First published: here | November 15, 2024
In the arid landscape of Kenya’s Dadaab refugee camp, thousands of Somali families have sought shelter, fleeing conflict, drought and most recently flooding.
Since 1991, Dadaab has served as a haven for those escaping conflict in Somalia, but recent years have seen increasing numbers of people displaced by climate events – including El Niño, which in early 2024 led to devastating floods as the country was recovering from one of the worst droughts in forty years.
Meet six people who recently fled to Kenya share their journeys as victims of climate displacement and the realities they face while navigating life in an unfamiliar landscape, far away from their communities and culture.
Ahmed Haji, 33*
‘The floods destroyed our community in every way’
I come from the town of Dinsoor, in Somalia. Life as a farmer there was always challenging, but drought made it nearly impossible. For years, I planted maize, beans, and sesame, once harvesting six to seven sacks of food. That changed when the drought first struck in 2021. Three years later, I had nothing to show for my toil in the farm.
We thought the rains would come and we’d be able to harvest again but the floods arrived instead, bringing illnesses like typhoid, and malaria. The floods destroyed our community in every way. Without money to buy medicine, I turned to the Quran and traditional remedies from plants, praying for my children to heal.
When things did not change, I made the difficult decision to leave my home for Dadaab, Kenya. We had no choice. It took 15 days to get there with eight other families. We walked beside a donkey cart carrying the youngest children, kitchen essentials, maize porridge, sugar, milk, and water.
When we arrived, we were all admitted to the hospital with malnutrition. I had never seen a hospital before. My younger children were also vaccinated for the first time. I gave birth in a hospital for the very first time in my life after coming to Dadaab. I do not see myself returning home because there is no free healthcare there.
Halimo Osman,40*
‘I hold onto the hope that maybe one day I can return to my farm in Somalia’
Drought and floods have changed my life in ways that I could not imagine. My name is Ruqiyo Abdi, I am 40 years old, and I was born in the village of Sako in Middle Juba. I persevered through three long years of drought, which started in 2018, then I watched helplessly as the devastating floods in 2022 destroyed my crops, leaving my family without food. These weather events forced me to leave my home, something that still haunts me. “How can you stay in a place where your children do not have food?” I asked myself.
To make this journey, I sold everything I had—my home, my last harvest, and even my remaining goats. This was a sacrifice to get my family to a place where we might survive. With four of my children and four of my sister’s children I couldn’t afford to buy any food, but well-wishers helped us along the two-day trip in a hired vehicle. In Dadaab, my children and I now have access to food, something we’re truly grateful for.
I hold onto a little hope that maybe one day I can return to my farm in Somalia, if the rains return and my community recovers. These changing weather patterns in Somalia however make that feel like a dream that is slipping further and further away. Our rural economy collapsed as everyone fled, and I fear our village may never be the same again.
Abdirahman Yonis, 18*
‘I hope for a future better than the one I fled’
At just 18, I’ve already seen how merciless floods can be. Marerey, the village near the River Juba in Somalia, where I grew up, was all I knew until floods in 2023 took everything from us. Farming was my life, but the floodwaters swept away my home, my crops—everything. To make it worse the floods contaminated the river —our only source of water.
The water we once relied on had turned against us, not just sweeping away our possessions but also making us sick. My family members suffered from chronic diarrhea and vomiting; there was no hospital nearby and the only available pharmacy was an hour’s walk away.
I have been in Dadaab with my family since 2023. I am a young father trying to make sense of this new life. It’s not easy. I always think of what we lost, of what we left behind, but I’m holding onto something else too: hope for a future better than the one I fled.
Khalid Elmi, 51*
‘I had no choice but to leave’
I once farmed in Baladu Rahmo, Jubaland, where I was able to feed my family well. A decade ago, I could provide enough for everyone, and life felt stable. Then, drought struck— “seven years of drought and hope,” as I reflect on it now, capturing our heartbreak. Over time, I was left with only 15 to 16 kilograms of food every six months—barely enough to survive, especially with pest infestations I couldn’t afford to treat.
The hardships grew heavier. I remember days when my children and I survived on nothing but a single mango and water, stretched over three long days. In 2022 I lost one of my eight children due to malnutrition and five years earlier, I had lost my mother to due to the floods.
As the situation got worse, one by one, people left. Eventually, only 16 of us were left in my village. Then, it was my turn to go. By 2022, I knew that I had no choice but to leave.
Shukri Ilyas 51*
‘I do not see myself or my family returning to Somalia’
I was once a successful farmer; but in just two years, the drought conditions reduced my harvest from 50 kilograms to zero.
As the situation got worse, hopelessness set in. I sold ten of my cows which enabled me to continue putting food on the table but not for long. Every day we stared death and starvation in the face.
So, it was time to move. Together with four out of my five children, and five other families, we set off on the on 18-day journey by donkey cart to Kenya’s Daadab refugee camp. My husband, one child and my mother-in-law were left behind, the journey would have been too long and arduous for her. During our journey, one of the women in our group experienced a stillbirth. We had no choice but to carry the tiny lifeless body with us until we reached Dhobley, still inside Somalia, where we could finally lay it to rest with dignity. Now, Dadaab is my new home, I do not see myself or my family returning to Somalia, where the drought destroyed my village, and where my children cannot access education.
Aden Mohammed 58
‘I am motivated by the hope of providing my children with a brighter future’
I was once a successful and proud herder and farmer in Warangob, Bu’ale. I watched as drought and subsequent floods decimated my source of livelihood, reducing my harvest from 70 to 80 sacks of sorghum every three months to nothing over the last four years. With all my 78 cows dying from the drought, I was faced with an extremely uncertain future, knowing that remaining in Somalia would mean further suffering for my five children.
My family and I were desperate to escape the four-year drought, I had no choice but to embark on the journey to Dadaab, Kenya, with six family members, traveling by donkey cart for 14 days. During the trip we survived on sorghum, milk and the kindness of well-wishers along the road. The journey took a toll on our bodies, leaving our feet shredded and some children suffering from diarrhea and severe malnutrition.
Despite the challenges, I am motivated by the hope of providing my children with a brighter future through education, a luxury I value deeply.
*Names have been changed to protect the dignity of the interviewees