By Ismail H. Warsame – Warsame Digital Media (WDM)

A Deal Without Dignity: The Laascaanood Mirage

When President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud announced his anticipated visit to Laascaanood, many believed it would mark a historical reconciliation — a long-awaited recognition of SSC-Khatumo’s legitimacy after months of heroic resistance against Somaliland’s occupation. Yet, as the political smoke cleared, it became apparent that the visit was reduced to nothing more than a conditional charade.

The Damul Jadiid–Aaran Jaan machinery inside Villa Somalia — skilled in deception and transactional politics — has shifted the goalposts. The President’s trip is now tied to an irrelevant precondition: the release of Somaliland’s prisoners of war. This cynical twist insults the sacrifices of SSC-Khatumo’s fallen heroes and mocks the aspirations of its people who fought not for Hargeisa’s comfort but for self-determination within the Somali Republic.

Hassan Sheikh’s message is unmistakable: Laascaanood must submit, not be recognized.

SSC-Khatumo’s Strategic Miscalculation

SSC-Khatumo’s leadership, especially under Firdhiye, a student of illusionary and hate politics of late Dr Ali Khalif Galaydh, made a fatal error in judgment. They mistook flattery from Mogadishu’s Damul Jadiid circle for political partnership and fell into a trap that Puntland’s veterans have long warned against — trusting a regime that operates through manipulation, not conviction.

Their anti-Puntland posture, driven by emotional bitterness rather than strategic foresight, left them vulnerable to the very predators they thought were allies. The irony is tragic: in trying to outsmart Garowe, they empowered Villa Somalia’s worst operators — those who see Laascaanood not as a constituency but as a bargaining chip in their clan-based chessboard.

Let’s be blunt: SSC-Khatumo’s struggle risks being reduced to a token gesture in Hassan Sheikh’s fake “federal unity” narrative. Instead of a respected federal member state, Khatumo is being treated as a pawn to placate Hargeisa, while Mogadishu pretends to mediate peace.

Three Cardinal Errors of Khatumo Leadership

1. Anti-Puntland Obsession Over Realpolitik
In rejecting Puntland as a natural ally, SSC leaders allowed personal animosities and historical grievances to override geopolitical logic. Puntland shares not only kinship and geography but a federalist philosophy — a common cause that could have fortified SSC’s position. Instead, Khatumo became an isolated island, adrift between a cynical Mogadishu and a hostile Hargeisa.

2. Misreading the Somali Political Ecosystem
Khatumo leaders failed to map the Somali political terrain. They overestimated their leverage in Mogadishu and underestimated the entrenched Damul Jadiid network that thrives on exploiting divisions. In the zero-sum politics of the capital, loyalty is bought and sold — not earned through shared ideals.

3. Absence of Strategic Clarity and Statesmanship
Without a clear long-term vision, Khatumo leadership oscillates between reactive moves and sentimental declarations. They confuse media visibility for political capital and mistake empty gestures from the presidency for genuine recognition. Leadership requires cold calculation, not emotional improvisation.

The Reality: Hassan Sheikh’s “Recognition” Was Never on the Table

Hassan Sheikh’s promise to recognize SSC-Khatumo was a political mirage — a tactical bluff meant to neutralize SSC’s military momentum against Somaliland while keeping Puntland contained. By turning his visit conditional on POW releases, he signaled that Mogadishu’s loyalty still lies in appeasing Hargeisa, not empowering Laascaanood.

This is not federalism — it is deception packaged as diplomacy.
This is not recognition — it is slow strangulation by bureaucratic delay.

The Way Forward: Strategic Recalibration

SSC-Khatumo must stop confusing emotional satisfaction with political success. Recognition cannot be begged; it must be earned and enforced through leverage, unity, and clarity of purpose. The path forward demands three immediate actions:

Reconciliation with Puntland: A return to pragmatic cooperation with Garowe will restore SSC’s negotiating power.

Diplomatic Offensive: Engage regional and international partners independently — not through Mogadishu’s filters.

Internal Consolidation: Build governance structures that function, proving capability beyond the battlefield.

Conclusion: Hassan Sheikh’s Game, Khatumo’s Choice

In Somali politics, weakness is punished and disunity exploited. Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s ultimatum to Firdhiye is not about prisoners — it’s about power. Either SSC-Khatumo reclaims its agency by aligning with its natural allies, or it remains a convenient prop in Villa Somalia’s endless theatre of manipulation.

The choice is stark:
Stand tall with dignity — or kneel for a handshake that leads nowhere.

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WDM Editorial Note:
This essay is part of the ongoing “Somali Statehood and Betrayal” series by Ismail H. Warsame, documenting the moral, political, and strategic failures that shape contemporary Somali federalism.

© 2025 Warsame Digital Media (WDM)
All rights reserved.

WARSAME DIGITAL MEDIA (WDM)
Critical Analysis, Political Memoir, and Historical Truths

By Ismail H. Warsame

A Youth Caught in the Crossfire of a “Revolution”

In the turbulent year of 1969, I was a third-year student at Banadir Secondary School, Mogadishu—a young mind hungry for knowledge, unaware that my generation was about to be shackled by a regime that mistook silence for loyalty and fear for order. Somalia’s fragile democracy, the product of independence and hope, was abruptly assassinated—literally and politically. Only a week before the coup, President Abdirashid Ali Sharmarke had been gunned down in Laascaanood during an official visit. His death became the pretext for the military takeover led by General Mohamed Siyad Barre, whose so-called “Revolution” would soon metastasize into tyranny.

At Banadir, suspicion replaced innocence. A group of students, mostly from Mudug, were rounded up by military authorities, accused of being “anti-revolutionary”—a poisonous label invented to criminalize thought. Among the detainees was a student hailing from Borama, in the Northern Somalia, Abdisalam Omar Hadliye, later to become Somalia’s FGS Foreign  Minister. Their “crime”? Belonging to the wrong clan. The revolution’s mask of equality had already begun to slip, revealing its tribal face.

From Moscow’s Cold Winter to Barre’s Hot Fury

I completed high school in 1971 and earned a scholarship to the Soviet Union, where I studied Thermal Power Engineering in Minsk, Byelorussia. Those were intellectually vibrant years; Somalia still had diplomatic warmth with the USSR. But in 1977, when the Ogaden War erupted and the Soviets betrayed Somalia to side with Ethiopia, everything changed overnight. The military junta ordered all Somali students in the USSR to return home immediately.

Defiance was my first act of rebellion. I stayed behind to complete my master’s thesis—fully aware that my decision would place me on the regime’s blacklist. When I finally returned to Mogadishu, I was briefly detained at the airport and interrogated by the infamous Nur Bidaar, the iron-fisted Immigration boss. After checking my records, he waved me off—but not before noting my name.

A week later, I received an official order: report to Halane Military Base for indoctrination training. I didn’t go there. I had not studied engineering to become a tool of propaganda.

An Encounter with Dr. Ali Khalif Galaydh

It was during those uncertain days that I met Dr. Ali Khalif Galaydh, then director of the Juba Sugar Project (JSP)—a massive industrial dream financed by Kuwait and designed to modernize Somalia’s sugar production near Jilib, in Lower Jubba. I introduced myself, stating both my professional qualifications and that we shared distant kinship. He scoffed: “Clan sentiments are outlawed by the Revolution.” I replied sharply: “I am not invoking clan, Dr. Galaydh. I am invoking courtesy.”

Dismissed and humiliated, I left his office—but destiny had other plans. Across the hall sat an English engineer overseeing the project’s technical operations. When I mentioned my degree in thermal-electric power systems, his eyes lit up. Within days, I was flown to Kismayo for an interview and hired as an engineering trainee for the sugar factory under construction.

Soon, I was sent to SNAI Sugar Factory in Jowhar for six months of industrial training. Ironically, when a Kuwaiti delegation toured the facility, proudly showcasing Somalia’s sugar “self-sufficiency,” Galaydh himself spotted me working in the boiler-room. His surprise was palpable. I simply smiled: “I work for you now, Dr. Galaydh.”

After completing the program, I returned to JSP and was later sent to England for advanced training in sugar technology. It was there, in London, that I once again encountered Galaydh—by now a member of Siyad Barre’s People’s Assembly and newly married into the dictator’s Mareexaan clan. Over lunch, he joked:
“Are you thinking of joining Qurmis?” —the regime’s slur for the Somali Salvation Democratic Front (SSDF).
“Yes,” I answered calmly. The table fell silent. He never expected an honest reply.

Surveillance, Fear, and the Politics of Birthplaces

Back in Mogadishu, life was suffocating under the regime’s paranoia. During earlier business trips, I stayed at the Shabeelli Hotel, and every check-in required stating one’s place of birth. I always hesitated. My birth certificate said Laascaanood, but my school papers listed Galkayo—a city despised by the regime as a hotbed of “anti-revolutionaries.” Later, I discovered that all hotels were required to submit nightly guest lists to the National Security Service (NSS). Every signature became a potential death sentence.

By 1980, I had made my decision. Enough of fear. Enough of pretense.
I joined the Somali Salvation Democratic Front (SSDF)—the first organized resistance against Barre’s dictatorship. It was a moral necessity, not a political choice.

The irony of fate was striking. Only a few years after I had joined the SSDF, Dr. Galaydh himself found it necessary to flee the very regime he once served, with a warrant issued for his arrest. Years later, while accompanying President Abdullahi Yusuf on a routine medical visit to London, I received a call from Dr. Galaydh expressing his desire to meet the President. I immediately arranged the meeting and mentioned it to Mr. Yusuf that Dr. Galaydh and I had previously worked together at the JSP, where he had been my superior and treated me with utmost respect. The whole episode felt surreal—almost like a political joke written by destiny itself.

Epilogue: Truth Against Power

The revolution that promised equality delivered suspicion. The system that claimed to fight tribalism institutionalized it. The “scientific socialism” that claimed to uplift Somalia reduced it to ashes and exile.

My story is not merely personal—it is generational. It belongs to those young Somalis who traded classrooms for trenches, who faced prison instead of promotion, and who learned that in Siyad Barre’s Somalia, intelligence was a liability and loyalty a weapon.

History, however, has a way of avenging truth. The same regime that mocked dissenters as “Qurmis” fell into the dustbin of history. The very men it persecuted built the foundations of Puntland and the Federal Republic of Somalia—a testament that truth, though delayed, is never denied.

WDM COMMENTARY:
Ismail H. Warsame’s untold story is more than autobiography—it is an indictment of a generation betrayed by revolutionary lies. His defiance, intellectual courage, and moral steadfastness represent the conscience of a nation long silenced by fear.

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© 2025 Warsame Digital Media (WDM)
All Rights Reserved.
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