Boko Haram has carried out a wave of attacks in Nigeria

Continue reading the main story

Related Stories

Who are Nigeria's Boko Haram Islamists?

Are Nigeria's Boko Haram getting foreign backing?

Maiduguri: Nigeria's city of fear

At least 12 people have been killed in attacks on two banks and two police stations in the northern Nigerian town of Gombi in Adamawa state.

Local officials said they suspected the radical Islamist sect Boko Haram carried out the attacks on Thursday.

Policemen, bank staff and customers were killed, while the attackers escaped with weapons and money, reports say.

Boko Haram, formed in 2002, is fighting for Islamic rule in Nigeria.

A resident of Gombi, Husseini Abdurrazak, said he saw gunmen storm a police station and escape with weapons, before robbing a bank, the AFP news agency reports.

“They were chanting 'Allahu Akbar' and our suspicion is they may be members of Boko Haram or just armed robbers hiding under that cover,” he said.

Negotiations

The BBC's Abdullahi Kaura Abubakar in Kaduna says local authorities strongly suspect the gunmen belonged to Boko Haram.

The group is notorious for attacking police stations and banks in northern Nigeria to sustain its operations, our reporter says.

Two years ago, Nigeria's security forces brutally suppressed an uprising by the sect, destroying its compound in Maiduguri – the capital of Borno state – and then capturing and killing its leader Mohammed Yusuf.

Instead of disappearing, the group re-emerged last September and vowed to avenge its leader's death.

In June, Boko Haram said it had carried out an attack on the headquarters of the Nigerian police in Abuja, which killed at least six people.

In response, the security forces launched another crackdown on the group while President Goodluck Jonathan has appointed a committee to look into opening negotiations with its leaders.

Source

More than four decades of rule by Muammar Gaddafi are coming to a close

Continue reading the main story

Libya Crisis

'Massacre' site

Bodies line hospital floor

Where is Gaddafi?

Who might lead after Gaddafi?

It is a refreshingly cool August night with a gentle breeze that – in my mind – is gently sweeping away the anxiety, frustration and fear that has reigned over this city in the last six months. Or dare we say over this country over the last 42 years?

The neighbour's wall has had a recent makeover, with the new flag – the pre-Gaddafi monarchy flag – painted on it, and a message stating that “Libya is Free”.

Six nights ago, that would have been white-washed by the state and many a home would have been raided to track down “the rat” who did it.

I have been reporting for the BBC from Libya for seven long years, but have been “off air” for six, much slower, months.

As Facebook pages calling for a 17 February protest in Libya multiplied by the day, so too did the concern.

There were sleepless nights of fretting over how to report on a protest given the circumstances. Being one of just two foreign correspondents based here and being newly wed to a Libyan from Benghazi made for what seemed like a lethal combination – an arrest and “disappearance” waiting to happen. [Many families from the east and from Misrata were persecuted for regional affiliations.]

In the early hours of 15 February the mobile phone rang at about 02:40. “Private number” flashed on the screen and my heart seemed to jump to my throat. I knew it had started and London was calling.

Fear and isolation

Benghazi's residents phoned with minute-by-minute updates and by 07:00 I was broadcasting off-and-on, as and when the fear of the consequences of doing so consumed me and subsided. I was still the only one reporting the story from inside the country.

Continue reading the main story

“Start Quote

“Life in hiding” is an uncomfortable term to use because I was not physically chased by anyone – just by the demons of paranoia at the simple knowledge of what might happen”

End Quote

Two days on, it was nightfall again and the panic reached a pinnacle.

My husband reminded me we were not in Benghazi, and that in Tripoli someone would come calling. The exchange was riddled with a sense of fear, isolation and tears of helplessness and frustration on both sides.

“They have a death brigade that specialise in people like you, I can't help you, no one can!” he warned. “They will knock on our door and drag you out in front of me and execute you! You have no idea what they are capable of. What will I do?! Tell me!”

The next day my mobile number was blocked.

I stopped broadcasting, got a new number and waited. On 20 February our neighbour, a man from Gaddafi's hometown of Sirte who worked at the now wrecked Bab al-Aziziya compound, crossed paths with my husband in the building's stairway.

“So your people aren't going to keep quiet?” he asked, nonchalantly. We packed a small case of belongings and all my broadcasting equipment and left to stay at my in-laws' home.

That was the night Tripoli's unarmed residents staged their own massive, peaceful protests.

It was also the night that the sounds of heavy artillery and gunfire that met them ripped across the city.

Mental lifeline

I was broadcasting again for TV and radio as it happened – that is until Col Gaddafi's son appeared on state TV some two hours later as a re-invented character – a hardened, threatening figure who took everyone by surprise. Tripoli soon went quiet.

The pre-Gaddafi monarchy's flag has been hoisted across Libya

That was the last night I broadcast out of Tripoli – up until six days ago that is – due to a combined concern from senior editors in London and myself over safety.

When I was called to attend a news conference the day after the first of protests in Tripoli, I informed authorities here that I was taking a career break for personal reasons.

“Life in hiding” is an uncomfortable term to use because I was not physically chased by anyone; just by the demons of paranoia at the simple knowledge of what might happen.

It is perhaps an inevitable consequence of living in a dictatorship for many years.

There is no doubt in my mind that as a British-Lebanese foreigner, I would have – at best – been thrown out of the country if I had continued reporting on that fateful night and the days and months that followed.

That, and the possibility that my husband and his family would have been held responsible for my actions and could have been dealt with in unimaginable ways.

That is how “Tripoli witness” was born. A man – to quell any suspicion of identity – who could not be named. For three months, these entries served as a mental and physical lifeline.

But they had to come to an end.

As the months went by, gathering information became increasingly difficult. Many friends and sources fled the country – some after fears of imprisonment and torture grew for a variety of reasons.

What was life like for Tripoli Witness, backed with incredible moral support from editors in London, over the last six months?

Months 1-3:

Jumping out of bed at all hours of the night, every night, at the sound of any movement outside, and thinking: “This is it, they've come to get us, they've tracked me down knowing I'm Tripoli witness” – or worse: “They've come for my husband's family because they are from Benghazi and they'll raid the house and accuse them of being 'spies' when they find my broadcasting and communications equipment”

Baking a cake every three days when the stress felt too much to bear

Growing an unusual predilection to trashy romance novels found in a friend's book collection

Being told every Thursday night each week that Tripoli will rise again “this Friday” and our edgy existence would come to an end

Dreading phone calls from concerned family and friends abroad, mainly due to paranoia that they would say something offensive to the regime and because there was little I could say except, “everything is great, we're fine, Tripoli is peaceful and everything is 'normal'”. (All phones were tapped and people were being detained on the basis of the recordings.)

Months 3-6:

Same as above though some practices dwindled due to supplies

Being ever so grateful that two girlfriends remained, and that I saw them once a week in a sleepover involving a cook-off, DVDs and endless conversations about our lives and the country in candlelight and under a starry night sky

Misguidedly taking up knitting for several weeks before realising it would never be a career option or even a hobby

Having frequent disturbing dreams that often included Col Gaddafi and people being executed

Questioning whether it was “time to leave” this miserable existence because it might drag on for years

Deactivating Facebook account due to concerns it would be hacked

Experiencing sheer elation upon finding the best hiding place for all the broadcasting equipment

Above all, an increasing fear of my own thoughts that could not be hidden, and gradually wondering if this was the beginning of a mental breakdown. It was not.

Rana Jawad's Tripoli witness pieces are listed below:

Tripoli witness: Tribalism and threat of conscription

Tripoli witness: Mourning, protests and opposition cats

Tripoli witness: Dying for fuel

Tripoli witness: Covert defiance

Tripoli witness: Covert protests

Tripoli witness: Humour amid the fear

Tripoli witness: Fear and uncertainty

Source

CAIRO (Reuters) – Egypt's fallen leader, Hosni Mubarak, goes on trial Wednesday over his role in killing protesters, in a stark message to Arab rulers elsewhere that they too may one day be held to account.

In domestic politics, putting the former president in the dock may help quell criticism of the generals now running Egypt, suspected by protesters of protecting their former commander.

Egyptians camped out in Cairo for more than three weeks in July demanded faster reforms by the army council, in power since Mubarak was ousted on February 11, including swifter trials of Mubarak and his aides over corruption and protester deaths.

Many suspect the military of foot-dragging over Mubarak, in hospital since April in Sharm el-Sheikh, a Red Sea resort.

“The army has interests with the old regime. They are not doing anything for the people. They worked with Mubarak. They will not harm him, I swear,” Safa Mohamed, 41, said in Suez, scene of some of the worst violence in the 18-day uprising.

If convicted, Mubarak could face the death penalty. But few expect that outcome, even if some protesters want it.

Many Egyptians will be pleased just to see him in court and in the cage where defendants in Egyptian criminal trials stand. One has been erected in the Police Academy in Cairo which was named after Mubarak. His name has now been stripped off.

A source close to Mubarak said last week that his lawyer would tell the judge that his client was too ill to attend. But the health minister said Tuesday he could be moved.

Protesters are likely be enraged if he does not come.

“The trial of Mubarak is a lesson to candidates for the presidency to know the fate of those who try to violate the freedom of the people or become autocratic,” said senior Muslim Brotherhood member Essam el-Erian.

He was speaking to the state-run daily Al-Ahram, a newspaper that would never have run a statement from the group while Mubarak was in power and the Brotherhood was banned. The group has now emerged as one of several influential political forces.

CONCESSIONS

The trial will have a wider impact in the region too.

“It is also a warning message to all Arab rulers who use the same methods as Mubarak that they have to guard against a popular uprising, because if it succeeds then they are going to face the same fate,” said political analyst Mustapha al-Sayyed.

The message may have already reached Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi and Syria's President Bashar al-Assad, who have shown no sign of quitting. Nor have they offered concessions akin to those Mubarak offered in vain in his final days in office when he named a vice president and pledged not to seek another term.

Gulf Arab states may also have been watching Egypt closely. An army source told Reuters that Saudi Arabia and others were quietly pressing the army to spare Mubarak, a former ally. His trial sets an uncomfortable precedent for Arab autocrats.

But in an interview with Egyptian television, the Saudi ambassador to Cairo denied any such intervention, saying that Riyadh's links with Mubarak had ended the day he stepped down and that his trial was a matter for Egyptians.

Mubarak is not first Arab leader to be tried since the start of this year's 'Arab Spring'. Tunisian President Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali was tried and sentenced in absentia because he fled to Saudi Arabia. Mubarak stayed in Egypt, swearing to die there.

Mubarak is standing trial alongside his two sons, Gamal, a former banker once seen as being groomed for top office, and Alaa, who had business interests. Also on trial will be former Interior Minister Habib al-Adli and six of his deputies.

Another defendant, business executive and Mubarak confidant Hussein Salem, was detained in Spain.

Charges range from conspiring over the killing of demonstrators to abuse of power to amass wealth.

The court was originally planned to be set up in an exhibition and convention center near central Cairo, but was later moved to the Police Academy on Cairo's outskirts.

It is the same complex where Mubarak delivered a speech on January 23, just two days before protests erupted. Much of his address discussed the bombing of a church at the start of 2011.

“I and all Egyptians salute policemen on their day of celebration and affirm our pride in their role and sacrifice. We tell them: we appreciate all your efforts to fight crime in all its forms and your handling of security in our society,” he said then.

On January 25, protesters took to the streets. Cairo and other cities soon became battle zones between demonstrators and police who used gunfire, rubber bullets, water cannon and batons.

After several days of violence, when buildings were torched and cars wrecked, police were withdrawn and the army moved in to take control. Soldiers were met with cheers from the crowd.

(Additional reporting by Marwa Awad; Writing by Edmund Blair; Editing by Alistair Lyon)

Source

Puntland, an arid region of north-east Somalia, declared itself an autonomous state in August 1998.

The move was, in part, an attempt to avoid the clan warfare engulfing southern Somalia. Nevertheless, the region has endured armed conflict, and grabbed the world headlines with an upsurge in pirate attacks on international shipping in the Indian Ocean.

Unlike its neighbour, breakaway Somaliland, Puntland says it does not seek recognition as an independent entity, wishing instead to be part of a federal Somalia.

The region's leadership refused to take part in peace talks in Djibouti in 2008 that led to the formation of a new transitional federal government headed by a moderate Islamist PM, Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed, but later reluctantly recognised the new administration.

Sporadic fighting has broken out between Puntland and Somaliland over the ownership of the latter's Sool and Sanaag regions, which are claimed by Puntland on the basis of ethnicity. Violence also accompanied a political power struggle in 2001 between rival claimants to the Puntland leadership.

Livestock herding and fishing sustain the people – many of them nomads – of the drought-prone region. The money sent home from overseas workers is an important source of foreign exchange.

Since 2005, the region has become famous as the hub of a burgeoning piracy operation in the seas around Somalia, particularly in the Gulf of Aden, where the pirates prey on key international shipping lanes to and from the Suez Canal.

The issue has achieved a high profile internationally, and several states, including the US, France, Britain and China, have deployed warships to the seas around Somalia to protect shipping.

Piracy has brought vast amounts of money into the region, leading to accusations that the authorities are turning a blind eye to the problem. Puntland's leaders have frequently promised to curb the pirates' activities, but with little apparent success.

It is widely viewed a socially acceptable and lucrative lifestyle, and has attracted former fishermen, ex-militiamen and technical experts.

Many in Somalia defend the attacks on foreign ships as a justified response to illegal fishing and the dumping of toxic waste along Somalia's long and poorly policed coastline.

Puntland is a destination for many Somalis displaced by violence in the south; some of them attempt to make the sea crossing to Yemen.

The region's coast was hit by the December 2004 Asian tsunami; more than 300 people were killed and thousands lost their livelihoods.

The territory takes its name from the Land of Punt, a centre of trade for the ancient Egyptians and a place shrouded in legend. But the location of ancient Punt is still a matter of scholarly speculation.

Source