Asha Hussein is a mother of four children, aged between four and ten years. She is 35 years old. She has spent the last eight months living in the outskirts of Mogadishu. She used to live in Kontuwarey in the Lower Shabelle Region as an agro-pastoralist, cultivating a one-hectare farm as well as keeping domestic animals. But the drought took away all her animals, 15 cows and 20 goats. They all died from starvation. Her crops dried up and died. Water became scarce. Boreholes and wells dried up. All her survival options dwindled. She is no longer with her husband, and she could not stay in the village any longer. 
In Mogadishu, she lives in a tent house and survives on a cash program that enables her to afford basic necessities from the local market. In Mogadishu, spaghetti is a common food. Somalis have a common past with the old Italian colonial administration. Asha's children enjoy spaghetti. She spends most of her food budget on spaghetti and meat products.   Photo: NRC/Nashon Tado
Asha Hussein pays for her food using an electronic mobile money transfer. The transfer system, known as EVC Plus, helps minimise the risks that come with handling cash, like theft or robbery. Photo: Nashon Tado/NRC

Shopping safely with cash support

Nashon Tado|Published 15. Nov 2017
“The river dried, there was not a drop of water anywhere,” Asha Hussein recalls.

When the drought ravaged her village in Lower Shabelle region in southern Somalia, she left her farmland, her home, behind. Now, Hussein lives in Daladda-Garsaaley settlement for internally displaced people on the outskirts of the capital Mogadishu.

In Somalia, the drought crisis has been spiralling downward in 2017. More than one million people in Somalia have been forced to abandon their homes seeking food and water this year. Half the population, over 6.2 million people, needs humanitarian assistance. Close to 400,000 children under the age of five are acutely malnourished.

Hussein’s story echoes those of hundreds of thousands of Somalis across the country, forced to move to areas perceived to be greener pastures as the drought noose tightened around their necks. Some 49,000 people fled their homes in September 2017 alone.

“We dug the soil to look for underground water but found nothing, all water holes had vanished,” Hussein explains. She lost 15 cows and 20 goats to the drought.

Receiving cash

In her Mogadishu home, Hussein survives on a cash support system that affords her a monthly stipend of USD 81. The European Union Humanitarian Aid runs this project under the EU Cash Alliance, helping more than 7,000 households in south and central Somalia who have lost their livelihood to the drought.

Instead of actual cash, they receive money through mobile phone transfers, which minimises the risks of road-side muggings and theft. Mobile electronic transfers are now the preferred mode of monetary transaction in Somalia, favoured over handling bundles of notes. Women and older people in particular feel more secure when the money is sent directly to their phones.

There are, however, improvements that can be made. There is still a lack of law regulating these types of money services in the country. In addition, this type of assistance depends heavily on functioning markets and can become ineffective in complex humanitarian situations where aid organisations are denied access.

Read more about why cash is smart aid.

Pays for food and school

Hussein spends most of her cash support on food. She also pays school fees for her four children, who attend the Islamic school as well as formal classes. Water is high on her order of priorities. A 20-litre container costs 1,000 Somali Shillings, equivalent to USD 0.05. Finally, she spends a small amount on medical expenses for her children. Measles, bronchitis and diarrhoea are common ailments that she has to keep at bay.

Humanitarian and development agencies in Somalia are increasingly adopting the cash support initiative because of its flexibility vis-à-vis the food rations and water provisions that have been the traditional approach.

“Cash support gives me the opportunity to choose what is best for me and my children,” says Hussein. “I can divide my take-home allocation and draw a budget based on my own needs, not what others think I need. I prefer cash support rather than food support.”

Asha Hussein is a mother of four children, aged between four and ten years. She is 35 years old. She has spent the last eight months living in the outskirts of Mogadishu. She used to live in Kontuwarey in the Lower Shabelle Region as an agro-pastoralist, cultivating a one-hectare farm as well as keeping domestic animals. But the drought took away all her animals, 15 cows and 20 goats. They all died from starvation. Her crops also dried up and died. Water became scarce. Boreholes and wells dried up. All her survival options dwindled. She is no longer with her husband, and she could not stay in the village any longer. 
In Mogadishu, she lives in a tent house and survives on a cash program that enables her to afford basic necessities from the local market. In Mogadishu, spaghetti is a common food. Somalis have a common past with the old Italian colonial administration. Asha's children enjoy spaghetti. She spends most of her food budget on spaghetti and meat products.   Photo: NRC/Nashon Tado
Asha Hussein wants to give her children a safe home to live in and the opportunity to go to school. “Although I never went to school, I strongly believe that if someone is educated, they are able to support themselves by making the right decisions,” she says. Photo: Nashon Tado/NRC

Left her husband

Before she left her home, Hussein divorced her husband. They disagreed about whether they should leave or stay. He was worried that by leaving they would forfeit their land, a resource that is hard to come by. Prospectors and opportunists were lurking everywhere. But Hussein’s maternal instincts were in flight mode as the drought was closing in around them.

Eight months later, Hussein says she does not regret leaving behind her home in Lower Shabelle. Her children’s survival and their future prospects are more important than conforming to unrealistic social expectations. Losing all rights to her property following the divorce means that she has to start all over again.

“I will save some money, take a loan and generate a start-up kit which will enable me to open a small shop and do business,” she says.