Somalia’s own soldiers are assassinating their commanders, selling Somalia’s energy blocks to the highest bidder. Somalia now faces its most dangerous turning point since 1991. Al-Shabaab is raising flags in major towns while the Somali government sinks deeper into chaos, selling off resources and scapegoating enemies.

Is the capital next? 

Somalia isn’t slipping. It’s spiraling. The once fragile federal experiment is now visibly shattering—under the weight of incompetence, corruption, and political betrayal.

Mogadishu’s leadership, led by President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, is flailing at the helm. Al-Shabaab grows bolder by the day, releasing prisoners, raising flags, and walking through military bases unchallenged. In a horrifying echo of Afghanistan, Somalia’s own soldiers are assassinating their commanders, and U.S. diplomats are being evacuated. Even the president himself narrowly escaped an ambush. This is no longer counterinsurgency. This is collapse management.

Desperate for Western attention, Hassan Sheikh has chosen a tactic that reeks of neo-colonial pandering: selling Somalia’s energy blocks to the highest bidder, offering the country’s last resources to Trump-linked interests in the hope of buying security. His ambassador’s bizarre social media auction of Somalia’s oil was less diplomacy than a digital clearance sale of a broken state. The response? Silence in Washington. Chaos in the capital.

Meanwhile, Turkish boots are on Somali soil, drones fly overhead, and the African Union’s peacekeepers are now smeared as al-Shabaab sympathizers by Somali officials trying to dodge accountability. Puntland and Jubaland have already walked out of Hassan’s electoral circus. The remaining federal structure is now a skeleton of legitimacy—held together by the optics of registration drives and donor meetings.

And as al-Shabaab captures Aadan Yabaal—the president’s own hometown—Somalis wake up asking a question they hoped they’d never need to again: Can Mogadishu fall?

Somalia has failed at the elite level. Hassan’s government blames everyone—Egypt, Ethiopia, the AU, even UN diplomats—except itself. It ignores the internal rot, the patronage system, the militarized nepotism, and the utter lack of coherent national strategy.

The result? Al-Shabaab no longer hides. It governs. And the state no longer fights back. It tweets.

Quo vadis, Somalia?
Downward. Fast. Unless something radical, honest, and painfully overdue changes now.

Turkey is waging a silent conquest in Mogadishu—with troops, drones, and oil deals—and Somalia’s president has already sold the keys.

In the name of “counterterrorism,” Turkey just staged a geopolitical takeover in Mogadishu. Two military planes, 500 soldiers, and more to come. But this isn’t just about Al-Shabaab—this is about Erdogan turning Somalia into a Turkish satellite state, and President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud is rolling out the red carpet.

The Turkish military is no joke. It’s NATO’s second-largest army, hardened by decades of insurgency warfare, equipped with German tanks, U.S. fighters, and its own lethal drone fleet. Their F-16s fly low while Bayraktar TB2 drones hunt targets—perfect for the urban warfare creeping into Mogadishu’s night.

But what’s terrifying is not just the firepower—it’s the strategy. Turkey isn’t just fighting Al-Shabaab, it’s occupying political space, installing its own contractors, oil firms, and trainers across Somalia. Somalia’s president isn’t leading a resistance—he’s hosting an auction.

Why is Hassan Sheikh letting it happen?

Simple: Erdogan found his puppet. PM Hamza’s Las Anod stunt was smoke and mirrors—a distraction while Ankara’s warships dock, oil deals are signed, and the Somali army becomes a Turkish proxy.

This is the quiet conquest of Mogadishu. The West has pumped in $20 billion in aid over two decades—and what’s left? Al-Shabaab controls Mogadishu after dark. And now, Turkey controls it by day.

Turkish-trained female Somali commandos arrive in Mogadishu

The irony? While Trump talks business-first diplomacy, Erdogan is doing business with America’s enemies, grabbing oil fields in Somali territory that once belonged to U.S. firms. Turkish firms now guard U.S. diplomats in Somalia. Turkish warships circle the Red Sea. And Turkish drones rule the skies.

This isn’t a partnership. It’s a hostile takeover.

Somalia has been bought. Somaliland has been ignored. And if the U.S. doesn’t wake up, Erdogan’s Ottoman hustle will gut American influence from Africa to the Levant.

Time to name names. Time to cut ties. And time to back the real allies—those who don’t sell their sovereignty for drones and flags.

Turkey Boots on the Ground: Is Mogadishu Being Outsourced?

Turkish boots on the ground in Mogadishu while Al-Shabaab silently takes over 4 districts. Somalia’s leaders play musical chairs—while militants walk into government offices unopposed. WARYATV exposes the ugly truth.

Erdogan’s Ottoman Hustle: How Turkey Is Playing Trump to Crush American Business in Africa

As Al-Shabaab quietly seizes control of districts, 2,500 Turkish soldiers land—who’s really in charge now?

As Turkish troops land in Mogadishu under a security agreement, Al-Shabaab expands its stealth control. WARYATV investigates the dangerous delusion gripping Somalia’s leadership.

Two Turkish military aircraft touched down in Mogadishu, unloading up to 500 troops—with expectations that number could balloon beyond 2,500. Turkey frames this as counterterrorism cooperation. The truth? Somalia’s so-called “sovereignty” is being subcontracted out while its own leadership collapses from within.

This isn’t partnership. It’s occupation through invitation. While Turkish warplanes bomb Al-Shabaab hideouts, militants are effortlessly patrolling four major Mogadishu districts without resistance—seizing government files, walking into local offices, and telling security guards, “Be back at your post tomorrow.”

Dayniile. Hilwa. Dharkaleey. Gubadleey.
All are now nocturnally governed by Al-Shabaab—without a single shot fired.

Sources within Western military intelligence confirm what the world refuses to admit: the capital is falling in slow motion, and it’s being covered up with press releases about international cooperation.

President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud is already preparing to scapegoat his NISA director and army chief—rumored to be replaced by political loyalists with zero tactical credibility. It’s a page ripped straight from Kabul before the Taliban sweep. The same air of denial. The same security theatrics. The same doomed outcome.

And while Turkish troops march in to supposedly help, Prime Minister Hamse Barre diverts attention with a staged visit to Las Anod—reigniting internal tensions instead of addressing the slow-motion collapse in Mogadishu. It’s all a distraction from a grim truth: Al-Shabaab is winning not by firepower—but by strategy, infiltration, and the cowardice of Somalia’s leadership.

This is no longer a counterinsurgency.
This is Somalia outsourced, Somali leadership imploding, and Al-Shabaab adapting faster than its enemies.

Khadra Issa, alias Ummu Qaqaa Somalia, named as top ISIS operative as U.S. intensifies hunt for diaspora-linked extremists

The U.S. government has put a $5 million bounty on the head of Khadra Issa, also known as Ummu Qaqaa Somalia, a Somali-born Dutch national accused of serving as a key recruiter, propagandist, and operative for ISIS. Her case sends a chilling message: ISIS is no longer confined to the ruins of Raqqa—it’s networked, mobile, and still recruiting, often through diaspora channels.

Issa’s profile paints a dangerous archetype. Fluent, digitally agile, and invisible for years, she allegedly helped orchestrate suicide bombings, child concealment, and online radicalization—while operating far from the battlefields. Most shocking is her alleged role in hiding two American children after their mother died in a U.S. airstrike. The fate of those children remains unknown, a haunting reminder of ISIS’s global entanglements.

Her name is now featured on the Rewards for Justice program’s most-wanted list. This designation means the U.S. considers her a high-priority target—someone embedded in extremist networks still capable of regenerating threats worldwide.

Washington’s move is not just punitive—it’s strategic. With ISIS’s territorial grip gone, its strength lies in the shadows: in encrypted apps, digital outreach, and transnational sympathizers like Issa who blur lines between citizen and combatant.

Security experts warn that Somali-origin operatives have become critical nodes in ISIS’s decentralized revival strategy. These individuals often possess EU or Western passports, allowing them to cross borders, mask affiliations, and embed within migrant communities—becoming radical hubs.

This case also raises larger questions. How did a European national of Somali descent reach this level of influence in a terror organization? How many more are under the radar? And why has the international community failed to dismantle these recruitment pipelines?

Khadra Issa is not just a fugitive—she’s the face of modern jihadist insurgency. And as the U.S. dangles millions for her arrest, one thing is clear: the war on ISIS may be out of the headlines, but it’s far from over.

The collapse of Middle Shabelle town exposes Somalia’s crumbling counteroffensive and re-energizes fears of a militant siege on the capital.

In a devastating blow to Somalia’s fragile counterinsurgency effort, Al-Shabaab militants stormed and seized the strategic town of Aadan Yabaal in Middle Shabelle—an area President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud himself toured just weeks earlier to inspire confidence. The government’s response? Silence. The militants’ message? We’re not done yet.

The Wednesday dawn assault, characterized by explosions, heavy artillery, and five hours of intense ground combat, ends with the fall of what was once a forward base for government operations. It’s a symbolic and strategic defeat: Aadan Yabaal had served as a key operations center against militant-controlled areas since its recapture in 2022.

Al-Shabaab’s Shabelle offensive is working. With over 50% more attacks in 2025 compared to last year, the militant group is flipping the script. After federal gains in 2022, the insurgents are now taking back ground—and fast. This isn’t just a tactical setback; it’s a psychological one.

Sources indicate the government’s forces conducted a “tactical withdrawal.” But it’s hard to spin the loss of a heavily militarized town as anything less than a collapse. Videos released by Al-Shabaab show fighters unchallenged inside the town, flaunting weapons and capturing vehicles. The symbolism is undeniable: The militants are organized, mobile, and emboldened.

Even more concerning is what this loss portends. The pattern suggests a strategic encirclement of Mogadishu. Villages within 50 kilometers of the capital have fallen. Assassination attempts on the president are growing. The Aadan Yabaal loss isn’t an isolated flare-up—it’s a warning shot.

Community militias and remnants of the federal army are reportedly preparing a counteroffensive. But the truth is, Al-Shabaab has just sent a chilling message: the war is far from over—and they’re winning battles that matter.

If Aadan Yabaal can fall so easily, how long before Mogadishu becomes more than just a target?

Trump eyes embassy closures as US rejects UN plan to fund peacekeepers in Somalia — Mogadishu’s last lifeline in peril.

The US shocks the UN by rejecting funding for African Union forces in Somalia, just as Trump weighs closing the US Embassy in Mogadishu. With Al-Shabaab advancing and oil politics heating up, is Somalia doomed to implode?

The United States just signaled the collapse of Somalia’s last fragile security architecture — and it did so with chilling clarity. Washington has publicly rejected UN efforts to fund the African Union Stabilization Support Mission in Somalia (AUSSOM), effectively gutting any hope for predictable peacekeeping operations in a country teetering on the edge of collapse.

This isn’t just a bureaucratic snub — it’s a geopolitical death sentence for Somalia. Al-Shabaab militants are already testing the vacuum, launching a multi-pronged assault on Adan Yabaal, a key military base in Middle Shabelle. If confirmed, the town’s fall would mark the largest strategic loss since Somalia launched its offensive against terror in 2022.

UN Secretary-General António Guterres warned the Security Council: no funding, no peace. But the US—under Trump’s second-term posture—is slamming the door shut, labeling Somalia as unfit for a hybrid funding model under Resolution 2719. Diplomats are in a panic. Meanwhile, Trump is reportedly planning to close up to 30 diplomatic missions, with Mogadishu’s embassy topping the list.

Somalia’s response? Desperation disguised as diplomacy. The FGS is now peddling oil blocks in contested territories like Nugaal Valley. In a flashy announcement on X, Somalia’s ambassador to the US declared “Somalia is open for drilling,” targeting American firms with an offer it legally and militarily cannot secure.

Somalia’s Ambassador to the United States, Dahir Hassan Arab

The move comes after Somalia’s recognition of SSC-Khaatumo — a region still engulfed in the political wreckage of its war with Somaliland.

This isn’t about development. It’s about weaponizing recognition, resource manipulation, and fake sovereignty in a bid to win Trump’s favor and undermine Somaliland’s momentum.

But while Hargeisa builds forests and attracts foreign media praise, Mogadishu is drowning in debt, insurgency, and denial. The West is tuning out, and even the UN is losing patience. The US, once Somalia’s diplomatic oxygen, is now pulling the plug.

Somalia is not rising — it’s being unplugged.

MP Dr. Abib accuses Somali leadership of corruption, illegal contracting, and diplomatic sabotage in World Bank project.

Explosive corruption allegations rock Somalia’s government as MP Dr. Abib exposes illegal $1.7 million contract with PEMANDU Associates. International donors on edge as diplomatic crisis brews. 

Somalia’s fragile legitimacy is unraveling—again—this time under the weight of a $1.7 million corruption scandal that could choke the nation’s lifeline of international aid. At the center: a high-stakes consulting contract with Malaysia-based PEMANDU Associates and a damning letter by Federal MP Dr. Abdullahi Hashi Abib that pulls no punches.

From contract fraud to constitutional violations, the scandal tears into the Somali government’s already tenuous credibility. Dr. Abib’s accusations strike directly at the heart of state power: Prime Minister Hamse Barre, the Minister of Finance, and even the Central Bank Governor are named in an alleged web of patronage, nepotism, and legal misconduct. The contract, supposedly for a “National Transformation Plan,” not only sidesteps the existing National Development Plan (NDP-9), but tramples Somalia’s own laws and the World Bank’s procurement protocols.

This isn’t just about numbers and paperwork. This is a war over the soul of Somalia’s development future—and whether that future will be written by Somali institutions or foreign cronies with elite connections.

The deeper scandal? The expulsion of Sweden’s Deputy Ambassador, reportedly for questioning the legitimacy of the NTP plan. That single act triggered a diplomatic time bomb, endangering ties with Sweden, the EU, and the broader donor community that props up Somalia’s fragile institutions. Already suffering from what Abib calls “plan fatigue,” donors may walk away for good—leaving Mogadishu’s elite in their palaces and the Somali people with dust.

Somalia Expels Swedish Consul Anna Högberg

This isn’t just bureaucratic rot. It’s systemic sabotage of Somalia’s own governance structure. The removal of the Planning Ministry from oversight reeks of executive overreach, a hijacking of constitutional order. It’s no longer just corruption; it’s state capture.

If these allegations hold, Prime Minister Hamse may soon find himself isolated both internationally and domestically. With mounting pressure for parliamentary inquiries, forensic audits, and criminal investigations, this could be the opening salvo of a broader political reckoning.

Somalia’s leaders now face a stark choice: accountability or collapse.

Stay tuned. WARYATV will track every twist of this unfolding scandal.

Sheegow Ahmed Ali’s death in custody ignites controversy amid denials of foul play.

The sudden death of Somali military officer Sheegow Ahmed Ali, who passed away Monday night at Mogadishu’s Digfeer Hospital after complications from Hepatitis B and liver failure, has reignited complex tensions and suspicions within Somalia’s political and military landscape. While authorities swiftly dismissed claims of foul play, asserting medical transparency, the incident nonetheless highlights deeper systemic vulnerabilities within Somali state institutions.

Sheegow, who was sentenced last year following violent clashes between his forces and government troops, held significant operational roles, including combating the al-Shabaab insurgency in Lower Shabelle. His incarceration alone had already polarized opinion, and his untimely death in custody only amplifies existing distrust towards federal authorities, especially among his Jareerweyne clan community.

Despite firm denials by Minister of Health Dr. Ali Haaji Aden and public acceptance from Sheegow’s family regarding the official medical findings, widespread rumors of potential poisoning illustrate the pervasive distrust between the state and certain clan communities. This undercurrent of suspicion is symptomatic of a broader crisis: a fragile relationship between the Somali government and various clan-based factions.

For the administration of President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, handling this sensitive case transparently and effectively is imperative to maintaining stability. Any perception of foul play, regardless of official denials, risks undermining government credibility, particularly at a moment when Mogadishu seeks to bolster domestic legitimacy and strengthen security forces amid persistent al-Shabaab threats.

The Somali authorities must do more than merely deny wrongdoing. Comprehensive transparency, independent verification, and open channels of communication are crucial. The case of Sheegow Ahmed Ali isn’t just about one individual’s tragic demise; it’s a litmus test for the credibility of Somalia’s military justice system and governance institutions.

With the nation’s stability already precarious, this incident underscores the urgent need for reform in military custody practices, improved medical oversight for detainees, and greater governmental accountability. The Somali people will undoubtedly watch closely as this story unfolds, determining whether it represents a turning point toward justice and transparency—or another missed opportunity that deepens divisions.