Hiiraan Online

By Sonala Olumhense
Sunday, August 30, 2009

Fifteen years ago, I happened to be in Somalia, with the United Nations peacekeeping mission, UNOSOM II. We lived in a heavily-fortified compound, guarded by 7,000 soldiers, and had to wear flak jackets and a helmet to work. We were forbidden to step out, unless in convoy. By definition, that meant two armed vehicles in front of yours, and two others behind.

Outside those walls, it was partly at-war Vietnam and Liberia. Mogadishu was so divided it had two currencies. At the radio station I superintended, I survived by organizing an unofficial layer of professionals selected from a litany of clans.

I found a way to go to the Green Line, the dividing territory between the major clans. It broke my heart to find that the men wielding dangerous looking weapons in the area were not wizened, battle-scared warriors, but very young men. Some of them were only about 14 years old.

That meant they were too young to understand what they were involved in, or how they had got there. They had probably learned that Somalia's former leader, Siad Barre, was in Nigeria, enjoying the finest hospitality of our leaders while their nation rotted. They had no idea that other nations of the world were not exactly like Somalia, that children of their age were expected to be in school. From the safety of a top UN official nearby, I observed for hours as, one moment the kids played with one another, prayed the next, then casually shot bullets over the Green Line to keep the other side alert.

I knew it then: Somalia was in for a long fever. Today, when I hear about the ruthless exploits of Somali teenagers in Mogadishu or on the high seas, I realize I "know" those brigands: they are the children of the children I saw on the streets of Mogadishu 15 years ago looking for someone to shoot.

Instead of their fathers being in school in the early 1990s, vicious clan leaders were handing guns to them. The only tuition they were receiving was where the trigger of the gun was. They were then deployed to action where they could shoot a baby on the streets, and make a baby in the corner.

When Nigerians want to know where Somalia is, I guess that they look at a map of Africa. We may want to re-think this strategy and examine, instead, our own lives. We are almost Somalia.

In Nigerian towns and villages, fear is growing. It used to be fear of the policeman, but we learned to be quick with the N20 bill. Then it became fear of the streets, because it became increasingly difficult to distinguish between the policeman and the armed robber. Both set up checkpoints. Both demanded cash. Both killed without remorse.

That was then.

Today, we seem to have moved into an age that is far more surreal: the age of the kidnapper. Seizing people for ransom is the growing new trade. So much easy money, and such few deterrents.

All the kidnapper has to do is grab someone that seems to be of value to a family, issue a threat, and sit back. He knows the dangers are limited: the police have no motivation, no heart and no pride. Our policemen think their job is to protect Oga, Oga's wife, and Oga's girlfriends. The pursuit of law and order, which sometimes means the pursuit of criminals, is an unnecessary irritation.

Government officials have better things to do. The kidnapper knows the President is sick; his interest is in balm for his body and his ego, not his people. He understands that despite every rumour, there is a government only when there is money to be shared, not in the provision of social services.

The kidnapper also knows that the politician has no interest in the subject of kidnappers. After all, he is not affected, as he can either hire his own thugs, or order the police to protect his interests.

That is why kidnapping, invented a year ago by militants in the Niger Delta as a tool to ratchet up their cause, has now become the weapon of choice for casual and part-time criminals.

They are not like the old-time brigands who posed the simple choice: "Your money or your life." These new-fangled fools tell your family: "Money or your life."

Why are these criminals, idiots? First, they are going after people that are as much a victim of the Nigerian society as they may themselves be.

But idiocy may be hereditary. For me, the real reason why the kidnappers ought to be ashamed of themselves is that they are both blind and cowardly. Blind and cowardly because although there is so much money to be made, even from kidnapping-as wrong as it is and always will be-these second-rate criminals are looking in the wrong places.

Think about it: Nigeria is full of wealthy thieves. They are all over the place, and everyone knows where they live, how they party, and where they take their concubines. These are exalted thieves in government, the political parties, parastatals, business and the civil service. As men, none of them is worth a bucket of warm urine, but they can cough up hundreds of millions of Naira overnight, and it is not even their own money!

Worse still, they are the worst cowards, particularly the former uniformed types. In uniform, surrounded by lower officers or showing-off in ceremonies, these men often appeared to be invincible. But everyone knows that once in private life, once they cultivate the Abachan lifestyle of drink, easy women and government patronage, they wilt even they only miss one meal.

Yet, instead of seeking and shaking down these cheap targets and their cheaper wives who think their husbands own the nation, these so-called kidnappers are going around blackmailing hard-working families and threatening to kill if they are not fed. But what they are doing is not really kidnapping, but blackmail. Kidnapping is when you do something audacious, like seizing a pretentious former Inspector-General of Police from the arms of the wife of a serving Governor or army Major-General, collect retirement ransom from both sides, and preach to them about right and wrong.

But perhaps it is just as well. The blackmailers are victimizing ordinary Nigerians for whom life is already almost unbearable, and Nigeria's powerful are ignoring the crisis. But history tells us this is a trend that could deteriorate quickly, as did Somalia, and cost Nigeria dearly.

Even before this, Nigeria was not the favourite destination of the international tourist or businessman. Despite the federal government's rose-coloured blinkers, called Rebranding, Nigeria was not considered a safe destination by many foreign governments and observers. But now comes kidnapping, the latest measure of our journey to the bottom of the sea.

As in other areas of our national life, however, this situation is not irreversible. But first, Nigerians must refuse to be driven into hiding, or political impotence. The answer is in the streets. Citizens must come together, multiply their anger and raise their voices. We must unite in speaking out in loud, public protests. Let us-not kidnappers or armed robbers-make the nation or the state ungovernable.

Let Nigerians compel the President and our governors and the police to tell us how they plan to defend us. Let us assemble publicly-day after day, if necessary-in orderly protests, until we are convinced that something realistic is being done in our interest. There is little manhood being buried in fear, flanked both sides by blackmailers, some of whom write cheques on government accounts, while others seize our relatives or our friends.

The choice is not "Money or your life," it is Nigeria or Somalia.