Hiiraan Online

Money changers walk around with thick wads of hundred-dollar bills. Palatial new houses are rising up next to tin-roofed shanties. Men in jail reminisce, with a twinkle in their eyes, about their days living like kings.

This is the story of Somalia's booming, not-so-underground pirate economy. The country is in chaos, countless children are starving and people are killing one another in the streets of Mogadishu, the capital, for a handful of grain.

But one particular line of work – piracy – seems to be benefiting quite openly from all this lawlessness and desperation. This year, Somali officials say, pirate profits are on track to reach a record $50 million, all of it tax free.

"These guys are making a killing," said Mohamud Muse Hirsi, the top Somali official in Boosaaso, who himself is widely suspected of working with the pirates, though he vigorously denies it.

More than 75 vessels have been attacked this year, far more than any year in recent memory. About a dozen have been set upon in the past month alone, including a Ukrainian freighter packed with tanks, anti-aircraft guns and other heavy weaponry, which was brazenly seized in September.

The pirates use fast-moving skiffs to pull alongside their prey and scamper on board with ladders or sometimes even rusty grappling hooks. Once on deck, they hold the crew at gunpoint until a ransom is paid, usually $1 million to $2 million. Negotiations for the Ukrainian freighter are ongoing, and it is likely that because of all the publicity, the price for the ship could top $5 million.

In Somalia, it seems, crime does pay. Actually, it is one of the few industries that does.

"All you need is three guys and a little boat, and the next day you're millionaires," said Abdullahi Omar Qawden, a former captain in Somalia's long-defunct navy.

With the situation clearly out of control, warships from the United States, Russia, NATO, the European Union and India are steaming into Somalia's waters as part of a reinvigorated, worldwide effort to crush the pirates.

But it will not be easy. The pirates are sea savvy. They are fearless. They are rich and getting richer, with the latest high-tech gadgetry such as hand-held GPS navigation devices. And they are united. Several captured pirates interviewed in Boosaaso's main jail said that they had recently crossed clan lines to open new, lucrative, multiclan franchises.

"We work together," said Jama Abdullahi, a jailed pirate. "Good for business, you know?"

The pirates are also sprinkled across thousands of square kilometres of water, from the Gulf of Aden, at the narrow doorway to the Red Sea, to the Kenyan border along the Indian Ocean. And even if the naval ships manage to catch pirates in the act, it is not clear what they can do. In September, a Danish warship captured 10 men suspected of being pirates cruising around the Gulf of Aden with rocket-propelled grenades and a long ladder. But after holding the suspects for nearly a week, the Danes concluded that they did not have jurisdiction to prosecute, so they dumped the pirates back on the beach, minus their guns.

Nor is it even clear whether Somali authorities universally want the piracy to stop. While many pirates have been arrested, several fishermen, Western researchers and more than a half-dozen pirates in jail spoke of nefarious relationships between fishing companies, private security contractors and Somali government officials, especially those working for the semi-autonomous regional government of Puntland, which is in the northeastern corner of the country.

"Believe me, a lot of our money has gone straight into the government's pockets," said Farah Ismail Eid, a pirate who was captured in nearby Berbera and sentenced to 15 years in jail. His pirate team, he said, typically divvied up the loot this way: 20 per cent for their bosses, 20 per cent for future missions (to cover essentials such as guns, fuel and cigarettes), 30 per cent for the gunmen on the ship and 30 per cent for government officials.

Abdi Waheed Johar, director general of the fisheries and ports ministry of Puntland, openly acknowledged in an interview this spring that "there are government people working with the pirates." But, he was quick to add, "It's just not us."

What is happening off Somalia's shores is basically an extension of the corrupt, violent free-for-all that has raged on land for 17 years since central government imploded in 1991. The vast majority of Somalis lose out. Young thugs who are willing to serve as muscle get a job, albeit a low paying one, that significantly reduces their life expectancy. A select few warlords, who have sat down and figured out how to profit off the anarchy, make a fortune.

Few large cargo ships come here anymore, depriving legitimate government operations of much-needed port taxes. Just about the only ships willing to risk the voyage are small, wooden, putt-putt freighters from India, essentially floating jalopies from another era. "We can't survive off this," said Bile Qabowsade, a Puntland official.

The shipping problems have contributed to food shortages, skyrocketing inflation and less work for the sinewy stevedores who trudge out to Boosaaso's beach every morning and stare in vain hoping a ship will materialize so they will be able to make a few pennies hauling 100-pound sacks of sugar on their backs.

And yet, suspiciously, there has been a lot of new construction in Boosaaso. There is an emerging section called New Boosaaso with huge homes rising above the bubble-shaped huts of refugees and the iron-sided shacks that many fishermen call home. These new houses cost several hundred thousand dollars. Many are painted in garish colours and protected by high walls.

SOURCE: NY Times, Friday, October 31, 2008