As Somalia burns in yet another wave of militant clashes and government offensives, its people are starving—and the world, it seems, has forgotten to care. The current military campaign, Operation Ramadan, launched by the Somali government against the extremist group Al-Shabaab in the central and southern regions of the country, has intensified violence and displacements. But while frontlines shift and politicians speak in press briefings, a more pressing battle is being fought in makeshift camps, barren fields, and homes with no roofs and even less food.
According to the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), nearly 3 million Somalis have been displaced due to conflict, flooding, and severe drought conditions—an intersection of natural and man-made disasters that leaves no room for recovery. Within that staggering number, close to 1 million people are on the brink of famine. Humanitarian agencies describe a country in free fall, where food distribution trucks are either targeted, blocked, or simply too scarce to meet overwhelming needs. In the towns of Beledweyne, Dhusamareb, and Baidoa, children with bloated bellies and hollow eyes are once again becoming the face of Somalia.
The government, currently led by President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, insists that its offensive is necessary to root out Al-Shabaab from key regions. Yet even the most enthusiastic supporters of the operation admit the toll on civilians has been brutal. Entire communities have fled not only from militant violence but also from aerial bombardments and military raids. Villages once known for banana plantations or camel herding have emptied, with locals heading toward overcrowded camps where tents made of plastic sheets and scrap wood are the only shelter.
Somalia’s complex tragedy has also collided with a drop in international humanitarian funding. Donor fatigue, compounded by newer global crises in Gaza, Ukraine, and Sudan, has meant that agencies like the World Food Programme have been forced to scale back operations. In 2024, funding for Somalia’s humanitarian response plan fell short by more than 60%, and the prospects for 2025 look even bleaker. As one aid worker grimly noted, “We’re triaging an entire nation.”
The daily realities in the camps paint a bleak picture. In Mogadishu’s outskirts, mothers speak of boiling water and pretending it’s soup to keep their children hopeful. Young boys, some barely twelve, roam around looking for food scraps or day labor in exchange for bread. Clinics report rising cases of severe malnutrition, particularly among children under five. And with rains failing once again in many parts of the country, crops have withered before harvest, making local food production almost impossible.
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Security concerns compound the crisis. In some regions, aid deliveries are nearly impossible due to road ambushes or extortion checkpoints run by both militants and rogue elements within government-aligned militias. As a result, the few trucks that do make it through are often looted or rerouted, and community elders are forced to negotiate with whoever holds power that week. One elder in Galguduud recounted how he had to “pay in goats and prayers” to ensure a convoy of rice and oil reached his village.
The diaspora has stepped in to help where it can, with remittances forming a lifeline for many. But even this isn’t enough to offset the scale of the disaster. The Somali shilling continues to fluctuate wildly, and inflation has driven up the price of staple goods, making even a kilo of maize unreachable for thousands. International organizations have issued urgent appeals, warning of a catastrophe worse than the 2011 famine if nothing is done. Yet, Somalia rarely makes headlines—unless it’s for something that explodes.
In the corridors of power in Mogadishu, the rhetoric remains firm: Al-Shabaab must be defeated at all costs. But for many Somalis, the price already paid is unbearable. When asked what the people need most, a mother of five in a displacement camp outside Beledweyne gave a tired, sharp laugh. “Peace? Food? A future? We’d take one of the three.” The war may one day end, but hunger has a way of lingering long after the guns go silent. And in Somalia, silence from the global community is just another sound of despair.
