Showing posts with label Fahala Saeed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fahala Saeed. Show all posts

Sunday, 4 November 2007

Am I to face the same fate as Fahala Saeed?


Almost every day is filled with surprises. But then, one should always bear in mind that this is the Maldives with Gayyoom at its helm and anything is possible. The man claims himself to be a Muslim scholar but have yet to learn that mercy is one of the uppermost facets of a practicing Muslim.

On June 5, 2007, I gave an interview to Al-Jazeera accusing the Maldives Police Services of proliferating the drugs-culture in the Maldives. It is the simple truth as the public believes. Exactly a month later – on June 5, 2007, members of the Drug Enforcement Unit of the Maldives Police Services barged into my home – there was a friend named Shareef inside at the time – handcuffed us and took us both to the Male' Police Custodial.

Before they checked us in, we were informed that we were being arrested on suspicion of possessing and using drugs in a room at M. Fadigge. Four of us were taken that night – 2 men who were outside my home – and all of us were made to sign this document with our fingerprints affixed prior to being assigned our cell.

As usual, I refused to cooperate with the cops. They neither did get a urine sample nor a statement from me and after 43 days of being subjected to their hospitality released me. Just told me to go; that was all the instructions I got.

On the first week of this month I discovered I had been sentenced in absentia. I was sentenced on 2 counts on September 9, 2007: disobedience to order and possession of drugs with intent to sell. I had been in town; yet they had failed to send me a summons to the court.

Last Friday, I got the court reports and to my chagrin, discovered I had been framed by the cops. The address where I was picked up was changed including several other details such as the number of people in the room. I have yet to appeal to the High Court though I am sceptical as to whether it would make any difference.

In the past Gayyoom had tried to frame me on charges of attempted murder, gun running and even giving bad advice to little children. Therefore one more attempt to frame me doesn't surprise me at all.

This time, however, I am prepared to prove that Gayyoom and Adam Zahir are intent on having me framed. Whether I succeed or not is a different matter but I will not give in to their blackmail: win or lose I will fight.

The one document that the police cannot doctor is the one that I had signed and had my finger-print affixed to it. This document was excluded from the court report even though the report will not be complete without it. If the police part with a copy of this particular document, I can easily prove the cops are intent on framing me and put me away for life. If they refuse to part with it, they obviously have something to hide.

The cops have another option too. They can simply put me in jail on the basis of the lower court's decision and let me wriggle around like a trapped fish in a cell in Maafushi Jail while the High Court takes their own sweet time in reaching a decision.

All this reminds me of the conclusion made by the Professor Paul Robinson of Pennsylvania (USA) who did research into the Maldives justice system sponsored by the UNDP couple of years ago. His report rightly concluded that "The Maldivian criminal justice system systematically fails to do justice and regularly does injustice."






By Ali Rasheed, 22 October 2007


Latest in a series of dirty tricks

On June 5, 2007, I gave an interview to Al-Jazeera laying the blame for the proliferation of the drug-culture in the Maldives on Maldives Police Services.

Considering the fact that the population of the Maldives is around 300,000 people, 70% of them are under 35 years of age. It works to around 210,000 people. That's the total number of youth in this country and 40% of them are unemployed.

Perhaps you may surmise it is the lack of jobs that is the problem. Not so. The problem is drugs: mostly brown sugar. 40% of the youth are jobless, aimlessly hanging around and the natural cycle ending in finding solace in drugs with the result crime rates soaring to unprecedented heights.

I blame 29 years of Gayyoom's rule and his brand of social engineering for the status-quo. The youth, if involved in politics represents the most dangerous segment of the society. Hence for the ruling elite their job would be much easier should this lot be kept sedated.

This was more or less my message to the Al-Jazeera TV viewing public.

It took exactly one month for members of the Maldives Police Services to raid my home without showing any form of identification or a warrant before they defied the sanctity of my home. They allege that they discovered 1.5 grams of heroin in my fist.

It was on June 5, 2007 that I was taken into police custody. I refused to give them a urine sample nor did I answer any of their questions. I wanted my legal rights before we proceeded with the investigation which I failed to get.

After 43 days in Male' Custodial I was released without any explanation.

The next day I took a flight to Colombo, spent 5 days unwinding and returned back to the Maldives.

All those days in jail I did little else but think and I had decided if I wished to continue working it was imperative I leave the country. Hence I decided to immigrate to Pakistan for a couple of years.

Having made my reservations earlier I went to the airport and checked in only to have my passport confiscated by the Immigrations and my luggage off-loaded from the plane.

No explanations were offered. The only information available was that the restriction order had come from the Department of Penitentiary. I checked with the Penitentiary Department and I was told that their computers failed to show I was under sentence. Perhaps had I been sentenced in absentia it may not show on the computer, we were told.

I went down to the criminal court, checked the bulletin board of those sentenced in absentia and failed to find my name on the list.

Still not satisfied, I called a friend at the Attorney General's Office and was told that a disobedience to order case and drugs possession case were forwarded to the courts.

Back at the court, I insisted that the girl behind the computer look carefully and sure enough the computers in the court showed that I was sentenced for life in absentia. And they hadn't even bothered to send me a summons to attend court.

All this secrecy on the part of the government at first baffled me. Later I realized that I would not have had the chance to appeal the case in the High Court should 90 days expire. It would mean that I would have accepted the verdict of the lower court.

A neat trap but because of the passport issue, I hope to have at least obtained a fighting chance from being framed.


By Ali Rasheed, 17 October 2007

Reflections from exile

Introduction: 1991
Had it not been for Anni ( Mohamed Nasheed ) life may have taken a different course.

I was at the back of the shop with my colleague Ibu when Anni poked his head around the partition where we did our printing. The front was our show-case and retail outlet. 'Nice Guys' as the name board outside read was on Faamudheyri Magu, a busy section of the so-called Singapore Bazaar in the Maldives' capital, Male'.

"Hi guys."

"Hello," replied Ibu, glancing up from the drawing he was working on.

It took a while for Anni to get to the point. Anni, small made and in his early twenties had recently returned home after completing his studies in UK.

"We are registering a weekly paper…, said Anni to no one in particular.

"And what makes you think your paper would be any different from the rest of the stuff published locally. This is not a country where you can voice opinions publicly," I said. The topic interested me.

"Aha. Then you haven't been listening to the news. In a televised interview President Gayyoom has stated his commitment to broadening the role of the press. This means our views could be aired openly without running the risk of getting prosecuted."

"Our paper is going to be called 'Sangu.'

I couldn't help but smile. 'Sangu' was the local name for the conch shell. It was traditionally used to summon the masses together and up until the early seventies it was used widely in the fishing villages. The conch makes a loud noise when blown. Well…, the voice of the people gotta be loud if it's to be heard, I surmised. It sure sounded appropriate.

"We're going to cover the political issues of the times," said Anni.

I was becoming more and more curious.

"Who and who are involved?" I asked.

"Sappey (Mohamed Shafeeq – Group X) is going to be the editor. Maizan Hassan Manik and Ahmed Abbas are the cartoonists. I too will be writing for the paper."

Maizan Hassan Manik and Ahmed Abbas were the artists who created the latest bank notes. They designed the current issue of the Rufiyaa, the local currency. If they were involved this whole venture of Anni's sounded like serious business.

"Why don't you write for us too," said Anni as a parting shot, while walking out of 'Nice Guys.'

*******************************************************

I wrote just one article about the inequality running rampant in the Maldivian society; how it was tearing apart the very fabric of our society, quoting examples from the November 3rd armed attack by Tamil guerillas against the Maldivian army and its aftermath and about the disillusionment of the army. It was enough.

The kooks came crawling out of the woodwork. The disillusioned and the damned. People whose voices had been stifled for over a generation. This was their chance to be heard. People I didn't know met me, talked with me, encouraged me to continue writing. I was to champion the cause of the downtrodden masses.

Sangu was an instant success. Overnight it became the fastest selling paper in the country breaking all previous records. Anni and Sappey became instant local heroes. And the government was becoming worried.

For one thing the government hadn't envisaged the extent of the peoples' thirst for the truth. And they had little control over the youngsters involved. Further, the success of Sangu led to the birth of two more weeklies. Both by equally radical elements. Government issued public statements warning the populace of the dangers inherent in the radical ideas propagated by the news media. Cabinet Ministers talked openly, calling into question the credibility of our young writers, all of whom were in their early twenties.

The next weekly to get registered was 'Hukuru' with the same political agenda as Sangu. The weekly Hukuru was written and published by the Addu intelligentsia, representing the interest of the southerners. They too may have been surprised by the overnight success of their efforts.

Nearly two months had passed. Sangu had honed in on Ilyas Ibrahim, the brother-in-law of President Gayyoom who held a variety of portfolios in Gayyoom's cabinet. The man was a power unto himself: he was in charge of the Ministry of Defense and National Security in addition to being the Minister of Trade. Furthermore, the largest state controlled business conglomerate in the country was managed personally by the man and the number of Ilyas's cronies getting rich by State awarded contracts and kickbacks was a well known public secret. Up until Sangu no one had dared to voice the stories of corruption. Hukuru too, jumped into the bandwagon and began targeting Ilyas.

The third paper to hone in on the excitement was 'Manthiri.' Manthiri was the Maldivian name for the queen in the chess game. Aptly named, for the queen is the most powerful player in the chess game. The idea behind was quite obvious. Someone was out to checkmate President Gayyoom.

The man behind Manthiri was Dr. Mohamed Waheed Hassan Manik, the Male' member of Parliament. Manthiri – before it could commence its play on the nation's political chessboard faced a host of problems. Their biggest concern was nobody was willing to print the magazine. Everyone knew the axe was going to fall for certain: the only question was when it was going to happen. The country as a whole supported the newly born democratic movement, the heretofore unknown freedom of the press, but were personally unwilling to put their necks on the line. Manthiri finally did go to press with their first issue; only they had to get their printing done in neighboring Sri Lanka.

When all the excitement reached the peak I was in Trivandrum in India, trying to garner overseas support in the Indian papers, specifically the Indian Express, the second largest daily in India.

I had the pleasure of meeting the Indian Express bureau chief, Mr. Madhavan Kutty. He made me submit a few notes about the prevailing political winds in the Maldives and promised he'd fax the material to New Delhi with a request for publication approval as editorial policy was set in New Delhi.

I hung around in Trivandrum – killing time. It was an Indian friend by the name of Roderick who told me I was being followed. It wasn't I who had told him about my involvement with the Indian Express, but obviously someone had, for he was privy to all my doings since I arrived in India.

"Thanks for the tip. Let me know if it gets serious," I told him.

Outwardly I still maintained my cool but I knew this was getting serious. If I was being tailed – and there was no reason for Roderick to lie – it meant only one thing. The Indian intelligence was involved. I had had no previous experience with spooks but from what I had read and heard about the Research and Analysis Wing (RAW) of the Indian Defense Department, I had cause to worry.

It took about 10 days for Madhavan Kutty to call back. He had some surprising information for me. According to him, he had telexed a copy of my article to his Head Office in New Delhi and instead of approving it for publication he had received an assignment to cover the Indian Prime Minister Pratap Singh's visit to the Maldives scheduled two weeks ahead.

Mr. Kutty asked me to set up appointments with the people involved in the free press movement in Male' and I promised to oblige him. I was happy, because here was the opportunity to express our views in print in a foreign paper.

Through Roderick I was able to secure a seat on the weekend flight to Male'. I was excited to be involved and contributing something significant to help shape the destiny of my nation. Idiot that I was, little did I realize that I'd have to pay for the consequences of my misguided enthusiasm.

During the two months I was away in India, events had taken a bizarre turn in Male'. The government had gone to the extent of providing national TV coverage of the press interviews. And Anni had already become a household word, not only in Male' but in the provinces as well. His fearlessness in asking direct and pointblank questions of Cabinet Ministers about the way their Ministries were run – the sort of questions that had been taboo until then – made him the scourge of all upper-level government officials. And the results had been more than successful.

As a result of the misuse of public funds by high level government officials – no government department was immune from corruption – and particularly Anni's efforts through the media, led to the investigation of corruption charges against one Mr. Abdul Sattar Ali – more popularly known as Satto – the Deputy Director of the State Trading Organization. Subsequently Satto was arrested and charged with misappropriation of government funds. He was expected to finger Ilyas for whom he had been fronting.

It was around this time Fahmy met me at home one day. For Fahmy, who had been a victim of the government, having undergone the worst kind of tortures at the Dhoonidhoo detention center, this was a heaven sent opportunity to even the score with the government and with Ilyas in particular. He had been most active: he had written for both Sangu and Hukuru and he had made some choice comments about Gayyoom's regime.

"Look," said Fahmy. "Manthiri has found a Sri Lankan publisher willing to undertake the printing. You gotta give us something for the issue."

***********************************

During the same period, President Gayyoom had made clear in a speech that he was unwilling to protect traitors anymore. Quite naturally, the whole nation assumed he was making an indirect reference to his brother-in-law Ilyas, who was involved head over heels in the corruption issue.

Having been a former employee of Ilyas at the State Trading Organization I was aware of the people he used to manage his personal finances. There was one chap in particular: a Swiss named Marco Odermatt. His involvement with the Maldives began with the setting up of a diving base at Kurumba Village, a holiday resort formerly owned by one Mr. Naseem, brother-in-law of former President Ibrahim Nasir.

Shortly after Gayyoom had come into power, it was alleged that Naseem, with the help of Odermatt, had tried to recruit members of the IRA (Irish Republican Army) to launch a coup against Gayyoom. The coup had failed in part because Odermatt had been secretly in touch with Ilyas, providing the Defense Ministry with details of Naseem's plans. Naseem and and almost his entire family was arrested and his family wealth which included a number of resorts, confiscated by the government. Thereafter, it did not take long for Odermatt to amass the millions he did. Ilyas provided him with a lot of lucrative business contracts, and he in turn managed Ilyas's Swiss portfolio of skimmed public funds. It did not take long for Odermatt to be appointed the Honorary Consul in Switzerland by the Maldivian government, providing him with diplomatic cover for his activities.

It was about the Odermatt connection I wrote. In the letters column of Manthiri, I made an appeal to the readership to call for the investigation of Satto/Ilyas/Odermatt connection. If this line was followed, I argued, the real traitors would be found.

It would have led not only to the missing funds, but would have unearthed a hornet's nest of double dealing by people closest to President Gayyoom including the top brass of the National Security Service. The one exception was Moosa Jaleel. I had been guessing that the 3rd November '88 armed attack by Tamil guerillas were financed by Ilyas and this very same Odermatt had played a major role in setting it up. As events later proved, my guesses were right on target. It was Ambaree Abdul Sattar, Ilyas's successor at the Defense Ministry who inadvertently let slip I had been right all along.

Just about a week after my tete-a-tete with Fahmy – all sorts of rumours about Satto, who was still in jail and Ilyas was making the rounds in the capital – Ilyas suddenly flew the coop. One fine morning he commandeered an Air Maldives aircraft – Ilyas held the post of Chairman of Air Maldives in addition to his many other portfolios – and simply flew away to neighbouring Sri Lanka with his wife. From there he took a commercial flight to London.

President Gayyoom, in a statement broadcasted nationally explained to the public that Ilyas had left without the permission of the government and he, as President, was henceforth dismissing him from public service.

President Gayyoom had achieved his objective of removing Ilyas from the scene. He had orchestrated it with the help of the media. The media was no longer needed.

Sangu was de-registered and Hukuru was told to close up shop in no uncertain terms.

The editor of Hukuru was a southerner living in hired premises in Male' and quite suddenly he found himself served an eviction notice.

The first issue of Manthiri, published in Sri Lanka, did not see the light of day. It was confiscated by the Air Port Customs.

Ilyas, on reaching London, had not remained idle. Through his sister Nasreena, the First Lady, he had begun negotiations with President Gayyooom. Approximately 3 months after he fled the country, he was back. Obviously he had obtained iron-clad guarantees and was certain Gayyoom was not going to touch him.

President Gayyoom, in the meantime had to come up with a public explanation for both Ilyas's absence and presence. In another public broadcast, he explained away the incident: the man hah had a sudden bout of sickness. It was the reason for his sudden departure.

No one was fooled. Least of all the public. However, the Maldives was not a place where you voiced your opinions openly. If you had disagreements you kept it to yourself. Or else you may find yourself facing criminal charges.

In the midst of all these happenings bombs began to go off in the capital. The first explosion took place on the grounds of a rarely used mosque. The next one went off in a beached speedboat on a slipway in the east of the city.

A fire started on the first floor of the Alia Building, the second tallest structure in the capital. The army was called in to help put out the fire: nevertheless the entire building was consumed in the fire.

The largest hardware store in Male', Dimms, was set alight during early dawn one day. Once again in the presence of army fire fighters the entire building was consumed by the fire. The arsonists were later apprehended: they turned out to be a few unruly youngsters out for a night's fun or so the investigation revealed; their real motives or the key players behind the incident – if there were any such persons – were never found.

It was around this period I came to know Mr. Kutty, a short dapper man with a comical walk. He worked at the Indian High Commission. Though he was the First Secretary at the High Commission, I believed that it was a cover for other activities.

I cannot exactly recall whether it was he or me who initiated the conversation in a chance meeting at a café near our shop, but talk we did, with Kutty promising to obtain a copy of the Indian Express article covering Mr. V.P.Singh, the Indian Prime Minister's visit to the Maldives.

Kutty even invited me to his home, a flat leased by the Indian Embassy in Male'. During a political discussion at his home, he introduced the subject of political parties.

"In a recent interview to the Indian press – in answer to a reporter's question concerning the non-existence of political parties in your country – your President had stated that political parties are not banned by law in the Maldives, they're in fact very much legal, except that no one has approached the government with a proposal to register a political party," said Kutty.

I could not help laughing.

"It may be true. It's possibly because no one wants to commit suicide. Even a hint of active interest in politics – leave alone political parties – is enough to get you into trouble with the authorities."

"Don't you think it may be a worthwhile idea to give it a try. Perhaps the political climate is changing."

"It's an interesting idea. I'll talk it over with a few people. See how they react."

I discussed the idea with Dr. Mohamed Waheed Hassan Manik and a couple of others. They were all skeptical about the outcome. Nevertheless, I went down to the Home Ministry, obtained the necessary forms for the registration of a political party. I too was interested in seeing the outcome of such a proposal.

A couple of days later – I had yet to submit the forms – the President gave an interview to Haveeru, the largest selling daily newspaper in the Maldives, expressing his personal feelings about a multi-party democracy for the nation. He felt the country was too small for the type of factionalism that would be generated by the existence of political parties. Rather than go for a multi-party system, he felt a multi-candidacy democracy would be more suitable: whatever that was.

Immediately I forgot about political parties. If I wished to remain healthy, it was imperative I kept away from politically oriented discussions. There was a message there in the President's words.

I had this uncanny feeling that I, or rather we had been manipulated. Using the offices of the Indian High Commission, the President had very neatly managed the scenario to finally nip our plans in the bud.

Once again Ilyas was re-instated back in power, this time he was given the much coveted portfolio of the Minister of Atolls Administration. Those who unwittingly played along with the President in ousting out Ilyas was definitely going to be hit; and sure enough, the axe did not take long enough to fall. Shortly before Ilyas's appointment to the Atolls Ministry, my father tried to convince me to join the government. I refused. I had been in the government earlier and it hadn't worked out.

Anni and Sappey, the editor of Sangu was charged with the terrorism act along with a handful of others. The guys from Manthiri fared no better. They too were charged under the same terrorism act. According to the government, these people were responsible for the recent bomb blasts.

I, who had foreseen the axe about to fall, did some quick thinking and got in touch with Ambaree Abdul Sattar, Ilyas's successor at the Defense Ministry. In a phone conversation, he asked me whether I had any information about those blowing bombs in the city. As a matter of fact, I was never aware who was responsible. I had only a few vague ideas.

"I personally feel Ilyas is responsible for all the agitation. He certainly has the most to gain from the unrest."

He wished to know how I had rationalized and arrived at this conclusion.

I told him about my letter to Manthiri, about Ilyas's involvement in the armed attack of 3rd November '88.

He had seen Manthiri.; obviously he had known about Ilyas's involvement long before: they had merely wanted to find out how it was done and I had unwittingly revealed the Odermatt connection without being aware of the consequences.

So, dear reader, as you can imagine I was by now on someone's hit list; a very powerful someone. And that's how I came to face charges of drug trafficking and ultimately having to spend eleven and a half years – the best years of my youth – in exile, criss-crossing the island nation and landing up in jail in between. Well now, here's the story…

_____________________
by Ali Rasheed, 14 October 2007

The Vavathi Tight


For once President Gayyoom seems to be sticking to his promise to make the Maldives a drug-free zone. Seems - mind you; it's not certain though.

It's been almost two months since Gayyoom publicly vowed to put a stop to the influx of drugs into the Maldives. Within this period there has been several large drug busts - mostly carriers of heroin flying in from neighbouring Colombo, Trivandrum and Karachi. The safes inside the Maldives Police Services - or wherever they may be storing this bonanza - is likely to be filled to capacity at present.

According to news reports, during this week almost two tonnes of drugs have been found stored underwater. This bit of sleuthing was not the work of the police though. Some locals from Dhiffushi Island in Male' Atoll discovered this well hidden cache by chance and informed the authorities. As envisaged this shipment too has ended up somewhere inside the Maldives Police Services.

At the begining of the campaign to make the Maldives a drug free zone Commissioner of Police Brigadier Adam Zahir directed his attack at the youth who rule the streets of Male' with box cutters and flick knives. Even though this lot - known as the 'parteys' - were uprooted from the streets and dumped inside the jails it did little to stop the flow of drugs on the streets. The supply of heroin continued unabated. With the jails filled to capacity, the authorities were faced with a major problem. Violence and police brutality became the common denominator. The local papers homed in on the issues of police brutality, ultimately forcing Gayyoom to release some of the parteys. Gayyoom simply did not have the capacity inside his jails to keep street demonstrators, news reporters and other undesirables locked up.

Just three days back the supply of drugs in the capital mysteriously stopped. Addicts, driven by the craving for heroin could be seen lined up at different spots all over the capital, with scant regard for the police vehicles that cruised by. The Vavathi Tight was in effect with full force. At this point the readers may wonder about the meaning of the word 'Vavathi'. Vavathi is simply the name of the Police Commissioner Adam Zahir's home. Since none of the wholesale dealers in the capital had gotten busted, analysts assumed that the major supplier had simply tightened the control of supply. Thus it was named the Vavathi Tight.

In most countries drugs confiscated by the police are burned publicly. In the Maldives, this happens rarely. And even on the rare occasion it does happen there is no independent authority to do a substance check of the drugs that are burnt. Furthermore, there is no independent accounting of the drugs confiscated by the police. The police are free to do whatever they please; no system of checks and balances exist as yet. Sad, but true. The end result: a nation of morally bankrupt youth, jobless and simply existing without any direction in life and an all powerful snake-charming Police Commissioner with the mind of a Mafia don.

At this point one may well ask the question. It is certainly not in the interests of the authorities to put a stop to the traffic in heroin. Since it keeps the most dangerous segment of the society - the youth - from becoming politically active why should a proven dictator of Gayyoom's calibre wish to clean up this lot and help find them a direction in life to become productive members of society? They are certain to hate Gayyoom for having destroyed their youth and stripped them of all dignity. The answer is actually quite simple. There are courageous members active in the media, brave enough to call a spade a spade and they have forced Gayyoom's hands. Today President Gayyoom's political survival is dependent on appeasing the enraged masses.

Just today, to top it all, rumours - not proven as yet - abound, about yet another hidden cache. This time it was supposed to have been found in an undersea secret spot near Dhonakulhi Island, a yatch marina. The investment was just recently sold by President Gayyoom's son Farish to foreign interests. Analysts have begun to wonder about the extent of President Gayyoom's involvement in the traffic in the drug trade. It has become quite obvious that Maldives is a transhipment point for drug traffic into Europe and the West in general. The quantities found is simply too large for consumption for the local market. The hidden hands or rather the local agents are without question people in the upper brackets of power in the Maldivian government.

What may happen tomorrow is anyone's guess. Since President Gayyoom is desperately in need of cash to fund his failing dictatorship anything is possible. He may even decide to export his recently confiscated supply of drugs to the West where kaffirs abound in plenty. Will Interpol stand by and simply watch a tin-pot dictator of Gayyoom's calibre play the kind of games played by Colombian drug barons?



_________________________________

by Ali Rasheed, 25 April 2006