Issue No. 822

'Mogadishu Rising' washed away

Last week, hours of torrential rains triggered flash flooding across Mogadishu, as well as parts of Lower Shabelle. Images of roads collapsing and entire submerged neighbourhoods in the capital were accompanied by reports of sewage spilling across the international airport and UN compound at Halane, delaying several flights into Mogadishu. Several people were killed, and thousands have been impacted by the latest bout of flooding that engulfed the capital. As well as emphasising the rising threat of the climate crisis to Somalia, the destruction further underscored the enduring corruption within government infrastructure projects that focus more on optics than delivery. 

While these deluges are part of the 'Gu' rainy season between April and June, their unpredictability is rapidly accentuated by the climate crisis. Somalia remains one of the most climate-vulnerable countries in the world, with its drought-flooding cycles becoming ever more extreme. And though flooding in 2025 may be less acute than in previous years so far, 84,000 people have already been estimated to have been affected since mid-April, according to UN figures. These extreme cycles are making pastoralism-- the lifeblood of the rural Somali economy-- increasingly untenable, uprooting communities in central-southern Somalia and accentuating the intense rural-urban migration trend. In turn, the displaced persons who occupy the swollen informal camps on the peripheries of Mogadishu and other major cities are predominantly comprised of lower-caste clans and the Somali Bantu. And several thousand of these peri-urban underclass were displaced-- again-- by the flooding of Mogadishu. 

Though state media have already published photos of labourers repairing the roads, the fact that major highways, like K4 in Mogadishu, cannot withstand such heavy rain points to a broader consequence of the perennial graft within Somalia's political economy. While glittering new skyscrapers have been erected in Mogadishu, the quality of the infrastructure across much of the city– let alone the country– remains of abysmal standard. The gulf between the richest and poorest in Mogadishu has become a chasm, in large part a result of the international assistance that continues to flow to the federal government. Yet the images of sewage running through the passenger terminal at Aden Adde hardly chime with the narratives of 'Mogadishu Rising' that senior federal officials continue to push.

Urban development and road construction have long been useful vehicles for political patronage and for facilitating kickbacks in Somalia. Money can easily evaporate within the construction business, and with minimal oversight, shoddy work has few consequences for the implementers. During the 1980s, the Italians infamously spent more than a billion dollars on infrastructure in Somalia – almost half of the country’s GDP – in a scheme so rife with graft and corruption that it helped to bring down the Rome government. A more recent example was the Qatari pledge to construct a Mogadishu-Afgooye highway during the former Mohamed Abdullahi Farmaajo government. Announced shortly after Mogadishu's support for Doha during the Gulf Cooperation Crisis, the project was earmarked at USD 200 million to be implemented by a Turkish construction firm, but has-- predictably-- been dogged by insecurity and delays. This, too, was widely considered an avenue through which to launder Qatari funds for the loyalty of the Farmaajo administration. 

Under successive central governments, infrastructure and development have been centred around rent-seeking behaviour rather than delivering services for the Somali people. And much like his first term, the reports of corruption and nepotism within the current Hassan Sheikh administration have been particularly egregious. National 'development' has come in deals such as the 2024 Turkish-Somalia hydrocarbon production agreement, which essentially cedes the country's most profitable natural resources for a fraction of their potential worth. Meanwhile, poor-quality road development in Mogadishu has been attributed to small Turkish companies, another boon for Ankara that has perforated through all parts of life in the capital. 

Billions of USD have been ploughed into the federal government, and punitive taxes continue to be extracted from Mogadishu's residents, but there are few services to show for it. Schooling, healthcare, electricity, and much else all remain nearly entirely privatised, while Xeer and Al-Shabaab's courts dominate the judicial system. So, while the roads near the international compound and the wealthier neighbourhoods may be quickly repaired-- if shoddily-- their life span may be even shorter than the government that builds them. In light of this corruption and endemic insecurity, Somalia also has one of the most complicated monitoring and evaluation contexts, and foreign diplomats unable to venture beyond Halane pay inordinate sums to interlocutors in Mogadishu to oversee their development projects. This entire developmental ecosystem, already shaken by the closure of USAID, is under further threat by the steady advance of Al-Shabaab towards the capital.

The Somali National Disaster Agency (SoDMA) led by Mahamoud Moallim is particularly insidious, serving as a performative vehicle for donor funds. It has further been accused of withholding development aid and weaponising humanitarian support for political ends, with Moallim often stepping well beyond his docket as a humanitarian official. While SoDMA may help facilitate aid delivery, it has also been repeatedly caught up in corruption scandals and is a willing partner to the federal government's polarising political agenda. Moallim, for instance, participated in the Prime Minister’s provocative visit to Laas Aanood in April, which effectively ended any pretext of inclusive politics at the federal level.

Mogadishu is not the only developing city in the Horn of Africa where climate change and construction are pushing the city's nascent infrastructure to its limits. The Kenyan capital of Nairobi, too, has experienced significant flooding as new multi-storey concrete blocks displace groundwater and earth. But a sizeable difference exists between a few potholes emerging and an entire road collapsing. The Banaadir administration has already made it clear that it is attempting to rectify the situation, though it is dubious to think that the quality of the patched-up roads will be much better than their inadequate predecessors. And with aid delivery diminishing following the closure of USAID, funding constraints for climate adaptation in Somalia's urban and rural areas are sure to become more acute. Rain is customarily considered a blessing in Somali society and Islam, but this time, it has washed away the veneer of progress and exposed the corruption that has come to define this current administration. In the wake of last week's catastrophe, a growing number of Somalis are likely forsaking the traditional rain prayers-- known as 'Roob Doon' — for 'Isbedel Doon,' a call for change of government, not weather

The Somali Wire Team