United they sing

Just weeks ago, Mohammad Abdi Jamal's job was to extort money from people at roadblocks on the streets of Mogadishu, Somalia. His tool: an AK-47. If the people didn't pay up fast, he says, he had to do "whatever was necessary".

"Since the day we were born, we've been fighting and we didn't know if it was right or wrong," he says, explaining that since he was a small boy, he was forced to help man roadblocks by the warlords who have been fighting for control of the country for the past 15 years. But when he heard the unique sound and message of a hip-hop fusion group composed mostly of young Somali refugees living in the hardscrabble "Little Mogadishu" neighbourhood of Nairobi, Kenya, he was inspired to sneak across Kenya's border to join the group — which he did in August.

More than words

Now, his weapon is a microphone. He is spitting out lyrics aimed at promoting peace, HIV/Aids awareness and women's rights, and tackling other issues on the minds of young Somalis. His rap group, Waayaha Cusub, or "New Era", is gaining the ear of Somalis from as far away as the US and Europe — but their controversial message is challenging traditional norms and attracting threats of violence from older members of this conservative Islamic Somali diaspora.

"The music is different now. We are bringing a change to the youth," says the group's founder, manager and main song writer Shine Abdullahi. "The big change is that we have inspired kids in Somalia who were carrying guns and doing drugs." Abdullahi says his group is one of the first to make Somali music for young people. The older generation only makes traditional music about their problems and old-school love songs, he says.

But besides the main theme of reconciliation among Somalia's warring clans and peace in the region, Waayaha Cusub sings and makes videos about how badly Aids has ravaged their society. It is a taboo subject among Somalis, many of whom prefer to think of Aids as a disease only prevalent among white people, say group members.

Sending a message to Somalia aside from music, the group now makes a 20-minute comedy radio programme for youths that is broadcast every Friday in Somalia. The United Nations Development Programme recently tried to organise a benefit concert in Somalia featuring Waayaha Cusub, but it was too dangerous. They couldn't go.

Threat perception

The group's fame in restive Somalia has become a problem. One female member of the band had her face slashed on the streets of Little Mogadishu one evening, a day after receiving anonymous phone calls saying she would be attacked. She has since quit the band and is in hiding.

These attacks proved to the band that the nearly daily threats were serious. But band members say they refuse to stop what they are doing and want the world to know what they are facing.

"The government doesn't help us. The government doesn't know anything about us," says Abdullahi, who says he is asking anyone who will listen to help provide security.

Until then, the group keeps churning out hit singles and videos from their ramshackle studio on the top of a concrete shell of a building.

They rhyme for a reason

The lead rapper of the group Waayaha Cusub, Quincy Brian — who goes by the name Q Rap and attempts an American-accented "How ya doin'?" with the appropriate rapper-style head-nod followed by a shy smile — came to Kenya years ago as a political refugee from his native Ethiopia, a bitter historic enemy of Somalia.

Q Rap says he gets regularly hassled by Ethiopians for "selling out his country" by making music about peace with Somalis. And after Ethiopia invaded Somalia in December to root out Islamists who had taken over wide swathes of the country, the Somali band members faced increased pressure to kick Q Rap out. But none of them ever gave in to the threats or pressures. "They showed me love even though I'm Ethiopian," he says, after horsing around with one of the band's Somali female members.

"The youth can learn from us." The lead singer, Falis Abdi, who fled Somalia for Kenya in 2003, says she doesn't only educate people about peace and HIV/Aids: "I tell them how love goes," she says. One of the group's hits songs stars Abdi singing about how a woman should choose whom she wants to love, rather than being forced by parents or society to be with someone because of wealth or clan identity.

For her, the song is personal because her mother chased away the boy she loved. But now, Abdi is forced to walk the streets of Little Mogadishu with a head scarf and veil. If she is recognised, she fears people will make good on threats to throw stones at her. What is it that makes her so brave? Well, first of all, Abdi loves making the music. Second: "Somali culture will change if they listen to my song."