The dangerous life of a smuggler

Alcohol smuggler Guled Diriye is tired.

He just returned from his smuggling trip at the Ethiopian border.

The 29-year-old collapsed in his chair in a colonial-style house wracked by years of war in Somalia’s capital, Mogadishu – a city known as the Pearl of the Indian Ocean.

His sandals are covered in a strong orange dust – leftovers from the desert.

Mr. Diriye’s dark eyes looked around. The bags below talk about sleepless nights, hours of stress on dangerous roads and negotiating with armed men at checkpoints.

There is also a painful memory of another smuggler who was shot dead.

“In this country, everyone is struggling and looking for a way out. And I found my way by taking a regular road trip from the Ethiopian border to Mogadishu,” he explained, explaining that smuggling was a way to support his family in a difficult economic situation.

Consumption and distribution of alcohol is illegal. Somalia’s laws must comply with Sharia (Islamic law), which prohibits alcohol, but has not stopped the growing demand, especially among young people in many parts of the country.

Mr. Diriye’s neighbor Abshir, knowing that he had fallen on hard times as a taxi driver, introduced him to the dangerous world of alcohol smuggling.

The rickshaws started to eat up the town, chasing away the cab drivers.

The two were childhood friends who had taken refuge together in the same camp in 2009 during the Mogadishu riots – he was someone she trusted.

“I started picking up boxes of alcohol from designated areas in Mogadishu [his] instead of moving around the city and uploading them to the designated places. I didn’t see it at first but this was my introduction to smuggling.”

His involvement was frozen and Mr. Diriye soon found himself roaming the Ethiopian border through the Somali countryside.

He understands that he is breaking the law, but he says that the poverty he finds himself in is more than that.

The smuggling journey starts from the Somali border towns such as Abudwak, Balanbale, Feerfeer and Galdogob.

“Alcohol leaves a lot [Ethiopia’s capital] Addis Ababa and come to Jigjiga town, Ogaden region,” said Mr. Diriye.

The Ogaden or, as it is officially known in Ethiopia, the Somali region, shares a 1,600km (990-mile) border with Somalia. People on both sides share ethnic, cultural, linguistic and religious ties.

Once the alcohol is loaded, it is brought across the plains of the Somali region, and then smuggled across the border into Somalia.

The border town of Galdogob is a major hub for trade and travel and has been hit hard by the flow of alcohol imported from Ethiopia.

Tribal elders have expressed concern over alcohol-related violence.

“Alcohol causes many evils [such as shootings]”says Sheikh Abdalla Mohamed Ali, chairman of the local council in the city.

“[It] it has been captured and destroyed many times but it is like living next to a factory. It continues to produce more, no matter what we do.”

“Our city will always be in danger.”

But for smugglers, the goal is to take alcohol to the capital.

“I drive a truck that transports vegetables, potatoes and other food. When the truck is loaded, it is full of whatever I am transporting, but I benefit a lot from the alcohol on board,” said Mr. Diriye.

Sometimes smugglers go through Ethiopia to pick it up and sometimes they find it at the border. But whatever approach is taken, concealment is an important part of the job as the risk of being caught is high.

“The loading operation is the most important. More important than driving. You are tasked with hiding alcohol in our truck, and whatever else we have. Without him, I wouldn’t be able to move around so easily – at least not without getting caught.

“The average case of liquor I deliver is 12 bottles. I usually move anywhere from 50 to 70 boxes per trip. Usually half of the load in my truck is filled with alcohol.”

Large areas of south-central Somalia are controlled by armed groups, where the government has no control: militias, bandits and al-Qaeda affiliate al-Shabab roam with impunity.

“You will never travel alone. It is very dangerous. Death is always on our minds,” said Mr. Diriye. But that concern does not get in the way of business and there is a brutal pragmatism in thinking about team building.

“If I am injured by an attack on the road, there must be someone who will help me to continue the journey. Everyone knows how to drive and knows the roads well.”

Smugglers drive on dirt roads and roads that have not been repaired in decades. Landmines and unexploded ordnance left over from previous conflicts are also a problem.

“I travel through at least eight to 10 cities to reach Mogadishu. But we don’t count cities, we count checkpoints and who manages them,” said Mr. Diriye.

They meet armies of different families with different ideas, living far away or on the streets.

“If we happen to be arrested by an army, if one of us belongs to the same family as that army or the same village, it increases our chances of survival. That’s why the three of us come from different nations.”

He remembers painfully: “I have faced many attacks.

“One of the boys I work with is still young. He replaced my last assistant who was killed two years ago.”

Mr. Diriye had been driving for six hours and it was very hot, so he decided to sleep, passing the wheel to his assistant.

“I was lying in the back when I heard a gunshot and suddenly woke up. We are surrounded by soldiers. My charger was squealing as it went into the passenger seat.” The substitute driver was killed.

When the noise stopped, the loader and Mr. Diriye took his colleague who had died in the front seat and put him in the back of the truck.

“I have never seen so much blood in my life. I had to wipe [it] away from the steering wheel and continue driving. In all my years, nothing prepared me for what I saw that day.”

As they were traveling in a car and far away from the soldiers, they approached the side of the road and placed his body there.

“We didn’t even have a sheet to cover his body, I took off my long-sleeved shirt with buttons and fixed it with it.

“It was a difficult decision, but I knew I couldn’t go on smuggling alcohol with a dead body in a truck. We had a few government checkpoints before and I couldn’t risk my responsibility or my freedom.”

After two years, he says that the case of leaving the body on the street still haunts him.

He left a family, and Mr. Diriye is not sure that they even know the truth about the circumstances of his disappearance and death.

The danger Mr Diriye faces is a constant reality many smugglers endure as they smuggle alcohol from Ethiopia to Mogadishu, to meet the growing demand.

Dahir Barre, 41, has a thin body with visible scars on his face that seem to tell a story on their own. He has a dark sense of humor and seems hardened by almost ten years of trafficking which allows him to ignore the possible consequences of what he does.

“We are facing many problems and accidents but we continue to drive despite the danger because of the poor living conditions in Somalia,” he said.

Mr Barre has been smuggling alcohol from Ethiopia since 2015 and says the lack of opportunities to get worse due to years of poverty led him to the dangerous trade.

“I used to do security at a hotel in the city center. I was armed with an AK-47 and was tasked with patting down people at the door.”

Long nights at a dangerous low-paying job just didn’t seem worth it.

“A hundred dollars a month to prevent car bombs from going off at the front door sounds crazy now that I think about it.”

One of the day-shift guards then put him in touch with his border friends and “I have been walking these roads ever since”.

“Back in 2015 I was only getting $150 per trip, compared to $350 per trip now and in those days it was very dangerous because al-Shabab had more control over the area, so you risked meeting them a lot.

“Even criminals and militants were very dangerous at that time.

“If you had red or brown teeth, the soldiers thought you chewed khat and smoked cigarettes, which means you have money, so they will abduct you and hold you to ransom.

“As drivers we have been through a lot and the danger is still there,” said Mr Barre.

If they are caught by al-Shabab fighters, that would be very dangerous as this armed group has a policy of zero tolerance for the sale of drugs, especially alcohol. Islamic terrorists set fire to the car and detained the traffickers before fining them.

Some armed men can be easily bribed with money or alcohol.

It takes an average of seven to nine days to reach Mogadishu from the Ethiopian border. The smugglers then go to a pre-arranged dumping ground.

“When we arrive, a group of men will come and take down the usual food and put it in a different truck, and then leave. After that, when that is done, another person will come, sometimes accompanied by more than one car and they will take the boxes of alcohol,” said Mr. Diriye.

“But it doesn’t end there. Once it is out of my hands, it will pass through many hands, and finally it will be acquired by local dealers in the city, who can be reached with a simple phone call.”

Mr. Diriye often thinks about his involvement in smuggling, and where his future might lie.

“My neighbor Abshir, who introduced me to alcohol smuggling, gave up three years ago.”

Abshir offered his nephew, who was unemployed at the time, a job as a smuggler. But he was killed on his third trip when he was ambushed by bandits.

“After that Abshir stopped smuggling. He had faith and turned to God. I rarely see him.”

Although there are risks, Mr. Diriye says that he will not be discouraged.

“Death is a predetermined thing. I can’t let fear stop me from making a living. Sure, sometimes I want to throw the keys on the table and start over but it’s not that easy. Temptation is everywhere and so is poverty.”

All names have been changed in this story.