Imagine, if you will, the dim recesses of a detention cell and the stifling air where words of bravery are forged. That is where this story begins. On the morning of February 9, 2025, the Somali Journalists Syndicate (SJS) breathed a sigh of relief—akin to fresh air through a dusty window—upon learning that journalist Sharif Abdi and his compatriot Omar Yusuf Mohamed, affectionately called Omar Guux, were finally freed.

Sharif’s ordeal commenced one chilling night on January 25, 2025. Under the shadow of Mogadishu’s sprawling skyline, his freedom was snatched away by NISA’s operatives, who found him amidst the city’s heart after raiding his home. With no court order in their arsenal, the agents spirited him away to Godka Jilaow, an infamous detention nucleus at Boondheere where the specter of fear is a constant resident.

“It was like being caged with time,” Sharif would later recapture, his eyes reflecting the flickers of those dark, unbearable nights in a sweltering cell crowded with twenty bodies—some said to be Al-Shabaab affiliates. Amidst this oppressive gloom, the tenacious journalist faced relentless interrogations over his unflinching critiques of the very establishment that held him.

Why did such disparagements of NISA chief Abdullahi Mohamed Ali (commonly known as Sanbalolshe) bring him to this desolate place? He had, after all, only become the voice of reason, highlighting the chasm between authority and its often-bruised populace, especially concerning Sanbalolshe’s controversial escapades to Hiiraan.

Sharif’s terse account narrates a daunting encounter on a reluctant Sunday afternoon: A conversation on obedience cloaked as a ‘disciplinary’ measure, followed by a brisk drive to the Habar Khadijo building. Here, he crossed paths with Sanbalolshe, who issued admonitions on the devastating dialogue Sharif’s pen might hold. And then, just like that—a release and a return to the hum of Mogadishu.

Yet Sharif was not alone in this narrative of abductions. One need only journey to Lower Shabelle, where Omar Guux, a purveyor of news for Nabad Somali TV, met his fate. On the morning of February 7, a clan militia, bonded mysteriously with governmental roots, detained him. The accusation? His audacity to report on the community grievances, echoing against the hills of KM50.

Omar’s account, shared with SJS, sketched an image of confinement within a forsaken abode. Here, he dwelled briefly yet frightfully amidst interrogations—a muse’s quest for truth tethered by force, all because he dared to unravel the vanishing of a local elder abducted under moonlit duress on January 31.

In response, SJS staunchly decries these fear-instilled maneuvers which target the lifeblood of Somalia’s press. They call upon elements from all walks of power to forgo such intimidation and honor the sovereignty of those who hold a mirror to society’s rugged face. As Abdalle Mumin, SJS Secretary General, evocatively declares, “The arbitrary detention and intimidation of journalists like Sharif and Omar unveil persisting threats to press freedom in Somalia. No sentinel of truth should be shackled or silenced.”

His petition for justice rings resolute: “We demand accountability. Let us not overlook those who perpetrate such vehemence—be they from the corridors of state power or the clutches of militia forces. Without accountability, the facade of press freedom falters.”