The findings come at a time when Somalia continues to grapple with economic, security, and humanitarian challenges that are affecting livelihoods and limiting the government’s ability to provide essential public services.

Despite progress in economic reforms and debt relief efforts in recent years, the country remains highly vulnerable to external shocks, climate-related disasters, and insecurity.

According to the World Bank’s Somalia Economic Update published in May 2026, the country’s real GDP growth has declined significantly from previous levels.

The report states that Somalia’s economy grew by 4.1 percent in 2024 but slowed to 3 percent in 2025. The World Bank further projects that growth could weaken to 2.8 percent in 2026 if current trends continue.

The slowdown comes as Somalia’s economy remains heavily dependent on livestock exports, trade, remittances from the diaspora, and private sector activity. These sectors are highly sensitive to security conditions, weather patterns, and fluctuations in the global economy.

Meanwhile, a separate report by the African Development Bank highlights a decline in business revenues across the country. According to the report, business income fell by 27 percent during the early months of 2026.

Economists say the drop in business revenues is a strong indication that consumer purchasing power is weakening. Businesses are facing a sluggish market, rising operating costs, and lower demand for goods and services.

Small and medium-sized enterprises, which employ a significant portion of Somalia’s workforce and provide income for many households, are particularly vulnerable to these economic pressures.

The World Bank also reported a sharp decline in private household consumption. Data from the report shows that private consumption growth dropped from 8.8 percent in 2024 to just 3.1 percent in 2025.

The decline suggests that many Somali families are reducing their spending as they struggle with rising living costs, lower incomes, and broader economic uncertainty.

Reduced household spending often has a direct impact on businesses, leading to weaker sales and slower economic activity.

Inflation has also emerged as a growing concern. According to the World Bank, inflation stood at 3.3 percent in 2024 but increased the following year, with projections indicating it could reach 6 percent in 2026.

Rising inflation is expected to place additional strain on households, particularly low-income families. Higher prices for food, transportation, housing, and other essential services can significantly reduce living standards if wages and incomes fail to keep pace with the rising cost of living.

One of the most alarming findings in the World Bank report is the worsening food security situation. The number of Somalis facing food insecurity rose from approximately 4.6 million people in 2025 to 6.5 million in 2026.

The increase means that nearly 1.9 million additional people have fallen into food insecurity within a year.

Humanitarian agencies have repeatedly warned that drought, flooding, conflict, and displacement continue to drive hunger across large parts of the country, particularly in rural communities and areas affected by instability.

The economic downturn and rising inflation are expected to hit the poorest households hardest. Families facing both declining incomes and increasing prices are often forced to cut spending on food, healthcare, education, and other basic needs.

Similarly, businesses dealing with falling sales and rising costs may be forced to reduce their workforce, delay expansion plans, or scale back investments, potentially affecting employment opportunities for Somalia’s large youth population.

Somalia’s economic challenges are being driven by a combination of factors, including persistent security threats, climate change, recurring droughts and floods, limited domestic production, and reliance on external sources of income.

The country’s dependence on livestock and climate-sensitive sectors makes it particularly vulnerable to environmental shocks.

The latest data also places additional pressure on the Somali government, which is seeking to increase domestic revenue, improve public services, attract private investment, and create jobs.

Sustained economic growth will be critical if the country is to reduce poverty and improve living conditions.

Economic experts have long emphasized the need for Somalia to diversify its economy, strengthen domestic production, expand government revenue sources, and invest in critical infrastructure.

Such reforms are viewed as essential for building resilience against future economic shocks.

Despite the challenges highlighted in the reports, analysts note that Somalia still possesses significant economic potential.

Sectors such as livestock, fisheries, agriculture, renewable energy, telecommunications, and trade could drive long-term growth if supported by effective policies, investment, and improved infrastructure.

While the outlook remains difficult in the short term, economists say Somalia’s ability to harness its natural resources, strengthen institutions, and encourage private sector development will play a crucial role in determining whether the country can reverse the current slowdown and achieve more sustainable economic growth in the years ahead.

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Speaking to local media, Jubaland Minister for Environment and Climate Change, Caydiid Suleymaan Xaashi, said weather forecasts indicate a heightened risk of above-average Deyr seasonal rains, particularly from early October onward.

He warned that several districts could experience severe flooding, especially communities located along riverbanks, floodplains, and low-lying areas.

The warning comes amid growing concerns from meteorological agencies and humanitarian organizations that Somalia could face another challenging rainy season between October and December 2026, with forecasters predicting the continued influence of El Niño-related weather patterns.

Such conditions often bring heavier-than-normal rainfall to parts of East Africa, increasing the likelihood of flash floods and river overflows.

According to the minister, as many as 12 districts in Jubaland are considered vulnerable to flooding and extreme rainfall.

Residents living near the Jubba River, seasonal streams, and flood-prone settlements have been advised to monitor weather updates closely and relocate to safer areas if conditions deteriorate.

Climate projections for the region suggest that Somalia could receive rainfall significantly above the seasonal average, with the greatest flood risk concentrated along the Jubba and Shabelle river basins.

Humanitarian agencies have repeatedly warned that these areas remain highly susceptible to flooding due to weak drainage systems, riverbank erosion, and recurring extreme weather events linked to climate change.

Minister Caydiid said an estimated 1.8 million people could be affected by the anticipated rains and flooding, while more than 351,000 people may face displacement if severe flooding materializes.

He added that nearly 45 health facilities and at least 10 schools are among the critical institutions that could be impacted by major flood events.

The warning revives memories of the devastating floods that struck Somalia in 2023, when heavy rains displaced more than a million people, submerged towns and villages, destroyed infrastructure, and damaged vast areas of farmland.

Those floods were among the worst in recent years and highlighted the country’s vulnerability to climate-related disasters.

The minister also called on residents, businesses, civil society organizations, and the Somali diaspora to prepare in advance and support emergency response efforts if needed.

He noted that communities across Jubaland had previously shown resilience during prolonged droughts through coordinated efforts involving local authorities, religious leaders, businesses, security forces, and humanitarian groups.

However, Caydiid criticized the Federal Government of Somalia, arguing that Jubaland did not receive the level of support it expected during previous drought emergencies.

He urged international partners to ensure that humanitarian assistance intended for Jubaland reaches the region directly and without delay.

The ministry further called on government institutions to develop sector-specific contingency plans to reduce the impact of potential flooding. Particular attention was placed on health services, agriculture, livestock, education, and community protection programs.

Officials from the Ministries of Agriculture and Livestock were urged to strengthen climate adaptation measures and support farmers and pastoralists who could be affected by flooding.

Meanwhile, the Ministries of Health and Women’s Affairs were encouraged to prepare emergency response plans to address the humanitarian and public health consequences that often accompany large-scale flood disasters.

As part of long-term preparedness efforts, the minister also proposed the creation of a specialized disaster-response unit trained to react rapidly to floods and other natural emergencies, arguing that Somalia needs stronger domestic capacity to respond to increasingly frequent climate-related crises.

With the Deyr rainy season approaching, authorities say the coming weeks will be critical for preparedness efforts as communities across Jubaland brace for what could become one of the region’s most challenging weather seasons in recent years.

The post Jubaland Warns of Heavy Rains and Flood Risks appeared first on Kaab TV.

The latest developments followed the movement of forces that had previously been stationed in Carmo district, Bari region, toward Karkaar on Friday.

Local sources said nearly 20 military vehicles arrived in the Raka-Raaxo area, reportedly in pursuit of forces affiliated with the Federal Government that had previously been stationed in Kur-ilaalo, an area under Xumbays district.

The movement of armed units has heightened fears that the standoff could develop into an armed confrontation if the two sides come into direct contact.

The situation has been further complicated by statements reportedly made by the forces that arrived in Carmo.

The troops are said to have rejected Puntland’s authority and declared that they take their orders directly from the Federal Government in Mogadishu.

Puntland could view such a declaration as a direct challenge to its administrative and security authority over territory under its control.

The Federal Government, however, could regard the forces as part of Somalia’s national military structure, highlighting a broader dispute between Mogadishu and Puntland over who has the authority to recruit, deploy, command and administer federal forces operating inside Puntland-controlled areas.

The latest tensions in Karkaar come amid already strained political and security relations between Puntland and the Federal Government.

Disagreements over constitutional reforms, federal authority, security arrangements and the status of forces operating in Puntland have increasingly spilled into the military sphere.

Puntland has previously taken action against forces and military units that declared allegiance to Mogadishu, raising concerns that competing chains of command could lead to further confrontations.

The developments also follow recent tensions elsewhere in Puntland, where forces affiliated with the Federal Government have been involved in disputes with Puntland authorities.

The situation has raised broader concerns that military units operating under competing commands could become flashpoints in the ongoing political dispute between the two administrations.

If forces from the two sides move closer to one another, the current standoff could quickly escalate into armed clashes, potentially affecting civilians across Karkaar and surrounding areas.

Fighting could disrupt roads, commercial activity and essential services, while forcing residents to leave their homes if the security situation deteriorates.

The immediate priority is therefore to prevent the military buildup from turning into an armed confrontation.

Local authorities and community leaders could play an important role in separating the forces, discouraging inflammatory rhetoric and opening channels for urgent dialogue before the situation worsens.

Traditional elders, Puntland authorities, the Federal Government and community leaders all have a role to play in containing the dispute.

Without a political or security arrangement addressing the competing claims over military authority, however, the Karkaar standoff could become another flashpoint in the wider dispute between Puntland and Mogadishu.

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The agency officially launched the first phase of food distributions in both towns, targeting vulnerable and low-income households struggling with the effects of recurring drought, rising food prices, and declining livelihoods.

SoDMA said the initiative forms part of its nationwide relief programme aimed at supporting communities facing acute humanitarian needs, with priority given to families most severely affected by climate-related shocks.

The launch of the Abudwak distribution was attended by Member of Parliament Raysal Qorane, SoDMA Commissioner Mahmoud Moallin Abdulle, Galmudug Minister for Humanitarian Affairs and Disaster Management Abdirahman Makawi, and officials from the Abudwak district administration.

The agency said food distributions in Beledweyne, the capital of Hiiraan, also began on Sunday and will continue over the coming days to reach additional beneficiaries.

SoDMA officials reaffirmed the agency’s commitment to expanding humanitarian assistance across Somalia, emphasizing that it will continue working closely with federal member states and humanitarian partners to deliver timely relief to drought-affected communities.

They said strengthening emergency response efforts remains essential as climate-related disasters continue to place millions of Somalis at risk of food insecurity.

Large parts of central Somalia, including Galgaduud and Hiiraan, have endured repeated drought cycles in recent years, leaving many pastoralist and farming communities struggling with water shortages, livestock losses, and reduced agricultural production.

Humanitarian agencies continue to warn that prolonged dry conditions, coupled with economic pressures, have increased the number of people requiring emergency food assistance across the country.

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There is a moment in a lot of writing about Somali crisis where a person stops being a person and turns into a case. Nobody sets out to do this. It happens through habit, through the shape a report is expected to take before anyone sits down to write it, and through who gets asked what and who does not. Two tellings of the same nine days in one woman’s life make the shift visible.

The case file

The other day, a virtual field visit connected 48 donor representatives to 600,000 internally displaced persons in Baidoa. The Norwegian Refugee Council organised the call to show the hunger crisis in Somalia and the impact of its resilience programming in Baidoa and Kismayo.

It was heartbreaking to share the story of Yasmin, recently displaced from Hareera-jiife village in Bay region with five children. Three are her own, two belong to her late sister. Three of the children show signs of malnutrition and measles.

Yasmin has been in the camp for nine days and does not know where to take them for treatment. Her husband stayed behind to tend the farm, but the rains failed and the harvest will be poor. She walked for 72 hours to reach Baidoa, believing she would find assistance and protection there.

Yasmin and her children live under torn cloth and tent scraps. They have no food. The camp leader managed to find three kilos of rice, contributed by fellow residents. Yasmin has no relatives in Baidoa. She knows no one there.

The visit also highlighted nature-based solutions in Kismayo, ecosystem restoration, water harvesting, permagardens, helping communities strengthen food security and prepare for future shocks. While immediate humanitarian assistance is urgently needed to save lives, investment in resilience is equally urgent to help communities break the cycle of recurring crises. Thank you to all partners for joining the visit and for your continued commitment to supporting vulnerable communities across Somalia.

Nobody who wrote this meant Yasmin, her children, the camp, or Somalia itself any harm. But look at where the sentences point. Yasmin never speaks. Neither does anyone else named in this story, not her children, not the camp leader, not one of the human beings whose lives it claims to describe.

Every fact about her and the children in her care arrives already filtered through someone else’s eyes and folded into someone else’s summary, on its way to an audience of forty eight donor representatives she will never meet, deciding things about her life and the lives of everyone in that camp in a room none of them will ever enter. Her husband’s absence and the failed rains, the actual causes of her walk, get a sentence each and then vanish, background detail in a story whose real subject, by the end, is not Yasmin at all. It is a donor call, and by extension Somalia itself, reduced to a case still waiting to be funded. The detail that should have mattered most, that a camp leader with almost nothing organised his neighbours to find three kilos of rice for a woman they had never met, gets one line and is never returned to. It reads like a nice touch. It should have been the finding.

FURTHER READING: Conflict and Hunger Deepen Humanitarian Crisis in Somalia’s South West State

Donor writing has a shape to it, and Yasmin’s story was poured into that shape rather than the other way around. A number up front to establish scale. One person, chosen and arranged to carry emotional weight. Then a pivot into the vocabulary that actually moves institutional money: resilience, nature-based solutions, breaking cycles.

The malnutrition, the measles, the torn cloth, these details survive the edit because they do the work of moving a donor audience toward continued funding. The rice barely survives it, maybe because a community already feeding itself is a slightly awkward fact for an appeal built on the premise that outside help is what is missing.

The last line gives it away. Thank you to partners, for joining the call and for their continued commitment. A piece written for Yasmin would not end there. A piece written for the Somali public she belongs to would not end there either.

Somali people turn up constantly in writing like this, as the 600,000, as Yasmin, as the family in the camp, cited and described and counted. What they almost never do is speak as the authority on their own lives. Nobody asks Yasmin, on the page, what she thinks happened to her and why.

Yasmin’s crossing

Yasmin left Hareera-jiife on foot. She does not remember exactly which day, only that it took three nights and most of three days, and that by the second night her youngest was crying from thirst in a way she had not heard before.

“I was not walking to Baidoa,” she says. “I was walking away from what the rain did not do.”

Her husband stayed on the farm. Somebody had to, in case the harvest came. It has not, not yet, and she does not expect it will. Before she left, her younger sister died and left two children with nowhere else to go. Yasmin did not weigh this decision. There was no decision to weigh. “They are mine now,” she says. “That is not a question anyone asks in my family.”

She arrived in Baidoa nine days ago knowing no one. Three of the five children show signs of malnutrition, one has measles, and every one of those nine days has gone into trying to find out where a woman with no money and no relative in the city takes a sick child.

What found her instead was the camp leader. He had nothing of his own to give, but within a day of her arrival he had gathered three kilos of rice from families who already had almost nothing, and brought it to a stranger.

This did not come from nowhere. It is Danwadaagaha, the Somali architecture of mutual obligation that was working long before any programme arrived proposing to build resilience into a community that had never stopped practicing it. Nobody trained the camp leader for this. Nobody funded it. It happened because it is what people owe each other, and it reached Yasmin faster than anything organised from outside the camp did.

What she says she needs is not complicated. Treatment for three children. Word of whether her husband is safe and whether the rains will come next season. And, though she would not put it this way herself, some acknowledgment that what caught her when she arrived with nothing was not a donor programme. It was her neighbours, most of them also displaced, most of them also with almost nothing.

What this version is for

This telling exists to record what happened to Yasmin the way she understands it, for a reader who wants the truth of her situation rather than a reason to keep funding a call center full of donors. There is no funding case to build, so nothing needs to be shaped around persuading anyone of anything. The rice can sit at the center of the story because nothing here requires it to bow to a resilience narrative written for somebody else’s report.

The audience is different too, and that changes what the writing has to answer for. Aadmi writing is built for a Somali public first, not only for outsiders looking in. Danwadaagaha does not need explaining to a Somali reader the way it would to a donor. It can be named and left to carry its own weight. And writing for that audience raises the stakes in a way donor writing never has to face: Yasmin, or her community, might actually read this. That is a different kind of responsibility than writing for a funder who will never meet her and has no way of knowing whether the story was fair.

Reading both through the Aadmi lens

Aadmi gives a working way to tell dehumanization and humanization apart in practice, and it is worth spelling out rather than leaving it implied.

Dehumanization is not about unkind words. It shows up in structure. A person becomes an object in a story rather than its subject when she is spoken about in the third person with none of her own reasoning quoted. When her suffering is folded into a statistic before it is ever individualised, so she arrives on the page already standing in for 600,000 others. When her needs are named by the institution reporting on her instead of by her.

When the community capacity that actually reached her first, the neighbours who fed her before any outside actor did, gets a sentence and nothing more, while the institution’s own programming gets paragraphs. And when the piece signs off by thanking the room it was written for, rather than closing on the person it claims to be about. The case file hits every one of these marks. Not because anyone meant harm. Because donor reporting is built to do exactly this.

Humanization asks for something specific too. It asks the writer to listen first, to let a person’s own explanation of what happened to her carry the story rather than decorate a narrator’s summary of it. It asks that her reasoning about her needs, her family, her choices, be reported in her own terms rather than translated into the language of an outside programme. And it asks that existing capacity inside her own community, in this case a camp leader collecting rice from people who have almost nothing, be treated as the actual news rather than a footnote to somebody else’s intervention.

Yasmin’s crossing tries to meet that standard. She reasons in her own voice. Her decision about her sister’s children needs no outside explanation because it makes complete sense inside her own family’s logic. The rice is named as the system that worked, not a charming aside.

The two tellings are not simply gentler and harsher versions of the same story. One treats Yasmin as evidence in an institution’s case to its funders. The other treats her as the person who knows what happened to her, and treats her neighbours’ response as the actual event worth reporting.

How Danwadaagaha was administered, organized and programmed before the civil war, 1991.

What the camp leader did in Baidoa did not appear from nowhere, and it did not appear because Somalis are naturally generous in a vague, cultural-stereotype sort of way. It came out of a system that Somali society administered, organised and ran on a schedule long before anyone proposed resilience building as a new idea.

Administration sat with elders and lineage authorities operating under xeer, the customary law governing obligation between kin groups.

Xeer set out, with real precision, who owed what to whom and under what circumstances, and how disputes over those obligations got resolved. Diya-paying groups, the kinship units bound to share liability and support in death, injury or crisis, had recognised leadership and clear rules, not loose sentiment. When a member of the group faced catastrophe, whether debt, death or displacement, what the group gave was not charity offered at anyone’s discretion. It was owed.

Organisation ran along lines of lineage and residence, through reer and jilib groupings that determined who belonged to which support network and what that network was on the hook for.

That structure was flexible enough to stretch toward strangers in shared hardship too, which is exactly what happened when residents of the Baidoa camp, most of them unrelated to Yasmin, folded her into their support within a day of her arrival. That is not a departure from Danwadaagaha. It is the system doing what it has always done, reorganising around new arrivals the way it has reorganised around births, deaths, marriages and disasters for generations.

Programming is the part outsiders miss most often, because it does not look like a programme from the outside. Qaraan, the collective levies raised for weddings, funerals, debts and emergencies, ran on a schedule and a formula that the group understood, with social consequences for anyone who failed to contribute. This was social protection with rules, thresholds and a delivery mechanism, running as systematically as any donor logframe, except administered by Somali people for Somali people, with no proposal document required to justify its existence.

Seen this way, the rice gathered for Yasmin was not an improvised kindness sitting outside any system. It was delivery, under a system a camp leader was administering in a role elders have filled for generations, extended through obligation to a person in acute need, funded through the same collective-levy logic that has paid for funerals and dowries and debts for as long as the institution has existed.

The difference between this and the Baxnaano cash transfer or the BRCIS activities on the same call is not that one is organic and the other planned. Both are planned. The difference is which planning gets written up as a programme worth studying, and which gets compressed into a sentence about a kind camp leader and left there.

The line between narrated and narrating

Set the two tellings side by side and tone is not really where they diverge. Both were written by people who meant well. Where they diverge is who holds the pen inside the sentence, who the sentence answers to, and what counts as the finding.

In the case file, Yasmin gets described, counted, and thanked by proxy, through the thanking of the partners who came to hear about her. Her own reasoning about her displacement, her own sense of what she needs, the mutual aid that actually reached her first: all of it is present, technically, but minor, sitting in the background of a piece whose argument is really about a programme. The camp leader’s rice gets a sentence. The resilience work gets the weight.

In her own telling, that balance flips. Yasmin narrates her own crossing. Her explanation of the rain, her decision about her sister’s children, her own words about what she needs, these carry the story rather than decorate it. The rice stops being an anecdote and becomes the point: proof that a Somali system of mutual obligation was already running, at full capacity, before anyone from outside arrived.

Somali people are narrated constantly, in numbers, case studies, donor updates, appeals. They become the object a narrative is about rather than the subject a narrative belongs to. Fixing that is not a matter of warmer adjectives layered onto the same structure. It is a matter of who organises the story, what gets to count as the finding, and who the writing is finally answerable to. Change those three things and the same nine days produce a different story, not because the facts changed, but because the person telling it finally gets to be its author.

A pattern, not an exception

None of this is one writer’s failing. It is the standard register of donor communications, partner updates, and most of the field reporting produced about Somalia by international organisations, repeated so often it no longer registers as a choice. It reads as neutral. That is exactly the problem. The same way of reporting, aggregate number, individualised case, thank you to partners, shows up across appeals, sit-reps and highlight posts from one crisis to the next, attached to different names in different regions, structure untouched.

When an entire sector narrates a population this consistently as evidence for somebody else’s funding case, the effect outlasts any single post. It trains donors, some journalists, and eventually Somali institutions themselves to expect suffering to be marshalled as proof, and Somali voices to surface only when they are useful to someone else’s fundraising argument. That is dehumanization running as convention rather than intention, which is exactly what makes it hard to spot from inside the sector producing it, and exactly what makes it durable.

Fixing this is not about softer language layered onto the same donor format. It means changing what the reporting is actually for. Writing built to keep a donor funding a programme will always subordinate a person’s own telling of her/his life to that funding case, no matter how much compassion sits on the surface of it. Writing built to inform a public, Somali and otherwise, about what is actually happening and who is actually responding, can put the person and the institutions already doing the work at the center, because it answers to a different purpose altogether. The focus has to move from proving a programme’s necessity to getting the reality right. The audience has to grow past a room of donor representatives to include the people the story is actually about.

None of this argues against keeping donors informed. It argues against building every telling of Somali life around the shape of a donor appeal, as if that were the only form crisis reporting could take.

______________

Wilo Abdulle is a gender equality, human rights, and social inclusion expert and independent Journalist

The post When Somali People Become a Narrative Instead of a Subject appeared first on Kaab TV.

The latest violence follows days of rising tensions over agricultural land in the Janaale area, where competing claims to banana plantations and surrounding farmland have intensified.

On 9 July, Biyamaal elders, women, and youth staged a protest in the KM50 area of Lower Shabelle, accusing members of the Hawiye clan—particularly the Habargidir and Abgaal sub-clans—of encroaching on what they described as ancestral Biyamaal land.

“Our farmlands are under attack. These are lands where our ancestors are buried and where our wells are located,” one elder, who identified himself only as Abdirahman, told protesters.

During the demonstration, protesters displayed copies of the Quran alongside AK-47 rifles, warning that if appeals through religion failed to stop what they described as land grabbing, they would defend their land by force.

Suspected Men Detained Over Alleged Land Grabbing

The protest came two days after Biyamaal militia members detained several individuals in the KM50 area whom they accused of surveying land for illegal acquisition.

The group reportedly included foreign nationals said to possess professional land surveying expertise.

The detainees were presented publicly on 8 July together with a vehicle, electricity generators, and surveying equipment.

Biyamaal elders alleged that the group had intended to survey land in the Deexda area, stretching between Marka, KM50, and the coastal areas of Jasiira and Gendershe—territory they claim has recently become the target of coordinated land seizures.

Fighting Spreads Around Janaale

Residents told Kaab TV that the fighting, which began on 4 July, continued for three consecutive days. They said Biyamaal fighters, responding to attacks they blamed on Habargidir militia, burned banana plantations in the Janaale area during the clashes.

Habargidir elders, however, accused Biyamaal fighters of attacking farms belonging to their community and said three people were killed in the violence.

Further clashes were reported on 6 July along the road between Janaale and the regional capital, Marka, as the conflict continued to spread.

The fighting has involved small arms as well as armed pickup trucks mounted with heavy machine guns.

The Federal Government of Somalia has not publicly commented on the clashes or announced any mediation efforts.

Meanwhile, sources close to both communities told Kaab TV that elders from the Biyamaal and Habargidir clans have separately sought mediation from Al-Shabaab, claiming they turned to the militant group after government authorities failed to intervene effectively.

The insecurity has disrupted farming and commercial activity in the Janaale area, with residents saying many farmers and traders are now unable to safely access agricultural land due to the ongoing violence.

The post Lower Shabelle: Biyamaal Clan Allege Land Seizures as Deadly Clashes with Habargidir Escalate appeared first on Kaab TV.

The earthquake measured 5.1 on the Richter scale and occurred at approximately 6:53 a.m. local time, according to data published by Volcano Discovery, a platform that tracks seismic activity around the world.

Preliminary reports indicate that the quake’s epicenter was located offshore in the Gulf of Aden, roughly 152 kilometers from Somalia’s northern coastline and about 179 kilometers north of the Bari region settlement of El Dibir.

Despite its relatively strong magnitude, experts described the earthquake as a deep-seated seismic event, which often reduces the intensity of shaking felt at the surface.

As a result, no immediate reports of injuries, property damage, or significant ground shaking have emerged from nearby coastal communities.

Authorities and disaster-monitoring agencies have not issued any tsunami warnings, and there have been no indications of threats to coastal populations in Somalia or neighboring countries bordering the Gulf of Aden.

The Gulf of Aden lies within a geologically active region where the African, Arabian, and Somali tectonic plates interact. While earthquakes in the area are not uncommon, most occur beneath the seabed and rarely cause significant damage on land.

The earthquake comes at a time when Somalia is experiencing a range of weather-related challenges, including heavy rainfall, localized flooding, and strong winds affecting parts of the country.

However, experts note that earthquakes are caused by tectonic activity and are not directly linked to seasonal weather patterns or climate conditions.

Authorities continue to monitor the situation, although no adverse impacts have been reported as of Thursday morning.

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Residents reported widespread traffic disruptions as floodwaters inundated key roads and intersections, making several routes impassable. Public transportation services were affected, while many commuters struggled to reach workplaces, schools, markets, and government offices due to the rising water levels.

The flooding once again exposed Mogadishu’s longstanding infrastructure challenges, particularly the city’s inadequate drainage system. In many neighborhoods, rainwater accumulated rapidly as drainage channels failed to cope with the volume of water, causing streets to turn into temporary waterways.

Urban planning and environmental experts say the recurring floods are being driven by a combination of factors, including increasingly intense rainfall linked to climate change, insufficient stormwater drainage infrastructure, rapid urban expansion, and blocked waterways. These conditions have made the city more vulnerable to flooding during seasonal rains.

Experts note that even moderate rainfall can cause flooding in parts of Mogadishu when drainage systems become overwhelmed or clogged with debris. The lack of a comprehensive urban water management system has allowed floodwaters to repeatedly disrupt economic activity and public services, particularly in low-lying areas of the city.

Residents have renewed calls for authorities to invest in modern drainage networks, road rehabilitation projects, and flood mitigation measures to reduce the impact of future storms. Many argue that long-term infrastructure improvements are essential to protecting lives, property, and economic activity in Somalia’s rapidly growing capital.

The latest flooding comes as Somalia continues to face the broader effects of climate variability, with extreme weather events increasingly affecting communities across the country. Local authorities are monitoring the situation and assessing the extent of the damage caused by the recent downpours.

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