‘It was either killed or be killed’ – ongoing nightmares of an ex-child soldier in Somalia
Ex-Child Soldier's Trauma in Somalia: "It Was Either Killed or Be Killed"
The Political Shift and Emergence of Islamist Movements
It was either killed or be killed - When the Union of Islamic Courts (UIC) rose to power in Somalia two decades ago, it marked a seismic shift in the nation’s political and social fabric. This Islamist coalition, formed in 2006, seized control of Mogadishu, bringing a fragile semblance of order to a country plagued by clan-based conflicts since the collapse of Siad Barre’s regime in 1991. However, the UIC’s success was short-lived, as its military wing, al-Shabab, became a symbol of resistance against Ethiopian and Western interventions. The phrase "It was either killed or be killed" encapsulates the brutal reality faced by young Somalis during this period, when war and survival were inextricably linked.
Ali's Journey from Innocence to Armed Conflict
Yusuf Ali, now 34, recalls the chaos of his childhood with haunting clarity. Born into a fractured society, he witnessed the consequences of political instability from a young age. At one, his father fell during the "Battle of Mogadishu"—a pivotal moment in the 1993 U.S. military intervention that left the city in ruins. Yet, it was the Ethiopian invasion in late 2006 that thrust Ali into the role of a child soldier. At 16, he was armed with weapons and sent to fight in urban battles, a stark contrast to his earlier life of relative safety.
“The first time I held a gun, I didn’t know if it was for defense or death,” Ali says. “It was either killed or be killed—there was no middle ground. We were told to fight for our land, but every step felt like a gamble with our lives.”
This mantra, repeated by many Somali youths during the conflict, reflects the grim choices forced upon them. Ali’s story is emblematic of a generation torn between loyalty to their communities and the demands of war.
The Battle of Mogadishu: A Harrowing Experience
By 2007, Mogadishu had become a city of relentless violence. Ethiopian forces, supported by American drones, targeted al-Shabab strongholds, while Somali fighters retaliated with fierce determination. Ali’s memories of this time are vivid: the deafening explosions, the stench of smoke, and the sight of children like himself carrying the burden of war. “One night, shells rained on our neighborhood. I saw a girl my age lie still, her body pierced by bullets. I didn’t understand why she couldn’t run, but I learned quickly that fear was the only weapon we had,” he recalls.
The Muqawama coalition, a group of former military officers, played a crucial role in training and mobilizing young recruits. Ali was taught to fire at Ethiopian troops and Somali government forces alike, often unaware of the political divisions that drove the conflict. “We were told to trust the resistance, but sometimes we’d fire at our own people. It was either killed or be killed—no one could decide for us.” This paradox of loyalty and betrayal underscores the psychological toll on child soldiers.
Psychological Scars: The Lingering Impact of War
Even as the fighting subsided in the early 2010s, the trauma of war persisted. Ali, now a survivor, struggles with nightmares and anxiety, often reliving the moments when he had to make split-second decisions that could end a life. “I still hear the screams, see the bloodstains. The phrase 'It was either killed or be killed' isn’t just a memory—it’s a part of me.” His experience highlights how the violence of conflict imprints itself on the psyche, shaping the lives of those who lived through it.
Survivors like Ali face a dual battle: one against the physical scars of war and another against societal stigma. Many are forced to reintegrate into civilian life without support, struggling to find purpose in a world that once seemed so hostile. “People don’t understand what it’s like to be a soldier before you’re even a teenager. You’re torn between being a hero and a killer, all while surviving each day with the fear that today might be your last.” These words reveal the complexity of identity for ex-child soldiers, who are often caught between duty and despair.
The Legacy of Child Soldiers in Somali History
The Somali conflict has produced a legacy of child soldiers who carry the weight of their experiences long after the battles end. Ali’s story is not unique—thousands of young boys and girls were recruited by armed groups, including al-Shabab and the Transitional Federal Government, during the 2000s. The phrase "It was either killed or be killed" became a rallying cry for those who saw no other option but to fight. However, the long-term consequences of this practice are profound, leaving many with PTSD, physical disabilities, and a fractured sense of self.
Efforts to rehabilitate ex-child soldiers have gained momentum in recent years, with organizations working to provide education, counseling, and employment opportunities. Yet, the road to recovery is long. “I want to be a teacher, but I fear I’ll always carry the shadow of the war,” Ali admits. His hope for the future is a testament to the resilience of survivors, even as the echoes of their past continue to haunt them. The phrase "It was either killed or be killed" remains a powerful reminder of the sacrifices made during Somalia’s turbulent history.
As Somalia continues to rebuild, the voices of ex-child soldiers like Ali are vital in understanding the human cost of conflict. Their stories, filled with fear, loss, and survival, offer insight into the enduring impact of war on society. The phrase "It was either killed or be killed" is more than a mantra—it is a legacy that shapes the nation’s journey toward peace and healing.