Before he was gunned down in a hail of bullets on August 27, 2012 — reportedly while driving his wife to hospital — Sheikh Aboud Rogo Mohammed had already carved his name into Kenya’s list of most dangerous radical clerics.

Fierce, fiery and fanatical, Rogo had become synonymous with the recruitment and radicalisation of coastal youth into Somalia’s Al Shabaab militia.

If there is a single individual who can be traced to the epicentre of the insecurity that has gripped Lamu since the Mpeketoni attacks of June 2014, it is Rogo.

In a now-archived YouTube video, the radical preacher is heard urging Muslim youth to travel to Somalia to acquire AK-47s and return to “rescue Mpeketoni,” which he described as a “Muslim town.”

At the time of his death, Rogo was under UN and US sanctions for allegedly bankrolling and supporting Al Shabaab.

According to the United Nations Security Council, Rogo’s activities directly threatened peace and stability in Somalia by providing material, financial, and logistical support to the terrorist group.

The UN noted that as the ideological head of Al Hijra (formerly the Muslim Youth Centre), Rogo had weaponised the organisation as a recruitment pipeline for radicalising Swahili-speaking youth to fight in Somalia.  In lectures spanning 2009 to 2012, Rogo repeatedly called for violent opposition to the Somali peace process and urged attacks on UN and AMISOM forces. He even provided instructions on how to sneak Kenyan recruits into Somalia undetected, recommending routes from Mombasa and Lamu to al-Shabaab strongholds like Kismayo.

“He facilitated the movement of numerous Kenyan recruits,” reads a 2012 UN report. “In September 2011, he was actively recruiting in Mombasa. In 2008, he held a fundraising meeting to support al-Shabaab operations.”

Military presence

Despite his death, the seeds Rogo planted appear to have taken deep root. Eleven years later, Lamu remains in the crosshairs of Al Shabaab. The county’s tranquility — once famed for pristine beaches and centuries-old Swahili culture — has been replaced by tension, fear, and a heavy military presence.

Just three weeks ago, three Kenya Defence Forces soldiers were killed and six others injured in an Al Shabaab ambush inside Boni Forest — the latest in a string of attacks that have haunted the region.

 So why has Lamu remained so vulnerable?

According to security expert Abdikadir Dekow — a seasoned officer who has served in elite units like the GSU, Interpol, ASTU, and DCI — Lamu’s geography makes it a perfect target.

“Lamu is a border point. From Kiunga, just a few yards and you’re inside Somalia,” he explains.

“Kismayu, which is crawling with Al Shabaab, is just across. Every time these militants are pushed hard by Jubaland forces, they slip through our porous border and disappear into Boni Forest — which is vast, thick, and extremely difficult to penetrate.”

Dekow, who boasts over 17 years in the police service, says military operations in Kenya and Somalia have yielded some results, and the frequency of attacks has reduced compared to earlier years.

“Things were worse when this began. Today, people in areas like Kiunga and Faza enjoy some level of peace thanks to our security forces,” he notes. “But the threat isn’t completely neutralized. If there was total peace, why would the military still be stationed there?”

He cautions that while the armed forces have done their part, there are loopholes that still need tightening — especially in surveillance of public transport systems.

“Militants use all kinds of transport — matatus, proboxes, boda bodas, small boats — to move around. We need stricter screening. I know it’s being done, but it must be taken a notch higher,” he urges.

Dekow also warns of a silent threat: Sympathizers.

“Every terror cell survives on support from sympathisers,” he says. “These are often locals who’ve been brainwashed to believe they’re earning heavenly rewards by aiding militants. Some are wealthy and finance terror activities.”

As for whether Kenya’s military presence in Somalia is provoking retaliatory attacks, Dekow believes the intervention has largely succeeded.

“Somalia is slowly stabilising because of our presence. Of course, any action invites a reaction, so we can’t rule out retaliation. But I’d say we’ve won 85 per cent of this war. Al Shabaab has been weakened. They’re now hiding in forests and villages inaccessible to government vehicles due to poor roads and terrain.”

But not everyone shares this optimism. Security analyst Abdi Daib believes Lamu’s insecurity is “a self-inflicted wound.” According to him, Kenya escalated tensions by sending troops into Somalia in 2011 following the kidnapping of British tourist Judith Tebbutt and the murder of her husband, David, in Lamu — an incident blamed on Al Shabaab.

“That was the trigger. The government decided to launch Operation Linda Nchi and invade Somalia. But Al Shabaab had denied involvement. Kenya should have taken time to verify facts instead of jumping into war,” Daib argues.

Never-ending war

He believes Kenya blundered into a never-ending guerrilla war — one that even global superpowers struggle to win.

“You’re not fighting a visible enemy. These are shadowy operatives who strike when least expected. You can’t beat such a force conventionally. Even the U.S. couldn’t win in Afghanistan,” he notes.

Daib also questions the sincerity of the war, claiming there may be vested interests in its prolongation.

“There’s money in this war — funding from international partners. So, in a way, it’s also become a business. Whenever the threat appears to fade, some might manufacture attacks to keep the fight alive.”

He dismisses government claims that Al Shabaab is on the verge of defeat, pointing to recent attacks.

“Just the other day, eight officers were killed. These people disappear when you’re alert, and strike the moment you relax. It’s a cycle,” he says.

He also warns of internal collaboration. “In some attacks, like Mpeketoni in 2014, the attackers reportedly spoke fluent Kiswahili — suggesting they were locals.