海角大神

The 26-year-old鈥檚 tone is calm as he recounts showing up at a local mosque here last month with dozens of other young men, armed with knives and ready to drive out the imam聽and other leaders聽for their flawed teachings of Islam.

In his dim, sweltering bedroom in a shack behind a welding workshop on the聽outskirts of聽this coastal city, he talks of martyrdom and his path from drug addiction to jihad. He converted to Islam five years ago, finding sobriety via CDs and the preaching of a radical imam and recruiter for Al Shabab, a militant group based in neighboring Somalia.听

鈥淏urning churches, killing police 鈥� it鈥檚 not a sin to us. They are the biggest enemies of the movement,鈥� says the young man, referring to聽the police and non-Muslims. Should the government move against them, he says, "there is a Muslim somewhere, in Somalia or Kenya, whether Al Shabab or someone else, who will definitely revenge us.鈥�

For聽a couple of聽weeks, this young man and his allies took over the Musa mosque in the Majengo neighborhood and preached a return to sharia law. Then police raided and shut it down along with three other mosques聽the young men had taken over; some were arrested, while others fled. The police said they found weapons stored in the mosques.听

A heavy security presence has enforced an uneasy calm in this city, which has emerged as聽a testing ground for Kenya鈥檚聽hardline聽approach to confronting extremism after a spate of attacks by Al Shabab, including the recent killing of 64 people in two incidents in northeast Kenya that singled out non-Muslims.听

Tensions have built since Kenya's military joined聽African Union forces fighting in Somalia in 2011. President Uhuru Kenyatta has called on Kenyans to help combat terrorism by informing authorities about potential militant activity in their community.

But in a city like Mombasa, where the population is 41 percent Muslim, the聽government's tactics are beginning to be seen as a campaign against all who practice Islam. Police raids on聽neighborhoods and mosques have been followed by attacks on police and churches, and local willingness to cooperate with authorities is fading. Many worry that providing information is self-incriminating.

The current dynamic 鈥渄rives the Muslim community against the government in a way that is very dangerous,鈥� says Khalef Khalifa, chairman of Muslims for Human Rights, a Kenyan advocacy group. 鈥淔or the first time, Muslims on the coast feel they are under siege.鈥�

The growing resentment and fear could become a liability for Kenya in its fight against Al Shabab. And while the radicalized youth appear too disorganized to pose a threat beyond the coast, the chaos they have created provides cover for militants.

鈥淭he actual harm that they can do as a group 鈥� it鈥檚 not substantial,鈥� says Niklas Rogers,聽director of Kenya Risk, an East Africa security consultancy firm based in Kenya. 鈥淚t鈥檚 more likely Al Shabab would take advantage of a situation to escalate it.

鈥淭here is no coordinated link between the two. [But] there聽is聽a massive level of sympathy and money,鈥� Mr. Rogers says.

'Ripe' for Al Shabab

On Nov. 27, authorities reopened the Musa mosque.听But聽frequent riots have prompted many local businesses to close, and residents say anyone who can afford to move away is doing so.

Parents and elders here watch their sons with trepidation. To the police, Mombasa鈥檚 young men 鈥渁re all drug addicts or terrorists,鈥� says Farooq Saad, head of Citizens Against Child and Drug Abuse, based in Mombasa. 鈥淥pportunities for the coastal youth are very inferior鈥� to other parts of the country.听He estimates there are 35,000 addicts in Mombasa County today.听In a 2013 poll of the Kenyan coast by Ipsos,聽51 percent of county residents cited 鈥渏obless youth鈥� as the main threat to security.

Young聽Muslim聽men say they are caught in the middle between authorities and radical youth.听聽鈥淲e want jobs! We want a wife! We want a car! We want a house! We don鈥檛 have anything!鈥� cries one as he left the first prayers at Musa mosque since its reopening. Others refused to talk, afraid of incriminating themselves.

The day after Musa鈥檚 reopening, Farida Rashid Safe presided over Mombasa鈥檚 first deradicalization workshop. As聽chairwoman of the Kenyan Muslim Woman鈥檚 Alliance, she worries about the twin temptations of drugs and jihad for young Muslim men.听

About 200 people, mostly parents, sisters, and community elders, gathered to hear from local experts and government officials. The draw for the few dozen young men was likely the few dollars and three free meals offered for attendance. But as the day wore on, some started to speak up.

At a question and answer session with local politician Abdul Samad, attendees pleaded for him to reason with the police. Speaking after the forum, Mr. Samad said that police tactics were creating a "very聽ripe environment" for Al Shabab recruiters.听鈥淭ake a balloon 鈥� it doesn鈥檛 burst on first breath, it bursts when it can鈥檛 take anymore," he says.

Government officials 鈥渄on鈥檛 want to see our faces,鈥� complains 17-year-old Ali Farouq, unemployed and no longer in school. 鈥淭hey promise us many things but they don鈥檛 fulfill them.鈥�

Last Friday, three police cars came to Mr. Farouq鈥檚 neighborhood and took away young men they accused of terrorism, he says. It happens often. He just tries to stay out of sight. 鈥淎fter聽6 p.m., I鈥檓 home, cooped up like a chicken,鈥� Farouq says.

A moment for change?

Most Mombasa residents admit that radicals, even Al Shabab, are among them, and that the police probably did find weapons in the four mosques they raided last month.听

But the police campaign is backfiring, locals say, because of moves like bursting into mosques during prayer without removing their boots, a major affront to聽the religion.

鈥淭here are many ways to kill a rat,鈥� says Ruby Tamina, a local radio journalist聽dressed in an abaya. 鈥淜enya鈥檚 police don鈥檛 use their head. It鈥檚 just boom-boom, force. Every action has a reaction.鈥�

Now may be the moment for change. The spate of shocking attacks in the northeast 鈥撀爋ne a bus attack that Al Shabab claimed was in retaliation for the mosque closures in Mombasa 鈥撀爌rompted a public outcry so fierce that two top national security officials were removed from office Dec. 2. New leadership may provide an opening for a review of security tactics.

鈥淭he government obviously needs to rethink its strategies so that they could benefit from intelligence from these same communities,鈥� Rogers, the risk consultant, says. 鈥淚t involves a very big change in policy.鈥�

Muslims in Mombasa are also angry at聽religious leaders and elders from umbrella organizations like the Supreme Council of kenya Muslims. Locals accuse these groups of staying mum not only on police abuses, but extremism. None condemned the radical youth鈥檚 takeover of the mosques, for example, nor the mass arrests and raids that followed.

But Muslim elders are also feeling the heat. In June,聽Sheikh Idriss Mohamed, the leader of the Council of Imams and Preachers of Kenya (CIPK), was gunned down in what was widely believed to be by local radicals.听 Mr. Khalifa of Muslims for Human Rights says he鈥檚 never feared for his life as much as he has the past two years.

'They cannot win'

That sympathy for radical teachings exists here is a departure from past practices. In the 1990s, Israeli academic Arye Oded, a researcher on radicalization in Africa, wrote that in Kenya鈥檚 coastal Muslim community, 鈥淚slamic extremism does not pose a security threat.鈥�

However, he cautioned that, 鈥渇rustrations and dissatisfaction could be exploited鈥� by militant groups 鈥渋f the regime does not give this important minority more attention.鈥�

Decades of聽political and economic marginalization and discrimination against coastal Kenya is blamed for its current lack of underdevelopment. In 2013,聽Mombasa鈥檚 unemployment rate was 27 percent.听

Some thought November鈥檚 battle over the mosques and the subsequent riots and crackdown might finally push Mombasa over the brink. The city pulled back, but mediators 鈥� including local politicians like Samad and organizations like CIPK 鈥� say they are running out of ways to placate people.

Elders, who have seen waves of violence before,聽insist聽moderation will prevail.

鈥淵ouths by themselves can鈥檛 run the show,鈥� says Mohamed Jahazi, an聽elderly聽former member of parliament, speaking from his plastic chair at the Musa mosque on the day of its reopening.

Referring to the radical youth that previously seized the mosque, he adds,聽鈥淭hat path they are taking 鈥� they鈥檙e learning a lesson.听It is dangerous and costly 鈥β燭hey cannot win.鈥�

This story was reported with support from the Ford Foundation.