Thirty-one years ago, two Kenyan pilots were approached with a request that would pull them into one of the most delicate and secretive aviation missions of their careers.
Hussein Mohamed Anshuur and Mohamed Adan were working from their office at Wilson Airport in Nairobi when a Nigerian diplomat unexpectedly arrived. What followed was an extraordinary proposal: to discreetly transport the body of Somalia’s former president, Siad Barre, from Nigeria back to Somalia for burial.
Barre had died in exile in Lagos at the age of 80, four years after fleeing Somalia following his overthrow. The mission required flying his body more than 4,300km (2,700 miles) across Africa to his hometown of Garbaharey in southern Somalia — without alerting multiple governments or triggering diplomatic fallout.
Anshuur, a former captain in the Kenyan Air Force, and Adan were co-founders of Bluebird Aviation, one of Kenya’s largest private airlines, which they had established several years earlier.
Speaking publicly for the first time about the operation, Anshuur told the BBC the Nigerian diplomat “did not waste time,” directly asking the two pilots to charter an aircraft and secretly carry out the transfer.
“We were stunned,” Anshuur said. “We knew immediately this wasn’t a normal charter.”
The request came with significant political risks. Barre had fled Somalia on 28 January 1991 after being ousted by militia forces, and any attempt to return his remains involved sensitive regional politics, strained diplomatic relations, and the possibility of severe repercussions.
“If the Kenyan authorities had discovered what we were doing, it could have caused serious problems,” Anshuur said, noting that the diplomat insisted the flight be arranged outside standard aviation procedures.
The pilots spent hours debating whether to accept the assignment, aware that the Kenyan government under President Daniel arap Moi might react harshly if the plan became known.
Barre, who seized power in a bloodless coup in 1969, remained a divisive figure. Supporters viewed him as a pan-Africanist who backed liberation movements, including the fight against apartheid in South Africa. Critics accused him of ruling as a dictator and presiding over widespread human rights abuses until his removal.
After fleeing Somalia, Barre initially sought refuge in Kenya. However, pressure from parliamentarians and human rights groups led Nairobi to withdraw its hospitality. Nigeria, then ruled by military leader Gen Ibrahim Babangida, granted him asylum, and Barre lived in Lagos until his death from complications related to diabetes.
Despite the substantial financial incentive — the pilots declined to disclose the amount — Anshuur said the risks weighed heavily on their decision.
“We suggested a Nigerian Air Force aircraft,” he recalled. “But the diplomat refused. He said the operation was too sensitive and the Kenyan government must not know.”
Barre’s son, Ayaanle Mohamed Siad Barre, also spoke publicly for the first time about the mission. He explained that secrecy was not intended to conceal illegal activity.
“Islamic tradition requires burial as soon as possible,” he said. “Time was against us. Completing all the paperwork would have delayed the burial.”
He added that Nigerian officials told the family that Garbaharey’s runway was too short to accommodate a military aircraft, prompting the decision to involve Bluebird Aviation.
The pilots informed the Nigerian diplomat of their decision on 10 January 1995.
“It wasn’t an easy choice,” Anshuur said. “But we felt a responsibility to carry it out.”
Their connection to Barre was not new. When the former president and his family fled Mogadishu, they arrived in Burdubo, a town in the same region as Garbaharey. During that period, Anshuur and Adan had flown food, medical supplies and other essentials to support the family.
Before agreeing to the final journey, the pilots demanded guarantees from Nigeria.
“We wanted assurance that if anything went wrong politically, Nigeria would take responsibility,” Anshuur said. “And we insisted that two embassy officials travel with us.”
Nigeria agreed.
In the early hours of 11 January 1995, just after 03:00, a Beechcraft King Air B200 took off from Wilson Airport. The official flight plan listed Kisumu, in western Kenya, as the destination.
“That was only on paper,” Anshuur said. “As we approached Kisumu, we switched off the radar and diverted to Entebbe.”
At the time, radar coverage across large parts of Africa was limited, creating gaps the pilots deliberately exploited.
Upon landing in Entebbe, Ugandan authorities were told the aircraft had arrived from Kisumu. The Nigerian officials onboard remained silent and did not disembark.
After refuelling, Yaoundé in Cameroon was declared as the next destination, where Nigerian diplomats coordinating the operation were waiting.
Following a brief stop, the plane continued to Lagos. Before entering Nigerian airspace, the pilots were instructed to use a Nigerian Air Force call sign — “WT 001” — to avoid drawing attention.
“That detail mattered,” Anshuur said. “Without it, we could have been questioned.”
They landed in Lagos at approximately 13:00 on 11 January, where Barre’s family was waiting.
The following day, 12 January 1995, Barre’s wooden coffin was loaded onto the aircraft. Six family members, including Ayaanle Mohamed Siad Barre, joined the flight alongside the two Nigerian officials.
Secrecy remained paramount.
“At no point did we tell authorities in Uganda, Cameroon or Kenya that we were carrying a body,” Anshuur said. “That was deliberate.”
The plane retraced its route, stopping in Yaoundé before refuelling in Entebbe. Ugandan officials were told the aircraft was heading for Kisumu.
Instead, as they approached western Kenya, the pilots diverted again — this time flying directly to Garbaharey.
After the coffin was unloaded, Anshuur and Adan attended the burial. They then departed with the two Nigerian officials on board, heading back to Nairobi.
The return journey was, according to Anshuur, the most nerve-racking part of the entire mission.
“You think, ‘This is where we could be stopped,’” he said.
To avoid scrutiny, they informed Wilson Airport air traffic control that they were arriving from Mandera, a town in north-eastern Kenya, making it appear to be a routine domestic flight.
“No one asked any questions,” Anshuur said. “That’s when we knew we were safe.”
Only after the aircraft had landed did the magnitude of the mission fully sink in.
“It was only afterwards that we truly understood what we had done,” he said.
Asked whether he would undertake a similar operation today, Anshuur was clear.
“I’m 65 now, and no — I wouldn’t do it again,” he said. “Aviation technology has changed. Radar coverage across Africa is now far more comprehensive. The gaps that existed in 1995 no longer exist.”
