Impact of Aid Withdrawal on Somalia’s Vulnerable Populations

The United States Agency for International Development, better known as USAID, invested a substantial sum of $369 million in Somalia during 2021. This funding supported a spectrum of vital initiatives—from sanitation projects to emergency nutritional programs—implemented through both governmental and non-governmental channels. Yet, amid this significant humanitarian endeavor, an unexpected halt threatened to unravel the fragile threads holding numerous lives together.

A poignant narrative emerges from an unlikely source: Ayan Ali Hussein, the chairwoman of the Dooxdoox IDP camp, positioned on the fringes of Mogadishu. Reflecting on the impact of a decree issued by former President Trump, she recounted, “Suddenly, there are no facilities to treat malnourished children.” The reverberations were immediate and harsh—work orders addressed to USAID partners stymied key services, leaving many without recourse.

Hussein elaborated, “Women who had suffered gender-based violence once had access to care, counseling, protection, medication, financial support, and clothing. None of these are available anymore.” Her words bear the weight of 8,000 households, internally displaced Somalis looking to her camp for guidance. Yet, they now find themselves deprived of even basic protective items like plastic sheets for makeshift shelter. Indeed, the void USAID’s suspension has left in their lives is palpable.

Emblematic of this crisis is Ruqiya Abdulle Ubeyd, an 85-year-old mother of eight, who expressed disbelief at Trump’s decision. She implored the U.S. government, “to restore the aid it used to give to vulnerable people.” In a world where survival often hinges on the thin line between having and lacking, her plea underscores not only personal urgency but systemic instability as well. What happens when the safety net disappears?

The ramifications extend beyond the camp’s boundary, raising alarms amidst those in dire need of medical care, like individuals living with HIV. The freeze disrupted almost all NGOs striving to ameliorate Somalia’s health care insufficiencies, casting a shadow across their essential services.

Among the hardest hit is the Somali Young Doctors Association, or SOYDA, whose mission of providing medical aid within IDP camps has been severely undermined. In the words of its founder, Dr. Abdiqani Sheikh Omar—a veteran of Somalia’s health ministry—the sudden cessation of assistance has destabilized their efforts. Between the lines of a dwindling support roadmap, once earmarked for $125 million in 2025, looms a stark choice: prioritize or perish.

To counteract this financial bind, SOYDA refocused their dwindling resources on critical nutrition and hygiene programs. However, many of their staff now face imminent unemployment. “We are engaging our volunteer health professionals to cover this emergency staff funding gap through part-time shifts,” Dr. Omar explained. It’s a strategy driven equally by necessity and desperation, as they seek to uphold their promise to the community.

The loss extends to medication provision for those who can barely afford it. Hussein Abikar, a father of five residing within the camp confines, paints a vivid picture: “Previously, whenever our children got sick, we would come straight to the SOYDA center for help,” he recounts. His words reflect a stark reality: outside these walls, they find little solace or support.

In the echoes of these stories lies a profound question: How does one measure the impact of lost aid? Is it by the number of untended wounds, the unreached hands grasping for sustenance, or perhaps the silence of once bustling health centers? Such questions underpin the narrative unfolding in Somalia, where the intersection of policy and humanity continues to shape countless lives.

Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times International–Monitoring