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Despite his protestations of poverty, the word was that Garaad had been involved with the hijacking of the MV Faina, the Ukrainian transport ship laden with Russian tanks that first drew international media attention to the Somali coast. But his level of involvement was anyone’s guess, and Garaad himself was not going to provide any clarification. When I asked him about the Faina, he immediately tensed up, telling me that he “supported some young guys” for the mission, but volunteering no more information.

There is a credible rumour, however, surrounding Garaad’s involvement. In December 2008, Garaad reportedly left Garowe with a cohort of armed men, aiming to relieve the Faina hijackers and bring them back to safety in Puntland. They were much in need of his assistance; after forcing the captured ship to anchor at Harardheere, south of the Puntland coast, the US Navy had proceeded to encircle and blockade the pirates on board the Faina. On shore, the environment was equally hostile; Harardheere was near territory controlled by the Islamist organization Al-Shabaab, and the group’s militias were waiting patiently inland to relieve the Faina pirates of their ransom as soon as they dared come ashore.

Into this melee allegedly charged Garaad, his Toyota cavalry gleaming in the sun. His intention, presumably, was to escort the hijackers to Puntland once they had secured the ransom payment for the Faina. Unfortunately, on his way to Harardheere, Al-Shabaab militants reportedly ambushed Garaad’s convoy, confiscated his weapons and vehicles, and left him, unharmed, to make the long journey back to Puntland on foot. At the first opportunity, I asked Garaad for the truth behind this incredible story. His shields instantly dropped. “No, that’s not true, I wasn’t involved with that,” he said. “I don’t have any enemies, only friends … everyone is happy with the job I’m doing.”

After four months in captivity, the Faina had finally been released a week before our meeting, commanding a then-record bounty of $3.2 million. Considering that he had partially financed the mission, Garaad was curiously ignorant of the state of his investment. “I was busy with other things,” he said. “I didn’t hear about any ransom money.” A few moments later, his memory seemed to clear up. “We didn’t get that much money,” he said. “By the time it finally came down to it, everyone only got a few thousand. A lot of money was spent on that ship, and hundreds of people were involved.”

This is one part of Garaad’s story, at least, that I was able to verify independently, through a Nairobi source who had been directly involved in the Faina ransom negotiation process. As the negotiation dragged on, my source told me, burgeoning expenses forced the original hijackers (Afweyne’s group) to approach three or four additional pirate organizations for financial assistance—in effect, issuing stock in their operation. By the time the ransom was delivered, the complement on board the ship had ballooned to over a hundred pirates.

* * *

As the interview progressed, Garaad gradually began to open up.

“Right now, as I talk to you, there are twenty different groups I’m invested in, from Kismaayo to Hafun.” He hesitated before continuing. “We control the entire Somali coast.” When asked what he thought of Boyah’s recent radio-announced ceasefire, a mocking note entered his voice as he shook his head. “My organization is different … We’re not similar to Boyah … We are going to keep going until our seas are cleansed of illegal fishing ships.”

When I asked for the names of some of the commercial ships seized by his organization, Garaad deflected my question once more. “I don’t know the names of any of the ships my men capture, and I don’t care,” he said. “The only thing I care about is sending more pirates into the sea.

“Sometimes, the commercial vessels,” he continued, “have the same names as the illegal fishing ships. They are owned by the same companies … so that makes it legal to capture those commercial ships as