The first trial of its kind: A Russian soldier takes the stand for an execution

34 minutes ago Share Save Joel Gunter Reporting from Zaporizhzhia, Ukraine Share Save

BBC Dmitriy Kurashov is the first Russian soldier to stand trial in Ukraine for an alleged battlefield execution

On the frozen frontline in the east of Zaporizhzhia, a Ukrainian soldier surveyed the fallout from a Russian assault. It was the middle of January 2024 and the ground was covered in ice. Two weeks earlier, an 18-strong Russian assault team had broken through the line and seized three positions, killing five Ukrainians and losing 10 Russians before ceding the thin stretch of land back to the Ukrainians just hours later. The three positions that had changed hands were each just a few foxholes in the ground –⁠ dots on a devastated landscape of craters and shredded trees. The Ukrainian soldier filmed as he looked over the remains of his fallen comrades. "This is Vitas, the small one," he said, using the dead man's callsign. He examined another body. "A silver ring, this is Grinch," he said. With difficulty, he turned over another frozen body. It was in bad condition, but the face was recognisable. The soldier sighed. "What can I find to cover you, so that you won't get cold," he said to the dead man. He picked up a nearby helmet and placed it over the damaged face. "We have found the Penguin," he said. A year later, in January 2025, a Russian soldier was frog-marched down the corridor of a rundown local courthouse in Zaporizhzhia flanked by five Ukrainian soldiers and a large rottweiler trained on the Russian's scent and straining at its leash to attack him. Dmitriy Kurashov, callsign 'Stalker', was about to go on trial for the alleged battlefield execution of Vitalii Hodniuk, a veteran 41-year-old Ukrainian soldier known by the callsign 'Penguin'.

Handout Vitalii Hodniuk, a veteran Ukrainian soldier with the callsign 'Penguin', was killed on the frontline

The trial was to be the first of its kind. According to Ukrainian authorities, Russian troops have executed at least 124 prisoners of war on the battlefield since the full-scale invasion began, but Kurashov is the first person to be brought to trial in Ukraine for the crime. His case is one of a tiny number among the tens of thousands of open war crimes cases where a suspect has been captured and can be made to stand in the dock. Adding to the unprecedented nature of the event, three members of Kurashov's own unit had agreed to testify against him. In the bright, boxy courtroom, Kurashov was locked in a glass-enclosed dock. Short in stature, his head often bowed, he cut a subdued figure. When he did look around, he was forced to swivel his head because he had lost one eye to a grenade at the front. It was not Kurashov's first time in the dock; he had been jailed twice before in Russia, and was among the thousands of prisoners freed by the state to take part in the war. The prosecutor read the charges. Kurashov was accused of shooting Hodniuk execution style as the Ukrainian soldier attempted to surrender – a violation of the laws of war. Kurashov had intially pleaded not guilty, during the pre-trial phase, but now in court he switched his plea to guilty. Informally, he maintained his innocence, and was making the switch purely to speed up the process, he said. According to the UN, battlefield executions by Russians have increased at an alarming rate over the past year. In a February report, the UN human rights mission in Ukraine said it had found evidence of 79 executions by Russian forces since August 2024, as well as evidence of three illegal killings by Ukraine using first-person drones. The UN also said it had found at least three calls by Russian public officials ordering or approving executions, and according to Ukraine there is evidence of Russian battlefield commanders ordering executions up and down the frontline.

Kurashov faces up to life in prison if found guilty

The assault on the front by Kurashov's unit was to be his first proper operation, just a few weeks after joining the war. The unit was part of "Storm-V", a detachment of the 127th motorised rifle division made up almost entirely of freed prisoners. The Storm-V units have been used by Russia as cannon fodder, sent to stage assaults on the worst parts of the frontline. They are a grim echo of similar units formed by Stalin, characterised principally by their extremely high rate of attrition. The operation began early on the morning of 6 January 2024 under a dense fog. The 18-strong Storm-V team approached the frontline in two armoured vehicles and a tank and the assault began. Kurashov was directed towards the small cluster of foxholes where Hodniuk and others were hiding, following a Russian artillery barrage. This is where Kurashov's account diverges from that of the prosecution and the Russian soldiers testifying against him. They say Kurashov called into a foxhole for those inside to surrender and Hodniuk emerged unarmed and kneeled on the ground, only for Kurashov to shoot him with a burst from his AK-47. Kurashov says that it was not him who fired the shots but another Russian, a medic with callsign "Sedoy", who was later killed. The Russians could not hold the position for long. Overpowered by Ukrainian forces just hours later, Kurashov and the other survivors crawled out of the foxholes and surrendered. They were marched away from the front to a Ukrainian armoured vehicle and taken as prisoners of war. Ukrainian soldiers who saw Hodniuk's body told the country's state security service, the SBU, that it lay face down with no weapon nearby.

The three frontline foxholes where Vitalii Hodniuk was killed, as seen by a Ukrainian drone filming shortly after the operation

The SBU could not access the scene, because it was too close to the contact line, but the agency began what would become an extensive remote investigation. At an SBU location in Zaporizhzhia last month, the officer in charge – who spoke on condition of anonymity because of his work in the security service – drew a map of the scene and explained how they put Kurashov in the dock. "The first step was interrogating the eight prisoners of war," he said. "They were questioned as witnesses and later their identities were fully confirmed via social networks, mobile phones, and partial radio intercepts that preceded the event. The entire unit in that sector was tracked." Initially, there were two suspected executions. Another Ukrainian, callsign 'Grinch', had been beaten to death with a shovel, one witness said. But the SBU couldn't prove it. "The polygraph didn't confirm the information and when the bodies were eventually recovered from the battlefield, none of them had such injuries," the investigator said. "My opinion, after examining all the facts, is that this was made up." It was, he said, an example of Ukraine's ability to investigate and prosecute war crimes impartially, despite being the victim and under an ongoing state of war from the aggressor. "Look, we have one suspect on trial for an execution," the SBU investigator said, referring to Kurashov. "I signed it and sent it to court because we've gathered enough evidence that points to guilt. If our goal was simply to suspect anyone and send them to court we would have ten prisoners passing through every day."

With no specialist war crimes court in Ukraine, the trial is uncharted territory for the three judges

The seriousness with which Ukraine is treating this criminal prosecution is apparent. The SBU investigation produced more than 2,000 pages of evidence. Each of the witnesses was put through filmed reconstructions of the event on a Ukrainian army shooting range. In court, all efforts have been made by the prosecutor and the judges to ensure that Kurashov understands his rights, that he can understand his translator, and is given the opportunity to cross examine witnesses against him – an opportunity he has so far declined. (Kurashov's state-appointed lawyer declined to speak to the BBC. She has spoken only briefly in court, on administrative matters and to clarify some descriptions of the event by witnesses.) The three Russian witnesses all testified on the first day of Kurashov's trial – three former prisoners who like Kurashov had gambled on surviving the war to gain their freedom. One had been serving 25 years to life for killing two drug dealers, another nine years for grievous bodily harm for killing a man with a brick in a fight, a third eight years, also for grievous bodily harm.

They gave evidence via video link from an adjacent courtroom, so they could be locked in their own dock. Dmitry Zuev, 44, was to be the key witness. He told the court that he saw Kurashov call for the Ukrainians to come out of the foxhole and surrender, after which Hodniuk emerged and knelt with his hands up. Then there were more gunshots and explosions, Zuev said, and he saw Hodniuk fall face down into the mud. Zuev also told the court that he personally knew the medic, Sedoy, who Kurashov has accused of the killing, and Sedoy was not there. Oleg Zamyatin, 54, testified that Hodniuk was not holding a gun when he emerged from the foxhole. Zamyatin did not see Kurashov fire the alleged shots, he said, because there were explosions at the same moment. "But I can say that it was him," Zamyatin told the court. "Because there was no one else at that spot except him." Konstantin Zelenin, 41, the commander of Kurashov's small assault group, told the court he was hiding in a crater when he saw Hodniuk exit the foxhole on the right side with his hands up. "Then, just a split second later, as the shelling began again, I heard a burst from an automatic rifle," Zelenin said. "On the right side was Stalker, and he was there alone."

Kurashov told the BBC he was told "not to take prisoners"

In the dock, Kurashov sat largely mute as his former unit mates testified against him, speaking only occasionally to his lawyer through a slim gap in the enclosure's door. It is not clear yet if he will testify on his own behalf. The day after one of his hearings, he agreed to talk to the BBC about how he had ended up on trial in Ukraine. The interview was co-ordinated by the SBU and conducted at a derelict building in Zaporizhzhia being used as a kind of safe house by the service, which confirmed the basic facts of Kurashov's life. Kurashov appeared in good condition and said he had agreed freely to take part. The lead judge in his case permitted the interview, for which an SBU press officer was present some of the time. Kurashov's remarks to the BBC will not be admissible in court. His journey to that miserable stretch of front where Hodniuk died – to becoming Stalker – began in an orphanage in Gremyachinsk, a decayed old coal town about a thousand miles from Moscow on the way to Siberia. Orphaned at birth, Kurashov was raised in a group home. As a teenager, he got into a fight with a police officer and was imprisoned for assault. He served four years, but on his release he had no family, friends or place to live, so he became a vagrant. He began robbing summer houses and shops for food and money, he said, resulting in another imprisonment, this time in a remote penal colony alongside men serving life sentences for the some of the most brutal crimes. Six months into that sentence, representatives from the Russian military came to the penal colony and told the convicts they had an opportunity to turn a new page in their lives. Kurashov still had five years to serve. "They told us you can have a clean slate, become a clean person," he said. "Just sign this contract and go." "Go" meant to the "special military operation" in Ukraine. Kurashov knew little about it, he said, but he thought anything was better than five more years in the penal colony or being turned out into the streets at the end of his sentence. So he signed, and was taken immediately to a training camp in occupied territory in Ukraine.

A drone view of the area of the frontline assaulted by Kurashov and his unit, in the eastern oblast of Zaporizhzhia

Kurashov described his unit as made up entirely of "people who had been pushed down by life and rejected by society, who were outside of society". They were given 21 days training, he said, during which they were drunk almost all the time. "They did not want to study or train," he recalled. "They all said they were just there to die." There was no training on the Geneva Convention, to which Russia and Ukraine are both signatories, and which prohibits the killing of people who have surrendered or no longer pose a threat. In fact, the trainers told them the opposite, Kurashov said. "The ones who taught us how to take positions told us not to take any prisoners," he said. His description matches accounts from his unit mates, who told Ukrainian investigators they were instructed to execute prisoners and throw grenades into dugouts even if the enemy had surrendered. It also matches accounts from other Russian prisoners of war. "I don't recall training on international humanitarian law," a Russian POW told the UN recently. "During our military training and later, commanders told us not to take [Ukrainian soldiers] as prisoners of war. It is logistically cumbersome." According to Kurashov, the unit were told they would be carrying out logistical operations like digging trenches, but instead found themselves headed immediately for battle. During the brief assault on the Ukrainian position, Kurashov's impression was not one of an able military unit at war. "What I saw was people who just laid down and died," he said. Within hours, 10 of the 18-strong assault team were dead and the remaining eight were in captivity. Within a fortnight, the incident had become one of Ukraine's many thousands of war crimes cases. Ukraine has no specialist war crimes courts, so the cases generally fall to whichever court is local to the offence. In this case, the Zavodskyi District in Zaporizhzhia.

Mykyta Manevskyi is prosecuting his first execution case

Prior to the full scale invasion, 32-year-old Zavodskyi District prosecutor Mykyta Manevskyi had taken on a range of civil crimes like robbery, vandalism and fraud, plus two murder cases, but never a war crime. "When you're working with an ordinary murder case, it has difficulties but it's pretty simple," Manevskyi said. "You know where the murder took place, you can collect DNA and fingerprints, you can find the murder weapon. You have almost immediate access to the body. You can conduct forensic tests." In this case, Manevskyi's murder scene was on the contact line. "We could not even extract the body for two months," he said. "It made it difficult to perform any kind of forensic examination. The body was too long under the sun, the rain and snow, and it was harmed by artillery strikes." That made it difficult to ascertain anything concrete about the nature of the shots that killed Hodniuk. "This is not the level of detail, unfortunately, that we need when investigating a murder," Manevskyi said. "So we had to focus more on working with the witnesses we had." In fact, the prosecution is relying almost totally on the testimony of the Russian soldiers. There are no other eyewitnesses, no drone footage of the actual event and the physical evidence is circumstantial, much of it badly degraded by the battlefield conditions which persisted for weeks before the bodies could be recovered.

War crimes are being tried at ordinary local courts like the Zavodskyi District Courthouse, where Kurashov's case is being heard

But the testimony is not without its complications. The witnesses are all POWs, being held by the nation prosecuting the case. They were each interrogated up to 10 times by the Ukrainian state security service, during which time some of their stories evolved. One bore a grudge against Kurashov from their time together in training, he told investigators. Another said he resented the defendant for, in his view, getting them caught. "It is a tricky area," said Sergey Vasiliev, a professor of international law at the Open University of the Netherlands. "POWs are a particularly vulnerable category of witnesses, any evidence they give should be taken with a grain of salt." There was nothing inherently wrong with POWs testifying, Vasiliev said, but various factors could have affected their decision to appear for the prosecution. "Maybe they are expecting better treatment in Ukrainian custody, maybe they expect to be prioritised in a prisoner swap," he said. "They could have various incentives to lie." Kurashov maintains his story about the medic, Sedoy. He told the BBC he had pleaded guilty because he believed the sooner the trial was over the sooner he could be exchanged back to Russia. But if Kurashov is found guilty, he is no longer a prisoner of war. He is simply a prisoner in Ukraine's civil legal system. Yuriy Belousov, the head of the war crimes department of Ukraine's Office of the Prosecutor General, told the BBC that Russian soldiers convicted of war crimes would go to prison in Ukraine and stay there. "We prosecute on behalf of the victims and their relatives and they should feel justice has been done," Belousov said. In the end, it may not be that simple. Russia has captured many thousands of civilians during its full scale invasion of Ukraine and is effectively holding them hostage in Russian prisons. If the Kremlin decides it wants Kurashov back, it may have leverage to get him. "That is less of a legal and more of an ethical issue," Belousov said. "If, let's say, 100 people would be offered to exchange for this one, then yes maybe. It is our obligation to prosecute on behalf of victims, but it is also our obligation to save our people who have been kept in Russia."

Three of Dmitriy Kurashov's former unit mates testified against him

Belousov and his colleagues are aiming at bigger fish than Kurashov. Their goal for this year and next is to bring cases against middle and higher level Russian command, he said. According to the testimony from the captured Russians in Kurashov's unit, their senior commander issued an order directly before the assault that no prisoners should be taken. According to Belousov, similar evidence has been found up and down the frontline. Grim video evidence, sometimes shared on Russian social media, appears to bear that out. Russia has in turn accused Ukrainian troops of extra-judicial killings, and Ukraine has launched several investigations into its own forces (the exact number is unclear). But the number of allegations against Russia far outweighs that against Ukraine. Russia has previously denied committing war crimes in the conflict. The UN has also documented several cases of Russian public figures calling for executions. Last July, after Ukraine's Azov Brigade posted a social media video showing one of its members shooting a Russian soldier in a dugout, the deputy head of Russia's Security Council, Dmitry Medvedev, called for "total executions" of Ukrainian servicemen. "No words about mercy. No humanity. No pardon. They have no right to life. Execute, execute and execute," Medvedev wrote on the Telegram social media platform. Medvedev's words will not cost him anything. Instead they run downhill until they reach the level of Vitalii Hodniuk, Dmitry Kurashov, and all the other Russian and Ukrainian men killing each other in service of the war's obscure goals. In this case, one of those men stands accused of breaking the laws of the killing he had been sent to do – laws he may well have been ordered to disregard. If found guilty, Kurashov faces up to life in prison. At the end of his conversation with the BBC, he said that he had no real vision for the future, other than a desire to return to Russia. "At least I will have a disability," he said, referring to the loss of his eye, and the anticipated benefits it would draw. "I won't have to be a vagrant anymore." Vitalii Hodniuk cannot return home, of course. It was two months before his body could even be recovered. His family did not want to speak publicly about his passing, but they did assist in the SBU in its investigation. Hodniuk's record shows that he was an experienced soldier who defended Ukraine against Russian-backed forces from 2015 to 2020 and joined up to fight again in 2022. Last May, six months after he died, the Penguin was brought back to his village to be buried. On a bright morning, just a stone's throw from where he grew up and went to school, people lined the street on their knees to watch his coffin pass by. Kurashov's trial continues.

Race to mine metals for EV batteries threatens marine paradise

31 minutes ago Share Save Victoria Gill Science correspondent, BBC News Share Save

Global Witness The Raja Ampat archipelago in Indonesia is sometimes referred to as the 'Amazon of the Seas'

Stark images, captured from a drone by environmental campaigners and shared with the BBC, appear to show how nickel mining has stripped forests and polluted waters in one of the most biodiverse marine habitats on Earth. The Raja Ampat archipelago - a group of small islands in Indonesia's Southwest Papua Province - has been dubbed the "Amazon of the Seas". But mining for nickel - an ingredient in electric vehicle batteries and in stainless steel - has ramped up there in recent years, according to the organisation Global Witness. In a move that was welcomed by campaigners, the Indonesian government this week revoked permits for four out of five mining companies operating in the region.

Global Witness A photograph taken in December 2024 shows mining activity on Kawei island, in Raja Ampat

In a statement published online, Indonesia's Ministry for the Environment said: "Raja Ampat's biodiversity is a world heritage that must be protected. "We pay great attention to mining activities that occur in the area." But photographs - taken by Global Witness as part of an investigation - appear to show environmental damage already done. Aerial images show forest loss and sediment run-off into waters that are home to biodiverse coral reefs. Global Witness told the BBC that land use for mining, across multiple small islands in the archipelago, increased by 500 hectares - equivalent to about 700 football pitches - between 2020 and 2024.

Global Witness A photograph of mining on Kawei island in Raja Ampat, appears to show sediment running into the coastal water

Some conservationists, including the organisation Greenpeace, are concerned that the government's decision could be reversed by legal action by the mining companies. And one company that operates on Gag island, which has particularly rich deposits of nickel, has been allowed to continue its operations. The government said it would order the "restoration of the ecological impacts that occur" there. Coral reef conservationist and ecologist Dr Mark Erdmann told BBC News that he was "blown away, and so happy" about the government's decision to revoke the mining permits. "This is the global epicenter of marine biodiversity," he told BBC News. Dr Erdmann has worked in Raja Ampat for more than two decades and is one of the founders of a shark rewilding project there called Reshark. He added: "It was a voice of outrage form Indonesian people that made the government pay attention." But this ecological controversy is an example of how the demand for the metals needed to power battery technology - for electric cars and other low carbon energy sources - can damage the environment.

Global Witness Because of the biodiversity of its coral reefs, the Raja Ampat is a hotspot for diving

Indonesia now accounts for more than half of the world's nickel mine production, according to a report last year by the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis. And while the beauty and biodiversity of the Raja Ampat has drawn attention to mining activity there, mining has been linked to ecological damage elsewhere too. A 2024 study by Forest Watch Indonesia found a link between the loss of forests associated with mining activity and increased local flooding and landslides.

Global Witness Underwater images show sediment on the reefs around the islands

Increasing demand for so-called critical minerals is shaping economic decisions around the world. It was the driving force for President Trump's recent executive order to jumpstart the mining of metallic nodules from the deep sea in international waters. It is a move that China has called illegal. Dr Erdmann pointed out that balancing economic growth with environmental protection was a particular dilemma for Indonesia. "It has a lot of nickel - one way or the other, some of it's going to come out of the ground," he said. Dr Michaela Guo Ying Lo from the University of Kent led a study in 2024 of the impact of mining on local communities in Sulawesi, the large Indonesian island that has most of the country's nickel deposits. That concluded that mining activity reduced poverty slightly, but that there was significant "worsening of environmental well-being" including increased local water and air pollution. "Indonesia is positioning itself globally in the nickel market," Dr Lo told BBC News. "But it's important not to forget what's happening locally."

Global Witness Local activists say mining activity is harming farming and fishing livelihoods

Imam Shofwan, an environmental campaigner from an organisation called Jatam, based in Jakarta, told BBC News: "They say nickel is a solution to the climate crisis. But it's causing deforestation and destroying farmland." He also pointed out to the BBC that low-lying coastal areas, where some nickel deposits are found, are some of the places most vulnerable to the effects of climate change, including rising sea levels. Dr Erdmann commented: "The nickel dilemma is a horrible one. "Mining is always going to be environmentally impactful and we all tend to think that electrification is a good idea. But what is the acceptable damage that we're willing to see?" The BBC contacted the Indonesian government for comment, but did not receive a reply.

The women at the centre of Somalia's construction boom

7 minutes ago Share Save Fardowsa Hanshi BBC News, Mogadishu Share Save

Anthony Irungu / BBC Fathi Mohamed Abdi (L) and Saadia Ahmed Omar (R) have overseen more than 30 multimillion-dollar projects

Construction is booming in Somalia's capital city and as Mogadishu literally rises from the ashes of its violent past it is also giving unexpected opportunities to women like Fathi Mohamed Abdi and Saadia Ahmed Omar. The two young female engineers have been overseeing the construction of a 10-floor apartment complex in Taleh in the city's Hodan District. Wearing hard hats they navigate their way through construction material, issuing instructions to a team of workers - all of whom are men. "When I started, people doubted me," 24-year-old Ms Abdi, the chief operating officer of Arkan Engineering Services, a Somali-owned construction company, tells the BBC. "They would ask, 'How can we trust a house built by a woman? How can I trust my money and property with a young female engineer?'" She and her colleague Ms Omar have been practising engineers for the last five years. "Mogadishu needs us," says Ms Omar, who is also 24. "When I was young, this city was in chaos. Now, we are part of its reconstruction." Somalia, a former Italian colony, has experienced a prolonged period of civil war after the government of President Siad Barre collapsed in January 1991. Even now, scars of decades of war are still visible - like in the central district of Shangani where there are bombed-out buildings. But the ruins are becoming hidden or replaced by tall office complexes and apartments, and a skyline dotted with cranes and scaffolding. Both young women were born during the civil war and grew up witnessing their country fragmenting. While many Somalis chose to leave, they stayed, driven by a passion to rebuild, despite the fact that an insurgency was being waged by al-Shabab, a group linked to al-Qaeda. "I think part of the reason women are getting more chances in this field is because there's so much work to do, and not enough professionals to do it. That creates space for us," Ms Omar says.

Mohamud Abdisamad / BBC Over the last five years, more than 6,000 buildings have been constructed in Mogadishu

Ibrahim Abdi Heyle, chairman of the Somali Engineers Association, agrees the high demand for skilled professionals is leading to change - even if slowly in Somalia's traditionally male-dominated society. "With numerous ongoing infrastructure, energy, and technology projects, the workload has significantly increased. As a result, the association actively encourages greater participation from women, emphasising that they are not only welcomed but also vital in filling critical gaps in the workforce," the 34-year-old says. "The association believes that empowering women in engineering not only helps meet the growing demand but also brings diverse perspectives and innovative solutions to the industry." According to the office of the mayor of Mogadishu, over the last five years, more than 6,000 buildings have been constructed, marking a significant change in the city's landscape. "Security in Mogadishu has improved, leading to an increase in high-rise and commercial buildings," says Salah Hassan Omar, the mayor's spokesperson. Nonetheless it has not been an easy path for Ms Abdi and Ms Omar as only 5% of engineers are women - and they often find opportunities for mentorship are scarce. "When I applied for internships, most companies rejected me," Ms Omar recalls. "They didn't think a woman could handle the physical demands of engineering. I searched for three months before someone finally gave me a chance." Today, the two are among the most recognised female engineers in Mogadishu, having overseen more than 30 multimillion-dollar projects. "The city is now home to taller buildings and modern infrastructure, a stark contrast to the Mogadishu of the past," Ms Abdi says proudly.

AFP / Getting Images There are fears that the classical look of old Mogadishu will be completely lost

But not everyone is pleased with the transformation. Veteran architect Siidow Cabdulle Boolaay laments the loss of the city's historical character. "The buildings that once graced Somalia before the war were not only beautiful but also attracted attention due to their Italian-style architecture, which was rare in Africa at that time," he tells the BBC. "The urban planning of Mogadishu was highly structured." Mr Boolaay also has safety concerns: "The sand used in Mogadishu's buildings is salty, which undermines its effectiveness." Sand from Somalia's long coastline is often used to make cement - a practice that is generally discouraged and, in many circumstances, restricted by international building standards because the high salt content can cause the corrosion of steel. "These tall buildings are not designed to withstand fire or heavy rain, and safety for the tenants is not considered during development. Many of these buildings lack fire extinguishers and proper electrical installations," he adds - visibly disappointed. He is wary of the pace at which buildings are being constructed, which he says is compromising quality control. For years, there were no regulations, leading to concerns about their structural integrity. Mr Omar, from the mayor's office, admits this was the case until three years ago - and says nothing can be done about those buildings. But he insists there is now "quality control and nobody will build a building without it". "We are [also] preparing new laws that will clearly define where high-rise buildings can be constructed and where only residential houses should be built." Yet there are worries that while regulations are in place - there are often no follow-up checks because of the speed of the building boom.

Mohamud Abdisamad / BBC It is rare to see women taking charge of a construction site in Somalia

Ms Abdi and Ms Omar, who graduated from Plasma University Mogadishu's faculty of civil engineering, say under their firm all their projects have been approved by the local authorities. The rapid growth of construction projects has been attributed to diaspora investments as well as improved security - although Islamist militants who control large swathes of southern Somalia still target the city. According to the World Bank, remittances made up 16.7% of the country's gross domestic product (GDP) in 2022 - something that has given opportunities to architects and engineers. But the rapid urbanisation has also exposed Mogadishu to infrastructure challenges - it lacks a proper sewage system and unregulated borehole drilling risks depleting groundwater reserves. Christophe Hodder, a UN climate security and environmental adviser, warns that the unchecked construction boom could lead to long-term environmental consequences. "We need a co-ordinated approach to water management, or we risk a crisis in the future. Each new building is digging its own borehole... in a small space, there could be 10 or 20 boreholes," he told the BBC. The government, in partnership with international organisations, is working on a new sewage system, but its implementation may require demolishing existing buildings - a controversial move that could displace residents and businesses. Mr Hodder adds that there is a high population density in Mogadishu - people driven into the city by drought and conflict. An increase in the urban population, especially in slum areas, might further increase poverty and social disparities, he says. Despite these challenges, Mogadishu's future looks promising. The city is striving to implement urban development regulations, improve infrastructure and ensure sustainable growth. Even the bombings by the Islamist armed group al-Shabab - whose fighters tend to target plush hotels often occupied by politicians - does not dent the enthusiasm of the Somali Engineers Association.

Mohamud Abdisamad / BBC The engineers hope Mogadishu will become a modern city and a model for post-conflict reconstruction

Mr Heyle admits it can be upsetting for architects and engineers whose buildings are destroyed but notes that Somalis have become resilient - especially those studying engineering. "A lot of explosions happened; our dreams did not stop on that. Today we are reviving the engineering profession, which collapsed 30 years ago. That means there is hope." And the ambition is that in five years, Mogadishu will not only be a modern city but also a model post-conflict reconstruction. "I believe Mogadishu is a different city compared to the 1990s; the city has changed to a new style, and Mogadishu's development is in line with the new world," says Ms Omar. "When I walk through the streets and see buildings I helped construct, I feel proud. We are not just building structures; we are building hope." Ms Abdi agrees, adding: "We are proving that women can not only design buildings but also lead projects and shape the city."

You may also be interested in:

Getty Images/BBC

Manhunt after two Minnesota state politicians targeted, one of them killed

2 hours ago Share Save Danai Nesta Kupemba BBC News Share Save

Star Tribune via Getty Images/Minnesota State Senate Melissa Hortman (left) and John Hoffman (right)

A manhunt is under way in Minnesota after two state lawmakers were targeted and one of them killed on Saturday morning in what Governor Tim Walz called an "act of targeted political violence". Melissa Hortman, 55, a Democrat, and her husband were killed in Brooklyn Park, a city near Minneapolis. John Hoffman, 60, also a Democrat, and his wife were shot several times at their home about 15km (nine miles) away in a related attack. He is out of surgery and stable. A search is on for the suspect who police say was impersonating an officer. He has been named as Vance Luther Boelter, 57 and there is a $50,000 reward for information leading to his arrest.

He served on the state's workforce development board with Hoffman, a state senator, but officials are still investigating whether he knew either politician. Police said he tricked his way into the victims' homes using a false badge and uniform and was even driving a car that looks like a police vehicle equipped with emergency lights. The first emergency call was made at 02:00 local time regarding the incident involving state senator Hoffman and his wife. Then another call was placed to police at 03:35, which led officers to check on House Speaker Hortman. The police exchanged gunfire with the suspect at Hortman's home, but he managed to escape. Brooklyn Park Police Chief Mark Bruley said police are engaged in an "extensive manhunt" alongside the FBI, SWAT and hundreds of police officers. He said police took the suspect's car and believe he is travelling on foot. Authorities are warning people in the area not to answer their door for a police officer unless there are two officers together.

Elected officials across the state were put on alert and "No Kings" protests against President Donald Trump were called off after flyers for the demonstrations were found in his car. In a statement, Trump said "such horrific violence will not be tolerated in the United States of America," and authorities would be "prosecuting anyone involved to the fullest extent of the law". Bob Jacobson, the state's commissioner of public safety, said public servants have been "targeted in a violent and cowardly way". Saturday was a "dark day" for Minnesota, but "we will not allow fear or violence to define who we are or how we move forward", he said. Walz activated the State Emergency Operations Center - used for managing disasters or emergencies - in response to the shootings. The governor said Minnesota had lost a "great leader and I lost the dearest of friends". He called Hortman "a formidable public servant, a fixture and a giant in Minnesota", saying "she woke up every day determined to make the state a better place".

Getty Images Police conduct extensive search in hunt for killer