Sunday, July 11, 2010

Military man’s confessions




By NZAU MUSAU

Seated in a dusty chair in the backroom of an obscure hotel, John* takes a deep breath as he leans back to begin what he calls a dangerous venture of revealing military secrets.

His hidden but sparkling eyes appear to me as holding tormenting secrets, ones which he has preserved for 26 good years even as they gnawed him from inside.

He’s decided to speak, he tells amid a circumspect stare of military order, in the interest of pursuit of truth and justice; and in the interest of thousands of victims of killed, maimed, orphaned or wounded in Wagalla massacre of 1984.

“I was then a young corporal in the 7th Kenya Rifle based in the Wajir military camp which was then commanded by Wilson Mdogo,” he begins the narration of his sad role in the operation that saw all the men of Degodia clan rounded up.

Nothing extraordinary had been happening in the days before, he recalls, besides an ongoing Shifta operation which largely entailed pursuing after bandits deep into the bushy plains of Wajir.

With a lot of ease, he recalls that on February 9th, 1984, he was guarding the main gate of the camp which he says always had about 12 soldiers manning it at any particular time.

“At 11am, I was called up by the second in command a Capt. Mugo who instructed me that at exactly 3am, I should wake up all the soldiers. I went on to do that and all were paraded and given 30 minutes to drink tea.” He remembers.

After that, all but three soldiers were ordered into trucks and driven towards Wajir town. Near the town, they stopped and were herded together to listen to the command of what appeared to be a major operation of sorts.

Here, the commander explained that they were to move cordoning off sections of manyatta villages where the Degodia clan of Somali tribe were known to live.

“We were instructed to arrest everyman waking up in those villages and drive them to Wagalla. We were to leave the women behind,” he says.

According to John, all government cars from the entire district be they trucks from public works, military ones or those from ministry of works had been availed for the grand operation.

On a single trip, ten trucks would ferry the men to Wagalla and go back for more as police guarded those delivered at the air strip, he says.

“In most instances apart from where there was resistance, not many knew what we were up to. Most people including soldiers thought it was a major public baraza; the reality however started to dawn on everybody around 2pm on that day.” He adds.

Only the district security committee members comprising of the DC, PC, OCPD, DCIO and DO1 were in picture, he says as he wipes a cold sweat running down his face.

At around 4pm, the officer recalls, the men who had by now begun to smell of some foul plot were given the only water they would get in the four days they stayed there.

It became dark and the military left the air strip for the camp leaving police to guard the men through out the night. The following morning, the military went about Wajir town collecting more Degodia men.

By the afternoon of that day, inquisitive people had begun pushing for an explanation and they were told they had guns and to be set free they had to deliver them.

“One man rose his hand up and explained that he worked with ministry of water. He wondered how the government he worked for would accuse him of such a crime,” he recalls.

An argument ensued whose end was an order for all men to remove all their clothes and lie facing down.

A conference was held besides the naked-dying men under a large shade of a tree which has since dried up. They- the district security committee members were taking sodas, he remembers.

Thereafter, beatings started until some confessed of owning guns. These extracted confessions emboldened the security men as they sought for more.

“I remember one man who tried to save himself by confessing to owning a gun which he said was hidden in a well. He basically wanted some water and after drinking himself full in the well, he emerged to say he couldn’t find it, he was shot and thrown to die in the same well,” he recalls.

On the third day, John remembers, another security meeting was convened at the DC’s office in Wajir town in which the then area MP and late cabinet minister Ahmed Khalif tried to storm in but was repelled.

Himself a Degodia and representing the Wajir West constituency, Khalif had gone together with his Wajir East counterpart to demand an explanation on what was going on in the area.

“Thereafter, security men were deployed to all roads leading out of Wajir with clear instructions to arrest the two. Somehow they managed to escape to Isiolo,” he remembers.

When it was known they had reached Isiolo town, further roadblocks were ordered to nab the two from leaving the town but the two were quite ahead; they left their car outside a hotel and rode on a taxi to Nairobi where Khalif gave an interview to BBC detailing the massacre.

John remembers that by that time, about 400 people had died in the air strip and the rest of the men were dying. Some were doused with petrol and lit up to die. Others were drinking each other’s urine.

“Immediately the BBC aired the story, the government was instantly embarrassed. It was decided that the shame should not be allowed to spread. Accordingly were instructed to clear the air strip of all the men- both the dead and the alive,” he recalls.

The trucks which delivered them alive began to drive away, each loaded up with both the dead and the alive. They drove away to different directions depositing the men in far away lonesome bushes where they could not crawl for help.

At this point, John poses and sips the soda he has not had a chance to since we began the interview. Shaking his head while tapping my recorder, he continues:

“I have never seen anything like it and the experience still haunts me today. How could the government kill its own workers, including ex-soldiers? Even the first senator and respectable elder of the area then Aden Noor died in that air strip,” he recalls.

He says the justification that the operation targeted shiftas is misplaced because no shiftas could be found in the streets and outlying villages. Shiftas were hidden deep in the bushes and that is where the fight belonged.

Like the victims and survivors, John hopes that justice will eventually come to the victims and survivors of Wagalla. How, when and in what terms are the questions he has no answers for.

John*, not his real names not only witnessed the massacre but also played a significant role in the massacre and which he detailed to The Star. For purposes of his own security however, we could not publish details of his involvement.


TJRC to investigate Wagalla

The massacre at Wajir falls within the mandate of the Truth, Justice and Reconciliation Commission which is investigating all gross human rights violations in Kenya since 1963.

Commission CEO Patricia Nyaundi told The Star that the shame of Wagalla is such a dark spot in Kenya’s history that neither the commission nor the country can afford to ignore.

“It speaks to all of us; those of us that pursue justice in our lives. And certainly it speaks to the commission under whose mandate all gross human rights violations committed in this land since independence fall in,” she says.

Incidentally, the commission is facing credibility issues over the alleged role of chair Bethuel Kiplagat in the massacre.

Civil society activists have tabled evidence to show that Kiplagat visited Wajir on the eve of the massacre. Kiplagat has since denied the claims.

“The current TJRC under chairmanship of Kiplagat is a charade, it is a smokescreen for rewarding impunity and mediocrity. It seriously undermines the golden opportunity for people of Wagalla to obtain justice,” International Centre for Policy and Conflict’s Ndung’u Wainaina says.

Sections of victims of Wagalla also expressed strong dissatisfaction with the chairmanship of Kiplagat when we talked to them. Besides, they have also argued against healing and reconciliation through a truth commission.

Mohammed Khamis who lost his father and other family members says truth and healing will come when the perpetrators lead the way in owning up to the shame of Wagalla. He says the TJRC should count out the people of Wagalla if Kiplagat does not come out clean.

“Let him come out and say the truth and we will participate. If indeed he took part, we will not have to punish him. All we need is the commission to lead the way,” he says.

Besides a truth commission, Kenya can order an independent judicial examination into the massacre and undertake trials using international law. It can also seek UN avenues in form of special tribunal.

Also, a dispute can be taken to the World Court by an independent state accusing Kenya of gross human rights violations in Wagalla. A crime against humanity suit can also be filed in any country which allows such suits among them Belgium.

Ends………/.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Wagalla: The airstrip of death



By NZAU MUSAU

THE heat here is unrelenting, the breeze of the unending plains overly dry and the vibrations about the place metal-heavy; Wagalla air strip smells of death.

Tucked deep in the bushes about 15 kilometers from Wajir town, the now ghostly air strip bears a permanent shame, an eye sore to the surrounding community whose men were butchered there 26 years ago.

The drive to the air strip was a silent-meditative one apart from the coughs and sneezes of Abdissack Noor, a survivor of the Wagalla massacre who as he told a police officer manning the road-block near the facility was “going to visit our grave.”

“It’s good to visit your grave once in a while, you know,” he sarcastically added as the near-stubborn cop attempted to comprehend the surprise visit.

“Welcome to Wagalla, the place of our affliction,” he announced as the car took a left turn and sped through a grassy unkempt path leading to the airstrip.

We appeared into the main of the air strip just as a caravan of camels was passing by the supposed runway of the now used as short-cut from far-away watering holes.

“We filled up this entire area,” he says while pointing to a squared of about hundred by a hundred meters, the supposed parking area where in his estimation, about 5000 men were held incommunicado for about four days.

He points to a collapsing double roomed house and a row of unutilized latrines on the right: “These ones were not there; they were put up around 1998 as part of the wider corruption of sinking monies into ghost projects.”

On that fateful morning of February 10, 1984, Noor then aged 19 woke up a little late at 9 in the morning to see trucks ferrying men into the air strip. It didn’t strike him that something strange was on until he was told to head there.

He would later regret this move as he was welcomed into the air strip with kicks and blows and just in time as all the men were being stripped naked and made to lie facing the burning gravel beneath.

“On 13th, people started dying. We either would push the dead aside or would sleep on them to get some cold. Dying of thirst, people began to drink urine and the commotion began,” he recounts.

When push came to shove, some brave men broke off the dragnet and started running towards one of the fences which was razor sharp and which had soldiers manning from strategic points.

“As the most the men ran towards that side with bullets hailing after them, I took the opportunity to run in the opposite direction and hid beneath the many military trucks parked there,” he said pointing to a corner near the entrance.

He later slipped through the fence and while staggering in the bush, crossed a straying goat: “I grabbed hold of it, stabbed it hard with a stick in the stomach and drank of its water. I later slithered into my burning village where I was fed and restored to life.”

By this time, the shame of Wagalla had spread and on 14th the following day, a military plane was seen hovering above the air strip after which trucks started ferrying the dead and the dying men in different directions.

“This is where they burned away all the clothes,” he points to a dark-soiled spot with evident signs of a huge bonfire:

“And this is the blood on the runway, one which has failed to fade despite the denial and lapse of time,” he says pointing to dark pebbles of murram which are distinct from the rest.

“Our blood has refused to dry and not the time, not the elements and certainly not the denials will wash it away until our dignity as a people is restored and acknowledged,” he says.

Many of his friends, he avers, died on this very spot. In his own estimation, out of the around 5000 detained here, only about 2000 may have survived. And many of these 2000 are still dying of after-effects, he says.

He says that for about 18 years until 2002, the mention of Wagalla was bound to land one in jail. The Narc administration however lifted this unofficial ban of Wagalla talk and Noor alongside other survivors drafted a petition against the government.

“The then justice minister Kiraitu Murungi acknowledged Wagalla’s shame but beyond that, he did nothing on our petition…. Nothing!” he says.

Holding his arms akimbo and dimming his eyes away from the sweltering sun, Noor shakes his head and in a silent withdrawn voice mourns; “It’s painful to be back here after all that I saw happen.”

He says although there is no way the people who suffered and died in their air strip can be given their human dignity and lives back, they can be compensated to a reasonable measure.

“I would want to see a monument with all the names of victims and survivors put in place here. I would want this air strip reclaimed and used for the benefit of the people of Wagalla,” he says.

For Mohammed Khamis who lost both his dad and hordes of relatives in the air strip, nothing short of government’s own acknowledgement of the shame, publicization of this shame and holding into account the perpetrators will hold.

So bitter is Khamis that for some unexplained reasons which he tells me “is a long story,” left the police force and opted to live in his village.

“It is a situation where you either commit suicide or revenge and we opted as a people to keep our sorrow to ourselves knowing somehow someday, justice will come to us,” he says.

He cannot understand why no one has been held to account for the Wagalla shame when most of those who authorized the massacre are still alive and enjoying the benevolence of the state.

He says he has a special message to the rest of Kenyans who held their silence as the people of Wagalla were butchered: “Today is me, tomorrow is you. All of us must learn to defend and seek justice.”

Sidebar: An orphan’s anger, Mohammed Khamis

“I remember the events as though it was yesterday. I was in class one at the moment and on this particular day- Friday 10th, February 1984, I was preparing to go to school.

The military men landed in our compound and I saw them butt-stabbing my dad; they took him away alongside all the men of this village. That was the last time I saw him, dead or alive.

Our entire village was razed down and many women raped; we all moved to another place called Qorai where we lived as refugees for some time until we re-built our homes once again.

We never got back our dead although we know they were killed. The disappearance of the bodies has stalled our lives because according to our customs, we need to bury them honorably to move on.

Without a descent burial for my dad, there have been no formulae to proceed with in life and that is why up to this day, even as an ex-police officer, I have no sense of ownership in this place.

Our society was disorganized in the one fell swoop and the vacuum left is unmistakable. For instance look at this plot, it has been here for the last 35 years and look at its state… no development!

These are the effects of disintegrating a community which was new to the world of education by exterminating its bread winners, the pillars of the society.

Ours has been a situation where you either have to commit suicide or revenge. We have chosen to keep it to ourselves knowing that justice must come in the end of it all.

In the mean time, we have resorted to giving out the truth to those who care. I expect attempts to silence me in this venture because the people who killed our fathers and raped our sisters are alive.

The entire line of command and its structure is intact; these people are known and they know nothing will happen to them. That is why can afford to talk quite honorably in megaphones about this and that.

My feeling is that we will speak about this until we die and even then, the next generation will take over. We do not care much if we are giving this information to our enemies or friends because it is the truth.

I want to tell Kenyans to be brave enough to seek and defend justice through out their borders. Kenyans were there when this happened to us. They know what happened to us and they have a duty to pursue our justice.

We also have a question for the people of Kenya; we demonstrated right here in Wajir when Uganda attempted to take over Migingo, why haven’t you ever demonstrated in our cause?

We do not expect an answer but we want to say this; today it’s us, tomorrow it’s you!”


Ends……………../.