adminWanjohi Kabukuru
EXACTLY 60 years ago, the British colonial government launched “Operation Anvil” in central Kenya, which mainly targeted the freedom fighters, who were mostly members of the Kikuyu community. Eighteen months earlier, a state of emergency had been declared in Kenya.
“Operation Anvil” was a military operation aimed at clamping down on the Mau Mau and taming members of the Kikuyu community.
This military operation brought together 4 000 British troops and their lackeys, the African Homeguard, in response to the Mau Mau uprising and rounded up more than 100 000 Kikuyu who were taken to various screening, detention, and concentration camps.
To historians, this is a footnote preserved in the vaults of the Kenya National Archives in Moi Avenue in Nairobi. To Kenyan security agencies, this is an active operational template.
In early April this year, scenes reminiscent of “Operation Anvil” were replayed in Eastleigh, a populous Somali neighborhood east of Nairobi’s central business district. While the circumstances, times, victims, and perpetrators were different, the echoes and actions were the same as those applied by the British six decades ago. Instead of the name “Operation Anvil,” the Kenyan police called theirs “Operation Usalama Watch “(Usalama is Swahili for safety), and deployed over 6 000 police and elite paramilitary officers, who targeted members of the Somali community only. This, the police claimed, was because select members of the Somali community were said to be linked to the myriad terror attacks in Kenya. According to local Somali leaders, “Operation Usalama Watch” nabbed over 4 000 members of the Somali community who were detained in the Safaricom Stadium for screening purposes.
The interior ministry later clarified that only 472 Somalis were detained for screening. By the time of going to press, more than 100 Somalis said to be illegal aliens had been deported to the Somali capital, Mogadishu.
This security operation was a reaction to a string of fatal attacks in Kenya by the Somali-based Islamist militant group, Al Shabaab. The operation has now turned Eastleigh from a bustling business locale to a slow and sleepy suburb.
Seven years ago, Eastleigh was an ideal shopping district for many Nairobians. New suits and dresses and basically every household item could be purchased there at affordable rates. Nicknamed “Little Mogadishu” owing to the influx of immigrants from Somalia, Eastleigh’s fame rose to dizzying heights. Around 2008, Eastleigh’s fortunes in terms of real estate began to change. Spanking new multi-storeyed malls, high end hotels, and classy apartments mushroomed in the neighbourhood.
Eastleigh’s changing landscape began to attract whispers tracing the investments back to Somalia and linking it to the then lucrative ransom money gleaned from piracy off the coast of Somalia.
In less than a decade, Eastleigh was rivaling the business acumen of Nairobi’s money markets in the central business districts.
But all this changed on October 16, 2011 when the Kenya Defence Forces (KDF) stormed into Somalia in pursuit of Al Shabaab, who had made daring kidnapping raids on Kenyan soil.
The KDF incursion into Somalia, codenamed “Operation Linda Nchi” (Swahili for operation defend the nation), was the ultimate redrawing of regional geo-politics and opened new threats to the Kenyan nation.
Eventually the KDF were absorbed into the African Union Peacekeeping Mission in Somalia (AMISOM), joining troops from Uganda, Djibouti, Ethiopia, Burundi, and Sierra Leone.
Since then a wave of revenge attacks claimed by Al Shabaab has become the norm in Kenya. And it is this Kenyan intervention which has bred an uneasy relationship with both Somali immigrants in Kenya and Kenyan citizens of Somali extraction. Eastleigh now has the diminished status of being known as “Little Mogadishu”.
Operation Backlash
The harsh treatment of the Somali community by the Kenyan security establishment has been roundly condemned by human rights groups, and Muslim and opposition leaders who have described it as a xenophobic and desperate security measure.
Other than the terrorism related attacks blamed on Somalis, a spate of violent crime in urban centres has also surged in recent weeks, not to mention increased radicalisation of Muslim youths.
Now the efficacy of Kenya’s intelligence services, lapses within the immigration and registration of persons department, and operational weaknesses across the entire Kenyan security apparatus, are being questioned.
For President Uhuru Kenyatta and his deputy William Ruto, both of whom have strongly defended the police operation in Eastleigh, it has been a difficult anti-climax.
“Operation Usalama Watch” coincided with their first anniversary in office, and because of their support for the police action, their political support in the largely Muslim Somali community is now shaky.
Last year, after Al Shabaab launched an audacious attack on the affluent Westgate shopping mall in Nairobi, killing scores of people, an unprecedented, nasty blame game ensued among the Kenyan police, intelligence services, immigration, and the military in the full glare of the media.
Hitherto classified security material was leaked to the press in a messy mish mash of finger-pointing, speaking of turf wars among the various security agencies.
Accusations of corruption have also been levelled against the security services.
After the Westgate attack, many people had expected a purge in the security services, but this never happened and the haunting seems to have kicked in.
President Kenyatta still retains the same security top brass he inherited from former president Mwai Kibaki.
The full repercussions of “Operation Usalama Watch” are yet to seep in, but signs that this security move was a political hot potato and ill-advised have begun to emerge. Aden Duale, who is the majority leader in parliament and been a vocal defender of the Kenyatta government, went against the grain when he accused the police of abetting the profiling of Muslims and Somalis.
Muslim politicians from the coast and northern Kenya, where the majority of the Kenyans of Somali origin are domiciled, have now closed ranks in condemning what they call the “xenophobic actions” of the police.
The sporadic terror attacks and increase in crime have besmirched Kenyatta’s young government and revealed serious lapses within Kenya’s security architecture.
“Operation Usalama Watch” has not only revealed Kenya’s imperial security hangover but has also vindicated human rights activists and critics of the government, who have been calling for a shakeup of the security services.
The historical similarity of “Operation Usalama Watch” to “Operation Anvil” has exposed the soft underbelly of the Kenyan security nexus, which seems beholden to colonial malpractices and abuses.
It has also posed a challenge to President Kenyatta’s administration to rethink and modernise the Kenyan security system in light of the emerging threats. — New African
Online Reporter