In crisis-stricken Somalia, no safe haven

SOMALIA,March 25,2017: Another displaced family migrates to IDP camp in Mogadishu. Thousands of Somalis have recently trekked to Mogadishu seeking food and aid. NurPhoto/press Association. All rights reserved.During Somalia’s 2011 famine, in which a quarter of a
million people died, Hassan lost many of his cattle. With the few that
survived, he managed to stay at home in Qansahdheere, in southwestern Somalia.
Six years on, as Somalia faces yet another humanitarian disaster, Hassan and
his family have fled to Mogadishu hoping to find aid. Hassan and his family
made it to the capital city’s only government-managed camp, Badbaado.

Half of Somalia’s population of 12.3 million people
currently need humanitarian assistance. Legal, political and security
restrictions and limited funding are restricting the access of international
aid agencies to parts of the country, including areas controlled by the
Islamist armed group Al-Shabab. Every day thousands of people
like Hassan are moving into urban areas under government control, where
international assistance is more likely to arrive. According to the United
Nations, just under half a million
people have fled their homes since November largely because of the drought, many arriving in Mogadishu
and Baidoa, a town at the epicenter of the crisis. 

But there are no quick solutions.  The reality
awaiting those like Hassan is often hostile and sometimes abusive.

Hundreds of thousands of people are in informal
displacement camps, 400,000 in Mogadishu
alone. Most arrived during the 2011 famine or due to ongoing clan fighting,
military operations and insecurity in regions bordering the capital. Recent
arrivals also include people who are returning from Kenya’s sprawling Dadaab
refugee camp after the authorities said they would shut the camp down and
started coercing
refugees to leave. 

Since the 2011 famine, people living in these
settlements have faced serious abuse at the hands of government and private
actors, including camp managers known as “gatekeepers,” who often have links to
local authorities, business people and militias. Beatings, rape, including at
times by African Union peace support forces, plus the diversion of food aid, restrictions on movement, and
discrimination based on clan affiliation have marked their everyday lives.

The situation has not significantly improved. 

Many of the people in the camps are from traditionally
marginalized or less powerful communities, who rarely own or have rights
over the land.  

According to the UN and local women’s
rights groups, rape remains widespread in Somalia’s displacement camps. To make
things worse, a growing demand for land in central Mogadishu has triggered the
forcible evictions of tens of thousands of people from the Mogadishu
camps. In March 2015, government forces came with bulldozers and kicked
out 21,000 camp residents in a 24-hour period, beating those who resisted and
destroying their meager property. 

While the escalating famine is receiving much needed news coverage,
the evictions are not. Since November 2016, over 60,000
people have been forcibly evicted, including from camps where people like
Hassan have been arriving.

The government’s Badbaado camp is not immune. In
March, two people who had lived there told me that a man turned up with an
armed militia and threatened and coerced dozens of families into leaving their
shelters.  “We reported the threats to the police,” said “Ibrahim,” who
had been living in the camp since the 2011 famine. “They replied ‘You don’t
have evidence!’ They took no interest, and told us to leave. When we saw
that they were not going to help us, we decided to leave the camp.”

For people who are already hungry and in very
precarious situations, evictions often mean losing the few belongings they
have, including basic shelter, access to day labor opportunities and greater insecurity and hunger.

Limited job opportunities put displaced women and
girls at particular risk of sexual violence and exploitation
– including the longer and often hazardous journeys they have
to take to find firewood or water, secure day labor, or beg.

Many of those evicted have been forced to move to more
dangerous places on the outskirts of Mogadishu, where shelter is scarce
and access to aid is even more limited. The families recently evicted from
Badbaado, including Ibrahim’s, moved toward Lafoole–20 kilometers outside of
Mogadishu, where they have since been joined by people fleeing the current
drought.

Some residents told me they were now living in huts
made of sticks, they had no access to clean water and sanitary facilities, and
they had so far only received assistance from local business people and youth
groups that have been trying to raise funds for those newly displaced.

Somalia’s new leaders say that averting a famine and
dealing with the resulting health crisis is a priority. But ignoring systemic
abuses and the vulnerabilities of people most affected by previous and ongoing
crises means that the current efforts will have limited long-term impact in
protecting these communities from future displacement and risk. 

The new government should put a stop to forced evictions
from public land. A draft displacement policy from the previous administration
spells out how to conduct lawful evictions. The government needs to endorse
that policy and make sure it is carried out. No one should be evicted without
due process, and the government needs to make sure that basic security and
assistance are provided to the areas people move to.  

At the same time, the government, along with its
international partners, should urgently improve the protection and security at
informal settlements in the main urban areas, so that people like Ibrahim and
Hassan can find protection and the help they need.