Alabama Man Joins Jihad In Somalia

Posted by admin on June 8, 2013

somalia-amriki-upload-340_227While others enjoy the approaching summer, barbeques and baseball,  one American family scours the internet looking for clues to whether  their son is alive.

U.S. authorities also want to find him but not to secure a happy family reunion.

Their son, Omar Hammami, is a wanted Islamist terrorist fighting — or barely surviving — in Somalia with a $5 million bounty on his head.

Now after an apparent assassination attempt on their son, the family  opens up in an exclusive CNN interview about how their son grew up to be a terrorist, how their lives are changed forever and how their joint  faith has seen them survive burdens that could have destroyed other  families.

Shafik Hammami opens the door to his Daphne home wearing a University of Alabama football t-shirt. He was born in Syria, but after more than  40 years in the United States, he’s as much a homegrown Alabama football fan as any other local resident. I ask him if he thinks ‘Bama’ will win the National Title again this year. He holds up his hands and proudly  smiles: “Roll Tide.”

He’s not what I had expected him to be. He’s an older man with a  mild-mannered nature — a stark contrast from what I knew of his son,  whose personality had won him recognition from a young age. But somehow  the boy living the American dream grew up to be a propagandist for al  Qaeda-backed militants looking to wage global jihad.

Born and raised in Daphne, a quintessential Southern town nestled  along Mobile Bay, lined with strip malls, subdivisions, and churches,  Omar now goes by the name of Abu Monsour Al-Amriki, or The American.  Western and Somali authorities have named him as a leading member of Al  Shabaab, a group known for its ruthlessness in the fight for an Islamic  Caliphate in Somalia.

His mother Debra, a retired school teacher, had explained earlier by  phone how hard it was for her husband to talk about their son. He has  quit talking to the media, she says, because it hurts too much.

“Darlin’, we have been through hills and valleys,” she said in a  genteel southern accent. “All I know is that I ask everyone I meet, ‘Do  you go to church?’ and if they say yes, I ask them, ‘Please put us on  your prayer list.”

In Daphne, a community of roughly 22,000, everyone we meet seems to  know Omar Hammami. Or if they don’t know him, they know of him as, “that terrorist from here.”

Debra Hammami, who comes across as bubbly and friendly, says she  knows that some people judge the family because of the son’s choices.

“But, darlin’, I’m lucky to live in a community with such wonderful friends,” she says.

Just the other day, she says, a friend of hers met someone who said,  “Just what kind of parents could raise a child like that? They must have been terrible parents for him to turn out that way.”

“You hush your mouth,” her friend said in response, Debra Hammami  recounts. “I know that family. And his mother is a good Christian woman, so you be quiet about something you know nothing about.”

She says that even though she is a Christian and her husband is a  Muslim, that throughout this seemingly never-ending ordeal, it is that  individualized faith, and a shared belief in God that has seen them  through the toughest of moments.

After what seems like hours of pained silence, but is probably merely a matter of several uncomfortable minutes, Shafik Hammami agrees ever  so tentatively to talk about his son.

“Omar was a very sweet, intelligent child, very bright and  inquisitive about everything,” he says. “He excelled at education,  sports, just about everything he attempted. I always had high hopes for  him. I would have loved for him to be engineer or a doctor but that  wasn’t in the cards.

“As a parent I would like for him to follow my instructions. But in  life that doesn’t always happen, especially with a strong-willed child.  And of course I tried my best, and so did my wife, to raise him the best we could. He chose the path he did, and I do not approve of it. But  there is nothing I can do to change it.”

“But surely there were clues?” I ask him.

“No, not at all. There were no alarms or anything that I could see,”  he recalls. “As a matter of fact, when he was in college, he was the  President of the Muslim Student Association, and he had several media  interviews, and he condemned the attacks of 9/11 and saw that those  actions were un-Islamic, so there was nothing for me to worry about.”

But that would change and soon there would be a lot to worry about.

Despite his gifted intellect, Omar dropped out of college at the  University of South Alabama and moved to Toronto, Canada, where he met  and married a Somali woman. Soon after, the couple moved to Egypt, where Omar hoped to deepen his study of Islam.

Shafik Hammami remembers the last time he saw his son. He and Debra  had traveled to Alexandria, Egypt, to visit with Omar, his wife, and  their new grandchild.

“We went to spend a couple of weeks with him,” Hammami says. “And  there was no inkling of anything that we could see, feel, anything that  had changed.

“But shortly after we left we got a call from his wife, and she told  us she thinks he is in Somalia, and that’s when I realized that things  are not normal.”

“I was furious,” he adds. “And I tried to contact him to find out what was going on.”

Omar’s wife said he had gone to Somalia to visit her relatives. But  when Hammami finally reached his son, Omar told him someone had stolen  his passport, and that he couldn’t leave the country.

At the time, 2006, Somalia was in the grips of an Islamic insurgency.

Frantic and shocked by his son’s news, Hammami says he urged his son  to go to the police, an embassy, anyone who could help him. Thinking  that Omar was stranded in a dangerous place, and desperate to help their son, the Hammamis contacted the FBI, their local congressman, and the  U.S. State Department, hoping to get Omar a new passport, and a way out  of the war-ravaged country.

But Hammami says he was told there was absolutely nothing they could do.

Soon after, Ethiopian troops entered Somalia and the country fell  deeper into chaos. The Hammamis say they lost all contact with their son and were living a parent’s nightmare.

The next time Hammami saw his son was almost a year later — on television as an Islamist propagandist.

His message partly blamed the U.S. for Somalia’s desperate situation and he said America should pay attention to Somalia.

He no longer called himself Omar Hammami, but Abu Monsour Al-Amriki, or “the American.”

The effect was complete and utter heartbreak.

“When I first saw the interview on TV, I knew that was the end of  life as we knew it. I knew we would never be the same again. It’s  devastating for both of us. He is our only son. We only have one son.  And now, we have none,” Shafik Hammami says.

“It hurts me very much. It hurts to hear your son called a terrorist,” he adds, his voice breaking with emotion.

Hammami, a retired civil engineer, says he now spends his days  scouring the internet for news of his son. These days what he finds is  more troubling than ever.

Omar is on the FBI’s most wanted list facing multiple counts of  supporting terrorism, and the possibility of multiple life sentences if  he ever returns home.

Hammami says there also appears to be internal fighting among Al  Shabaab and the split has put Omar in the firing line of other  jihadists.

Hammami, who calls Al Shabaab “a bunch of thugs,” says the  hostilities have put his son at odds with Al Shabaab’s top leadership.

Hammami says he learns this from Omar’s Twitter posts. Some of the  most recent are ominous. Omar has posted pictures of himself, blood  oozing from his neck, after what he says was a failed assassination  attempt.

While he does not agree with his son’s choices, Hammami, like any  parent, still tries to see the best in his son, despite the worst of  circumstances.

He says the thugs are after his son because his son objects to their  decision to take money from the poor to support a lavish lifestyle,  target innocent civilians in their fight, and conduct suicide bombings  as part of their mission.

Hammami, his voice with the slightest hint of hope, says: “Omar is  against these things. He told the Shabaab leader that these actions are  against the Islamic ideals and he told him to correct his ways. And that is why the leader is trying to kill him.”

Others are not so optimistic in their assessment of Omar’s split with the leadership. In jihadist online forums, some say his need for  attention and self-seeking actions are the reasons for the infighting.

A 127-page autobiography, reportedly penned by Omar and circulating  online in jihadi forums, could be pointed to as evidence supporting that claim. In the document, Omar meticulously describes his path from a  child who dreamed of becoming a doctor to an American jihadi and alludes to his desire to stand out:

“I just came to the conclusion that helping the Ummah (Muslim World)  is not simply a matter of adding another doctor to the list. I figured  we had enough doctors,” the autobiography reads. “One charismatic leader could theoretically ‘make’ more money for the Ummah in a few charity  drives than one doctor could ever make in a lifetime.”

The U.S. government offers a more damning assessment that goes beyond mere narcissism, saying it has classified evidence that Omar himself is responsible for masterminding at least one suicide attack in Somalia  that killed innocent civilians.

And in that same autobiography, Omar offers his own opinion about why Americans are afraid of him:

“The real fear that the Americans feel when they see an American in  Somalia talking about Jihad, is not how skillful he is at sneaking back  across the borders with nuclear weapons. The Americans fear that their  cultural barrier has been broken and now Jihad has become a normal  career choice for any youthful American Muslim. Trying to show them how  serious I am about slaughtering Disbelievers is the side of me they  would like to capitalize on to estrange the Muslims from our cause,” it  reads.

It’s these kinds of inflammatory statements from their son, that  leave the Hammami’s struggling to find reason for events unfolding  halfway around the globe.

“When you see those pictures, and read those reports, how do you cope?” I ask.

For Hammami, like his wife, the answer is simple. Faith.

“I accept God’s ordain for him and for me,” Hammami explains. “If I  don’t accept it as a matter of faith, I cannot endure it. It is the only thing that keeps me from going crazy.”

He pauses for a moment and continues: “If God chose for him to die anywhere on earth, that’s God’s decision, and I accept it.”

He adds: “I wish he could [turn his life around] but he has no good  options left. He has no way of tracking back, even if he wants to.”

It has been more than six years since the Hammamis first learned that Omar had fled to Somalia to wage jihad.

The Hammamis are now resigned to the fact that they may never see their son again.

But I ask Hammami what he would say to him, if he had a chance to talk to his son once more.

“Even if I can’t see him, I just wish he stays safe. And I wish … ”  Hammami’s voice begins to break, tears welling up in his eyes. “I wish  he will know … that I will love him until I die.”

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