Dohabo (meaning gold), was gently cradled in her mother Hawo’s arms as they waited for their routine check-up at the Muslim Hands Motherkind Clinic, which has been providing new and expectant mothers with maternal healthcare since 2013.
Born fifteen days ago in the capital, Mogadishu, one cannot help but wonder what Dohabo’s future would look like in a country with so many uncertainties.
Somalia has been crippled by more than 30 years of conflict and a string of climate disasters, creating a lack of social and economic infrastructure and widespread poverty.
The country is currently experiencing its worst drought in over 40 years. Four consecutive failed rainy seasons have resulted in the deaths of three million livestock animals and the displacement of nearly a million people over the past year alone.
Hawo recalls the treacherous 62-mile journey she made on foot with her four children to Mogadishu from the rural town of Saplaal whilst pregnant with Dohabo. "We came here because we were looking for a better life. We desperately needed water and food," she tells The New Arab.
"To survive and provide for my family I beg on the streets, and if I don’t, we literally have nothing to eat. It’s even impacting Dohabo as on the days my body doesn’t produce enough milk, I will feed her with water, but she cries as she is still hungry and when I have days like that, my heart breaks."
Six million people across the country are reliant on husbandry to support their families.
Failed harvests and the ongoing Ukraine war have seen food prices soar to a record high, pushing nearly a quarter of a million people in Somalia towards starvation.
Many of those internally displaced like Hawo are now residing in overpopulated camps in Mogadishu.
A sea of homes made from sticks and plastic sheets consume the arid land and the nights are spent sleeping on the dusty earth. A number of people shared how they had lived a comfortable life as cattle farmers before they lost everything.
Amina, who has two boys that are severely malnourished, said, "When we needed medical support, we would sell one of our cows, but now after losing 100 of my cattle because of the shortages I have nothing of value to sell."
Her son Muhammad who is 18 months old, clung to his mother with his fragile body, bones protruding and sunken eyes, severely malnourished.
He could barely utter his cries and was unable to produce any tears, frustrated from the lack of milk his mother was producing but still defiantly latching on in the hope that something would come.
Amina said, "He’s not able to play and spends his days lying down. I try and give him something to eat, but he struggles." During our visit, Muhammad was administered to a feeding clinic which was his only hope for survival.
Other mothers, such as Rukaiyah sadly told The New Arab how the ongoing drought killed three of her children: ‘Three of my daughters died in the space of a week because of the famine. It was one of the reasons my family decided to come to Mogadishu. We desperately needed water and food."
Another mother we met also migrated with her children to Mogadishu as the main river in her home village had dried up.
It has been reported by OCHA that 80% of water sources are drying up because of the ongoing drought. During my visit, I saw Muslim Hand Somalia providing families with water through trucking and rehabilitating existing wells.
Without this intervention, they would be forced to walk for miles and pay up to $3 dollars a day for 40 litres of unclean water. Those collecting water were predominantly women who would tie the heavy yellow jerry cans with cloth and then carry them on their backs.
Community leader, Farhan Ali Farah told The New Arab through tears, "I didn’t have access to regular water for six months when I first arrived here we faced hard times. The water well that has been rehabilitated recently by Muslim Hands has made a huge difference – you can’t even buy water like this in the camps."
Farhan’s wife is the breadwinner of their family, making $6 a day selling milk. Many women in Somalia, including the women I spoke to, are now entering roles they are not accustomed to as sole providers for their families. Families are being torn apart, as the men often stay behind not wanting to give up the land that has been passed down through generations.
I met with Amino who had lost her husband to clan fighting. A year ago, she was given a hope shop by Muslim Hands, alongside one month of stock.
Amino told The New Arab, "I feel very proud opening this shop every day and I earn enough to provide for three generations – myself, my mother and my daughter and her children, who also lost her husband when he was caught in a violent crossfire. Two years ago, I lost everything because of the famine, and it was extremely difficult to support my family. But now I can’t express how happy I am."
Other widows that were provided with hope shops shared the same sentiment of feeling a sense of pride to be able to provide for their families. Aisha said, "Before this shop and when I left for Mogadishu, I struggled to find daily work to provide for my children. Now we don’t worry about going hungry since this shop has come into our lives."
Before I left, I saw Amina, who I had met at the Muslim Hands Motherkind Clinic when I first arrived. She stood tall and resilient, and I wanted to ask her how she remained so strong with all the hurdles she was facing.
She replied, "It is only because of God that I remain strong, and I only ever think of my children and their wellbeing, not my own." When asked about her husband she said, "My husband will never join us and I have accepted that I am now responsible for my family."
She was collecting a Muslim Hands food parcel and when I asked what it meant to her, she responded, "I walked two hours to get this food and I am so happy to receive it. I don’t get to cook for my children daily as we don’t have any food in the home.
"My children usually cry because they are hungry and beg me to give them something to eat. I know that I can’t get any food and so to give them hope I tell them maybe tomorrow someone will give us something. Today that hope has come."
Sahirah Javaid is a senior press officer at the UK-based charity Muslim Hands.
Follow her on Twitter: @JavaidSahirah