How one man went to Libya to save a relative, but freed 400 detained Somali youth

In early August 2025, Somali politician Abshir Aden Ferro received a late-night call that would change the course of his life. A distressed family member informed him that a 25-year-old relative, who had attempted the perilous journey from Somalia to Europe, had been arrested and kidnapped upon arrival in Libya.

Ferro - a Somali-born businessman, politician, and former French military officer and the founder and CEO of Cruzen Group, a London-based international security firm - said he was already familiar with Libya’s reputation as a hub where migrants are detained, abused, and extorted. He hence assured the family that he would do everything in his power to secure the young man’s release.

“I travelled from Europe to Libya with the sole intention of freeing my relative. What I encountered there was horrific,” Ferro recalls.

He spoke on Saturday as youth in Ijara participated in an engagement forum where they voiced frustration over lack of opportunity, opting to risk their lives by engaging in the infamous illegal migration across the Mediterranean and the Black Sea to seek greener pasture in the Western and Middle Eastern countries. These dangerous trips have been characterized by boat accidents or abductions by human trafficking gangs.

They asked Garissa Senator Abdul Mohammed Haji to liaise with Governor Nathif Jama and his deputy Abdi Dagane to convene a regional leaders’ conference to deliberate on a mechanism for establishing a kitty to facilitate such pertinent social matters affecting the very core of the next generation.

According to humanitarian organizations, more than 7,000 Somali youth—including some from North Eastern Kenya—are currently imprisoned, missing, or held hostage in Libya.

Many are intercepted while attempting to cross into Europe or kidnapped by smugglers demanding ransoms as high as $30,000 (approx. over Ksh.3.8 million) from their families back home.

With Libya functioning as a major transit hub but lacking central authority, detention centers are often controlled by militias that exploit migrants for profit. Reports from the United Nations and aid groups repeatedly document widespread abuse: physical violence, extortion, forced labor, and sexual exploitation.

Ferro’s mission began as a personal effort to save one life; but once inside Libya, his determination grew.

“When I reached the Coastal town of Tajoura, I used my assets to arrange the release of my loved one. But I couldn’t morally leave others behind. In the end, I secured the freedom of 400 detainees, including 50 women,” he narrated.

The scale of the release was unprecedented. The chairperson of the Somali community in Libya described it as the first time such a large number of detainees had been freed without a single ransom payment—leaving many astonished. For Ferro, however, the success came at a heavy personal cost.

“I am sick and still traumatized by what I saw in those cells. It’s something I can never forget,” he said.

The freed detainees described nightmarish conditions of life inside Libyan prisons. They spoke of starvation, overcrowding, torture, and relentless demands for ransom.

Halima, a 22-year-old who spent 18 months in detention, recalled: “We were not living like human beings. They tortured us when we couldn’t pay ransom. We survived on a small piece of bread and a cup of water each day. Thankfully, I am now free. I plan to return to Somalia and will never risk this journey again.”

Mohamed Abdullahi, 19, shared a similar story. He left Mogadishu with hopes of reaching Europe but was kidnapped by smugglers demanding $10,000.

“We were tortured, starved, and locked in overcrowded cells with other Africans. You were lucky only if your family could send the money,” he says.

For Ferro, the suffering he witnessed raised urgent questions about Somalia’s leadership and the international community’s inaction.

“I strongly believe Somali leaders have failed to address the plight of migrants suffering in Libya. There are no strategic plans in place to tackle this crisis. When I sat down with the victims, many broke down in tears. Young girls recounted harrowing experiences of mistreatment and abuse. Their pain is beyond words,” he says.

The ordeal of these young Somalis highlights a much broader humanitarian crisis. European-funded migration control programs often empower Libya’s coast guard to intercept migrant boats, trapping Somalis and others in militia-run detention centers.

Unable to move forward or return home, thousands remain caught in a devastating cycle of exploitation.

The release of 400 detainees through Ferro’s intervention offered a rare moment of hope in an otherwise bleak reality.

But for every individual freed, thousands remain in captivity—a living evidence of how unsafe migration routes and international neglect continue to destroy lives.

Ferro’s actions demonstrate how determination and courage can save lives, yet they also reveal the inadequacy of current systems in protecting vulnerable migrants.

Until structural solutions are put in place—including safe migration pathways and stronger international protections—Somali youth will continue to risk their lives, falling prey to smugglers and militias.

Reflecting on the mission, Ferro says: “By the grace of God, I happened to meet other victims, and we brought them out. But thousands more are still trapped, and their cries must not be ignored.”