Former al-Shabaab hostages seek justice 12 years after release

Yesse Mule and Francis Wainaina, both registration officers, were abducted by the Somali-based militant group Al-Shabaab in January 2012 while on official duty in Gerille, Wajir County.

They had been dispatched to the remote area to help residents register for national identification cards—a government exercise that had not been conducted there for nearly two decades.

What began as a routine workday turned into a nightmare that would last 19 months.

“The attack started around four o’clock and went on uninterrupted until about ten,” Mule recalled in an interview with Citizen TV’s Brenda Wanga. “They overran the Administration Police camp. Several officers and villagers were killed.”

Wainaina described the chaos of that afternoon:

“We were lying on the ground, crawling like snakes to hide under the tables,” he said in Kiswahili. “One Al-Shabaab fighter spotted us. Luckily, he didn’t shoot.”

Their government identification badges saved their lives—but also marked them as valuable hostages. The two men were captured and taken across the border into Somalia. Their journey to Mogadishu was a forced march filled with brutality and humiliation, as the militants paraded them through towns as trophies.

“They tied us to the back of a pickup truck and drove us around,” Mule said. “Locals were encouraged to attack us. It was mob justice in the real sense of the word.”

Once in Mogadishu, their ordeal deepened. The men were detained in what the militants called “safe houses,” where they were subjected to relentless physical, mental, and psychological torture.

“We were chained for 19 months,” Mule recounted. “Each leg was locked with padlocks—four in total. The only time they removed them was when recording videos.”

Wainaina added that disease and starvation were constant companions:

“We suffered from bedbugs, infections, and diarrhea. The water we drank was the same as the toilet’s. We only got enough food to stay alive—and regular beatings.”

After nearly two years in captivity, the two men were finally freed following negotiations between the Kenyan government and their abductors. Their return brought relief to their families but left lasting scars.

“I lost my marriage. I feel like my life has stagnated,” Mule said quietly.

“My mother died while I was still in captivity,” Wainaina added.

In recognition of their endurance and service, the government announced that the men would receive Silver Star medals—one of the country’s highest honors for bravery. But to date, they say they have never seen the medals nor received any official compensation.

Now, more than a decade later, Mule and Wainaina are once again appealing to the state—this time for justice and acknowledgment.

“We just want the government to recognize what we went through,” Mule said. “We served our country. We suffered because of it. That should count for something.”