Somalia: Northeastern State rejects SODMA claims, says federal agency shipped expired relief supplies

Analysis: Aid Spat Between Northeastern State and Mogadishu Exposes Fragile Federal Ties

In Somalia’s rugged northeast, where the wind-carved ridges of the Cal Miskaad range fall to the sea, a familiar political quarrel is spilling into the humanitarian lane. Northeastern State officials and Somalia’s national disaster agency are trading accusations over who blocked lifesaving support to freshly secured areas — and why. It’s a dispute with real consequences for wounded soldiers, displaced families and the credibility of a country trying to stitch itself together after decades of conflict.

What happened

Northeastern State’s minister for humanitarian affairs, Ubax Abdirashid Mohamed Hirsi, rejected a claim from the head of the Somali Disaster Management Agency (SODMA) that Garowe had turned away assistance destined for the Al-Miskaad mountains, where Northeastern State forces say they recently pushed out ISIS-linked fighters. SODMA chief Mahamuud Macallin, speaking in Jalalaqsi town in central Somalia, said he sought approval directly from Northeastern State President Said Abdullahi Deni to send aid and medical support — and was refused, he alleged, due to wider political rifts with the federal leadership in Mogadishu.

Northeastern State’s response was swift and scathing. Minister Ubax said there was no credible aid offer to reject, and accused SODMA of showing up with the wrong kind of help, even expired supplies. She referenced a previous consignment dispatched to the conflict-hit town of Moqokori in Hiiraan — face masks and out-of-date COVID-19 test kits — when what was needed, she said, were trauma medicines and surgical care. Her ministry’s point: Don’t confuse paperwork and photo-ops with real assistance.

Neither side provided documentation to support their claims, and each has much to gain from appearing to be the responsible actor. In the absence of neutral verification, what’s plain is this: the argument lands in a place where bullets have only just stopped flying, and where communities are typically underserved even in the best of times.

Why it matters

Somalia’s fragile federal architecture is built on cooperation between Mogadishu and its member states. That cooperation frequently frays, and when it does, the first victims are often civilians in hard-to-reach areas. The Cal Miskaad highlands — part of the Golis chain — are remote, arid and difficult to access. If aid is withheld or delayed because of political point-scoring, the gap is measured in untreated wounds, infections and preventable deaths.

It’s not a small gap. Millions of Somalis depend on aid each year, and more than three million people remain displaced by conflict, drought and flooding. The El Niño-fueled floods that soaked the Shabelle and Juba valleys late last year were a reminder: climate shocks don’t wait for political calendars. In such an environment, coordination isn’t a nicety — it’s the difference between a functioning safety net and chaos.

A familiar pattern

This episode fits a broader pattern that aid workers in Somalia privately lament. Lines of command blur in the heat of a crisis. Federal agencies and state ministries overlap in mandate. Local authorities want visibility and control; national bodies want consistency and standards. Donors urge “localization” — more aid through local actors — yet that often means operating through parallel systems that don’t trust each other.

Northeastern State and Mogadishu have clashed repeatedly over power-sharing and the pace of Somalia’s state-building. Those disagreements have spilled into security coordination, elections timetables and management of ports and resources. It’s not surprising that humanitarian work — which requires permissions, escorts and logistics support — is affected. Neutral, needs-based aid is a principle agreed on paper by all parties. In practice, neutrality is hard in a place where nearly everything is political.

Somalia is hardly alone. From Sudan to Yemen to Gaza, the humanitarian space has narrowed as conflict actors treat aid as leverage or symbolism. The difference in Somalia is that much of the country’s progress in the past decade — from battling famine to pushing back insurgents — has depended on cooperation across jurisdictions. When that cooperation falters, the gains feel fragile.

The human stakes in the Al-Miskaad

The Al-Miskaad ridge is more than a line on a map; it is home to scattered settlements, pastoralists and small towns linked by roads that turn to tracks after the first rains. Medical posts are few. When violence flares, the wounded are often ferried out on the backs of pickups, bleeding and bandaged with whatever cloth is at hand. The immediate needs after clashes are predictable: antibiotics, IV fluids, surgical kits, pain relief, and skilled hands.

That’s why the argument over “what” aid was offered matters as much as “whether” it was offered. Delivering crates of face masks and expired kits to a trauma zone is the humanitarian equivalent of showing up to a house fire with buckets of sand when you need a hose. Officials in Garowe say they will not lend their stamp to supplies that don’t match needs. SODMA insists it was blocked because of politics. Both positions can be true — and both risk missing the point if people are left without care.

What would help — now

• Joint needs assessments conducted by mixed teams, federal and state, with independent observers. Even a short, 48-hour mission can ground the debate in data instead of rhetoric.
• Clear protocols on who leads in which context. If SODMA dispatches a medical team, does Northeastern State’s ministry co-chair? Who signs off on cargo manifests? Ambiguity breeds mistrust.
• Public transparency. Post what was offered, when, and with what expiry dates. In an era of misinformation, sunlight is a tool.
• Support for frontline health facilities around the Golis mountains — not just mobile deliveries after fighting. Sustained capacity reduces the “emergency” every time violence erupts.

Somali officials know these steps; many have pushed for them in quieter times. The task is following through when the cameras arrive, egos bristle and social media turns every delay into a scandal.

The political temperature

This quarrel comes at a tense moment. Northeastern State has long asserted its autonomy within Somalia’s federal framework, and relations with Mogadishu have see-sawed amid disputes over constitutional reforms and resource control. In that context, even a routine aid convoy can feel like a test of authority. For the central government, coordinating disaster response is a symbol of statehood. For Northeastern State, accepting national branding without consultation can look like ceding ground.

There is a way out of the trap: decouple relief from recognition. Let the paramount aim be simple — the right help, to the right place, fast. Then argue later about flags and press releases.

The question for donors and partners

International partners have leverage. They fund much of the humanitarian pipeline and can nudge behavior through conditions that reward collaboration. But they also bear responsibility. Stretched budgets and crisis fatigue mean fewer second chances when aid goes astray. If consignments arrive mismatched to need, or if agencies prioritize optics, communities notice — and trust erodes.

Somalis have endured enough broken promises to tell the difference between a carton of supplies and a plan that keeps clinics stocked. In the Al-Miskaad, as elsewhere, the measure will be practical: Are the wounded treated? Are families supported to return? Are the services that arrive today still there next month?

Amid the accusations and counteraccusations, that’s the only scoreboard that counts.

By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.