Sudan suspends all imports from Kenya, retaliating against Nairobi’s controversial support for RSF activities.

Sudan has officially suspended all imports from Kenya, a dramatic escalation in response to Nairobi’s hosting of the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) last month. This decision, derived from a Cabinet resolution, underscores Sudan’s determination to protect its sovereignty and national interests amidst ongoing internal conflict and regional tensions.

Kenya’s involvement with the RSF, a paramilitary group vying for control within Sudan, has been perceived as a direct affront to Sudan’s government. The RSF, known for its contentious role in Sudan’s internal dynamics, held meetings in Nairobi to discuss forming a parallel government—a move that has not only strained bilateral relations but also stirred regional instability.

The Sudanese Ministry of Trade and Supply detailed the suspension through a decree that bans all Kenyan imports via ports, crossings, and airports effective immediately. This action reflects the recommendations of a special committee formed by the Sovereignty Council, tasked with assessing the repercussions of Kenya’s interactions with the RSF.

The conflict between the Sudanese government and the RSF has been devastating, with significant portions of the country under divided control and thousands of lives lost. Sudan’s decision to cut off imports from Kenya serves as a punitive measure intended to signal its discontent with Kenya’s diplomatic choices, which it views as an infringement on its sovereignty.

Kenya’s historical role as a mediator in regional conflicts adds a layer of complexity to its current stance. The decision to facilitate RSF activities has raised critical questions about Kenya’s foreign policy objectives and its implications for regional security.

The Sudanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs has condemned Kenya’s actions as complicit in the RSF’s alleged atrocities. This strong statement, coupled with the African Union’s criticism of the move as potentially leading to Sudan’s partition, highlights the severe diplomatic strains and the potential fallout on regional stability.

In defense of its actions, Kenya, through Foreign Affairs CS Musalia Mudavadi, articulated that its engagement with the RSF aligns with its longstanding commitment to facilitating peace and stability in Sudan. Mudavadi emphasized that such interactions are part of broader efforts to encourage dialogue and a return to civilian rule in Sudan.

The suspension of imports marks a significant low in Sudan-Kenya relations, illustrating how deeply intertwined regional politics are with internal conflicts. As Sudan asserts its stance through economic sanctions, the international community remains watchful, hoping for a resolution that fosters stability rather than deepening divisions.

This decision by Sudan not only underscores the high stakes involved but also serves as a reminder of the delicate balance required in international relations and regional diplomacy. The ongoing situation demands careful navigation to avoid exacerbating an already volatile regional security landscape.

Amid accelerated deportations, asylum seekers from global hotspots find themselves stranded without recourse in Panama, trapped in legal limbo.

In a stark deviation from the promise of asylum, hundreds of migrants who risked everything for a chance at safety in the United States now find themselves stranded in Panama, caught in a bureaucratic nightmare that underscores the harsh realities of U.S. immigration policies under the Trump administration.

These migrants, originating from diverse global regions like Afghanistan, Somalia, Cameroon, and Iran, embarked on perilous journeys, confronting dense jungles and treacherous routes to reach the U.S.-Mexico border, only to be detained and swiftly deported to Panama. This group, seeking refuge from conflicts, religious persecution, and political repression, now faces an uncertain future in the very jungle corridors they had once traversed with hope.

Initially intended as a mere transit point, Panama has become an involuntary host. The migrants were relocated to a guarded camp in the Darién jungle, an area known for its daunting environment and as a passageway for those heading north. The irony of their situation is palpable, as they now dwell at the mercy of a government unprepared and unwilling to integrate them.

The sudden drop-off of these individuals at a bus station in Panama City, with only 30 days to resolve their fates, reveals a glaring disregard for their well-being and rights. Lacking legal assistance and with no clear path forward, they are enveloped in a state of despair and abandonment, their dreams of asylum crushed under the weight of international politics.

The personal stories of the deportees, like that of Isha Len from Cameroon and Qamar Abdi from Somalia, highlight the individual human costs of broad geopolitical maneuvers. They narrate tales of resilience and desperation, having escaped imminent threats at home only to confront the indifference of a world unwilling to provide refuge.

This situation is a direct result of the U.S. administration’s aggressive stance on immigration, aiming to deter asylum seekers through a strategy of deportation and disorientation. By outsourcing the burden to nations like Panama, the U.S. sidesteps the deeper, more humane responsibilities it holds towards international asylum protocols.

The plight of these stranded souls in Panama is a stark reminder of the need for comprehensive immigration reform that considers the human dimension of asylum policies. It is a call to the international community to uphold the principles of compassion, dignity, and justice for all individuals, irrespective of their origins or the desperation that drives their journeys.

This harrowing episode not only questions the moral fabric of current immigration practices but also serves as a somber reflection on the global community’s response to the most vulnerable among us. Without a concerted effort to address these systemic failures, the cycle of risk, deportation, and despair will inevitably persist, undermining the very ideals of asylum and refuge that define our shared humanity.

Sulayman Hassan Waaberi becomes the first East African to influence global football policy, marking a significant breakthrough for the region.

Sulayman Hassan Waaberi’s election to FIFA’s Executive Committee marks a significant milestone not just for him personally but for East African football, which for the first time gains a voice in the highest echelons of global football governance. This historic achievement is set against the backdrop of a concerted effort by FIFA to ensure broader continental representation, with Africa now holding six seats on the committee.

A Long Journey to FIFA’s Elite Circle

Waaberi’s ascent to one of the most prestigious positions in world football is the culmination of a lifelong dedication to the sport, characterized by various pivotal roles from club management to high-level executive positions within football’s governing bodies. His contributions to East African football are immense, particularly through his strategic role in the Confederation of African Football (CAF).

Now at the helm of global football policy-making, Waaberi is positioned to advocate effectively for African interests within FIFA. His focus is clear: to channel investments into the continent and ensure that Africa’s interests are well represented and protected on the global stage. This role offers him a unique opportunity to shape the future of football not only in Africa but across the globe.

Championing East African Football

Waaberi’s election is also a symbol of progress for East Africa, a region that has historically lagged behind in terms of representation in football governance. His experience and leadership are expected to bring fresh perspectives to FIFA’s decision-making processes, especially in advocating for infrastructural and developmental needs that are critical for African football to compete on a global scale.

Despite the celebration of Waaberi’s achievements, he remains realistic about the challenges facing Djibouti, a nation with limited resources and a small talent pool. His plans include extensive investment in football infrastructure, which he believes is fundamental for nurturing homegrown talent and elevating the national game to international standards.

A Vision for Africa’s Football Future

Waaberi stresses the importance of infrastructure development, professional training facilities, and sustainable investments as the key areas that must be addressed for African football to flourish. His vision extends beyond immediate gains, aiming for a future where African teams can compete with global powerhouses on an equal footing.

As Waaberi embarks on this prestigious role, his story is not just about personal success but about a broader shift towards greater representation and influence for Africa in world football. It is a beacon of hope and a call to action for continuous investment and support for the sport across the continent.

The ongoing conflict between Puntland and the Federal Government of Somalia escalates as Puntland reasserts its fierce opposition to Mogadishu’s centralization efforts, calling for substantial reforms. At the heart of the dispute is a profound disagreement over the federal structure of Somalia, with Puntland accusing the central government of undermining federalism to consolidate power.

Puntland’s steadfast resistance is articulated by Mahmoud Aydid Dirir, Puntland’s Minister of Information, who accuses Mogadishu of destabilizing tactics. These allegations include exploiting regional politicians to weaken Puntland’s stance on federal autonomy. Dirir’s declaration that Puntland will wait out President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s administration underscores a strategic patience approach, opting to endure rather than engage with what they perceive as a hostile federal agenda.

The discord also spills over into governance and electoral processes. President Mohamud’s initiative to shift from a clan-based to a direct electoral system is seen by Puntland as another maneuver to dilute the federal structure. April 2024’s proposed constitutional amendments, pushing Somalia towards a presidential rather than parliamentary system, have ignited further contention, with Puntland and other regions perceiving these changes as direct threats to their self-governance.

Dirir’s critique extends to national security management, where he argues that the Somali National Army, despite its valor, is crippled by a lack of supportive governance. This accusation points to deeper issues of trust and cooperation between federal and regional forces, which are critical in Somalia’s broader battle against insurgency groups.

In a dramatic response to constitutional amendments, Puntland has suspended participation in the federal system, declaring operational independence until these amendments are put to a national referendum. This move highlights the intense distrust and the fractured political landscape, raising questions about the viability of Somalia’s federal model.

The rift between Puntland and the Federal Government of Somalia represents a critical juncture for the nation’s future political and governance structure. As tensions simmer, the outcome of this power struggle will significantly influence Somalia’s path towards stability and democratic governance. The international community watches closely, aware that the resolution of these disputes is crucial for peace and security not only in Somalia but in the broader Horn of Africa region.

MP Abdullahi Farah Mire accuses Somalia’s federal government of organizing clan militias in Garowe and Bosaso, potentially undermining the fight against ISIS. Explore the implications of these serious allegations on Puntland’s security efforts.

The allegations by MP Abdullahi Farah Mire about the Somali Federal Government’s involvement in organizing clan militias during the conflict against ISIS in Puntland are serious and underscore the complex interplay of local politics and counterterrorism efforts in Somalia. According to Mire, these actions are creating chaos and undermining the local government’s fight against ISIS, a designated terrorist organization that poses a significant threat to the region’s stability.

This development is particularly concerning as it suggests potential divisions within Somali security forces, which could be exploited by terrorist groups to strengthen their foothold in the region. The involvement of clan militias, reportedly backed by high-ranking officials close to President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, indicates a possible misuse of state resources that could lead to further instability.

The situation in Garowe and Bosaso, as described, highlights the broader challenges faced by Somalia in achieving coherent national security policies. The engagement of clan militias in state affairs, especially in security operations, risks exacerbating clan divisions and detracting from the unified national effort required to effectively combat groups like ISIS.

This incident calls for a careful investigation to ensure that all actions taken by governmental officials are aligned with the national interest of defeating terrorism and promoting stability. Moreover, it emphasizes the need for Somalia’s federal and state authorities to collaborate closely, avoiding actions that could weaken their collective security endeavors.

Ethiopia’s groundbreaking school feeding program earns acclaim from the AU and UNICEF for significantly boosting educational quality and access, marking a vital step towards sustainable educational reforms in Africa.

The recent commendation of Ethiopia’s school feeding program by the African Union (AU) and the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) marks a significant milestone in the country’s educational and social development efforts. This initiative, praised for its substantial impact on enhancing the quality of education and increasing access across the nation, serves as a model of how targeted social programs can foster educational progress and societal stability.

Ethiopia’s approach integrates the provision of meals in schools with broader educational goals, aiming to tackle the direct link between nutritional status and learning capacity. By ensuring that students receive consistent and reliable nutrition, the program addresses one of the most fundamental barriers to school attendance—hunger. This is particularly crucial in Ethiopia, where economic challenges and food insecurity can deter school participation, especially among girls.

The school feeding program not only increases attendance rates but also enhances concentration and cognitive functions among students, thereby improving academic performance and reducing dropout rates. It establishes a nurturing environment conducive to learning, which is essential for the intellectual development of children.

Beyond educational outcomes, the program contributes to social stability by promoting regular school attendance, which keeps children engaged in productive activities and away from potential avenues leading to juvenile delinquency. Moreover, it supports local agriculture by sourcing food locally, thus stimulating the local economy and creating a market for local farmers. This not only aids in the sustainability of the program but also reinforces community involvement and development.

Despite its successes, the program faces challenges, such as logistical issues in rural and remote areas, variability in food quality, and the need for continuous funding. Addressing these challenges requires sustained commitment from both the national government and international partners, as well as innovative solutions to improve delivery mechanisms and the integration of health and education services.

The AU and UNICEF’s recognition of Ethiopia’s program highlights the potential for replicating this success in other African nations. The South-South cooperation model mentioned by UNICEF Regional Director Etleva Kadilli suggests a framework where countries can share knowledge and strategies, adapting the Ethiopian model to local contexts to enhance educational outcomes continent-wide.

Ethiopia’s school feeding program exemplifies how integrated educational and social policies can transform the learning landscape and foster broader societal benefits. As African countries continue to strive for quality education for all, Ethiopia’s example provides both inspiration and a blueprint for harnessing the power of school meals to catalyze educational and economic development. The upcoming African Day of School Feeding in Bangui will further spotlight the critical role of such programs in advancing continental educational goals.

Those previously deported by the US warn that President Trump’s plan to expel more Somali migrants may endanger lives.

Mukhtar Abdiwhab Ahmed, who lived in the US as a refugee, was deported back to Somalia in 2018 

Mukhtar Abdiwhab Ahmed sits in a plastic chair outside his house in Mogadishu. Nearby, children play, soldiers congregate, and rickshaws speed by under the scorching sun.

“If I knew I would end up here [in Somalia] I would have never gotten these tattoos,” the 39-year-old tells Al Jazeera, saying he has taken to mostly wearing long sleeves to avoid the negative comments and “dirty looks” he gets from people in the city.

Mukhtar spent most of his life in the United States but has struggled to readapt to conservative Somali society since being deported in 2018 under the first Donald Trump presidency.

Now, newly inaugurated for a second time in office, the Trump administration has once again announced removal orders for migrants he says are in the US “illegally”. This includes more than 4,000 Somalis who, like Mukhtar, face deportation to the country of their birth.

But lawyers, activists and Somalis who were deported from the US in previous years say the plan may put lives at risk as insecurity and instability still plague Somalia, readapting to a country many left as children is difficult, and work opportunities are scarce.

Meanwhile, Washington itself warns its own citizens about “crime, terrorism, civil unrest … kidnapping, [and] piracy” in the East African country, where attacks by the armed group al-Shabab are a common occurrence.

‘The wrong path’

Mukhtar and his family were among the first to flee Somalia after the collapse of the government in 1991. They left for neighbouring Kenya before Mukhtar and his older brother made it to the US as refugees.

The two settled in the south end of Seattle, Washington in 1995 – an area with high rates of poverty and youth violence, where Mukhtar says he fell into “crime, drugs and temptation”.

“At 16, I started getting into trouble,” he says. He skipped school, dabbled in crime, and was arrested and charged with a felony after stealing and crashing a relative’s car.

Though he tried to get his life on track, in 2005, he was charged with armed robbery. It was the then 19-year-old’s first time going through the system as an adult; he was found guilty and sentenced to two years in prison.

Mukhtar was deported from the US after he was arrested and jailed for a crime 

The day his sentence ended, agents from US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) visited him in prison, and instead of releasing him, transferred Mukhtar to the Northwest Detention Center in Tacoma, Washington – one of the largest immigration detention centres in the US.

“It felt like serving two sentences for committing one crime, and when I reached the immigration jail, I felt like an animal being taken to the slaughterhouse,” he says.

A few months in, ICE agents brought him a document to sign, saying he would be deported to Somalia. As part of its Criminal Alien Program, ICE works to identify and remove jailed migrants they believe “threaten the safety” of the US.

Mukhtar says he knew he wouldn’t be deported as Somalia was at war. It was 2007 and during that time, US-backed Ethiopian troops were in the country battling splinter groups that rose from the ashes following the ouster of the Islamic Courts Union, and the subsequent rise of its youth military wing, al-Shabab.

Tired of being in prison, Mukhtar decided to sign the document. But after he was released by ICE, he says he “kept going down the wrong path”. When he was arrested for burglary in 2015, he expected to be released after completing his one-year sentence, but ICE showed up again and sent him back to Northwest Detention Center for 11 months.

“It was like history repeating itself once again,” he says.

He again thought ICE would not deport him to Somalia “because of the war and instability back home”. But in December 2017, he was among 92 Somalis put on a deportation flight manned by ICE agents that prompted an international outcry after the plane did not make it to its destination for logistical reasons and it emerged that the deportees were abused en route.

“We were abused on the deportation flight,” he says. “I recall there were about 20 guards, they roughed up a lot of us, including one guy who was tased. They really beat us and, mind you, the whole time we were in handcuffs and shackled by our waist and feet for like 40 hours.”

Upon returning to the US, they were taken to an immigration detention centre and most of the Somalis on his flight filed motions to reopen their immigration cases to fight deportation.

However, others like Mukhtar accepted deportation to Somalia – rather than risk a lengthy court process and further jail time.

“If I look at all the times I’ve been incarcerated my entire life, it adds up to eight years, nearly a decade, and I couldn’t bear to stay behind bars any longer,” he says.

Mukhtar, left, and fellow deportee from the US, Anwar Mohamed, try to readjust to life in Mogadishu

‘Too dangerous for ICE agents’

In March 2018, Mukhtar was one of 120 migrants on a deportation flight from the US – 40 Somalis, 40 Kenyans and 40 Sudanese, he says. The Kenyans were released upon the plane’s arrival in Nairobi, while the Sudanese and Somalis were placed on separate flights headed for Khartoum and Mogadishu, respectively.

“We were still handcuffed when we switched planes in Nairobi but the ICE agents didn’t continue the journey with us from Nairobi to Mogadishu,” Mukhtar says.

Other deportees sent back in past years also report ICE using a third party to complete the removal process to Somalia.

In 2005, Somali immigrant Keyse Jama was flown from Minneapolis to Nairobi by ICE, only for a private security firm to escort him to Somalia – at a time when most of the country was controlled by strongmen.

Anwar Mohamed, 36, who was deported a month after Mukhtar, says he landed in Nairobi before he and the other Somali passengers were placed on another flight to Mogadishu.

“When we asked the ICE agents why they weren’t going to escort us to Mogadishu, they responded by saying Somalia is too dangerous,” Anwar tells Al Jazeera.

“If Somalia is too dangerous for ICE agents to go, then why did the [US] government send us here?” he asks.

As of 2024, the US State Department has marked Somalia as a level 4 “Do Not Travel” country for US citizens, citing crime, terrorism and kidnapping, among other reasons. Al-Shabab and other groups opposed to the government continue to carry out armed attacks, including in places frequented by civilians.

While Somalia is deemed unsafe for US citizens, the Trump administration has marked 4,090 Somalis for deportation this year.

Residents gather near the scene of an explosion of a bomb-rigged car parked near the National Theatre in the Hamar Weyne district of Mogadishu in September 2024 [Feisal Omar/Reuters]

“The Trump administration is definitely endangering lives by deporting people to places like Somalia,” says Marc Prokosch, a senior lawyer at Prokosch Law, a firm in Minnesota that specialises in immigration cases.

“The balancing test for elected officials is whether it is worth it when considering our legal obligations [such the Convention Against Torture] and our moral and ethical obligations, compared to the obligations of protecting the safety and security of United States citizens,” he tells Al Jazeera, referring to the argument that migrants accused of violent offences should be deported for the safety of Americans.

Other immigration lawyers representing Somalis in the US have also voiced concerns, saying many of their clients are “terrified”, including exiled Somali journalists. One lawyer in Minnesota said in December that dozens of Somali asylum seekers have fled into neighbouring Canada over fears of an ICE clampdown.

Meanwhile, Human Rights Watch has cautioned that Temporary Protected Status – which protects foreign nationals from “unsafe” countries from deportation – may not be renewed for Somalis under the new Trump administration.

‘I saw the lifeless bodies of my friends’

Like Mukhtar, Anwar also fled Somalia during the civil war in the 1990s. His childhood memories of the country are bleak, he tells Al Jazeera, recounting one day that stands out in his mind.

“I was playing outside [in Mogadishu] with a couple friends, then we found an oval-shaped object on the ground. That’s when my mother called me in for Asr [afternoon Muslim] prayer,” Anwar recounts. “And then I heard a large explosion.

“Everyone from our neighbourhood came rushing outside, including me. I then saw the lifeless bodies of my three friends strewn on the dirt road … They died from the oval object they were playing with.

“Years later, when I matured, then did I only realise it was a grenade we were playing with and my mother’s call to prayer is what saved me,” he says.

Not long after that day, Anwar’s older brother was murdered by armed fighters. That was the last straw for his family, he says. His mother sent him to Kenya in 1997, before he and his older sister moved to the US as refugees.

But in the US, Anwar got involved in crime and violence, ultimately being jailed for 10 years for robbery in a state prison in Missouri.

Soon after he was released, he once again found himself in handcuffs – this time on a deportation flight to Somalia in April 2018.

Anwar fled Somalia for the US as a child, but was deported back there in 2018

Returning to Mogadishu after decades, he found himself in unfamiliar terrain.

“When I had the chains removed after arriving [in Mogadishu] is when it hit me: I was free but I really wasn’t free,” Anwar says, feeling like he was still imprisoned by his traumatic childhood memories.

Anwar started having flashbacks of past experiences in Somalia. To make matters worse, Mogadishu was still in a protracted state of conflict, and he felt death was a daily reality.

When he made his way to his father’s house to reconnect with relatives he hadn’t seen in more than 20 years, he saw his siblings shaking hands and laughing with armed soldiers sitting on top of a pick-up truck mounted with an anti-aircraft gun.

“As a child [in Somalia] during the civil war, these kinds of people [armed men] were feared,” he says, “but now many of them wear uniforms, have allegiances to the state and are tasked with security.

“The same thing [guns] my mother was shielding me from when she sent me away to the refugee camps in Kenya as a child have become a part of everyday life.”

‘Every road I take can lead to death’

In March 2018, when Mukhtar’s plane landed in Mogadishu, he also found a society he couldn’t understand and a language he knew little of.

“It felt like starting life from scratch all over again,” he says.

Many Somali deportees from the US don’t have family members to return to because they’ve either been killed in the continuing three-decade-long conflict or fled the country and never returned, Mukhtar says.

“When you don’t have no one to come home to or a place to go, it leaves many deportees vulnerable and might force some to resort to crime as a means of survival.”

“With every step you think you’re going to die,” Mukhtar says 

Upon returning to the city, Mukhtar saw tall apartment buildings, condominiums and paved roads in Mogadishu. It was different from the bullet-riddled buildings and bombed-out infrastructure he saw on television, he thought. But the realities of the war were around him in other ways, as he would soon find out.

“In Mogadishu, explosions are reality and can happen any moment … You can be walking down the street and an explosion can take your life. In this city, there aren’t warnings before bombings, only screams and cries that come after,” he says.

At first, Mukhtar settled in an old family home in the Waberi district – an upscale area home to government employees, security officials, diaspora returnees and locals working for international NGOs. But even areas that are deemed safe are not, he says.

One sweltering day, Mukhtar looked out of his window as a group of men played dominos, labourers trekked through a construction site, and young women sold tea outside.

“I was thinking of walking down the street to get cigarettes but I felt kind of lazy and decided to stay home,” Mukhtar says, “[then] I heard a very loud explosion.”

He later learned that the blast took place on the same road he always walked down.

“I could have died if I didn’t choose to stay home that day. I was lucky but you never know when you’ll meet the same fate as those caught up in that explosion,” he says.

“Every road I take can lead to death, and with every step, you think you’re going to die.”

‘No opportunities’

Added to the precarious security situation in Somalia is a lack of opportunities, deportees say.

Youth make up an estimated 70 percent of Somalia’s population, yet the country has a nearly 40 percent youth unemployment rate.

“There are no opportunities here and we don’t have a stable country,” says Mukhtar, who is unemployed. “If you’re a deportee, it’s much worse.”

Several deportees from the US now living in Mogadishu have joined the police or army 

Some deportees who speak both English and Somali have found work as interpreters, but most do not as they have lost their mother tongue in the years abroad.

Meanwhile, several have joined the police force or national army upon returning to Somalia.

“Many of these guys being deported from the US are coming to Somalia after serving 10 or 15-year prison terms,” Mukhtar says.  

When they join the police or army, “they get $200 a month as a salary”.

Mukhtar has, at times, contemplated joining the police or the army, but decided against it.

“When you’re wearing a uniform and carrying a gun, you don’t know who or when someone is going to take your life,” he says.

Aside from threats to their physical safety, the cultural chasm between deportees and their countrymen also weighs on them.

Mukhtar says stigma from members of the community is something he still faces, despite having been back for several years.

“The tattoos I got at a young age also came back to haunt me,” he adds, saying that tattooing is viewed as alien or taboo by many in the deeply conservative Somali Muslim society, and that he’s even been verbally abused at a mosque when he pulled up his sleeves to perform ablution before prayers.

‘The card I’ve been dealt’

Anwar has also faced stigma.

Anwar now drives a  rickshaw to make a living in Mogadishu 

“When I first came here, I stuck out,” he says, also mentioning his tattoos, which he has started to cover up.

“Everything from the way I walked to the way I spoke Somali. Everyone knew I wasn’t a local and when they found out I was deported from the US, they looked at me as if I was the guy who dropped the ball at the finish line.”

Being away in the US and far from Somali customs, culture and language all contributed to difficulties readjusting to life in Somalia.

“I didn’t adapt to this environment by choice. It was forced upon me, the day I arrived in chains,” he says.

He has even found himself stopped by intelligence officials and cross-questioned about where he’s from and what he’s doing here, he says.

“I asked myself how long is this going to go on,” he laments.

Still, he is determined to adjust to his new life.

“I changed my ways, got married and [now] drive a rickshaw to get by. I try my best, but the hostility from some members of my community … makes living in an already hostile environment even more hostile,” he says.

“But I don’t blame them for their ignorance,” Anwar adds. “This is the card I’ve been dealt and I have to make the best of it.”

The ongoing conflict between Puntland forces and Daesh in Somalia’s Bari region is creating a significant humanitarian and economic crisis. As the violence escalates, local frankincense farmers, who depend on the harvest for their livelihood, are finding themselves caught in the crossfire, leading to displacement and severe economic hardship.

Frankincense, a resin used for various purposes worldwide, is a vital source of income for the rural families in the Bari region. The conflict has disrupted this critical economic activity, leaving many farmers without any means to support their families. The inability to access farming areas due to safety concerns has led to a cessation of income for families like that of Fowsi Abdullahi Abdirahman, who depend solely on the cultivation of frankincense trees.

The situation has escalated into a humanitarian crisis as displaced families struggle to meet basic needs such as food and education. Many farmers, having lost their livestock to drought—another blow to their self-sufficiency—are unable to afford schooling for their children, pushing them into a cycle of poverty and illiteracy. The lack of accessible safe water further complicates the living conditions for these displaced communities, adding to the challenges of daily survival.

The local economy, heavily reliant on frankincense export, has taken a hit, affecting not just the farmers but also the broader community that benefits from the trade. As shops close and credit systems collapse under the economic strain, the community’s fabric is tested, forcing residents to rely heavily on communal support and shared resources to navigate these dire times.

Additionally, environmental challenges such as climate change exacerbate the difficulties faced by frankincense farmers. Extreme weather conditions stress the frankincense trees, affecting yields and, consequently, the financial stability of the farmers. This environmental impact hints at the need for long-term strategies to adapt and mitigate against such changes to sustain the livelihoods dependent on natural resources.

It is imperative for regional authorities and international aid organizations to intervene not only to provide immediate relief but also to formulate long-term strategies that address both the security concerns and the economic dependencies of the region’s inhabitants. Enhancing security measures to stabilize the region, combined with efforts to support and revitalize local economies, will be crucial in restoring normalcy and hope to the affected communities.

In conclusion, the plight of frankincense farmers in Somalia’s Bari region is a stark reminder of how conflict, coupled with environmental challenges, can devastate local economies and communities. Immediate and sustained efforts are necessary to address the multifaceted challenges faced by these communities to prevent further humanitarian deterioration and support a path to recovery and stability.