As we climbed out of the tiny ten seater aircraft and stepped onto Somali soil I was nervous. We were in territory controlled by the Islamist militia Al Shabab, a group with ties to Al Qaeda and a reputation for beheading those who didn’t agree with them. We were the guests of The World Food Programme who, thanks to their pragmatic approach and willingness to talk with Al Shabab, were still able to operate in the region. Their base was just outside the village of Buale, a surprisingly green and fertile place on the banks of the River Juba. Before we could film anything we had to meet the local Al Shabab Commander – if we started filming without his permission it could mean a death sentence for our team.

We met him in the shade of a small tree, he was a solidly built man with a neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard and a surprisingly benign look on his face. I’d expected someone terrifying, clutching a Kalashnikov and festooned with grenades. He was friendly and made jokes. I liked him, he seemed like a human being. He agreed to let us film the work of WFP but refused to be interviewed himself or allow us to film his men.

We only stayed around Buale for one day. It seemed safe but we did have twelve armed guards with us at all times. They were local guys, clad in black and casually swinging their AK-47’s like umbrellas. I shared one of the Toyota Pick ups with them, bouncing around and filming the country as it sped past. We were meant to overnight in the town of Wajid but we were forced to change our plans when three men were beheaded there that day. Instead we crossed back into Kenya for the night and then in the morning flew to a town in central Somalia called Dusamareb.

Dusamareb is a dusty, drought stricken town that is currently home to the Militia group, Ahlu Sunnah. They, like most Somalis, are Sufi Muslims and as such despise the Saudi inspired Wahabism that Al Shabab represent. We arrived on Independence day and the main square was full of flag waving locals. The women wore bright green and yellow Chadors and the men sang the Somali national anthem. It was perfect for TV and I spent twenty minutes roaming the square filming as much as possible.

We interviewed a number of fighters, all of them were very young, some looking no more than fifteen. It struck me that if you are a bored teenager in a poor, starving country what else is there to do but join a local militia? Carrying a Kalashnikov is like a sign of acceptance, a symbol that you have power and are part of a group. In England we join the local football team here they go and shoot people up. I laughed out loud as one baby faced fighter told us with a smirk on his face that he had single handedly killed one hundred and thirty Al Shabab fighters.

They have a saying in Somalia: “It is good to trust, but it is better not to trust.” My team and I had no choice but to trust the Somalis while we were there. They didn’t let us down, I found them friendly and open people, quick to smile and keen to make sure that as their guest I was comfortable. Although I’m not in a rush to return I do now have a more positive opinion of Somalis and once the country is more stable I will be happy to return.