The commission consists of eight men and one woman, all from Southwest State.

Officials in Baidoa told Kaab TV that the electoral process is expected to be completed within 10 days starting from today.

Southwest State based its decision on Article 142 of the Federal Constitution, as well as its own regional constitution.

The move signals that SWS has charted its own path and eased the deadlock surrounding Somalia’s 2026 federal electoral process, which has been marked by uncertainty and disputes.

The Federal Government of Somalia has been pushing to centralize the elections under a commission previously appointed by President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, who has 53 days remaining in his term and is seeking re-election.

Federal Member States, particularly Jubaland and Puntland, have rejected this approach, opposing both the president’s unilateral electoral commission and recent constitutional changes, arguing that they lack broad consensus.

Regional administrations say the federal government’s efforts are aimed at extending its mandate and legitimizing constitutional amendments and electoral arrangements without agreement.

Somalia’s federal system comprises five Federal Member States and the Banaadir region. Southwest has now joined the ranks of Puntland and Jubaland in rejecting the constitutional amendments and any election process not based on consensus.

By appointing its own electoral commission, Southwest State has reinforced the likelihood that Somalia’s 2026 elections will follow an indirect model agreed upon by stakeholders—a path now clearly adopted by SWS.

Puntland held its elections in 2023, while Jubaland conducted its vote in 2024, both despite opposition from the federal government.

Meanwhile, the Federal Government, according to a directive issued by Interior Minister Ali Yusuf Hosh, has also rejected SWS move. Reports indicate that Mogadishu may attempt to organize a parallel election in Baraawe, where federal forces, including Haramcad and Gorgor units, were recently deployed after SWS troops withdrew.

If the Federal Government takes the parallel election route, it will not only risk undermining Baydhabo’s authority but could also trigger a backlash against its own legitimacy. Opposition figures in Mogadishu may respond by declaring themselves “president” after May 15, when the current term ends—effectively creating parallel leadership in the capital.

Galmudug, which has not endorsed the March 4, 2026 constitutional changes, and Hirshabelle, reportedly facing political and security pressure from Villa Somalia, have yet to clarify their positions.

With Southwest, Jubaland, and Puntland forming a majority among Federal Member States, their continued adherence to the 2012 Provisional Constitution and preference for indirect elections suggests that Somalia’s 2026 polls are likely to be based on a clan-delegate selection model.

Given that Somalia’s power-sharing system still follows the 4.5 formula, and no alternative has yet been agreed upon, many believe that the indirect, clan-based electoral model remains the only viable framework for maintaining political balance—one that continues to give a central role to traditional elders.

The post Southwest State’s Move to Appoint Electoral Commission Breaks Somalia’s Electoral Stalemate appeared first on Kaab TV.

Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s attempt to extend his term by a year, and take over the executive powers of the government will only add another layer to the country’s already complex and endless crisis—and could make it far worse.

Let’s take a closer look at Somalia’s recent history: Somalia’s powerful president, Mohamed Siad Barre, left Mogadishu on January 26, 1991, after rebel militias entered the capital and overthrown his powerful military government.

Before his departure, several attempts were made by elders and politicians to mediate between Siad Barre and the opposition.

The proposed plan, formalized in what is now known as ‘The Manifesto Communique‘, was for President Siad, who was in power for 21 years, to step down, hand over authority to a transitional civilian administration for the country and its people, and hold elections.

Unfortunately, this did not happen. The political dispute escalated into a full-blown conflict, and the government, which possessed Africa’s most powerful air, land, and sea forces, collapsed almost immediately. Its leaders ended up in exile and as refugees, and the country plunged into civil war—a civil war that made my family victims.

In the same year, 1991, one faction of the opposition appointed Mogadishu businessman Ali Mahdi Mohamed as “interim president“. However, this was immediately rejected by General Mohamed Farrah Aidid’s faction. Notably, Ali Mahdi established a constitution and even issued his own currency that circulated in parts of Mogadishu.

Mediation efforts between Ali Mahdi and General Aidid failed. This led to four months of intense street clashes, ultimately resulting in the “Green Line,” which divided Mogadishu into two parts. As a young boy, I vividly remember the days when we had to flee from one neighborhood to the other, passing through merciless militiamen and rockets being fired.

In August 2000, Abdiqasim Salad Hassan was elected president in Djibouti without full national agreement. When he arrived in Mogadishu, his administration was confined to a few blocks of the capital (from KM4 and Tarabuunka). He could not even access the presidential palace – the Villa Somalia – and both the Mogadishu port and the airport were closed by militias.

Abdiqasim’s government formed in Djibouti was based on a constitution forming a Transitional National Government (TNG). However, many of the Somali political factions rejected it. Several clan-based attempts to negotiate with Mogadishu’s faction leaders failed.

Finally, in 2004, while Abdiqasim remained in Mogadishu, a fresh reconciliation conference in Nairobi, Kenya, established the Transitional Federal Government (TFG), with Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed as president. Mogadishu warlords were admitted into it becoming ministers and MPs—including those who had split from Abdiqasim’s TNG administration.

In 2008, with President Abdullahi Yusuf still in office, the third Djibouti conference was organized, involving portion of president Yusuf’s TFG administration and the Islamic Courts Union (ICU). This was pushed by the international community as the last attempt to end the conflict between TFG and the ICU.

Seeing that he had no support or power, President Abdullahi Yusuf resigned honorably on December 29, 2008. Djibouti then saw Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed elected as president.

In September 2012, Somalia held its first domestic election in decades. President Sharif Sheikh Ahmed ran again but was defeated. A month before the election, in August 2012, the current Provisional Federal Constitution was drafted and ratified.

In April 2021, when President Mohamed Abdullahi Farmaajo’s term ended, opposition in Mogadishu rejected his attempt to extend power. This led to clashes in the city, with gunfire forcing around 100,000 people to flee within a week. Multiple warnings to the government were ignored. Those days, my colleagues and I were stuck in my office, but we continued reporting the developments in the city.

It is important to remember that Farmaajo had developed his own election laws, established his own election commission, and even used offline and online trolls to amplify his narratives—but all of this collapsed following the April 2021 conflict.

Historically, these events offer crucial lessons. Every incident today has parallels in the past, and learning from history is vital. Any attempt—whether changing the constitution or introducing unilateral laws—that is not accepted by the people ends in destruction and division. Somalia is not Djibouti, nor Eritrea, nor Turkey.

Hassan Sheikh Mohamud may still turn a blind eye to the crisis in the remaining days of his term, but the truth remains: history tends to repeat itself. The current situation will end the way it has always ended in the past. I hope wisdom returns before things get any worse.

The post Somalia Enters a Dangerous Term Extension, and A Step Toward Dictatorship, Chaos, and Bloodshed appeared first on Kaab TV.

As the sun set on 2025 Israel’s recognition —the first by a United Nations member state—and the successful democratic transition following the November 2024 elections, have brought renewed urgency to the question of its statehood. The December 26th recognition by Israel validates Somaliland’s de facto independence and invites the international community to align diplomatic practices with the empirical realities and established doctrines of international law.

Somaliland’s claim to sovereignty is not a novel assertion born of separatism but a restoration of borders, rooted in historical legitimacy that leads back to the time of the British Empire. As the former British Somaliland Protectorate, it achieved independence on June 26, 1960, and received recognition from at least 35 states, including permanent members of the UN Security Council. This brief period of sovereignty was voluntarily relinquished five days later through union with the former Italian Somaliland to form the Somali Republic, driven by aspirations for a unified Somali nation. That union, however, proved untenable. Under Siad Barre’s dictatorship, the people of the north endured systematic discrimination and, in the 1980s, a campaign of repression that many scholars and human rights organizations have characterised as genocidal against the Isaaq clan.

The collapse of the central government in Mogadishu in 1991 dissolved the union irrevocably. Somaliland’s leaders and clans, through inclusive reconciliation conferences, declared the restoration of independence, reclaiming the precise boundaries of the 1960 state. This act aligns with the principle of uti possidetis juris, a cornerstone of post-colonial international law endorsed by the African Union (AU) who itself determined regarding Somaliland that:

“The fact that the union between Somaliland and Somalia was never ratified and also malfunctioned when it went into action from 1960 to 1990, makes Somaliland’s search for recognition historically unique and self-justified in African political history.”

and the International Court of Justice (ICJ), which holds that newly independent states should retain colonial-era borders to prevent territorial chaos. Somaliland does not seek to alter borders or secede from a functioning state; it only seeks to reassert a pre-existing sovereignty following the effective dissolution of a voluntary union—a scenario analogous to the peaceful separations of Singapore from Malaysia in 1965 or the dissolution of Czechoslovakia in 1993.

At the heart of Somaliland’s case lies the doctrine of statehood as articulated through the 1933 Montevideo Convention on the Rights and Duties of States, widely regarded as customary international law. Article 1 outlines four objective criteria: (1) a permanent population; (2) a defined territory; (3) an effective government; and (4) the capacity to enter into relations with other states. Somaliland unequivocally satisfies these. Somaliland’s case is a compelling one…

Its population of approximately 6 million is stable and cohesive, bound by shared Somali heritage yet distinguished by a unique political identity forged in adversity. The territory is clearly defined, with borders respected internally and by neighbours in practice. Government effectiveness is demonstrated through a hybrid system blending modern democracy with traditional clan-based governance—a model that has proven remarkably resilient and inclusive.

Somaliland’s democratic achievements deserve particular emphasis, as they set it apart as a beacon of pluralism and stability in the Horn of Africa. Since 2001, Somaliland has conducted eight multi-party national elections, all judged credible by international observers (with its Constitution being adopted by the parliament on 30 April 2000). The November 13, 2024, presidential and parliamentary elections marked a high point: opposition candidate Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi (Irro) of the Waddani party decisively defeated incumbent President Muse Bihi Abdi, securing a peaceful transfer of power—the third such democratic handover in Somaliland’s history. Outgoing President Bihi conceded promptly, and the transition proceeded smoothly, earning praise from observers for its orderliness, transparency, and festive atmosphere. This was no small feat in a region plagued by electoral violence and authoritarian backsliding.

Somaliland’s democracy is distinctive in its hybrid character: a bicameral parliament combines an elected House of Representatives with a Guurti (House of Elders) that mediates clan interests using traditional mechanisms. This system, honed through grassroots reconciliation in the 1990s, has fostered genuine political competition while preventing the clan fractures that destabilise neighbours. Voter turnout routinely exceeds 80%, and civil society thrives, with vibrant media and active women’s groups advocating for greater inclusion. In a continent where many elections are marred by fraud or suppression, Somaliland’s record exemplifies democratic consolidation—rewarding merit, accountability, and the rule of law over patronage or coercion.

Finally, Somaliland’s capacity for international relations is evident in its growing web of partnerships. It maintains representative offices in numerous countries, issues its own currency and passports, and has entered binding agreements, such as the 2024 Memorandum of Understanding with Ethiopia granting port access in Berbera in exchange for cooperation—a deal that continues to advance amid regional tensions. Mutual recognition with Taiwan since 2020 has fostered practical ties in education, health, and technology. Benjamin R. Farley’s 2010 article, “Calling a State a State: Somaliland and International Recognition,” published in the Emory International Law Review, argues that Somaliland meets the international legal criteria for statehood under the Montevideo Convention, despite lacking formal recognition. The work examines the legal challenges and implications of recognising the breakaway region.

In international law, the debate over statehood often turns on two rival theories that reveal as much about power as they do about doctrine.

The declaratory theory treats statehood as an objective fact: if an entity has a permanent population, defined territory, government and capacity for foreign relations, it is a state, whether others like it or not. Recognition, on this view, merely “declares” what already exists. The constitutive theory, by contrast, insists that statehood is ultimately a political club: you become a state because other states, especially powerful ones, say you are—and they do so through recognition, UN membership, and diplomatic practice. In practice, the international system blends these theories; lawyers recite the neutral Montevideo criteria while governments quietly ask who their allies are and what vetoes might be cast in New York. The result is a deeply political law of statehood that can affirm the independence of some entities overnight while leaving others—no less “objective” in their attributes—waiting indefinitely in the antechamber of international legitimacy.

In many stands of international legal doctrine, recognition is declaratory rather than constitutive: it acknowledges an existing factual situation rather than conferring statehood ex nihilo. As affirmed by scholars like Hersch Lauterpacht and the ICJ in cases such as the 1948 Conditions of Admission advisory opinion, collective non-recognition cannot negate statehood where effective control and independence persist. Precedents reinforce this. Eritrea’s recognition in 1993 followed de facto independence; South Sudan’s in 2011 came after a referendum after the 2005 signing of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) which officially ended the North-South conflict and set the date for a referendum on South Sudan’s self-determination in January 2011; and Kosovo’s unilateral declaration in 2008 has been upheld by the ICJ as not violating international law under the UN Resolution 63/3 on the 8 October 2008:

Somaliland’s case is arguably stronger than all of these: it involves no ongoing territorial conquest, no violation of the principle of uti possidetis, (a principle of customary international law which posits that newly independent states should inherit the administrative borders they held at the time of their independence) and a proven commitment to democracy that aligns with the values espoused in the UN Charter and the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights. The 2001 constitutional referendum, with 97% approval for independence, was a profound act of self-determination.

Recent developments have dramatically underscored Somaliland’s readiness. Israel’s recognition of Somaliland in December 2025, driven by shared strategic interests in Red Sea security and counter-terrorism, has yielded tangible benefits, including a reported “recognition dividend” boosting Somaliland’s 2026 budget through enhanced trade and investment (there’s a good blog here on this).

While reactions vary—Somalia and allies have expressed opposition—the decision aligns with precedents where initial recognitions paved the way for broader acceptance.

The African Union’s caution against secession ironically supports Somaliland: recognition would uphold colonial borders while rewarding a stable democracy. Withholding it risks incentivising instability elsewhere.

Diplomatically, Somaliland offers strategic value: control of the Berbera port, a bulwark against extremism, and a model for hybrid governance. Recognition would facilitate deeper cooperation on migration, climate resilience, and security, while enabling cooperative relations with Somalia.

The international community now confronts a moment of intellectual and moral clarity. Israel’s step and Somaliland’s democratic triumphs affirm the declaratory doctrine: Somaliland is already a state in fact. Extending recognition is not disruption but consistency with international law, historical justice, and pragmatic statecraft.

After 35 years of proven sovereignty and democratic excellence, the Republic of Somaliland deserves its rightful place among nations. The world should act accordingly, recognising an independent state of Somaliland.

—

James Joseph is the Director of The Duty Legacy and The Alliance for the Prevention of Atrocity Crimes. International Law Commentator.

The post There is a Compelling Case for International Legal Recognition When it Comes to Somaliland… Here’s Why appeared first on Kaab TV.

This conduct is characteristic of military dictatorships and autocratic regimes, not democratic governance.

Today’s events confirm a statement President Hassan made in 2024 to a group of intellectuals who met him at the Presidential Palace and urged him not to proceed with divisive elections that would jeopardize Somalia’s unity and political harmony.

At the time, he bluntly declared that he would move forward with the election even if it were held in a single district—Wardhigley (Warta Nabadda), where Villa Somalia is located. Many were alarmed by this ominous statement, which directly contradicted the federal government’s stated commitment to inclusive politics and good governance.

That pledge has now materialized. Today’s Mogadishu local elections are embarrassing, divisive, coercive, and destructive, accelerating the erosion of Somalia’s already fragile democratic culture and responsible governance. What occurred today represents the most blatant and shamelessly fraudulent election in Somalia’s history, surpassing all previous experiences in fabrication, coercion, abuse of state power, corruption, mismanagement, and falsification of outcomes.

Key Lessons from the 25 December 2025 Bogus Election

First, the rule of law has collapsed.

This election seals the end of government conducted in accordance with the rule of law, as required under Article 4 of the Provisional Constitution. Presidential will has replaced constitutional order. This further reinforces the unlawful term extensions of Federal Member State presidents in Galmudug, Hirshabelle, and Southwest, deepening systemic decay.

Second, Somalia is now ruled by an unaccountable, law-defying authority.

The country is governed by a leader whose actions openly violate the Constitution. Citizens are stripped of peaceful political remedies and pushed toward instability in defense of their dignity and civil and political rights.

Third, federal governance has been reduced to Mogadishu rule.

President Hassan has effectively appointed himself the de facto President of Mogadishu, overriding the Council of Ministers, the Ministry of Interior, Federal Affairs and Reconciliation, and the constitutional role of the Governor of Benadir and Mayor of Mogadishu. Constitutionally, the president has no executive role beyond safeguarding compliance with the Constitution—yet he now directly governs.

Fourth, state institutions have been personalized.

The judiciary, civil service, military, and security forces are increasingly loyal to the president rather than to the Constitution and the rule of law. This poses a grave threat to the survival of the Somali state, already fractured by political recrimination and clan tension—the historic Achilles’ heel of Somalia.

Fifth, the presidency has abandoned its constitutional role.

President Hassan has, both de jure and de facto, abandoned his role as President of the Federal Republic of Somalia, symbol of national unity, and custodian of the Provisional Constitution.

Sixth, public opinion and opposition no longer matter.

Opposition voices, public sentiment, and independent media have no influence on decision-making. Power is exercised through personal conviction and unchecked authority. Citizens are reduced to subjects, and national interest is defined by presidential whim.

Seventh, the suffering of the poor is politically expendable.

The economic and social burdens imposed on vulnerable Somalis—through evictions, demolitions, lockdowns, coercion, and loss of livelihood—are of no concern to the presidency.

Eighth, fraud is marketed as achievement.

Through official statements by the president, government officials, and partisan supporters, the bogus Mogadishu elections are falsely portrayed as a national success, prioritizing factional interests over the welfare of the nation.

Ninth, Somalia has exited the democratic path.

The country has shifted decisively toward personal rule, lawlessness, and kleptocracy. The 25 December 2025 election marks the end of political dialogue, reconciliation, and shared sovereignty—and the beginning of a period of dangerous political turbulence with an uncertain and potentially tragic outcome.

Tenth, years of manipulation culminate in institutional chaos.

A two-year constitutional amendment process, the passage of three controversial laws, the hand-picking of a compliant electoral commission, opaque election financing, and today’s citywide lockdown converge in a likely fabricated claim of 200,000–300,000 voters. This will be used to justify 16 district councils fully controlled by the Justice and Solidarity Organization, without any legal framework defining their powers, responsibilities, or budgets. The creation of 390 council members will deepen administrative confusion and burden already suffering communities.

Final Judgment

Under the Constitution, the President of the Federal Republic must remain above political parties. Association with or leadership of a political organization violates the spirit and purpose of the federal republic and must be firmly rejected.

Today’s Mogadishu local elections are not merely flawed. They mark a turning point toward authoritarianism, institutional decay, and political recklessness. The damage inflicted on Somalia’s constitutional order, social cohesion, and democratic future will be profound and long-lasting. Urgent awakening and action are required to pull Somalia back from the brink—before it is too late.

The post Lessons Learned From Today’s Bogus Mogadishu Local Elections appeared first on Kaab TV.

The opposition-aligned National Consultation Conference, which concluded this week in Kismayo, has accused President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud of constitutional violations, governance failures, and abandoning the fight against Al-Shabaab. Its communiqué warns that unilateral decision-making and delayed elections risk “political collapse, insecurity, and economic breakdown.” More striking than the language, however, is the breadth of the coalition delivering the message and the timing of its ultimatum.

The gathering brought together Puntland and Jubaland presidents Said Abdullahi Deni and Ahmed Mohamed Islam (Madobe); former President Sharif Sheikh Ahmed; former prime ministers Abdi Farah Shirdoon, Hassan Ali Khaire, and Mohamed Hussein Roble; sitting members of parliament; and multiple presidential aspirants.

Such ideological and regional diversity rarely converges in Somali politics unless the participants believe a structural red line is being crossed.

At issue is not only whether elections will occur on time, but whether Somalia’s post-transition order—formalized after the end of the provisional era, reinforced by debt relief in 2023, and underwritten by sustained donor engagement—can survive an increasingly centralized presidency.

The opposition’s rejection of unilateral constitutional amendments speaks to a deeper anxiety: that Somalia’s federal system is being hollowed out through legal and procedural shortcuts rather than formal renegotiation. By declaring all presidentially driven constitutional changes “null and void” and reasserting the supremacy of the 2012 Provisional Constitution, the communiqué challenges not just the President’s authority but the method by which power is being accumulated in Mogadishu.

This matters because Somalia’s political equilibrium has always rested less on formal institutions than on negotiated consent. Every major political advance since 2000—from the federal charter to indirect elections—has been sustained by elite bargains rather than enforcement mechanisms. When those bargains fracture, the state does not fail abruptly; it fragments quietly, with parallel processes replacing national ones.

The opposition’s categorical rejection of term extensions beyond April and May 2026 reflects this fear. Somalia’s political class remembers too well how “technical delays” have historically become open-ended power grabs. In a country without an independent constitutional court capable of arbitrating such disputes, legitimacy is binary: either elections are agreed upon in advance, or they are contested by default.

KISMAYO COMMUNIQUE:

– The Kismayo Conference underlines that the term of office of the Houses of Parliament expires on 14 April 2026, while that of the President expires on 15 May 2026. The Conference will never accept any extension of the term of office of constitutional… pic.twitter.com/dcaJsL713t

— Kaab TV (@KaabTV) December 21, 2025

 The one-month ultimatum issued to President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud—giving him until January 20, 2026, to convene all stakeholders around an inclusive electoral framework—is therefore less a threat than a deadline for salvaging elite consensus.

The warning of a “parallel electoral process” should not be read as posturing. Somalia has pursued parallel tracks before, and each time they have weakened federal cohesion, emboldened spoilers, and distracted security forces at critical moments.

The Banadir question further complicates matters. The opposition’s rejection of the Mogadishu election process on constitutional grounds highlights a long-deferred issue in Somali governance: the capital’s ambiguous legal status.

Risks of delegitimisation

Successive administrations have avoided resolving Banadir’s representation because doing so would redistribute political power. Yet proceeding with elections there without consensus risks delegitimizing the entire national process.

President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s response has so far been cautious. Speaking at a public event, he dismissed the Kismayo meeting but signaled openness to dialogue should the opposition present a unified position.

That formulation places the burden back on his rivals, even as their communiqué suggests rare alignment. Former President Mohamed Abdullahi Mohamed (Farmaajo) did not attend the talks but is reported to broadly agree with their conclusions—an indication that the opposition’s center of gravity may be larger than it appears.

For international partners, this confrontation presents an uncomfortable dilemma. Donors and security allies have invested heavily in portraying Somalia as a country moving beyond perpetual transition—evidenced by debt relief, normalized financial relations, and the planned drawdown of ATMIS.

Yet those gains rest on political predictability. A disputed or fragmented election would undermine not only Somalia’s domestic legitimacy but also the assumptions underpinning international engagement.

The deeper question, then, is whether Somalia’s post-transition state can function without constant external arbitration. If every major political disagreement requires international mediation to prevent collapse, the model itself remains incomplete.

What is unfolding is not simply an opposition challenge to an incumbent president. It is a referendum on whether Somalia’s leaders can internalize the rules of political competition—or whether power will continue to be negotiated at the edge of crisis. The coming weeks will reveal whether consensus politics can be restored, or whether Somalia is drifting toward another prolonged electoral impasse—this time with far more to lose.

——

Abdirahman Jeylani Mohamed is a Somali journalist based in Mogadishu, a foreign policy commentator and communications specialist 

The post Somalia’s Election Standoff Is a Referendum on Its Post-Transition State appeared first on Kaab TV.

AFCON 2025 will be Africa’s biggest football tournament, with 24 African nations competing. It will be the 35th edition of the continental championship and the second time Morocco has hosted the tournament since 1988.

Matches will be played in cities including Rabat, Marrakech, Fez, Casablanca, Tangier, and Agadir—cities known for their rich history and modern infrastructure.

The opening match will see the Moroccan national team face Comoros, while the following day Mali will play Zambia.

As a journalist who has covered Somali sports for the past 15 years, I attended the African Footballer of the Year Awards ceremony held in Rabat on 15 November 2025.

For the first time this year, Somali audiences were able to watch the event live, with thousands reacting on Astaan Sports’ Facebook page.

From my perspective, AFCON 2025—the 35th edition of the tournament—differs significantly from previous competitions.

This year, services for fans traveling to Morocco to watch the matches have been greatly improved.

Morocco has prepared 723 new buses to facilitate transportation for visitors and players. Luxury hotels and recreational facilities are also available.

Morocco has also hosted qualifiers for the 2026 FIFA World Cup, creating new opportunities for African countries.

Somalia is among those countries, with Morocco supporting it through access to stadiums and training facilities.

Culture and Music

The tournament will showcase Morocco’s unique culture and the diversity of African traditions. Cultural dances and music performances will be held, and the official song, “Maghribi Maghribi,” will open the tournament on Sunday.

Morocco maintains partnerships with all 54 African countries, including Somalia, to strengthen football development.

Omar Khyari, adviser to the president of the Royal Moroccan Football Federation, said this cooperation provides Somalia with opportunities for training and sports infrastructure development.

“We have built cooperative links with all 54 African countries. Somalia and Morocco, in particular, have a special partnership. Morocco is helping Somalia by allowing it to play its home matches in Morocco during competitions in which Somalia participates, which enhances the role of the Somali national team in AFCON 2025,” said Omar Khyari.

This cooperation will have a significant impact on the construction of stadiums and sports infrastructure in Somalia, enabling the country to compete at higher levels. It will also help develop high-quality players, allowing Somalia to gradually improve its domestic football.

_

Mohamed Abdi Muudey is a sports journalist and the director of Astaan Sports.

The post AFCON 2025: Morocco Brings Together the Passion of Football and African Culture. What Does It Mean for Somalis? appeared first on Kaab TV.

I sat by the sea watching the endless, hypnotic waves of the Indian Ocean. As the Sun rose, bright and beautiful through the mist, it broke through perfectly layered clouds, defying any attempt to be covered. In that moment, the world felt immense yet perfectly ordered; I felt a deep stillness, and in that profound tranquility, I sensed a realization, not just of peace, but of Kaadsiimo.

We often forget it, but there is a precise rhythm to life, to everything that moves: from the gentle cresting of the ocean waves, to the steady pulse of our heart, to the magnificent, cosmic movement of galaxies and planets; it is this rhythm and harmony that create the sense of stillness.

Think about it: both the Sun and the Earth are constantly in motion, hurtling through space, spinning on their axes; yet the synchronization between their movements is so precise, so steady over eons, that it makes us feel as though everything is perfectly in place.

That feeling, the certainty that any system works better when its parts are synchronized and almost appear paused in motion, is what we access when we intentionally stop; in those moments of pause and deep breath, we feel something truly out of the ordinary. We reflect, become mindful of our senses, and are overcome by a deep sense of gratitude and a longing for that feeling to be eternal.

Later, reflecting on the experience, I realized I needed a word for that feeling. I rushed through a Somali dictionary to find a term that could give form to my thoughts and anchor the memory of what I had felt, and I came across the word “Kaadsiimo.”

The word carries far more depth than the simple English term “stillness.” Kaadsiimo translates to an “intentional pause,” a deliberate slowing of the soul taken specifically in the presence of something profound; in Somali culture, where many things can feel superficial and lack contemplation, Kaadsiimo is a principle that is deeply praised and encouraged.

Kaadsiimo is not merely the absence of motion; it is the choice to stop moving in order to fully acknowledge the meaning around you. It reminds us that velocity is meaningless without direction, and to have direction fundamentally requires reflection.

We can experience Kaadsiimo in everyday moments:

• * when our feet hesitate at the sight of a perfect sunset,
• * when our breath softens as we smell rain and droplets touch our face one after another in perfect order,
• * when beauty unexpectedly enters our awareness, whether on a digital screen or in the street,
• * or in our kitchens, dancing with our significant other as the music chords harmonize perfectly with our bodily movements and with the flow of blood in our veins.

Kaadsiimo is the quiet sigh that we feel in our chest in those moments; it is the vital space between motion and meaning, where we reconnect with the deepest, most basic rhythms of life itself.

The post Kaadsiimo: The Art of Stillness appeared first on Kaab TV.

That night, I met the most painful actor of my life. Calm, eloquent, and effortlessly composed. At first, he was like anyone else who drifts briefly through my days—appearing suddenly, leaving quietly. But as time passed, and our friendship deepened, his silence began to speak to me. It carried no anger, no gossip—only quiet trust. He made me the keeper of his unspoken words, his unreadable glances, and his unreachable truths.

Every night, I spoke to him. Every morning, I greeted him. And every time our eyes met, my heart began translating an unnamed feeling—something between peace and ache. His words were ordinary to him, but to me they became nourishment, the unseen medicine that soothed my restless heart.

I loved him—but my love chose silence. It hid beneath the cover of friendship, wrapped in shyness, slowed by fear, and sustained by hope that flickered only when I saw his face. Without meaning to, he claimed a place in my heart, establishing his presence quietly, powerfully—then retreating into secrecy once again.

So I hid behind the safest name I knew: friendship. It was the perfect disguise for a forbidden feeling. I buried my love under its shade, taught my eyes to find his face in every crowd, my ears to cling to his voice, and my heart to burn quietly in his absence. When I slept, I dreamed of him. When he laughed, I felt light enough to float. I convinced myself that being near him was enough—even if my love was unreturned.

Then came the day.
A day without sun, yet its light burned me.
A day without words, yet my heart screamed.
It was the day I decided to give my love a voice.

With trembling courage, I said,

“I feel something deeper than friendship. Every day it lives in my heart, though I hide it from my face. My love for you has been here for a long time—like a child still in the womb. Today, it wants to be born, to breathe, to speak.”

He looked at me deeply, silently, as if his soul wanted to answer but his mouth refused. His eyes were honest, but his lips stayed closed. Silence was his reply—so much easier than speech, yet heavier than any word. He didn’t say no, and I didn’t ask him to explain. I simply understood.

That night, I faced the cruelest kind of heartbreak: a love neither rejected nor accepted—a love known, yet ignored. It didn’t die; it merely retreated, breathing through the narrow pores of my heart. My life became a lonely journey, an endless walk through memories too fragile to share. Every night, I slept with questions my soul whispered just to survive. Every morning, I woke with a hollow joy that disguised regret.

The saddest part? He didn’t leave. He stayed—close enough to hurt, far enough to lose. The same face, the same smile, the same voice. He joked with me as if I had never cried, as if my confession had dissolved into air. Perhaps he forgot. Perhaps he pretended. Or perhaps he simply enjoyed being loved, even if he couldn’t return it.

A year has passed. A year of silence for him, and a year of echoes for me. My love hasn’t died—it has only moved deeper, to a darker corner of my soul. It no longer speaks; it only aches. When I think of him, I see only his face. When I close my eyes, I hear again the words I told him: I love you.

Now I am someone who apologizes every morning without knowing why. Someone who invents excuses for another’s silence—“Maybe he’s shy. Maybe he’s waiting. Maybe he feels the same but can’t say it.” I turn his silence into words, hoping that someday they’ll be real.

But I know the truth now:
True love does not hide. It does not live in silence, even when silence feels safe.

I have loved—and my love did not fail, though it broke me. It was born without a voice, grew with a broken throat, and now survives as a quiet wound. I waited, but the heart I wanted was never mine. I was patient, but patience became a chain.

“Love that will not disappear from me,
How long must I endure?
Does memory ever fade?”

Now I understand. Love is a feeling, but life is a choice.
I felt, I loved, I endured—but he did not choose me.

So I accept that love is sometimes a journey with no destination, a dream that never wakes. I no longer wait for a voice that will never come. I open my heart—not to him, but to freedom.

I let him go—not in hatred, but in pity for myself.
Yes, my heart still clings to him. His memory still hovers over me like a mother over her child.
But I release him, not in despair—only in peace.
I am finally free from the endless waiting.

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A closer look reveals a different story: this visit is not a pivot, but a symptom of a leadership style that has left the President isolated and his authority weakened.

Upon his return to office, HSM abandoned the patient work of statecraft for a doctrine of deliberate unpredictability and centralized control. He is now reaping the consequences: eroded credibility, alienated allies, and a profound isolation that threatens not just his administration, but the fragile stability of the nation.

The False Allure of Unpredictability

HSM operates on a theory that keeping everyone, friends and foes and allies alike, perpetually off-balance is the key to power. This approach prizes momentary tactical advantage over coherent strategy.

However, while chaos can secure a short-term win, it systematically corrodes the foundations of sustainable governance. When no one can predict your next move, no one can build reliable alliances with you. By choosing erratic maneuverability over sound strategy, the President has not strengthened his hand; he has introduced a critical liability into the heart of government.

The Kismayo visit is the ultimate proof of this failure. This is not statesmanship; it is tactical improvisation born of necessity. Having alienated a broad political spectrum through broken commitments and impulsive decisions, the President finds his options narrowing. This trip is not a genuine overture for a durable settlement; it is the act of a leader forced to abruptly reverse his own policy to secure a temporary lifeline.

A Currency in Crisis: The Erosion of Trust

A leader’s most vital asset is trust. President HSM has squandered this long-term capital on short-term tactical gains. By demonstrating that his word is secondary to the whim of the moment, he has shattered his own credibility.

The result is a critical negotiation deficit. How can the Jubbaland administration, or any other regional leader, trust a partner whose positions are so transient? Today’s adversary is tomorrow’s negotiating partner not because of a shift in the national interest, but because of a shift in the President’s calculus.

This capriciousness reveals that the conflict with Jubbaland was never truly institutional; it was personal. And now, this reconciliation appears equally personal, a photo opportunity offering a fleeting respite from his growing isolation.

Governing by Whim

Enduring power is built through strong, impersonal institutions. President HSM has rejected this principle, treating power not as a tool for governance but as a personal commodity. Key positions have been awarded not on merit, but as rewards for personal loyalty.

He is neither a principled statesman building capable institutions nor a strategic autocrat forging a durable political machine. His appointments lack any coherent philosophy, serving neither a grand vision nor a clear plan for effective governance. This approach is akin to a millionaire squandering his wealth on sycophants; once the patronage runs dry, the support evaporates, leaving a hollow and transient power base.

Compounding this strategic failure is an alarming personal dimension. The President’s unpredictability often seems less a calculated tactic and more a product of personal mood swings. Somali statecraft has become vulnerable to the impulses of one man.

In this climate of perpetual insecurity, the primary survival skill for his inner circle is to feed the President’s self-image. Trapped by this flattery, he is shielded from harsh realities. The consequence is a political landscape where friends and foes are indistinguishable, and decisions are made not for the nation’s benefit, but to survive the daily whims of the leader.

A Trap of His Own Making

President HSM’s quest for total control through unpredictability and personal whim has proven self-defeating. The conditional loyalty he commands, built on fear and fleeting patronage, is already fracturing. Having built no durable institutions and fostered no genuine alliances, he finds himself increasingly isolated.

His boat, adrift and directionless, has now docked in Kismayo. But we must ask: for how long, and to what end? Without a consistent strategy built on credible commitments, this visit is merely another unpredictable swing of the pendulum. It may generate a day’s headlines, but it will not rebuild the trust he has systematically broken. It is a tactic for political survival, not a blueprint for the stable governance Somalia so desperately needs. The nation remains trapped in the uncertainty of his whims.

——

Abdirahman Abdishakur Warsame

A member of the Somali Federal Parliament, an opposition leader, the chairman of the Wadajir Party, and a presidential candidate in the forthcoming elections of 2026.

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