Nairobi's
most upmarket retail centre became a scene of carnage as terrorist
gangs armed with AK-47s and grenades singled out victims. Guy Alexander reports
The top floor car park at Westgate, Nairobi's swankiest shopping
centre, was busier than usual on Saturday. A film crew was recording MasterChef Junior
and the play area's bouncy castle and trampolines were packed with
dozens of children. Inside, the multistorey mall was crowded with
shoppers.
Karani Nyemo was walking to his car with his two daughters when the shooting started. They began to run. There were short bursts of automatic rifle fire punctuated by grenade blasts. "They were throwing grenades like maize to chickens," said the software engineer. He pushed his girls under the car as people around him were hit by bullets. One of my girls kept calling out to me, 'I want to go', but there was nothing I could do." A grenade landed right next to his car, only a few feet from one of his daughters, Nyemo said, but it didn't explode.
Minutes earlier two vehicles had screeched up outside the front of Westgate and a dozen gunmen, and at least one woman, jumped out. Jomo, who was in the outdoor car park opposite the centre saw 10 attackers split into two groups, one running up the steps and into the main pedestrian entrance. The other team opened fire and ran around to the vehicle entrance at the side of the building, hurling grenades. On Saturday night, after a day of bloody horror, there were reports that one suspected gunman had been wounded and detained.
Peter Churchman, his wife and their young niece had been in the popular Art Caffe on the ground floor when the attack began. The first he knew of it was when a plate glass window shattered. More gunshots followed and a loud blast. "I think it was a grenade, it made a lot of sound. We ran to the entrance."
With people running in all directions, Churchman was separated from his wife, Eva. Hours later, carrying his niece, he was still wandering amid the ambulances, police and crowds outside asking if anyone had seen a Filipina woman.
Dozens of customers in the cafe, a hangout for well-off Kenyans, diplomats and expats, found themselves running towards the attackers in the main hall. Among them was a Kenyan-Indian woman who asked not to be named. When she realised her error she turned around, but had been separated from her sister. The cavernous interior, criss-crossed by escalators, was reverberating to the sound of gunfire and explosions. On the second floor Joshua Hakim, who had stopped for a snack on his way to watch a rugby match, saw gunmen, some of whom looked to be teenagers, strapped with ammunition belts, carrying AK-47 assault rifles. "They were firing indiscriminately, they shot a lot of people," he said. During a lull in the firing the attackers called out in Swahili, a language widely spoken in Kenya and the rest of east Africa, for Muslims to identify themselves and leave.
Covering the Christian name on his ID with his thumb he approached one of the attackers, whom he described as Somali, and showed them the plastic card. "They told me to go. Then an Indian man came forward and they said, 'What is the name of Muhammad's mother?' When he couldn't answer they just shot him."
Many of the shocked survivors mingling with the crowds that gathered outside Westgate said there was little surprise at the choice of target. Since Kenya's invasion of neighbouring Somalia two years ago there has been a wave of small grenade attacks blamed on Somalis living in Kenya. There has also been a constant rumble of warnings from Somali Islamists, al-Shabaab, who have threatened to bring down "the skyscrapers" of the Kenyan capital, Nairobi. On Saturday night al-Shabaab claimed responsibility for the attack.
The Westgate mall, 10 minutes from the city centre in the Westlands district, has long been talked about as a potential terror target. Boasting upmarket patisseries, jewellery stores, a sushi restaurant and cinemas, it is a magnet for the well-off in a city characterised by sharp social divisions. The outside walls are draped with giant smartphone and tablet ads.
Over the road a small group of squatters camp out and make a living selling everything from puppies to knocked-off football shirts, bananas and flowers to the passing drivers in their 4x4s. Before sunset hundreds of the hawkers had gathered to watch the drama unfold. One man drew a storm of laughter when, after climbing on to an advertising hoarding to get a better view, he electrocuted himself on an overhead power line.
The Israeli-owned mall was well aware of the security warnings and had precautions similar to an airport; cars are checked with mirrors for bombs and pedestrians are frisked. Michael, one of the 40 or so private security guards, was in the parking lot that faces the mall. He described feeling helpless, adding: "We tried to help as many people as possible but I'm not going back in there. I don't have a gun and they have so many. I have a family to think about."
Frank Musunga, an off-duty soldier, had been shopping with a friend when the attack began. The attackers were wearing civilian clothes, he said, and were using high-calibre weapons. He said: "They were carrying a lot of guns with them, they were shooting, shooting, shooting. I saw bodies in the corridors."
By mid-afternoon, four hours after the attack, survivors were still trickling out from the building. Slumped on the pavement near an ambulance was Hilda. Dressed in a silver jumpsuit, with her face covered in little stars, she and her friends had been doing a cosmetics promotion. "When the shooting started we ran into the pharmacy and hid. There were people running everywhere."
She described hiding behind the counter for three hours while the shooting continued. Eventually an armed police unit came and rescued them, leading them out of the building.
Next to her was Mary Mulwa, who worked in the supermarket where hundreds of people had tried to hide. Shaking from the shock, she had to be carried away on a stretcher by paramedics. One of her colleagues, who gave his name as Joseph, said that customers had poured into the second-floor store seeking shelter when the firing had started. Along with dozens of customers and shop staff he hid in the storeroom. "If you tried to move that's when the firing started."
After two hours, one of the store workers gathered the courage to make for the exit. "We just went slowly, slowly feeling our way along the walls." There were people with guns everywhere, he said, adding: "You didn't know who were the policemen and who weren't."
SOURCE: THE GUARDIAN
Karani Nyemo was walking to his car with his two daughters when the shooting started. They began to run. There were short bursts of automatic rifle fire punctuated by grenade blasts. "They were throwing grenades like maize to chickens," said the software engineer. He pushed his girls under the car as people around him were hit by bullets. One of my girls kept calling out to me, 'I want to go', but there was nothing I could do." A grenade landed right next to his car, only a few feet from one of his daughters, Nyemo said, but it didn't explode.
Minutes earlier two vehicles had screeched up outside the front of Westgate and a dozen gunmen, and at least one woman, jumped out. Jomo, who was in the outdoor car park opposite the centre saw 10 attackers split into two groups, one running up the steps and into the main pedestrian entrance. The other team opened fire and ran around to the vehicle entrance at the side of the building, hurling grenades. On Saturday night, after a day of bloody horror, there were reports that one suspected gunman had been wounded and detained.
Peter Churchman, his wife and their young niece had been in the popular Art Caffe on the ground floor when the attack began. The first he knew of it was when a plate glass window shattered. More gunshots followed and a loud blast. "I think it was a grenade, it made a lot of sound. We ran to the entrance."
With people running in all directions, Churchman was separated from his wife, Eva. Hours later, carrying his niece, he was still wandering amid the ambulances, police and crowds outside asking if anyone had seen a Filipina woman.
Dozens of customers in the cafe, a hangout for well-off Kenyans, diplomats and expats, found themselves running towards the attackers in the main hall. Among them was a Kenyan-Indian woman who asked not to be named. When she realised her error she turned around, but had been separated from her sister. The cavernous interior, criss-crossed by escalators, was reverberating to the sound of gunfire and explosions. On the second floor Joshua Hakim, who had stopped for a snack on his way to watch a rugby match, saw gunmen, some of whom looked to be teenagers, strapped with ammunition belts, carrying AK-47 assault rifles. "They were firing indiscriminately, they shot a lot of people," he said. During a lull in the firing the attackers called out in Swahili, a language widely spoken in Kenya and the rest of east Africa, for Muslims to identify themselves and leave.
Covering the Christian name on his ID with his thumb he approached one of the attackers, whom he described as Somali, and showed them the plastic card. "They told me to go. Then an Indian man came forward and they said, 'What is the name of Muhammad's mother?' When he couldn't answer they just shot him."
Many of the shocked survivors mingling with the crowds that gathered outside Westgate said there was little surprise at the choice of target. Since Kenya's invasion of neighbouring Somalia two years ago there has been a wave of small grenade attacks blamed on Somalis living in Kenya. There has also been a constant rumble of warnings from Somali Islamists, al-Shabaab, who have threatened to bring down "the skyscrapers" of the Kenyan capital, Nairobi. On Saturday night al-Shabaab claimed responsibility for the attack.
The Westgate mall, 10 minutes from the city centre in the Westlands district, has long been talked about as a potential terror target. Boasting upmarket patisseries, jewellery stores, a sushi restaurant and cinemas, it is a magnet for the well-off in a city characterised by sharp social divisions. The outside walls are draped with giant smartphone and tablet ads.
Over the road a small group of squatters camp out and make a living selling everything from puppies to knocked-off football shirts, bananas and flowers to the passing drivers in their 4x4s. Before sunset hundreds of the hawkers had gathered to watch the drama unfold. One man drew a storm of laughter when, after climbing on to an advertising hoarding to get a better view, he electrocuted himself on an overhead power line.
The Israeli-owned mall was well aware of the security warnings and had precautions similar to an airport; cars are checked with mirrors for bombs and pedestrians are frisked. Michael, one of the 40 or so private security guards, was in the parking lot that faces the mall. He described feeling helpless, adding: "We tried to help as many people as possible but I'm not going back in there. I don't have a gun and they have so many. I have a family to think about."
Frank Musunga, an off-duty soldier, had been shopping with a friend when the attack began. The attackers were wearing civilian clothes, he said, and were using high-calibre weapons. He said: "They were carrying a lot of guns with them, they were shooting, shooting, shooting. I saw bodies in the corridors."
By mid-afternoon, four hours after the attack, survivors were still trickling out from the building. Slumped on the pavement near an ambulance was Hilda. Dressed in a silver jumpsuit, with her face covered in little stars, she and her friends had been doing a cosmetics promotion. "When the shooting started we ran into the pharmacy and hid. There were people running everywhere."
She described hiding behind the counter for three hours while the shooting continued. Eventually an armed police unit came and rescued them, leading them out of the building.
Next to her was Mary Mulwa, who worked in the supermarket where hundreds of people had tried to hide. Shaking from the shock, she had to be carried away on a stretcher by paramedics. One of her colleagues, who gave his name as Joseph, said that customers had poured into the second-floor store seeking shelter when the firing had started. Along with dozens of customers and shop staff he hid in the storeroom. "If you tried to move that's when the firing started."
After two hours, one of the store workers gathered the courage to make for the exit. "We just went slowly, slowly feeling our way along the walls." There were people with guns everywhere, he said, adding: "You didn't know who were the policemen and who weren't."
SOURCE: THE GUARDIAN
