SOMALILAND: SHADOWS OF THE PAST AS HUMAN RIGHTS DETERIORATE

SOMALILAND

SHADOWS OF THE PAST AS HUMAN RIGHTS DETERIORATE

Discussion Paper No. 11

26 May 2003

African Rights’ latest discussion paper sets out a range of concerns in the aftermath of the April 2003 Presidential Elections. It brings to light a series of human rights abuses, including beatings and illegal detentions, a ban on protests, unfair dismissals and a curb on freedom of movement. This paper is intended to raise awareness of these incidents and of the potential that they will lead to a more widespread problem. It offers a reminder of Somaliland’s precarious state: its people have had to climb a steep and rocky path to peace and security, and any step backwards could therefore be disastrous.

Introduction

Somaliland has arisen as a viable and broadly peaceful state from the ashes left by the brutal regime of the former President of Somalia, Mohamed Said Barre. The decision to secede from Somalia was made 12 years ago in May 1991. This new nation—albeit unrecognised as such internationally—held local council elections in December 2002 and this year held presidential elections; in both cases the voting was widely deemed free and peaceful. Somalilanders have good reason to be proud of these achievements and the international community has every reason to support them in their endeavours. But equally important at this precise moment in its political development, and less understood, is the reality that Somaliland is now more vulnerable than it has been for many years. African Rights is concerned that since the presidential elections on 14 April there has been an increased risk of violence and a significant rise in human rights violations.
Somaliland began its independent existence with a weak hand in historical, regional and economic terms, and it has now been dealt a political wild card, with astonishingly close election results. There is an understandable reluctance to broadcast the potential for recent events to spark serious reversals. For many who care about the future of their country, and hope that its gains in terms of peace and security will win it recognition as an independent state, silence might appear to be the best policy. But the shadow of Somaliland’s conflict-ridden past hangs over the issues and personalities at the centre of current political tensions. In this context, silence, coupled with the prevailing lack of international attention, is unlikely to promote the necessary resolve to stem a decline in the human rights situation, which has, unfortunately, begun.
Although keen voters filled the ballot boxes with their presidential choices on 14 April, their initial sense of participation and democracy has been undermined by errors in the vote counting. After a tense wait, the National Electoral Commission (NEC) made a preliminary announcement, on 19 April, that Udub, the party of the incumbent President Dahir Rayaale Kahin, had won by 80 votes. Suspicion that the result had been politically engineered with the help of the Guurti—the Council of Elders—arose when some of its representatives visited the NEC immediately before the announcement.
Then, from conflicting positions, both Udub and Kulmiye, its main contender, presented arguments and figures which showed that the NEC had got its sums wrong , throwing the NEC into disarray and sapping its credibility. However, the NEC refused to review its figures and suggested that complaints be submitted to the Supreme Court. This was duly done, but amid concerns from the opposition that they would not receive a fair hearing, since the chairman and six judges were appointed by President Rayaale; and Minister of the Interior, Ismail Adan Osman, had already expressed confidence that the Supreme Court would confirm the victory of his own party, Udub. The Court delivered its verdict in favour of Udub on 11 May, but its judgement has confused the picture further for many in Somaliland, by presenting a whole new set of figures and failing to provide any convincing legal argument to justify its decision.
The elections have not delivered the anticipated new start for Somaliland, and a period of turbulence defined by a loss of confidence in Somaliland’s young institutions has ensued. Longstanding concerns about the lack of expertise and independence within the judiciary intensified when the future of the nation was placed at the door of the Supreme Court. The NEC, which had achieved much despite a minimal budget and huge challenges, visibly buckled under its many pressures at the final hurdle. The conduct of Somaliland’s most established institution, the Guurti, has been called into question with many believing that it decided to place its weight behind Udub. And, according to interviews carried out by African Rights, security forces and the government-controlled media have sought to constrain or purge known opposition voters. Moreover, the government suspended the right to demonstrate soon after the declaration of the election result and those who took to the streets, including women and children, were swiftly and mercilessly punished, as this report documents. Most of the measures observed so far have been directed against supporters of Kulmiye, which constitutes the strongest political challenge to the government and to Udub.
It is to be hoped that what has amounted to a crackdown on government opponents will be short-lived and that Somalilanders, having invested so much in winning peace, will overcome these setbacks. But Kulmiye remains unconvinced by the decision of the Supreme Court, adding that they would hold consultations to clarify the political content of their response. And even if this subside, it would be unwise to underestimate the extent of the damage done so far and to fail to address the institutional weaknesses which have been highlighted. A sea change in the political culture of the nation has taken place to the detriment of democracy. Firstly, serious questions regarding the result itself remain to be answered, although the decision of the Supreme Court was final. As such, many in Somaliland continue to feel that their democratic results have been violated. It remains to be seen what the impact of this will be in the weeks and months to come. Secondly, there is an increasing threat to civil and political liberties as the government turns on its opponents and redoubles efforts to entrench its authority, as African Rights warned in its earlier statement on the presidential elections. That worry has intensified particularly given indications of a profound loss of confidence in the Guurti, until now the acknowledged guarantors of peace and security.
When the newly-elected President spoke to the public on 18 May, the first time since his election, the level of security that surrounded him suggested a degree of nervousness new to the body politic of Somaliland. It is, sadly, indicative of a political malaise which will fester without swift appropriate action on the part of the government of Somaliland. A starting point would be to investigate the incidents of violence referred to in this report and to ensure legal redress for the victims. Meanwhile, both within the country and outside it, there will need to be strong support and determination to build the institutions which can ensure a genuine and lasting democracy for Somaliland.

Restricting Freedom of Movement

Somalilanders who endured years of repression under Siad Barre find it deeply troubling to see the return of some of the most intrusive and offensive practices of that era. The police now routinely stop vehicles in Hargeisa after 10:00 p.m., telling passengers to park their cars and walk to their destination, irrespective of the distance and oblivious to the scarcity of street lights and of taxis at that hour. The order, which has become more widespread and pronounced since the elections, is normally accompanied by the comment that “you should go to sleep”, a reminder of the time when Siad Barre’s soldiers made it impossible for people in this region to have any kind of life. Upset that she was being treated like a child, one woman said she told the police “to distribute baby bottles to the population along with these instructions.” Pedestrians are also stopped and asked questions about where they have been and why “they are out so late.” Young men, who tend to stay out until that hour to watch football on television or videos, or to go to the cinema, are quick to complain about police interrogations.
Given the absence of civil disorder, the policemen themselves appear in the dark about this infringement of personal freedom. Sometimes they argue that the measure will promote peace, but an unhappy public is unlikely to prove a peaceful citizenry in the long run. Other times they say that it is intended to discourage the sale and consumption of alcohol, an unlikely explanation. Whatever the thinking, the impact is wholly negative, both in its association with the past and in its effect on the lives of people who are entitled to go where they want, when they want to, provided they are not visibly disturbing the peace.
On 24 May, in a front-page story entitled “Hargeisa under Un-Declared Night Curfew”, The Somaliland Times wrote:

In the last few weeks, it has become routine to see armed security men deployed [at] checkpoints at various parts of the city during night time. Motorists and in some cases even pedestrians are stopped at these checkpoints for inspection and then told to go straight home to sleep or “waa la seexanayaa” [“it’s time to go to bed”], a term that was in common use during the repression under dictator Siad Barre’s regime.

The paper linked the unofficial curfew with other developments that threaten human rights.

Such behaviour coupled with other types of repressive measures such as arrests and beatings by security men, have already triggered a backlash against the government among Hargeisa city dwellers.

It also discussed the wider social and economic effects.

Apart from the harassment, humiliation and trauma … the curb on freedom of movement has undermined business in various sectors such as transport, restaurants, tea-shops, local entertainment and wedding services.

The same issue carried an editorial which asked why the President and Guurti had failed to take corrective measures. Describing the night-time restrictions as “a highly explosive issue”, it warned that if the matter was not “resolved quickly, [it] will have disastrous consequences not only for peace and security in the city but for the whole of Somaliland as well.”

The government has so far avoided making an official explanation as to why it had introduced the measure in the first place. The President cannot be said to be unaware of the wide discontent among residents of the capital with the curb on their freedom of movement… Even the Guurti, which was supposed to be the guardian of peace and tranquillity has remained unconcerned [about] the violations committed on a nightly basis by the security forces … This conspiracy of silence is very disturbing. Hargeisites are worried that this could be an indication of more repressive policies to follow.

The Siege of Elders in Gebiley, 2 May

On 2 May, a group of elders from Odweyne, Burao, Berbera and Hargeisa, supporters of Kulmiye, were invited to lunch at the Askar restaurant in Gebiley, together with elders of Gebiley and the leaders of the local branch of Kulmiye. At a press conference in Hargeisa on 5 May, the elders spoke of an encounter they did not expect to have. Hersi Hussein Farah summed up the experience.

We had hardly begun to eat the food when guns were pointed at us by our very own national soldiers, something that we found very disturbing. The soldiers began by asking Dr. Obolos, who had welcomed us: “Are they with you?” which we also found equally troubling. We had gone there as guests for a gathering, but we understood that there was an intention to create a commotion instead, so we tried to defuse the situation. The people of Gebiley reacted angrily and we calmed them down because as elders, we did not want to be responsible for any disturbance that might occur. We agreed with the elders who had invited us that we would pacify the population of Gebiley and God helped us in this endeavour.

When the mayor arrived, they asked him for an explanation.

His response was to tell us that Dhega-weyne [a former SNM commander and currently a supporter of Kulmiye] was in town and that is why we had to go through this.

They did not consider this a satisfactory response.

We told him that as far as we know, Dhega-weyne is a citizen; since when has he been denied his rights in Somaliland? We were not content with the answer. What we saw is that the party of Udub is involved in the government. When it has been defeated politically, it uses the national army against Kulmiye.

A Ban on Protests

At all times, and particularly in the aftermath of a disputed election, the government is right to be concerned about the potential for violence and to take measures to minimise clashes between the security forces and the public, and between members of opposing parties. But the public, and the different political parties, have a right to voice their political opinions, provided they seek to do so in a peaceful manner. The most appropriate means of respecting the fundamental right to freedom of association and other civil and political rights, is for the government to allow the right to organise peaceful political protests. But in a letter dated 20 April, the Minister of the Interior took a different view to a request from Kulmiye.

Even though the constitution permits the organisation of demonstrations, the Ministry has decided for the time being not to permit any kind of demonstration.

Therefore, this is to let you know that it is not possible at the present time to allow you to hold the demonstration that you requested.

When a lid is put on peaceful political expression, the outcome is likely to be an ugly confrontation, as was demonstrated shortly afterwards in Hargeisa.

Beatings, Arrests and Detentions

At a time of heightened tension and political sensitivity, it is particularly important that the Ministry of the Interior, which is in charge of law and order, be in the hands of a Minister who can engage different political actors in dialogue and maintain peace without resorting to policies and practices that violate basic human rights. Unfortunately for Somaliland, and as this report shows, the actions and words of the current Minister of the Interior who controls the police, Ismail Adan Osman, have been provocative and likely to trigger the very instability that the government says it is determined to ward off, and which the public at large fears. Recent events also highlight grave shortcomings in the police, who are clearly poorly trained, and as a result, quick to see the public as their enemy. To those who have borne the brunt of their anger, their behaviour is painfully reminiscent of an era they thought had passed.

20 April, A Bloody Confrontation in Hargeisa

On the morning of Sunday 20 April, the day after the preliminary results were announced, a group of about 50 women and youngsters, some boys as young as 14, gathered together at the home of the leader of Kulmiye in search of news and to debate what action to take about the election result. They decided to walk to the offices of the NEC as a measure of protest. They had barely walked any distance when they ran into two truckloads of armed policemen, accompanied by about 20 policemen on foot, at the junction with the main road. Determined to prevent a march along the main road, the policemen immediately shot into the air to frighten and disperse the crowd. A number of the women were wearing headscarves with the Kulmiye colours of yellow and green, and some were carrying its flags and wearing its T-shirts.
Fathiya Jama, resident in London, was on a visit to Hargeisa where she volunteered as an election officer on polling day. When African Rights interviewed her on 24 April, she had a huge bruise on the right shoulder and on the right calf.

We ran into 2-3 soldiers who had been stationed at the crossroads. They were armed. I asked them not to shoot. They said they won’t shoot us, but that added that we couldn’t take the main road. Take a back alley, they told us. We pushed through them and headed for the gobolka [a nearby cluster of government ministries, on the way to the offices of the NEC]. Before we got there, a lot of soldiers ran towards us. One of the young people in our group threw a stone at them, and they responded by shooting furiously into the air. A policeman in a blue shirt picked up a stone, and then a lot of the other policemen did the same. Others had sticks. Some of our young men stayed to lob stones at them, but most of us ran. I rushed into a bush. The policeman in the blue shirt pursued me, shouting: “Stop that woman! F--- her and her Kulmiye.” About 10 of them descended upon me, slapping me hard all over the face. Two of them in the truck took me by the arms to pull me into the vehicle even though it was so crowded that there was no place for me to put my feet. At the same time, another policeman was hitting me on the shoulder with the butt of his gun. They managed to throw me into the truck like a piece of luggage. I was the first person they grabbed, so they vented their rage on me. “Why did you come? What is Kulmiye, now that it lost the election and its flag has been hoisted down?” There were about 10 of us in the truck, all women except for 14-year-old Hamza.

Kinsi Aadleef had set out with Fathiya and the others. A mother of six and four months pregnant, she found it difficult to run far when the shots rang out.

The police slapped me to force me on to the truck. I climbed in and they drove us to the central police station. In front of the station, one of them struck me with the butt of his gun on the back and on my arm.

The bruises she suffered on her right arm, on the back and on the lip, were evident at the time.
Nimo Daud Mohamed and some of her friends from the same school set out together on the protest march.

As soon as we reached the crossroads, we came face to face with a lot of policemen. Four of them immediately went for my Kulmiye headscarf, ripping it off and raining slaps on me. I refused when they told me to get into their truck. They beat me some more with their hands and also with a stick to get me on to the truck.

More than two weeks later, the marks left by the beating along the right thigh and just below the right knee were visible. Her 14-year-old brother, the youngest person on the march, was singled out.

My brother, Hamza, was beaten particularly badly, and left with black bruises all over his body.

Nimo’s friend, Samira Abdi Ismail, had also attracted the attention of the police with her headscarf.

We were on our way to the Electoral Commission because we wanted to take part in a peaceful protest. But we had hardly gone any distance when two cars full of policemen, and about 20 others on foot, stopped us. One of them grabbed my scarf, pulling both the scarf and my hair. I took hold of the scarf to keep it on my head. We struggled and then he hit the knuckles on my right hand hard with the end of his gun. They beat with a special vengeance anyone wearing a symbol of Kulmiye. About 10 of them pounced on me because of my insistence on keeping my scarf on my head. One of them hit me on the lower end of my back with his gun and then all 10 of them jointly threw me on to the vehicle.

When African Rights interviewed Hamza, he said that the worst beating he received was on his left shoulder. He had planned to run, but said he stopped when he saw the policemen joining forces to subdue Samira. Unwilling to abandon her, he was thrown into the vehicle at the same time.
Frightened by the gunfire, Muna Abdillahi Diriye from the same school ran into a house in the neighbourhood, near the offices of the NEC. Pursued by policemen, she fell upon them when the owners of the house pushed her out.

They ripped the Kulmiye T-shirt and flag I was holding in my hand. Then they beat me with the butt of a gun on my head and my back. I still get headaches from that beating.

Faisa Hassan Mohamed had the misfortune of being in the area and got caught up in the chaos. She was standing in a corner when she spotted the crowd and heard the shots.

I yelled at the policemen: “Don’t kill our children!” A policeman carrying a walkie-talkie told the others: “Arrest her, she is a strong supporter of Kulmiye.” Two of them then slapped me around the face. I asked them why I was being arrested since I had not come to protest, I wasn’t wearing any Kulmiye gear and I wasn’t throwing stones. A third policeman hit me just above the knee while they pushed and dragged me towards their truck. When we got to the vehicle, I stood aside and said: “But tell me what I have done.” They continued to slap me and threw me into the truck. One of my legs was protruding; they struck me on the right calf with a stick to push my leg in.

When they reached the central police station in downtown Hargeisa, one of the policemen confirmed that Faisa had been standing apart when the trouble started. She was not booked, but returned to the spot where she had been arrested.
The others, however, were not so fortunate. According to all the women, the policemen used abusive language throughout the drive to the station, relating in one way or another to their political party. Things did not improve when they reached their destination, according to Fathiya who remembered the words of the driver. “Get down you prostitutes, the prostitutes of Kulmiye.” Samira recalled the use of similar language. “They said, amongst other things, that we were drunk.” Nimo, whose father is the secretary-general of Kulmiye, had particular reason to be worried. “They told me that my father will also be arrested, adding that you and the rest of Kulmiye will be f….” While their names were being registered, another truckload of Kulmiye supporters arrived. A young man of about 19, who had been severely beaten, was one of the passengers. Fathiya tried to protect him as best as she could.

A policeman with a white shirt, armed with a pistol, pointed the gun at the young man with the comment: “I’m going to shoot you in the head.” I wrapped myself around him, pushed him towards the back and asked him why the policeman wanted to shoot him. He replied: “He knows me.”

The young girls, about 25 of them, and the 8 boys, were then locked up in different rooms while the two women, Fathiya and Kinsi, were kept together in a separate section. Fathiya found herself in a distressing situation when it became apparent that Kinsi had become very ill.

When Kinsi wouldn’t talk to me, I took off the cloth covering her face and saw that she was foaming at the mouth, that her tongue was sticking out, that her teeth were stuck together and her eyes had a fixed look. I did everything to convince the police that this was a very sick woman who could be dying. I shouted at the top of my voice for a full hour, but that didn’t elicit any response from the police. Then Nura Hussein and Shoon burst into the room, alerted by my shouts. Nura threatened to bring the entire media inside the police station if they didn’t allow us to take Kinsi out. They agreed, but they didn’t even help us to lift her. Nura, Shoon and I lifted her, with the help of people who had come to visit detainees at the station. The police also refused to provide us with a car. Someone gave us his car and we took her to a private clinic. The doctor gave her some shots; she didn’t know where she was and spoke in a confused manner. It was then we found out she was pregnant.

Kinsi spent the night at the main hospital in Hargeisa. Angry about her treatment and in great pain, and mindful of the obstacles of challenging the police, she expressed her determination to lodge a complaint against the police.
The police emptied one of the cells for the group of young women. Samira spoke of their ordeal for the 12 hours they were locked up.

They placed a tube inside the cell which they used to flood the room with water. As a result, from 9:00 a.m. until 10:00 p.m., we were forced to stand up. We didn’t get to eat until 4:00 p.m. because they had turned away the people who had brought us food. When we spoke to them through the little hatch and asked for water, they replied: “Let Siilaanyo bring it for you.” [Siilaanyo is the name by which the leader of Kulmiye is known]. No-one was allowed to go to the toilet. And they kept up a barrage of insults, including the senior officers in charge of the station. Some of the policemen, both uniformed and some in plain clothes, came and told us that we would be released if we agreed to join Udub, the government party. We told them no.

One of the women was pregnant, but she was left to her own devices, Samira said.

She had been beaten and thrown into the police truck, even though she was visibly pregnant. She was so weak that she lay on the wet floor. Her relatives didn’t know where she was and so she just had to share the food that we received.

The entire group was released at about 10:00 p.m. when Nimo’s father posted bail for them.

The Arrest of SNM Fighters in Hargeisa, 19 May

The residents of some districts in Hargeisa, notably the area known as the Red Sea, listened to the sound of gunfire on the night of 18 May between heavily-armed policemen and some former fighters of the Somali National Movement (SNM), the armed guerrilla movement which fought and dislodged the Siad Barre regime from Somaliland, then the northwest region of Somalia. Since the preliminary results were first announced on 19 April, many SNM fighters did nothing to hide their anger. In a press conference on 28 April covered by Somaliland Television and the newspapers, they complained that some of them had recently been dismissed from the army and police force because of their politics, and some of those who took part in the press conference were subsequently arrested (see below). In mid-May, a group gathered together in a makeshift camp they set up in a marshland in the Red Sea. At about 9:45 p.m. on 18 May, the government sent in three vehicles mounted with anti-aircraft guns known as “technicals”, to drive them out. The result was an exchange of gunfire. The men dispersed of their own accord and none were arrested that night. But a hunt for SNM fighters commenced the following morning and five were arrested at the Ming Sing restaurant at about 11:00 a.m. They are:

· Kayse Ahmed Madobe;
· Mohamed Dahir Warsame;
· Mohamed Weere;
· Saalah;
· Ahmed Barkhad Aideed.

They were initially detained at the offices of the Criminal Investigations Department (CID), and were transferred the same day to Hargeisa central prison where they remain. Salah, a close relative of a leading Udub politician, has been released. Another SNM fighter, Ali Omer, known as “Ali Aar”, was arrested in the Hera Awr district after a car chase by the police. He was shot in the leg but the bullet went through his trousers and he was unhurt. Ahmed Barkhad Aideed’s brother, Dayib, is also in detention.
To date, the government has not charged the men officially with any crime. None of them are said to have taken part in the firefight of the 18th. On 22 May, African Rights sought permission to visit the detainees from the officials in charge of prisons at the Ministry of Justice, to ensure that they had not been tortured or subjected to any kind of inhumane treatment. The prison officials turned down our request, saying that their detention was “a very sensitive political issue” which African Rights should take up directly with the Minister of the Interior “who had given the order to arrest them.”
On the afternoon of Friday, 23 May, a huge number of well-armed policemen driving “technicals” surrounded the home of the State Minister of Finance, Nuh Sheikh Omer, located in Togdheer in Hargeisa. Their aim was to capture a number of former SNM fighters who had apparently been invited by Nuh to discuss their grievances. Claiming that the ex-combatants included men wanted for the 18 May incident, the Minister of the Interior ordered their arrest. The State Minister refused to allow them inside; in the meantime, the men escaped through a back door. The action, in broad daylight in a residential district, astonished and frightened local residents, apart from revealing divisions within the government about how best to deal with the events of 18 May.

Denied Their Jobs: Unfair Dismissal of Soldiers

The backbone of the army in Somaliland, in numerical strength and experience, are former SNM combatants. Although established in 1993, the army only became a force in 1994 after hundreds of fighters voluntarily disbanded and handed in their weapons and equipment. Because the leader of Kulmiye was the long-term chairman of the SNM, there was suspicion from the outset that they would vote in its favour. In the press conference on 28 April, a number of them accused the army of making them redundant because of their political sympathies.
Saeed Hassan Mohamed, a former member of the SNM, had been in the army since it was formed. He was the driver for the commander of the army, General Abdisamad Haji Abdillahi, and has been a driver for all three chiefs of staff in Somaliland. The owner of a Toyota Landcruiser, he rented the car to Kulmiye for its election campaign, together with a driver.

I was called in and accused of campaigning for Kulmiye. I told them that they had rented my car, which is a commercial transaction, and that I gave them my vote which I have the right to do. That’s it. I was first told to take leave, and dismissed after the results were announced. I was not even one of the soldiers who spoke on TV.

Others who have been dismissed include:

· Yusuf Abaade, a driver at the office of the presidency and the personal driver of the late President Egal;
· Adan Harur Jama, also of the office of the presidency;
· Farah Mohamed Ahmed, an officer in Wajale;
· Faysal Kaamil; he was detained for some days in May in the central police station in Hargeisa;
· Maykal Jama Tarabi of the office of the presidency and previously one of Rayaale’s bodyguards when he was vice-president.

Access to Information: Imposing Controls

Radio Hargeisa: Unequal Opportunities

It is difficult to exaggerate the importance of radio in Somaliland, given the high rate of illiteracy and the expense, and therefore the scarcity, of television. Even though it does not reach everywhere in Somaliland, Radio Hargeisa is the most important source of information for most people. As a result, equal access to the radio for all political parties, during both the local government elections in December 2002, and the more recent presidential elections, was considered a vital asset by all political players.
In reality, it has proved difficult to shake off the legacy of the Siad Barre regime where the radio was not so much a national asset as a tool of political propaganda for the government. Many of the employees of Radio Hargeisa were trained under the Siad Barre government. Despite the unfair advantages enjoyed by Udub, as the party of the government, an effort was made to include coverage of the other parties during the elections for local councils. The situation changed shortly afterwards, when only the three front-runners—Udub, Kulmiye and Ucid—emerged to take part in the presidential elections.
The resolve to impose controls at Radio Hargeisa has included two incidents of physical violence against employees. One of them is Ahmed Saleeban Mohamed, known as “Duhul.” When the presidential campaign got off the ground, employees were attached to the different parties. Ahmed was asked to report on Kulmiye. But his assignment soon ran into trouble.

At the beginning of the campaign, I was allowed to air, for a few minutes, the views of either Siilaanyo or one of the other leaders on the programme known as “Hoghogaal” [Informative]. One day, Siilaanyo organised a press conference where he spoke about the problems that confront business people doing transactions on the border with Ethiopia. I taped it and told Radio Hargeisa that I would be airing Siilaanyo’s voice. My boss, the director of the radio, Mohamed Saeed Muhumed, told me to broadcast just one sentence. I told him that this didn’t make sense as the message would be lost. Either we had to abandon it or air a decent segment. After he went home, I took the initiative to air the tape for a full five minutes. Mohamed Saeed heard Siilaanyo’s voice at home at 2:15 p.m. Five minutes later, he walked in in a rage; I was on my way out of the studio and he called me into his office. I knew why of course, so I said to him: “Are you going to ask me why I put Siilaanyo’s voice on the air?” He turned around and boxed me in the right eye. I was in such shock that I couldn’t react. In any case, I couldn’t see for a moment. People separated us. He then told the guards that I should be arrested. They suggested that we both go to the police station, but he left and I also went home. He later asked our colleagues to talk to me and defuse the situation.

Ahmed continued to report on Kulmiye’s political campaign, but in his words, “the pressure intensified from one day to the next.”

Because they saw Siilaanyo as a political danger, Radio Hargeisa decided to wipe out his name, his campaign, his experience and his history. Those in charge made a clear decision to put a curtain on all this. The director and the programme officer went through the news items to delete any reference to him. It was aired only when they had made so many deletions that the essence was lost.

Ahmed then compared the Radio Hargeisa of today with the system that existed during the Siad Barre regime.

During the Siad days, information went in one direction only. There was only one point of view, that of the government. It didn’t matter what the people thought, and diversity of opinion was not on the agenda. There is no difference between what we have today and what we had then. We are back to 1988. Despite the constitutional guarantee of equal access, Radio Hargeisa belongs to the government and to Udub. When it comes to public opinion, only the views of those who support the government will be aired. There is no way that criticism of the government will be voiced.

Suspicion about the motives of journalists can sometimes be far-fetched.

One Friday Hussein Abdillahi Deeqsi broadcast a well-known poem composed in 1964 by the poet Qaasin. Isma doorin gaalkaan diriyo daarta kii galaye,, [there is no difference between the white man I chased away and the one who took his seat]. This was immediately taken as criticism of President Rayaale. The journalist was told that he had “an agenda” in broadcasting this poem. Even some journalists known for their pro-Udub sympathies have been called in to “explain themselves.”

Ahmed also described a tendency that he characterised as “the re-writing of history.”

During the final days of the presidential campaign, President Rayaale was due to make a stop-over in Gebiley. We were told to prepare a video which highlighted his achievements during his one-year in office. We looked, but we couldn’t find anything to show. They also didn’t want any shots that showed the late president, Egal. In the end, they picked shots from here and there and put them together for the people of Gebiley.

The analysis of Radio Hargeisa as a tool of the government was underscored by another journalist, Ahmed Sheikh Hussein, who started with Radio Hargeisa in 1991. He became the chief editor of the news programme and a programme producer. He spoke of a noticeable shift in recent months.

In the last six months the difference has become really obvious. The radio should be accessible to all the political parties, but it is important only to Udub. A lot of the employees of the Ministry of Information belong to it as the party of the government. Only once, on the programme Hoghogaal, did we give 7 minutes to each of 3 political parties, Asad, Kulmiye and Udub. We received good feedback from the public. Otherwise, politics have been allowed to interfere with the professionalism of journalism. There is a lack of balance. We prepare news programmes and then we are told: “Stop this programme, or play this one”, something that didn’t use to happen. The director of Radio Hargeisa is openly Udub. But you have the impression that even he is not entirely free but is taking instructions from the Minister. Because of all this, I haven’t been able to exercise my responsibilities for some time. I would go there but wouldn’t have any work.

Ahmed and another journalist with Radio Hargeisa, Abdirahman Sheikh Elmi, known as “Shamah”, aired their critical views about the lack of political balance in a press conference. In an interview with African Rights, Shamah detailed the constant pressure journalists faced from the director of the radio who sought to ensure that Kulmiye, and especially its leaders, got little or no mention on national radio.

Both Radio Hargeisa and the government newspaper, Maandeeq, were much more fair during the local council elections in December. The problems have become acute during the past three months. New control panels were set up to weed out information that was considered undesirable. News items, for example, had to go through both the director and the programme officer.
In February, during the anniversary of the “Dagaxtuur” [anti-government riots by students in 1982], different leaders of Kulmiye spoke at the khayriyah. I recorded the speeches. When I returned to the studio, my boss asked me: “So what did you bring?” I told him I had brought the news from Kulmiye’s event. Apart from Mohamed Haji Mohamoud, I told him that Siilaanyo had also spoken. He told me not to include the content of what Siilaanyo had said, but just to mention somewhere that he was one of the speakers. He asked me to treat the speech by Mohamed Kahin in the same way. I said that Anab Omer Ileyeh was another of the speakers. He replied: “Say that someone from the women’s wing spoke, but you don’t need to say her name.” Finally I asked him to dictate exactly what he wanted because the instructions didn’t make sense. He told me: “Basically just say that members of Kulmiye spoke.” To please him I suggested that I would, instead, devote most of the programme to the visit of the President to the western coast. He was delighted: “Yes, do that. That would be a good exchange. Today will decide whether we become friends or enemies.”

The Detention and Sentencing of Mohamed Omer Khayre in Borama

On 8 May, the Borama-based correspondent of the newspaper Haatuf, Mohamed Omer Khayre, was arrested following a story published by Haatuf on 7 May in which the journalist cited the Borama-based representative of Kulmiye, Ahmed Yusuf Farah, who accused some members of Udub of being “involved in anti-Somaliland clandestine efforts”, namely preparing to hoist the old Somali flag should Udub lose the elections. Both men were detained in Borama central prison. In their statement of 14 May, the Somaliland Society for Independent Journalists and Writers described the detention of their colleague as “illegal and unwarranted.” Demanding his unconditional release, the group said it was “alarmed by the growing increase in the harassment and imprisonment without charges of journalists and opposition activists in Somaliland.” Both men were given a summary “trial” on 20 May and given suspended sentences, of three months against the journalist and one year against Ahmed Yusuf Farah. Neither man was allowed to have a lawyer to represent him.
In an interview with African Rights, Mohamed Omer Khayre gave a detailed account of his encounter with justice. He said that he had gone to the police station to settle a domestic dispute between members of his family and some neighbours. He was waiting for two policemen to accompany him when the telephone rang.

I heard the police officer say: “Yes, he’s here with us”, but I was not sure what he was referring to. He then told me that I was going to be booked. I was taken aback. The following day, the representative of Kulmiye, Ahmed, came. He confirmed that he had given me the interview and that I had quoted him faithfully. He told them: “Arrest me if you want, but you should free this man. He just did his job.” They refused to release me, but they did arrest him as well.
After a few days at the police station, on Saturday the 10th, the two of us were chained together and paraded barefoot through the streets of Borama up to the court like two major criminals. When we asked a CID officer exactly what offence we had committed, he told us that the charges were based on our “confessions” to the CID. But we had not confessed anything. I had merely confirmed that I had indeed written the article in question, and Ahmed stated that he had made those remarks critical of some Udub officials in an interview with me. Ahmed was not even asked to prove the truth of what he had said. He was only asked if he had made those remarks. In the court, the district attorney-general said that he did not know what offence we had committed, and therefore did not know how to charge us. We were taken back to the police station.
On Sunday the 11th, we were taken to the court again. A piece of paper was prepared but at the time we didn’t know what was written on it. Later we found out that the paper authorised 45 days on remand, to be extended. We were assured by the people there that we would be released. When we were taken back to the police station, we were sure that it was to pick up our belongings. Soon afterwards, the governor of Awdal region, and the head of the Awdal police force, came together to the police station. We overheard them saying that they needed petrol “to transport them to the prison.” That made us realise where we were headed. We were taken to the prison in the car of the Awdal police chief. We were put in a room with 33 other prisoners, but were never asked any questions.
On the 20th we were taken to court again. We were separated from the other people and locked up in a big hall. Then we were joined by the district attorney-general, the judge and hid deputy. There was no question of legal representation for us. I was told that the charge against me was “disseminating false information that could threaten the peace” and Ahmed was charged with “making up false information that could threaten the peace.” Ahmed got into an argument with them. He told them: “Who is accusing me, the government or Udub? I criticised officials of Udub, but they are not here. He was told that he had committed offences “against the nation.” Then one of them added: “Don’t talk so much if you want us to be lenient.” They left and returned after half an hour with the judgement. I was refused a copy of the judgement.

Reacting to the sentence against Khayre, the publisher of Haatuf, Yusuf Abdi Gabobe, described it “as intimidation against the independent media.” He added:

This government wants to silence the press, so they are using this case as an example of what will happen to those who don’t toe the line.

Haatuf placed the sentences in a broader human rights context.

The two accused men rejected the sentence that had been passed against them which they described as unjust.
This [case] would appear to be part of the new steps which have been taken recently by the government of President Rayaale against journalists and community leaders, which amounts to a denial of the right to freedom of expression, guaranteed by the laws of the country. In recent days, some leaders have, without going through legal channels, given the order for the arrest of citizens.

Another Haatuf journalist, Mohamed Amin Jibril, got into trouble on 23 May when he and a colleague, Abdifatah Mohamed Aideed, followed a police operation in the Togdheer district of Hargeisa (see above), close to the offices of Haatuf. Mohamed Amin, no stranger to the police, described what happened.

It was around 3:00 p.m. on Friday when we heard the commotion. We quickly learned that a large number of policemen had surrounded the house which belongs to Nuh, the Minister of State for Finance, apparently to flush out some SNM ex-combatants. The police tried to grab the camera off Abdifatah but he was protected by the large crowd which had quickly gathered. Then they turned on me; they recognised me from an earlier incident this month when I was also briefly detained. They beat me up and then drove me to the central police station where I was locked up with people on murder charges and other serious offences. Our editor, Yusuf, intervened and I was released after about an hour and a half.