Pirates not just the stuff of legend

For the crew of the small coastal freighter Semlow, the latest security crisis of the new century winnows down to something simple and personal: a dense ball of fear weighing in their guts like ballast.

On a sweltering afternoon recently at this teeming port in southern Kenya, the ten seafarers stood watch on the vinyl- and wood-paneled bridge or leaned on the rails along the deck. They watched as cargo handlers on the pier below wrestled with heavy nylon bags of split peas, piling them up so a crane could haul them into the Semlow’s damp, rusty hold.

Each bag was marked “World Food Program.” The peas and hundreds of tons of other foodstuffs were bound for Mogadishu, Somalia, from where they would be distributed to some of the roughly 3.5 million Somalis — half the country’s population — who now depend on U.N. food aid to survive.

After nearly 18 years of civil war, clan infighting, banditry, invasion, military occupation and insurgency, Somalia is a land on the brink, facing a humanitarian crisis more severe than that in Darfur. Even a minor disruption to the flow of donated food could kill thousands.

But that’s lost on the Semlow’s sailors, who have a more immediate concern: pirates.

Ironically, the piracy began a decade ago in part as a response to international efforts to feed Somalia’s starving millions without traversing more dangerous routes on land.

Sailing north to Mogadishu from Mombasa now means plying the world’s most dangerous waters.

Today, the Gulf of Aden and portions of the Indian Ocean practically belong to modern-day cutthroats armed with assault rifles and anti-tank rockets and traveling in fast “skiffs” that can run down all but the speediest vessels. From modest beginnings a decade ago, Somali pirates have taken advantage of their country’s anarchy to build sophisticated criminal enterprises that rake in millions of dollars annually, making piracy Somalia’s biggest industry.

One victim of the rise in piracy has been the U.N.-led aid effort for Somalia. Pirates have hijacked ships, stolen food and held crews for ransom. The Semlow herself was held for nearly four months in 2005.

Today the threat has only grown, with more than 100 incidents in 2008 and 40 successful hijackings.

Pirates range farther, strike harder, and aim for bigger and bigger targets. No ship within 500 miles of Somalia’s shores is safe. Last year, pirates seized container vessels, a Saudi supertanker and even one Ukrainian freighter hauling weapons and armored vehicles. On several occasions, they attacked cruise liners carrying hundreds of tourists, and tourism officials say it is only a matter of time before a passenger ship is captured.

“Piracy has affected the entire shipping industry,” said Khalid Shapi, managing director of a large tour company in Mombasa that works closely with cruise lines.

In response, maritime insurers have increased rates, while shippers have chosen new routes, adding days to a ship’s journey and hundreds of thousands of dollars to payrolls and fuel bills. All these costs “trickle down to the common man on the street,” according to Frederick Wahutu, a veteran maritime official in Mombasa.

For the sailors that work these waters, hijacking means weeks or months of captivity, abusive treatment and even the threat of death.

So it’s no wonder that, during a visit to the Semlow in December, no one mentioned the humanitarian crisis that the ship’s journey was supposed to help alleviate. No one could see past the pirates that stood between the Semlow and safety.

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