Nuruddin Farah - Crossbones

“And who were, or are, the invaders?”

“They came from as far away as Europe, Japan, Russia, Korea, China, in vessels flying foreign flags — Belize, Kenya, Liberia, or Barbados,” Fidno says. “They arrived armed, too, prepared for war, their speedboats at the ready whenever Somali fishermen reacted. And when they fished they made use of methods banned worldwide. In addition, they dumped nuclear, chemical, and other wastes on our coast. They never attempted to engage the Somalis in any meaningful dialogue. And they were unconcerned about the damage they were doing to the fishing environment. When Somalis complained, the world turned a deaf ear to our protestations.”

“Is that when you entered the scene?”

“That’s when I entered the scene as an avenger.”

Ahl has difficulty here. He likes Fidno, whom he finds fascinating as one does a villain enacting his misdeeds elsewhere. Yet there is a part of Ahl that can’t take to Fidno wholly or accept his claims at face value. He seems more likely to have arrived on the scene as a financier with a nose for profit rather than as a nationalist hero. Maybe his judgment is colored by the previous brushes with professional misconduct that Fidno has described.

“What was the first boat you helped them take?”

“It was a Kenya-registered trawler fishing in Somali waters, nearly a thousand nautical miles from Mombasa,” Fidno says. But suddenly he is stumbling over his consonants, as though he has sprouted a forked tongue, the fork that tells the truth unable or unwilling to coordinate with the fork that tells the lie.

“Where did you get the money?”

“An uncle on my mother’s side lent it to me.”

“Does this man have a name?”

“He’s known by his nickname, Ma-Gabadeh.”

There is fire in Fidno’s eyes at the mention of the name. It is as if a lamp has come on, lighting the peripheries of his irises. Ahl hopes the light stays. It complements his mischievous grin, and he looks cheerful. Ahl asks, “Is it your honest view that the Somalis aren’t pirates?”

“It is,” Fidno responds, the light not yet gone.

Ahl says, “Tell me why you hold this view when the rest of the world thinks otherwise?”

Until now Fidno has not smoked in Ahl’s presence, but now he makes the gesture of a smoker flicking ash from the end of his cigarette, then issues sucking noises from his lips, as if inhaling smoke from a cigar. He says, “Let us separate the two questions. First, why do I argue that Somalis cannot be accurately described as pirates? Because pirates take pride in living outside the law and in pursuit of loot. Their presence invokes fear as a consequence of their crude treatment of their hostages. Theirs are stories of adventure, tyranny, mutiny, and they sail the wide seas, having no respect for borders. They stalk a ship for days, waiting for the right moment to attack. They fly false flags to dupe or conceal their intentions. They surprise their victims and then disappear without leaving behind a trace. These features describe the foreign invaders of our seas, but not the Somalis. The Somalis operate for the most part in their own seas. They torture no one, they harm no one, kill no one, not even their hostages, and they do not conceal their identities. It leaves me with a sour taste to listen to the aspersions circulated about us. We are cast as villains of the piece, and no one listens to our side of the story.”

Ahl asks, “What of the millions given as ransom?”

“For starters,” Fidno says, “what makes you believe that the ‘pirates’ receive millions of dollars as ransom?”

“Don’t they?”

“That’s why I want to talk to a journalist.”

“You’re not saying that they don’t?”

Fidno says, “I would compare the pirates to pickpockets.”

Ahl recalls a number of interviews with crews and captains of the hijacked vessels in which there was talk often of the pirates pilfering away their watches, their jackets, their telephones, and other small items. If Fidno is arguing that the pirates risk their lives for a pittance and do not receive millions of dollars as ransom, then it stands to reason that he compares them to pickpockets. After all, anyone making giant killings from taking tankers captive is unlikely to resort to pilfering. Unless the person is a kleptomaniac.

“Even though the amount that a man picking pockets makes on his best day may be more than a beggar’s,” Fidno says, “I know of no pickpocket who has become a millionaire. The Somalis receive little from the takings.” Fidno pauses and then reiterates, “This is why I wish to speak to a journalist.”

Fidno now has his nicotine-hungry look focused on the waiter, who is smoking nearby. As he takes the cue at last, Ahl orders a packet of cigarettes. Why, he thinks, if Fidno or the pirates were flush with money, would he need a near stranger to buy him a meal or a packet of cigarettes?

When he has lit his cigarette and taken a huge cloud of smoke into his lungs, Fidno continues. “In the absence of a central sovereign state, the community is the authority. Initially, the fishermen had the endorsement of the coastal communities that suffered at the hands of the invading foreign vessels.”

“What percentage of the ransom did the community receive from those early adventures?” Ahl asks.

“Initially, the community received a lot.”

“And lately?”

“Almost none.” Fidno starts another cigarette.

“One question for my benefit,” Ahl says. “Why would the UN Security Council pass a resolution authorizing countries to contribute to an anti-piracy coalition if this august body is aware that these same countries are fishing illegally and in an unregulated manner in the waters of Somalia?”

“Because the UN is at the service of the powerful veto-wielding countries that fund its programs and pay its electricity bills, the salaries of its staff,” Fidno replies.

“What’s in it for the nations footing the anti-piracy bills?” Ahl wants to know. “What do they expect to gain from their financial commitments?”

Fidno observes, “You might well ask.”

Ahl says, “Is there truth to the media reports that insurers enjoying the support of European governments cite rampant piracy as a compelling reason for creating private navies to take on the Somalis?”

Fidno says, “Basically, a number of the nations contributing to the anti-piracy outfits or setting up private navies are keen either on safeguarding the ability of their vessels to fish illegitimately in our seas, or they are hunting down Al Qaeda.”

“Your reply may not wash with others,” Ahl says.

Fidno announces unnecessarily loudly that he is off to the bathroom.

Alone and sipping his coffee, Ahl jots down notes, aware that he will need to convince Malik that it is worth his while to interview Fidno. The stark reality, the dire conditions of most Somalis, the absence of food and environmental security, the never-ending conflict: each of these will have an impact on the future. From this perspective, Ahl views the future as one might view a troubled country marked by despoliation, devastation, and more poverty.

When Fidno returns, he orders another coffee and says, “It is your turn to tell truths. Why are you here?”

Ahl reminds himself that he has the right to edit his story, censoring portions of it and altering its general thrust for his own privacy as well as for Taxliil’s and Malik’s safety. However, he’ll tell enough of it to stoke the fire of Fidno’s curiosity. For now.

“I am in Puntland for a family reason.”

Fidno says, “We’re trading truths. Remember.”

Ahl is about to elaborate on what has brought him here, when he suddenly feels ill at ease. He sits still and unspeaking for a long while, disturbed, his lips atremble, his breathing uneven, and his heart beating nervously faster. But then he senses Taxliil’s presence stalking him and prowling in the outer reaches of his conscience. When he infers that Taxliil wants him to trade his truth with his man, his resolve firms up. What is there to lose?