Friday August 2, 2024
By Mohamed Gabobe
In the village of Buula-Balow, near the district of Bariire, in Somalia’s volatile Lower Shabelle, Qaadi Hamud and his family were socialising after breakfast – when their lives changed forever
A convoy of the African Union Mission in Somalia prepares to conduct operations to flush out remnants of Al-Shabaab from the suburbs of Afgooye town, Lower Shabelle region, Somalia, in 2017. Photo: Len Collection/Alamy
The sounds of the birds went silent, then I woke up bleeding profusely,” said Qaadi Hamud.
It was around 9:00am on 9 July in the village of Buula-Balow, near the district of Bariire, in Somalia’s volatile Lower Shabelle region where the rules of engagement are often non-existent.
The Bariire area has switched hands throughout the years between the Al-Qaeda affiliate Al-Shabaab and the UN-backed peacekeepers from the African Union (AU). Now, the Somali Army wielded control.
UN-backed AU peacekeepers had withdrawn from Bariire three weeks prior, on 15 June, as part of a plan by the UN Security Council to draw-down coalition forces in Somalia and hand over security to the Somali Government.
The Hamud family had gathered after breakfast and were socialising among themselves. Things seemed ordinary in an environment that was far from normal, in which the risk of death was a part of everyday life.
Then, “word spread in our village (Buulo-Balow) that their was an Al-Shabaab attack in nearby Bariire on government troops”, Hamud told Byline Times.
“We didn’t think much of it because we lived six kilometres away from Bariire and thought we’d be safe from any ensuing fighting that might follow and spread to our area. But we were wrong.”
Hamud’s claims match a statement released online by Al-Shabaab claiming responsibility for an attack on Turkish-trained Somali troops on that same day.
“Their were several of us in the house, that included my wife, two daughters and five grandchildren,” he said. “I heard a large boom sound and completely lost consciousness. I don’t remember what happened next.”
Nuur Aweys, a resident of Buula-Balow, was among the first responders on the scene and witnessed plumes of smoke billowing from two homes.
“Soon as I heard the blasts, I looked towards the direction of the homes and saw the smoke,” he recalled. “I could hear the screens getting louder as I made my way to the Qaadi home. Upon entering inside, I saw blood everywhere, on the walls, the floors. I struggled to hold back tears.”
Nothing can prepare you for seeing the blood-stained bodies of lifeless children -- Nuur Aweys, Buula-Balow resident
Aweys called for help and began separating the dead from the wounded. He then loaded the survivors into his mini-van, but there were too many. A second mini-van was required.
“I picked up the bodies of three children with my own hands. This included eight-year-old Abdinasir Ibrahim Sidow, six-year-old Amina Ibrahim Sidow, and two-year-old Atiko Ibrahim Sidow. Then I held four-month-old Makhdub Ibrahim Sidow in my arms after picking him from the debris caused by the shelling. He was bloody but still breathing.”
Aweys then came across the mother of the children, Barwaqo Qaadi Hamud, who had shrapnel all over her body. With help from other villagers, Aweys lifted the young mother, along with her parents and sister who were wounded, into the mini-van.
He then began the 60km journey to Mogadishu, through rugged terrain where militias, bandits, insurgents, and trigger-happy government forces linger.
Hamud regained consciousness in the back of a mini-van, waking up to “the sounds of screams and people whispering prayers”.
“After a few minutes, I was told of what happened,” he said. “Mortars had struck our home and I’d been wounded, knocked unconscious.”
He then began piecing together who had survived and who had perished in the shelling.
“I was given a cup of milk by a relative for energy and, amidst the commotion and screams, I was told three of my grandchildren had instantly died in the attack and were left back in Buula-Balow to be buried,” Hamud said. “At first thought, the situation seemed unreal but, then again, maybe he was being protected in a different way. When I was knocked unconscious in the mortar attack, I believe God was shielding me from seeing my loved ones die in front of me.”
Seeing someone you love die in front of you is one of the worse things anyone can go through -- Qaadi Hamud, survivor
Hamud’s biggest fear came true as the injured made their way to the Somali-Sudanese Specialised Hospital in Mogadishu’s Hodan district.
“The noise from the screams got fainter as we approached the hospital,” he recalled. “Naturally, everyone thought we’d be saved from further suffering due to the help of hospital staff. But, just as we approached the hospital, one of my daughters named Shamso Hamud Qaadi died. I saw her take her last breath, while covered in shrapnel. She was only 18.”
Hamud’s suffering was far from over. His four-month-old grandson, Makhdub Ibrahim Sidow, who was initially wounded in the mortar attack and lifted from the rubble by Aweys, died at the hospital.
According to a statement from the management of the Somali-Sudanese Specialised Hospital, 13 victims of the shelling were transported there, “with two of those 13 victims deceased”.
“Hospital staff and medics worked rigorously to care for the victims and treat their wounds,” it stated.
Hamud said: “We had nothing to do with Al-Shabaab or the ongoing war, but yet, we were targeted after Government troops were attacked by Al-Shabaab and now we languish in pain here (at the hospital).”
Speaking to the press, First Lieutenant, Abukar Mohamed Hassan, the official spokesperson for the Ministry of Defence, confirmed that Turkish-trained troops carried out clearing operations in the settlements in the periphery of Bariire and, in the process, destroyed outposts manned by Al-Shabaab – but made no mention of the impact those operations had on civilians.
The locals from Bariire and its surrounding area are accustomed to violence at the hands of the warring sides and a lack of accountability when civilians get caught in the crossfire.
In June, five people from the same family were killed in shelling carried out by UN-backed African Union peacekeepers. And earlier this month, more than a dozen civilians were killed and injured from shelling, including members of the Hamud family following Government operations in the Bariire area.
Rarely if ever, does the Somali Government acknowledge, let alone compensate, victims of its operations – making it difficult for them to win over the public in a decades-long conflict in which legitimacy means everything.
Omar Mohmood, a senior East Africa analyst with the International Crisis Group, believes a lack of oversight from the Government plays into the hands of Al-Shabaab.
“Ignoring civilian abuses is a sure-fire way to delegitimise government standing in local communities,” he told Byline Times. “It generates anger and resentment, which then if left to fester, can wind up contributing to support for non-state actors like Al-Shabaab.
“Establishing strong government-to-civilian relations is key for the former to be able to operate, and part of that means ensuring civilian abuse is kept to a bare minimum and, when it does occur, proactive measures are undertaken to address it.”
From his hospital bed, Hamud concluded: “We’ve been living here for generations. If those that are suspected of being Al-Shabaab are in our midst, we can’t do anything about it. We’re just civilians trying to get by.”