacks on journalists in different parts of Somalia have continued and include:

 

 

A)The attempted shooting of Radio Shabelle's acting manager Jafar Mohammed "Kukay" in Mogadishu on 24 September, and the siege of Radio Shabelle's building on 18 September, during which TFG security forces fired automatic weapons at the second and third floor windows of the Radio Shabelle, injuring a security guard. The UN Special Envoy to Somalia later reported that TFG leaders had stated this was an accident and gave assurance that it would not happen again.

B)The temporary closure of Radio Garowe in the Puntland capital of Garowe on 19 October and the arrest of three members of staff by Puntland security forces. All were released on 20 October and the station has resumed broadcasting.

C)The closure for 24 hours of Radio Simba, a Mogadishu-based radio station and the arrest of two Radio Simba journalists by TFG security forces on 11 October. Abdullahi Ali Farah and Mohammed Farah were released the next day.

D)The arbitrary detention of Mr. Mohamed Hussein Jimale, a Mogadishu-based journalist from the news website www.puntlandpost.com, who was detained by TFG police in the prison adjacent to the President's Office in Villa Somalia from 12 to 16 September.

E)Numerous other incidents in recent weeks of journalists being harassed, intimidated and arrested for short periods of time in Mogadishu by the TFG security forces.

 

This growing insecurity is not only faced by journalists. Humanitarian workers have also been subjected to attacks. The extraordinary raid on the UN compound in Mogadishu by over 50 officers of the TFG's National Security Service on 17 October and the arbitrary detention of Idris Osman, the local director of the UN World Food Program from 17 to 23 October, was a flagrant disregard for the rights of humanitarian workers acting in the best interests of the most vulnerable populations, displaced by the ongoing internal conflict in Mogadishu.

 

Amnesty International called on the TFG Minister for Information, Madobe Numow Mohamed, to respect the legitimate role of journalists. Amnesty International is concerned to note that the Minister, in a letter dated 3 October 2007, declared that the National Union of Somali Journalists (NUSOJ) was not recognised by the TFG and had no right to represent and organise journalists. The NUSOJ has been a strong and impartial advocate for the rights of Somali journalists, documenting attacks on them and calling for action.

 

Amnesty International urges the international community to press the TFG to protect the rights of journalists much more strongly. The United Nations, the United States of America, the European Union and the African Union have all invested considerable energy and resources in the development of the Transitional Federal Institutions of Somalia. It is essential that they increase their pressure on these institutions to uphold the importance of the right to freedom of expression and of the press in Somalia, and the right to life for the journalists of Somalia.

 

SOURCE: Amnesty USA,October 26, 2007

[Miskiin-Macruuf-Aqiyaar]

'We have decided to take your life'

 

Abukar Albadri

Los Angeles Times

October 29, 2007

 

MOGADISHU, SOMALIA -- The voice on the other end of my cellphone was oddly calm, but intent.

 

"Abukar, I am calling to inform you that we have decided to take your life," the caller said. I glanced down at my phone to see the caller ID, which read "private."

 

"You're not worthy to live," the man continued. "You have three hours to tell your family and say your last words."

 

"Who is this?" I demanded.

 

"I am a man," was the reply.

 

It wasn't my first death threat. As a journalist in Somalia, I've received more than I'd care to count. In some, angry callers curse me as a "puppet" of the U.N.-backed transitional government in Baidoa and the Ethiopian troops that support it. Others accuse me of being a "terrorist" supporting the Islamic insurgents.

 

But this call came at the end of one of the darkest days of my life. Just a few hours earlier, I'd attended the funeral of a friend and colleague, Mahad Ahmed Elmi, a radio host gunned down that August morning. Then, as my fellow journalists and I drove back from the burial, a roadside bomb struck our convoy, killing Ali Iman Sharmarke, another prominent media figure in Mogadishu.

 

This month, gunmen shot another friend, Bashir Nur Gedi, acting manager of Shabelle Radio, who had been arrested and detained by government forces in September.

 

International journalist organizations say at least seven reporters have been killed in Somalia this year. No one has been caught or punished in any of these attacks.

 

After I hung up, dozens of questions ran through my mind: What am I guilty of? Who is my enemy? Why am I being targeted?

 

But for the first time, one question would not go away: Should I leave Somalia?

 

Many times I'd stood over the graves of friends. Now I imagined friends and family weeping over mine.

 

I began working as a journalist 10 years ago, at age 19, because I wanted to alert the world to the untold stories of Somalia. I had always admired an older cousin who had worked as a radio correspondent during the Mohamed Siad Barre regime, which fell in 1991.

 

As a journalist in the capital, Mogadishu, I've covered street battles, assassinations and public executions. I've had guns pointed at my head and I've stepped over twisted bodies on the road. I've been summoned to news conferences in the presidential palace only to be detained by corrupt officials who demanded a bribe.

 

Over the years, I've watched governments and authorities come and go. Warlords, Islamic courts, transitional governments. One thing stays the same: When new groups rise to power, they attack the media.

 

Today journalists who have dedicated their lives to telling the stories of Somalia find themselves caught between suicidal insurgents and the blazing guns of the transitional government's mad soldiers. Each is trying to make the media its puppet.

 

This year the government has arrested more than 50 journalists; eight remain behind bars. Officials have attempted to close media outlets and have imposed laws that restrict the activities of reporters. Somalia is the second deadliest country in the world for journalists, after Iraq, according to the Committee to Protect Journalists.

 

At the same time, insurgents have attacked and harassed us, distributing leaflets in many neighborhoods threatening to kill any journalist perceived as supporting the government. This summer we were flatly warned that we faced attacks if we covered the government's reconciliation conference.

 

I used to think that with commitment, dedication and a strong heart, I could survive. Now I'm not so sure. This job can be rewarding. But sometimes it feels like a curse.

 

During the reign of the Islamic Courts Union in 2006, I watched a guard tie a 50-year-old man to a stake after he was found guilty of stabbing another man to death. Then, in accordance with the regime's interpretation of Islamic law, the son of the victim stepped forward and cut the accused from his groin to his collarbone.

 

Some women began to ululate in support, but many spectators vomited or passed out. I turned away. The scene took place outside a primary school, as students peered over the wall. I thought to myself: What is happening to my country?

 

It got worse: In March angry crowds dragged the bodies of government soldiers and burned them on the streets. With bullets and missiles flying, I decided to take a couple of photographs, scrawl some quick notes and get away.

 

As I was getting ready to leave, I felt a gun at my head. A militiaman ordered me to drop my camera. I did. I emptied my pockets, raised my hands and pleaded for my life. He took my camera and cellphone, then turned to an angry, questioning crowd and declared me a spy. The crowd began cursing me and chanting.

 

"I'm a journalist. I'm a journalist," I shouted, showing my press card. Sweat poured from my body. I feared I would end up like the government soldiers.

 

The militiaman, however, had a different punishment in mind. He led me away to his leaders, eager to show off his captive.

 

I was lucky. The militia leaders knew me, and vouched for me. They let me go.

 

Still, those experiences were not a turning point. It was the killings of my two colleagues in August. But it was not an easy decision. I was born and raised in Mogadishu. To leave would feel as if I were giving up.

 

Instead I went into hiding, leaving my house, suspending my work and limiting my movements.

 

I grew suspicious. I viewed every passerby as a potential assassin.

 

One day, a friend and I were moving from one of our hide-outs to another when three young men came up behind us. We started walking faster. They walked faster. My heart raced. We stopped to let them pass, and one of them muttered something as they went by.

 

We thought we were safe. But a few minutes later, as we arrived at our destination, we saw the same three men approaching from the road ahead. We froze. I began praying and asking for God's forgiveness.

 

My friend said something to me, but I couldn't hear his words. I closed my eyes and waited for the bullets. I remembered the man on the phone days earlier, the chilling hatred in his voice.

 

Then the young men passed us by, with a simple nod and hello.

 

Were they just trying to intimidate us? Had something distracted them from their attack? Were they simply three men taking a walk?

 

It didn't matter anymore. My decision was made.

 

Five days later I left the country.

 

[

Albadri has worked as a journalist for several Western media outlets, including the Los Angeles Times. He is currently living in Djibouti and hopes one day to return home

.]

-------------

 

I remember reading walaalkeen Abuukar Badri's Soomaali news reports on Markacaddeey site in early '00s.

 

Haddii saan lagu socdo war la'aan inay ka dhaceyso dalkeena waa soo socotaa. Marba markaa isdhahdid we have reachest the lowest ebb, xaalka kasii daraayo..

[Jacaylbaro]

My future is in danger ......

[Naxar Nugaaleed]

most of these journalist deserve to be shot for the poor quality of reporting they do. if there were real reporters, i would fear for them or even advocate for them but propagandism should not be called journalism and those practice it are as bad as they war lords we like to pretend we hate.

[Fabregas]

Originally posted by Naxar Nugaaleed:

most of these journalist deserve to be shot for the poor quality of reporting they do. if there were real reporters, i would fear for them or even advocate for them but propagandism should not be called journalism and those practice it are as bad as they war lords we like to pretend we hate.

In that case we have to start shooting SOL members for their propoganda and poor cut and pasting jobs?

[Jacaylbaro]

Naxar would like to do that but he is lacking the proper equipment

[Naxar Nugaaleed]

am working on it guys, just give me some time!

[Jacaylbaro]

looooool ,,, i'm working on the proper protection too.