Leila: Being in Somalia in search of a story and my life as a newsroom crime buster

NAIROBI, Kenya, Mar 25- My name is Leila Mohammed.

Nobody believes that a woman in a hijab can choose to cover some of the worst moments that humanity can pose on the human race. 

Sometimes I tend to believe this journey chose me. Why? Maybe someday I may get that answer, but what I know is that I have learnt to appreciate much that many take for granted with each passing day.

Some days are great, while others drop me to the bottom of a dark pit, after seeing, hearing, and recording man’s darkest craft, that is crime, or terror that my mind keeps an imprint of, maybe like a reminder of where I have been.

I have always loved radio since my childhood. 

My mama carried the gadget everywhere in the house and spent hours on end listening to everything from entertainment content, the news, or her favorite – football….and since I am the baby of the family, I tugged behind her, listening as I played and I guess that’s where my love for this craft began.

It wasn’t until I got the chance to practise journalism that I knew that , this wasn’t all glamour and fame, but I had to put in the work and earn my stripes just like everyone else.

But this isn’t sometimes a job for the faint hearted, It is cut throat, just like any other competitive field and the narrative that you are as good as your last story is a guiding principle that I walk with every single day in this journey.

With the added pressure of being on top of my game at all times, the decision to try out security as a beat that has been untouched by many women in my newsroom, came and I still feel it is a surprise to many male colleagues.

Even then, there has been a male editor who believed in my ability to cover a country that even men fear, but sometimes the best stories are the ones that most will not want to venture into. 

Somalia, for me, was a beautiful experience and a scary one in equal measure. I waited until I was boarding the flight to Mogadishu before calling my mum that I will be spending the next ten days flying around that country, in search of a story. 

I can remember her pause, that felt like an eternity ….She just asked me to be safe and come home even though I could hear and feel her fear.

But I went and came back. As the single civilian female in the group, it was a chance to learn from my colleagues, teach them a thing or two and do my best to get the best story out for my audiences once back in Nairobi.

Looking back, that began a new journey for me to not only look at security as local crime, but see a bigger picture that connects security, diplomacy, human rights, and people in one sentence.

Over time, Defence has become a point of interest in my reporting journey, how do they think, work, plan, breathe, how do their decisions and choices affect Kenya and its neighbors. 

And then there’s internal security…I have also gone down this road, and seen how man can kill, at will and show no emotion, how those actions affect families and how the slow turning wheels of justice can make or break those affected by crime.

Then there are those who steal not physically, but using their position to rip the taxpayer off of their hard earned money. 

In 2018  and 2019, the country was witnessing a new sheriff in town dealing with the proverbial big fish of corruption. The Directorate of Criminal Headquarters was my home for a while.

The zeal of big names being arrested soon fades, with endless court sessions that sometimes have taken years, to be completed.

I guess I’ll be following corruption cases in court for some time, at this rate.

But while crime cases mostly happen in the communities, You never come close to death like in a political gathering where all hell can break loose at any moment.

Nobody can prepare you for the eventualities that come in a highly charged event where politicians and their supporters chose to take on the cops, in their full regalia.

November 2017 was one such month, where at one moment I would walked away from it all and decided to choose a different career, however I learnt that sometimes there are bad days in the office for everyone.

A journey that takes upto an hour if there is heavy traffic took an entire day. I have never inhaled so much teargas, cried so much or even lied on the ground  trying to evade either a bullet or a hail of stone being thrown at the police.

The after effects and the damage caused that Friday, was still my responsibility to cover the next day. Seeing men lose livelihoods, loved ones, lifelines and just a city in chaos isn’t easy.

The down part is that while telling such a story, the reality of not appeasing emotions on either side of the divide is almost impossible. 

To date, I still have contacts of fathers of daughters killed by police bullets, men whose entire businesses were burnt or destroyed who still say they find it hard to pick up the pieces of what such events did to them, and I still shed a tear every time a man in uniform is killed by the actions of a terrorist, because unlike the rest of us, they run into the line of fire.

Many might have a different view, but once you begin covering terror and talk to young people who had everything going for them, and how they let it all go, just because they were convinced that that decision was a good one, is still a tragedy in my mind.

The face of terror has changed, its now a younger, talented, bubbly, educated and socially active person. Who is the darling of the crowd, mostly ambitious, one who can be undetected in a crowd. 

Many have chosen to become jihadi brides, while others have lost their lives while taking away the lives of others in a most inhumane way.

I will never fully understand their choices or actions, but I will continue to seek their reasons, whenever I can. 

It is always saddening talking to parents whose kids’ decisions have made them persons of interest by the state.

Many say that all they wanted in life was to give their kids the very best, but all that has gone down the drain.

It is scary to speak to young men who have willingly decided that to ‘kill in God’s name’ is the best way at getting the other side’s respect.

Even before their parents, the coldness in their eyes, sends chills down my spine every time I remember such conversations.

If I could change things for their parents, I wouldn’t hesitate, but I can’t, so the best I can is to tell their story and hope that somebody out there listens and learns from those mistakes made.

My journey hasn’t been conventional, and I wouldn’t want it any different. I wouldn’t change the decisions I have made, good or bad.

They have shaped me as a human being, woman, and continue to influence the decisions I make when I wear the many hats that I wear everyday, that have to gel smoothly with my journalism craft.

I continue to learn, every day. I am in awe of many women in this field both nationally and on the international front.

Sometimes I embody Christian Amanpour, Arwa Damon, and set my sights to the levels they have achieved.

And other times, I liken myself to Stellah Cherono, Purity Mwambia, Asha Mwilu and the many young women who play a key role in highlighting the stories of the inner communities where many are unable to walk into.

If I begin counting how much women have shaped my career, I will run out of space and the same can be said about how the men have challenged, nurtured and guided my journey with each story.

I don’t know what tomorrow brings, but today is here, yesterday is done and I keep walking and picking myself up with every fall.

Leila Mohammed is a member of the Crime Journalists Association of Kenya and a Crime and Human Rights Journalist reporting for NTV-Kenya.