In brief
Guled Diriye, a 29-year-old smuggler from Mogadishu, shares his harrowing experiences navigating treacherous routes to ferry alcohol from Ethiopia to Somalia. With poverty driving his choices and the threat of violence ever-present, Diriye exemplifies the complex realities facing many in a war-torn economy as they engage in illicit trades to survive.
In the heart of Mogadishu, a once-thriving city rapidly poisoned by conflict, 29-year-old Guled Diriye embodies the stark realities of life as an alcohol smuggler. After a grueling journey back from the Ethiopian border, Diriye sinks into a chair in his battered colonial-style villa, exhausted. His feet, caked in the harsh orange dust of the desert, tell the tale of the peril he faces daily while traversing the dangerous, lawless roads.“Everyone is struggling in this country,” he acknowledges with a heavy sigh, reflecting on how the burgeoning demand for alcohol - forbidden under Sharia law - has driven him to smuggle. The actor behind his choice is not just economic necessity, but survival, as he supports his family in a climate where traditional Jobs like minibus driving have dwindled, supplanted by the rise of rickshaws.Diriye's foray into smuggling began when a childhood friend, Abshir, introduced him to this dangerous but lucrative trade. “I didn’t realize it at first, but this was my introduction into smuggling,” he recalls, leading him on a path through sprawling Somali towns rife with clan militias and checkpoints manned by armed men.Although he is cognizant of the illegality of his activities, the dire state of the economy overshadows his concerns. The smuggling route winds through towns such as Abudwak and Galdogob, primarily drawing alcohol from Ethiopia’s capital, Addis Ababa, before it is funneled into the heart of Somalia.While tribal elders like Sheikh Abdalla Mohamed Ali lament the alcohol-related violence plaguing their towns, Diriye reveals the bulging profit margins of his endeavors. “When the truck is loaded up, it’s filled with whatever I’m transporting, but I make the most money from the alcohol on board,” he admits. Concealing the contraband is critical, and the loaders’ skill can mean the difference between success and capture.The trade is not without its hazards. Diriye recalls a traumatic incident where a colleague was gunned down by militants during their transport, an event that still haunts him. “I’ve never seen so much blood in my life,” he says somberly, recounting how he had to continue driving with the body of his friend in the back.Dahir Barre, another smuggler who has operated in this underworld since 2015, shares that despite the escalating dangers brought on by intensified conflicts and stricter enforcement by groups like al-Shabab, profits have increased significantly, though this has also meant higher stakes, as smugglers continue to operate in an environment laden with threats.With the journey to Mogadishu often taking over a week, the smugglers have devised intricate networks and strategies to ensure their success. Yet, many like Diriye and Barre are painfully aware that the game could end in violence at any moment.Amid their struggle for survival, Diriye reflects on the potential paths not taken: “Sometimes, I want to throw the keys on the table and start afresh, but it’s not that easy. Temptation is everywhere and so is poverty.” The weight of his choices hangs heavy as he forges on, driven by a potent mix of despair and desperation in a country shaped by conflict.
