Alcohol smuggler Guled Diriye is exhausted.
He just returned from his trip transporting contraband from the Ethiopian border.
The 29-year-old sinks into his chair in a colonial-style villa ravaged by years of fighting in the Somali capital Mogadishu, a city once known as the Pearl of the Indian Ocean.
His sandals are covered in a powerful orange substance – the residue of the desert.
Mr. Diriye’s dark eyes droop. The bags underneath speak of sleepless nights, hours of tension on dangerous roads and negotiating checkpoints with armed men.
There is also the haunting memory of a fellow smuggler being shot dead.
“In this country, everyone is struggling and looking for a way out. And I found my way by traveling regularly by road from the Ethiopian border to Mogadishu,” he says, explaining that smuggling was a means to support his family in a difficult economic climate.
The use and distribution of alcohol is illegal. Somalia’s laws must comply with Sharia (Islamic law), which bans alcohol, but this has failed to stem growing demand, especially among young people in many parts of the country.
Diriye’s neighbor Abshir, who knew he had fallen on hard times as a minibus taxi driver, introduced him to the precarious world of alcohol smuggling.
Rickshaws started taking over the city, putting minibus drivers out of business.
Both were childhood friends who had been in the same camp together in 2009 during the height of the uprising in Mogadishu – he was someone he could trust.
“I started collecting boxes of alcohol from designated drop-off points in Mogadishu [his] on behalf of and maneuver through the city and unload at designated locations. I didn’t realize it at first, but this was my introduction to smuggling.”
His involvement increased and Mr. Diriye soon found himself navigating from the porous border with Ethiopia through Somalia’s rural hinterland.
He understands that he is breaking the law, but says that the poverty he finds himself in negates this.
The smuggling journey starts in Somali border towns such as Abudwak, Balanbale, Feerfeer and Galdogob.
“Alcohol mainly comes from [Ethiopia’s capital] Addis Ababa and reaches the town of Jigjiga, Ogaden region,” said Mr. Diriye.
The Ogaden or, as it is officially known in Ethiopia, the Somali region, shares a 1,600 km (990 mi) border with Somalia. People on both sides share ethnic, cultural, linguistic and religious ties.
Once the alcohol is loaded, it is transported across the plains of the Somali region and then smuggled across the border into Somalia.
The border town of Galdogob is a major hub for trade and travel and has been hit hard by the flow of alcohol smuggled from Ethiopia.
Tribal elders have expressed concerns about alcohol-related violence.
“Alcohol causes so much harm [such as shootings]” said Sheikh Abdalla Mohamed Ali, the chairman of the local tribal council in the city.
“[It] has been seized and destroyed several times, but it’s like living next to a factory. More and more comes out, no matter what we do.”
“Our city will always be in danger.”
But for the smugglers, the goal is to get the alcohol to the capital.
“I drive a truck that transports vegetables, potatoes and other foodstuffs. When the truck is fully loaded, it is full of everything I transport, but I make most of my money from the alcohol on board,” says Mr Diriye.
Sometimes smugglers cross Ethiopia to pick it up and sometimes they receive it at the border. But whatever approach is taken, concealment is a crucial part of the job because the risks of getting caught are enormous.
“The loader’s job is the most important. Even more important than driving a car. He’s tasked with hiding the alcohol in our truck, with everything we have on board. Without him I wouldn’t be able to move around so easily – at least not without getting caught.
“The average box of alcohol I move contains twelve bottles. Normally I transport between 50 and 70 boxes per trip. Usually half of my truck load is filled with alcohol.”
Large parts of south-central Somalia are controlled by armed groups, where the government has little to no control: militias, bandits and the al-Qaeda affiliate Al-Shabab roam with impunity.
“You can never travel alone. It’s too risky. Death is always on our minds,” says Diriye. But that concern doesn’t get in the way of doing business and there’s a cheeky pragmatism in thinking about the composition of the team.
“If I get injured along the way, there has to be a backup who can continue the journey. Everyone can drive and knows the roads well.”
Smugglers travel on unpaved roads and roads that have not been renovated for decades. Landmines and unexploded ordnance left behind from previous conflicts also pose a problem.
“I travel through at least eight to ten cities to reach Mogadishu. But we don’t count the cities, we count the checkpoints and who mans them,” says Mr Diriye.
They encounter different clan militias with different loyalties, lingering in the distance or at roadblocks.
“In the event that we are trapped by a clan militia, if one of us belongs to the same clan as that militia or even a similar sub-clan, this increases our chances of survival. That’s why all three of us come from different clans.”
He painfully recalls: “I experienced countless attacks.
“One of the guys who works with me is relatively new. He replaced my last helper who was killed two years ago.
Mr Diriye had been driving for six hours in stifling heat, so decided to take a nap and passed the wheel to his helper.
“While I was sleeping in the back, I heard a large burst of gunfire which suddenly woke me up. We were surrounded by militiamen. My Charger screamed as it dove into the passenger seat.” The replacement driver was killed.
When the commotion subsided, the loader and Mr Diriye took their dead colleague from the front seat and put him in the back of the truck.
‘I’ve never seen so much blood in my life. I had to wipe [it] away from the wheel and keep driving. In all my years, nothing prepared me for what I saw that day.”
As the pair drove away and got well away from the militia members, they pulled over to the side of the road and laid his body there.
“We didn’t even have a sheet to cover his body, so I took off my long-sleeved button-up shirt and made do.
“It was a difficult decision, but I knew I couldn’t keep driving around smuggling alcohol with a dead body in the truck. We had a few government checkpoints up ahead and I couldn’t jeopardize my cargo or my freedom.”
Two years later, he says the guilt over leaving the body on the side of the road still haunts him.
He left behind a family, and Mr. Diriye is unsure if they even know the truth about the circumstances of his disappearance and death.
The danger Diriye faces is a recurring reality that many smugglers face when illegally transporting alcohol from Ethiopia to Mogadishu to meet growing demand.
Dahir Barre, 41, has a slim build with striking scars on his face that seem to tell a story in themselves. He has a dark sense of humor and seems hardened by the nearly decade of smuggling that allows him to avoid the possible consequences of what he does.
“We face many problems and dangers, but we continue to drive despite the risks posed by poor living conditions in Somalia,” he said.
Mr Barre has been smuggling alcohol from Ethiopia since 2015 and says the lack of opportunity, exacerbated by years of poverty, has pushed him into the dangerous trade.
“I used to do security for a hotel in the city center. I was armed with an AK-47 and had the job of patting people at the entrance.”
Long nights in a dangerous job with meager pay didn’t feel worth it.
“A hundred dollars a month to stand in the way of potential car bombs that could plow through the main gate sounds crazy now that I think about it.”
One of the guards from the day shift then put him in touch with friends from the border region and “I have been traveling these roads ever since.”
“In 2015 I was only getting $150 per trip, compared to $350 per trip now, and at that time it was much riskier because Al-Shabab had control over more territory, so you risked more encounters with them.
“Even the bandits and militias were more dangerous then.
“If you had red or brown teeth, the militias assumed you chewed khat and smoked cigarettes, meaning you had money, so they would kidnap you and hold you for ransom.
“As drivers we have been through a lot and the danger still exists,” Mr Barre said.
If caught by Al-Shabab fighters, it could be extremely dangerous as the armed group has a zero-tolerance policy towards contraband, especially alcohol. The Islamist insurgents set fire to the vehicle and then detain the smugglers before fining them.
Other armed men can be more easily bribed with money or drink.
It takes an average of seven to nine days to reach Mogadishu from the Ethiopian border. The smugglers then proceed to a pre-arranged drop-off point.
“When we arrive, a group of men show up and load the regular food items into a separate truck and then leave. Then, when that is done, another person comes, sometimes accompanied by more than one vehicle, and takes away the boxes of alcohol,” says Mr Diriye.
“But it doesn’t stop there. Once it leaves my possession, it will pass through more hands and eventually end up at local dealers in town, who can be reached with a simple phone call.”
Mr. Diriye often thinks about his entry into smuggling, and where his future might lie.
“My neighbor Abshir, who initially tempted me to smuggle alcohol, stopped doing so three years ago.”
Abshir offered his cousin, then an unemployed graduate, a job in smuggling. But he was killed in an ambush by bandits on his third trip.
‘After that, Abshir stopped smuggling. He became religious and turned to God. I rarely see him anymore.”
Despite the dangers, Diriye says it won’t deter him.
“Death is something that is meant to be. I can’t let fear get in the way of making a living. Sure, sometimes I want to throw the keys on the table and start over, but it’s not that easy. Temptation is everywhere and that includes poverty.”
All names have been changed in this story.
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