‘It was either killed or be killed’ – ongoing nightmares of an ex-child soldier in Somalia

'It was either killed or be killed' - ongoing nightmares of an ex-child soldier in Somalia

It was either killed or be killed - Yusuf Ali, now a shopkeeper in his early thirties, continues to grapple with the haunting echoes of his time as a child soldier in Mogadishu. Nearly two decades after the Islamist insurgency began, the city’s streets remain scarred by memories of violence. Yet, despite progress in rebuilding its infrastructure, few efforts are directed toward healing the psychological wounds of those like Ali, who were once forced into the fray. The article contains descriptions that may evoke distress in some readers.

The Rise of Political Islam in Somalia

In 2006, a coalition of Sharia courts seized control of Somalia’s capital, bringing a semblance of order to a nation plagued by clan-based violence since the fall of President Siad Barre’s regime in 1991. This marked a pivotal moment, as the Union of Islamic Courts (UIC) became the first political Islamist movement to gain significant traction on the African continent since al-Qaeda’s attacks on the United States in 2001. U.S. officials, however, viewed the UIC with suspicion, alleging its links to extremist networks.

The UIC’s military arm, al-Shabab, emerged as a symbol of resistance against foreign influence and secular governance. The group’s name, translating to "The Lads," reflected its youthful energy and radical ideology. When Ethiopian troops invaded Somalia in December 2006, they did so with the backing of American drone surveillance, aiming to dismantle the Islamic coalition within months. The operation, though initially successful, sparked fierce backlash among locals, who saw it as an intrusion on their sovereignty.

A Traumatic Childhood in the Shadow of War

Ali’s story begins in the early years of this turmoil. At the age of one, his father perished in the "Battle of Mogadishu," a pivotal moment in the country’s history when Somali fighters clashed with U.S. soldiers after two Black Hawk helicopters were shot down. Growing up without a parent, Ali’s life was shaped by the relentless violence that followed. The Ethiopian invasion in 2006 intensified the chaos, plunging Mogadishu into a new phase of urban warfare.

During those dark months, Ali found himself caught in the crossfire of a brutal conflict. "At night, I’d often hear a buzzing sound. I was in secondary school and didn’t realise it then, but these were planes surveilling our neighbourhood," he recalls. The relentless shelling of civilian areas, suspected of harboring rebels, created a climate of fear. One night, the bombardment reached his home, shaking the ground and leaving him with a visceral memory of screams and destruction.

"On one of the nights, a large barrage of shells hit our area and some of them struck our neighbour's house. Our house shook and I felt like the soil under my feet had moved—then I started hearing screams," Ali says. "That was when I saw a lifeless body. Someone aimed a torch and I saw blood stains and a body lying nearby. It was a young girl, around my age, but she wasn’t moving. I’ve seen death, but nothing prepared me for that night."

The family fled to Elasha Biyaha, a district northwest of Mogadishu, which became a temporary haven for displaced civilians. However, many young people, including boys Ali’s age, were drawn back to the city, eager to join the fight against what they called "Gaalo"—a Somali term for infidels, referring to non-Muslims. The mosques, through fiery sermons, rallied the community to resist foreign troops, fueling a sense of patriotic duty.

Training and the Battle for Survival

Ali joined the Muqawama, a coalition of splinter groups that opposed the Ethiopian occupation. The group included former military officers who had once served under the Somali government. "They trained us in small arms fire… We practised hit-and-run attacks," he explains. At 16, he was thrust into the heart of the conflict, armed with weapons but without pay, living among fellow fighters in a shared existence of danger and camaraderie.

His duties took him across the city, where he and his comrades targeted both Ethiopian and Somali soldiers. "Street by street, from windows and doorways, we were firing on Ethiopian soldiers and the Somali soldiers with them," he recounts. The intensity of the battle left him questioning his actions. "At times I’d find myself shooting… and as we advanced, we noticed a dead Somali soldier who was around my age. I paused but then would keep moving because the fighting was so intense."

"It was either killed or be killed—and this was a cause we were willing to die for," Ali says. The phrase, etched into his mind, became a mantra of survival. Those who fought alongside Ethiopian forces were labeled traitors for "betraying their country," a charge that fueled the animosity between factions.

The Aftermath of Ruin and Resilience

By 2007, Mogadishu had been largely reduced to rubble. The city’s once-thriving neighborhoods were now battlegrounds, and its people lived in constant fear. Ethiopia, supported by the U.S., faced mounting criticism for its role in the conflict. Despite its military successes, the invasion drew international scrutiny, with accusations of collateral damage and human rights abuses.

Ali’s experiences mirror the broader trauma of Somalia’s youth. Once children, they were transformed into warriors, forced to confront death in ways that left lasting scars. The transitional government, which had been recognized by the United Nations and Western nations, struggled to maintain control amid the violence. For Ali, the war was not just a backdrop to his life—it became the defining chapter of his identity.

Though the conflict has ebbed in recent years, the psychological aftermath lingers. Yusuf Ali’s nightly flashbacks to the chaos of 2006 remind him of the price paid for stability. The streets of Mogadishu, once vibrant with life, now echo with the memories of those who fought and fell. For many, the war remains a living reality, a cycle of violence that continues to shape their lives long after the battles have ended.