Why I support radical police reforms

By Prof Abdiwahab Abdisamad

The murder of Arshad Sharif, a well-known Pakistani investigative journalist, struck me personally. Every aspect of the misadventures surrounding the murder appears familiar. Mr. Arshad sought safety in Kenya but left our country in a coffin with a bullet lodged in his skull from police officers no less; this not only turns our police into murderous gangs, but it also damages the image of Kenyans overseas and scares prospective tourists and asylum seekers who will find our nation hostile.

At one time, I was a target of that lethal police unit; I was intended to “disappear” or be killed, my corpse dismembered and then dumped in one of the forest or river. I count myself lucky to have survived that horror and live to tell my story – I was firmly warned by my captors at the time of my release that I refrain from discussing my captivity, or they would come after me.

Arshad Sharif’s case and mine appear to have some similarities, as we were both targeted by foreign entities that infiltrated Kenyan security agencies. I was plucked from a busy street in the heart of Nairobi’s commercial district, whereas Mr. Arshad was killed on a busy roadway, which points to the audacity of the kill unit. 

Neither my abductors nor Mr. Arshad’s killers have been identified, and it is doubtful they will ever be identified or brought to justice for their crimes. Although the number of Kenyans killed by police is in the hundreds, the rate of prosecutions is almost nonexistent, which is an indictment of the Independent Policing and Oversight Authority.

The Police Reform Working Group in Kenya has documented 1,264 killings and 237 enforced disappearances since 2018. These are frightening statistics, and it is difficult to comprehend what these victims’ families are going through. If 1,264 people have been killed in four years, we can only grasp the extent of the issue and the number of people who may have been killed during the previous regime’s reign over the last decade.

As I’m a victim of enforced disappearance, I am aware of what it is like to be in the hands of the kill unit. I was abducted for twelve days and detained in a brightly lit room. My ordeal put me in such a state of anxiety that I could not consume solid food. 

Today, for the first time, I provide a detailed account of my unlawful and unjustifiable kidnapping and demonstrate the anguish, trauma, and injustice that people subjected to enforced disappearances go through.

My abduction and detention  

It was supposed to be a routine day for me. On September 8, 2021, I was strolling down Tubman Road at Koinange street heading for a meeting. Suddenly, four muscular men approached me and started forcefully taking me into a different vehicle while claiming to be police officers. I resisted the arrest while requesting that they show me identification to prove they were police officers; they refused and pushed me into their car.

I started yelling and screaming on the street as they pushed me towards their vehicle, and a crowd started forming around us. After a protracted struggle, they subdued me by practically knocking me out, and placed me in a double cabin vehicle that later, I was told, had the license plates KCW 341Y.

Approximately half an hour later, the vehicle stopped, and I was led out. At this time, I was cuffed and blindfolded. I was led up a building; I counted eleven flights of stairs.

They brought me into a little room that, to the best of my recollection, measured around 4 feet by 6 feet, with a camera and a loudspeaker installed on the ceiling. My abductors removed my blindfold and cuffs; the room was painted black and had no windows. It had a worn-out navy blue mattress and threadbare blanket. Before the lights were switched off, I noticed chain screwed to the wall.  

At around 2 pm, three men came to me and escorted me to an office just outside the room. One of the men was a trained medical professional who saw that I had injured my knee – during my abduction, I had fell and injured myself while I struggled with my captors. The doctor sprayed something on my knee and gave me pain medication.

The two officers then began questioning me. They asked was if I was a legal Kenyan citizen, where I was born, where I grew up, where I attended school, and what level of education I had. They also asked about my family members. I responded to each question without hesitation. During subsequent interrogations, I was randomly blindfolded but sometimes they let me look at them.

One day, I was notified that I would be interrogated by high-profile officers who did not want to be identified and had to be blindfolded. On that day, I was asked whether I had a personal differences with the prime minister of Somalia, Hussein Roble. I told them I did not know him personally and had only seen him on television.

They asked why I opposed him if I did not know him. They added that they had been monitoring my articles in the local newspapers, my tweets, and my interviews with TV stations. I told them I was against him because he is naïve, inexperienced, and unfit for office. They then asked why I supported Mohammed Abdullahi Farmajo, then President of Somalia. I answered that he was the best among the worst, which was why I supported his policies. 

Next, they wanted my views on Jubaland becoming part of Kenya. I said that would be a blessing from God – I noted that Jubaland’s population of 7 million, added to Kenya’s 4 million Somalis, would make Somalis the largest tribe in the country, which would likely give Kenya its first Somali president. 

They asked me about my media articles, political beliefs, and why I supported Abiy Ahmed. I told them the TPLF was a regional menace; they were in power for 27 years but have done nothing but create havoc in the region since the new government took over. They asked me about my support for Eritrea leader Isaias Afwerki, and I told them that he has been instrumental in dealing with TPLF, which made him a hero in my eyes.  

For the whole time I was in custody, I was sleep deprived. My captors questioned me randomly and even threatened to kill me. 

My release 

After 12 days, which felt like years, I was released on condition that I wouldn’t sue, that I would keep away from Ethiopia and Somalia affairs, and not speak to the media regarding my abduction. Later that evening, at about 8 pm, I was handcuffed and led out of my cell; I was convinced they were going to kill me. I was somewhere I would learn was Mombasa Road, given Sh2,000 and told I was free to go. I hired a boda boda and asked him to take me home. 

Psychological trauma 

My mental health suffered. My abductors would enter my cell randomly, and each time I assumed they had come to kill me; it was a horrible experience. 

My life hasn’t been the same; the abduction changed my life. I lost weight, a knee fracture I developed continues to trouble me, I have trouble sleeping, and I live in dread to the point where I can’t walk alone, and I have to be home by 5 pm. I can’t leave the house before 9 am or go to pray at the mosque without company. 

It should worry every Kenyan that they may be a victim of these rogue security elements — considering that the killers of Arshad and those who abducted me have done this for money. It should be the job of everyone to ensure no other Kenyan endures what I went through. 

Very few people have escaped the kill unit’s clutches, and I am lucky to be among that number. I am writing this article with the understanding that they can still come after me and kill me since I broke the rules they gave me, which was never to discuss my case. 

According to credible sources, former Somali Prime Minister Mohammed Hussein Roble was behind my kidnapping and paid a princely sum to have me killed. Mohamed Nur, a minister of internal security in Somalia in Roble’s government, delivered the money. 

Upon my release, I was told to alert key figures of the Somali community in Kenya, among them lawyers Ahmednasir Abdullahi SC, Ahmed Sheikh Aden, and Former deputy speaker Farah Maalim to cease their activity of supporting Farmaajo and going against Roble.

They instructed me to inform them that their actions were being monitored, and if they did not cease, they would be placed in the same cell as I had been, or even worse.

Way forward 

President William Ruto’s government has promised to end extrajudicial killing by, among others, restructuring the management of security in the nation. He has already set the ball rolling by disbanding the dreaded Special Service Unit (SSU). This comes as the National Police Service prepares for reorganization under the new administration. 

While such an acknowledgment is a good point to start, more needs t to happen to assure Kenyans of fair treatment by the police. For instance, a commission of inquiry would be meet to bring all those responsible for past arbitrary arrests and killings to justice. 

Rogue police are a danger to the lives of Kenyans. We need a radical approach to police reforms, including completely reconstituting the command structures, installing strict accountability mechanisms, retraining all police officers on their functions and the rule of law, and removing political control by establishing an independent selection commission for ranking officers. 

In Georgia, Mikheil Saakashvili, who became president in 2004, fired all police officers for ‘functioning like criminal gangs’ — police officers demanded bribes, trafficked narcotics, and weapons, and worked for political and business elites as a mercenary security force. Mikhail’s police reforms made the Georgian force one of the best in the world to date. This is a course of action I recommend.

Lastly, we must prosecute, without fear or favour, all police officers found to have engaged in extrajudicial abductions and killings. Doing so would not be unprecedented; for example, in Argentina, special police and military units were responsible for the disappearance and death of at least 9,000 people. In 1987, the Alfonsin administration went after the rogue elements and convicted them.

My only goal is a secure environment for myself, my family, and every Kenyan. I want accountability for police actions – and a country where no Kenya ever has to fear being harmed by police officers.