In southeastern Mudug, central Somalia, the relentless conflict between government forces and Al-Shabaab has unleashed a wave of despair, displacing countless civilians. Over the last two months, hundreds have sought refuge in makeshift camps woefully devoid of fundamental amenities.
Since January 5, 2025, more than 230 families have poured into the Somaliweyn camp in Harhar, forced to abandon what little they had as the strife intensified. Among them is Ubax Salad Sabriye and her family of seven, who once thrived through pastoral living. Today, they grapple with a harsh new reality: imploring others for a mere meal. On particularly grim days, they confront the sting of hunger, comforted only by faith. “We suffer from food shortages,” Ubax confides, her voice carrying a mixture of despair and resilience. “We have nothing to eat except what God provides night by night. Sometimes we go without. Neighbors occasionally give us ripe grains, which we sometimes eat raw.”
In the camp, water is a precious commodity. Ubax and her family are fortunate if they secure 20 liters a day, donated by benevolent souls who shoulder the $3 per barrel cost. Yet, even this scant respite isn’t guaranteed, leaving them parched and desperate. The specter of homelessness adds another layer to their plight. By day, they seek shelter under the sparse respite of trees, shielding themselves, albeit temporarily, from the unforgiving sun. Ubax reminisces, “When we were in our area, the children drank camel milk. We lived well, with plenty of food. Now I can’t even imagine that life again. All I want is to survive.”
The devastation that engulfed her family has left deep scars. Her husband fell victim to Al-Shabaab in January, along with their precious 15 camels. Their meager source of livelihood—a modest eatery that earned about $20 daily—was obliterated. Their arduous 15-hour trek to the camp, undertaken on foot due to a lack of transport and funds, is etched in her memory.
Pastoralist and farming families across Bacaadweyne, Shabeelow, Cimaamad, and Jiicdhere Hareeri have borne the brunt of this ongoing conflict. Take, for example, Saadiyo Ahmed Mahmoud, who, along with her family of six, arrived, displaced and weary, at Somaliweyn camp on January 10. Their home is a fragile structure, assembled from wood and rags scavenged locally. “Our makeshift house can’t protect us from the cold or sun,” Saadiyo laments. “When we arrived, tents were given out, but we didn’t receive any.”
The Mahmouds manage to eke out a daily meal from a sparse 10 kilograms of food, a generous handout from their neighbors in mid-February. Water, however, is another story, its access tightly constrained by mounting debts. “The water trucks demand $2.5 per litre. If you can’t pay upfront, they won’t supply it. We owe $50, so we’re cut off,” Saadiyo explains with a resigned sigh. Their once self-sustained livelihood, nurturing a herd of 40 goats, has been cruelly stripped away, leaving them in dire need of assistance.
As the conflict suffocates local economies, halting not just trade but life itself, displaced families flood into communities already staggering under the weight of their own hardships. The ripple effects of these human tides are profound, overwhelming host areas ecologically and socially.
Ali Cigaal Qayliye, a local doctor, sounds the alarm on the looming health crisis. The food shortages, he warns, spell catastrophe for the most vulnerable: children under five, pregnant or lactating women, and the elderly. “If displaced people lack shelter, food, and water, malnutrition spreads rapidly. Children and women and the elderly suffer first, and everyone is susceptible to diseases from unsafe water,” he states grimly.
In this unfolding tragedy, we must ask ourselves: What does resilience mean for those whose lives have been upended? And how can a world that often turns its gaze away step in with effective compassion? The stories of Ubax, Saadiyo, and countless others echo loudly across this troubled landscape, begging for acknowledgment and action.
“Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times International–Monitoring”
