Between Thirst and Flood

This story was originally shared at Stockholm International Water Institute's (SIWI) Global Showcase of Water Stories (Water in Communication 2026)

The first rains arrived after months of dust. In a village along the Shabelle River, children ran outside to feel the cool drops on their skin, while elders offered prayers of gratitude under the open sky. Wells that had nearly failed during the long drought began to recover, and for a few days, the whole community allowed itself to breathe. Yet the joy was tempered by memory: in Somalia, relief from thirst can quickly become a struggle against flood.

Only weeks later, intense upstream rains swelled the river far beyond its banks.

Families moved their belongings to higher ground in the middle of the night. Farmers stood at the edges of their fields and watched months of work disappear beneath muddy water. Health workers moved quickly to organise safe drinking water and sanitation measures, racing to prevent the outbreaks of disease that so often follow a flood. The same water that had promised life only weeks earlier now threatened homes, harvests, and livelihoods.

Shebelle River in Hirshabelle State. Credit: Wikipedia

This is the paradox at the heart of Somalia's water story: a country that lives not through one crisis, but two, often within the same year, sometimes within the same season. Climate scientists call this pattern 'climate whiplash.' For Somali families, it simply means there is no season of rest.

Amid these extremes, it is the community's own strength that carries it through.

Women coordinate water-sharing arrangements so that no household is left without access. Youth volunteers monitor river levels day and night, using simple mobile phone networks and WhatsApp groups to pass warnings from village to village.

Community radio stations, still among the most trusted sources of information in rural Somalia, broadcast both drought advisories and flood alerts in the local dialect. Local leaders have revived traditional practices of cooperation around shared berkads, while also embracing newer tools like rainwater harvesting and early-warning messaging.

These efforts do not eliminate hardship. But they transform vulnerability into preparedness.

Boreholes, berkads, and embankments matter — but so does the warning that arrives in time, the message that reaches the right household, and the trust built between communities and the people relaying that information. In Somalia, water communication has quietly become as essential as water infrastructure itself.

This is a story of resilience. Somalia's experience of living between drought and flood reminds the world that water security is not merely an engineering challenge — it is a human endeavour built on solidarity, knowledge, and partnership. By listening to communities living on the front lines of climate variability, we can shape a future in which every drop supports dignity rather than disaster.