Displaced and Struggling: The Human Cost of Conflict in Erigabo
Imagine being forced to leave everything you know, embarking on an uncertain journey in search of survival. This is the stark reality for hundreds of individuals, predominately women and children, who have fled the ongoing conflict in Erigabo, nestled within the Sanag region. Now, these displaced souls are seeking refuge in neighboring areas like Hingalol, Dhahar, and Cawsane. Yet, the path forward remains fraught with uncertainty and struggle.
Three months may not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things, but for families like Hibaq’s, it’s a period filled with relentless challenges as they strive to fend for themselves. With a newborn in her arms, Hibaq faces overwhelming obstacles. Her inability to work—compounded by her husband’s inability to find manual labor—leaves them navigating a seemingly insurmountable terrain.
“We are displaced from the war-torn town of Erigabo. We were forced out by gunfire and fear. The hardship we face is indescribable,” Hibaq confided to Radio Ergo.
Hibaq’s account is punctuated with anguish. Their current abode, small and cold, offers little respite, as they grapple with the absence of basic necessities like blankets or mosquito nets. Seeking safety, Hibaq and her children embarked on a three-day trek to Badhan on foot, each step a poignant reminder of their dire predicament.
One cannot help but wonder about the inner strength it takes to make such a journey when the economics of displacement weigh heavily. People, however, possess an innate resilience. Hibaq recalls relying upon the kindness of strangers, trusting the unknown. She poignantly recounts entrusting her children to strangers during the flight from danger, surrendering to hope amidst chaos.
This is not just a narrative of loss; it’s an illustration of the fractured rhythm of life in conflict zones. Before the escalating tensions forced their exodus, Hibaq’s children thrived at Omar Bin Abdiasis Primary School, while Hibaq contributed to her family by washing clothes for a modest income.
Imaan Ibrahim Cashare, another valiant spirit forging ahead, echoes the struggles etched into the lives fleeing Erigabo. Supporting a family of 10, she faces the daunting reality of adapting to Badhan’s steep economic demands. “This city is where things are inflated,” she explains, “and while poverty is no stranger to us, surviving here stretches beyond resilience.” Providing even a single meal for her family has become a daily triumph.
Water, a basic necessity, is an ongoing challenge, underscored by a prohibitive cost that leaves Imaan—and countless others—grappling with further instability. Every barrel of water costs $5, a price that threatens to deplete their fragile resources.
The local administration in Badhan acknowledges the dire circumstances faced by these displaced families. Yet, the absence of official counts or registrations complicates the provision of aid. Sucdi Ismail Ahmed, the director of the Badhan local government department, notes with concern, “Those displaced people from Erigabo are very poor and have experienced civil war. Their living conditions are not suitable for human survival, with multiple families living together in single houses.”
The tales from Erigabo are laced with grim realities—a chorus of voices rising from the shadows of conflict, each echoing the broader implications of displacement. As the world watches, one may ask what more can be done to rally solidarity and support for such communities struggling on the fringes of survival.
It is a poignant reminder to consider: How can we, as global citizens, answer the silent cries for help echoing beyond our borders?
