Wednesday 17 December 2025
Since early June 2024, Mogadishu has witnessed a sharp rise in attempts to seize public land owned by the state, triggering heated debate across the city. These lands are home to thousands of citizens who settled there for various reasons, from seeking shelter to establishing permanent homes. Opposition groups claim that the recent evictions were carried out without proper legal procedures and warn that the government’s use of force could deepen the crisis.
Since President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud took office, the issue of public land has become one of the most controversial in Somalia, carrying political, economic, and social dimensions. The government’s approach remains unclear, particularly regarding how public properties are managed, cleared, or sold. This ambiguity raises questions about transparency and accountability, especially since such lands are state-owned and intended for public services and development projects.
Efforts to reclaim public property in Mogadishu are not new. Previous governments attempted to address the issue but failed due to weak enforcement, poor planning, and lack of a comprehensive strategy that considers the human and social impact. Since 1990, successive governments have prioritized reclaiming public land and buildings occupied by private individuals. Despite multiple official orders for evacuation, most lacked seriousness and strategic vision, and the humanitarian consequences were rarely considered. With no alternative housing options available, most decrees remained unenforced.
The failure to resolve this problem stems not only from institutional weakness but also from widespread corruption and the overlap of personal and public interests. These factors have made reclaiming state land in Mogadishu extremely difficult, especially for governments preoccupied with restoring security and authority.
Public land and property are vital to government operations, yet managing them remains complex due to the absence of accurate records. Estimates suggest there are around 100 government facilities in the capital currently occupied by thousands of residents. These include ministry compounds, former military bases, and buildings once used by foreign embassies before the civil war.
This reality highlights the major challenges in regulating and managing public land and government property. It requires intensive efforts to organize their use in ways that support national stability and development. The government was expected to address these issues through administrative and legal means, yet they remain unresolved. Observers were particularly surprised by the recent eviction orders, especially since there is no urgent state need for the land, while the government itself struggles to build or expand the ministries it currently occupies.
Furthermore, political loyalty and land have become closely intertwined. According to a PeaceRepreport interestingly titled “Buying and Selling Loyalty”, public lands — including former military camps and cemeteries — are being sold illegally to businessmen after the forced eviction of residents. The proceeds allegedly fund President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s election campaign, turning political loyalty into a tradable commodity and raising serious concerns about government integrity and citizens’ rights.
In mid-2024, the first public controversy over the evacuation of public land erupted in Mogadishu’s Hamr Jajab district, where the police academy cemetery became the center of heated debate. Orders from officials in the Benadir regional administration and federal security forces to exhume the remains buried there triggered widespread outrage across the public, opposition, and government circles.
Rumors spread that the land was being cleared to build a five-star hotel and a public park, allegedly funded by a Somali businessman. The announcement provoked a powerful emotional response from citizens who viewed the cemetery as sacred ground that could never be replaced. Many demanded the government reverse its decision, citing the emotional, cultural, and moral weight of disturbing the dead.
The government, caught off guard by the public backlash, sought to justify its decision by emphasizing that the land belonged to the state and had never been officially designated as a burial site. According to then–Minister of Defense Abdulkadir Mohamed Nur, the plan was to build a new headquarters for the navy and coast guard on the site.
To calm the uproar, using what that they thought would be untouchable, authorities went to seek a religious fatwa permitting the exhumation of graves, hoping to frame the issue as a purely religious matter. Yet this strategy only deepened the crisis. By ignoring the social, political, and human dimensions of the controversy, the government failed to contain the mounting anger. The fatwa, rather than resolving tensions, became a symbol of how disconnected the authorities were from public sentiment.
Both former president Sharif Sheikh Ahmed and former prime minister Hassan Ali Khaire expressed deep concern over the government’s plan to demolish the cemetery and exhume the graves, describing the decision as unjustified and insensitive. They emphasized that the cemetery was the final resting place of officers and officials who had sacrificed their lives for the country. They called on the government to immediately halt the operation and issue a formal apology to the families of the deceased and to the Somali people.
Meanwhile, many families in Mogadishu were left with no choice but to relocate their loved ones’ remains themselves, paying between twenty and twenty-five dollars for the official permit required to dig up their relatives’ graves.
The cemetery controversy proved to be just one episode in a broader pattern of forced evictions and land seizures across Mogadishu. On July 8, 2024, the Dabdemiska area in Wadajir district became the next flashpoint. Somali police units, accompanied by bulldozers, descended on the neighborhood, demolishing civilian homes under the pretext that they had been illegally built on government land.
At a press conference, police spokesperson Abdifatah Adan Hassan defended the operation, insisting that residents had been given prior notice and that the demolition was part of a larger plan to build or renovate a fire station — a “permanent solution,” he said, to the city’s recurring fire outbreaks.
Later that year, another wave of forced evictions struck Kalluunka, a long-established neighborhood dating back to Somalia’s central government era. On October 27, 2024, residents were ordered to vacate their homes. For the thousands of families who had lived there for decades, many of them low-income workers with nowhere else to go, the threat of displacement posed an existential crisis.
Protests erupted as dozens of those families took to the streets, pleading with President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud to intervene and prevent their eviction. According to engineer Abdi Ali from the Ministry of Fisheries, the houses near Aden Adde International Airport, built between 1977 and 1978, had originally been constructed to house Soviet advisers working on a coastal development project.
In February 2025, the mayor of Mogadishu and Benadir governor, Mohamed Ahmed Amir, announced a new project to transform the now-cleared Kalluunka site into a public park ironically named “The Nation Park in Mogadishu.” Though the project was presented as an initiative to improve the urban environment and expand green spaces, it quickly became mired in political controversy. Critics accused the government of selling the land to businessmen funding the project, questioning who would truly benefit and whether displaced residents would ever see justice.
Earlier that year, on January 22, 2024, the Ex-Arwad area in Hodan district — once home to Mogadishu’s national exhibition grounds — became the scene of another major standoff. The district commissioner, Ali Fahley, announced that residents must vacate the area for redevelopment, declaring the decision final. Lawmaker Abdirahman Abdishakur condemned the move as an act of forced displacement, holding the federal government accountable for failing to protect citizens. He accused a wealthy businessman of buying the land to turn it into private housing, questioning who truly stood to gain from the redevelopment.
Hundreds of residents protested, reciting verses from the Qur’an as they stood amid the rubble of their homes. They denounced the sale of public land to the rich and pleaded for government intervention, saying they had lived in the area for generations and had nowhere else to go.
The wave of evictions in Mogadishu soon extended beyond homes and cemeteries, reaching the city’s commercial heart. By mid-2025, markets long woven into the city’s daily life were being razed under the banner of “urban renewal.”
On August 4, 2025, security forces backed by local authorities cleared Sinaay Market in Warta Nabadda district, demolishing shops and stalls in preparation for land sales. Traders accused powerful businessmen of orchestrating the takeover, while MP Yasin Abdullahi Mahmoud condemned the operation as part of a systematic exclusion of local residents. The dispute escalated into armed clashes between government forces and guards linked to opposition leaders, including former president Sharif Sheikh Ahmed, leaving at least two dead.
Three days later, the historic Belego Arab Market in Shibis district was demolished, ostensibly for development projects. Access roads were sealed as traders watched their livelihoods vanish, later staging peaceful protests and accusing the government of seizing land by force and ignoring their calls for dialogue.
On August 14, violence flared again in Tarabuunka and African Village, where residents resisted eviction orders. The clashes, which left several dead and wounded, exposed deep frustration among families who had lived on what was once government military land.
Forced evictions soon spread to other areas — Oodweyne, Sona Key, and Radeelka — all under the pretext of reclaiming public land. Former presidents accused the federal government of illegally expropriating public property, urging President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud to halt the sales and ensure due process.
The Somali Civil Society Platform (SONSA) condemned the land deals, warning that they disproportionately harmed displaced families and the poor, disrupted children’s education, and eroded public trust due to the lack of transparency.
As entire neighborhoods and markets were cleared, hundreds of families lost homes and livelihoods, worsening Mogadishu’s housing crisis. Rents surged, with makeshift houses rising from $30 to $50 per month, and some 142,000 people were displaced in 2025 alone. The government insists the evictions are part of a plan to reopen 52 closed roads and improve urban order, but for many residents, “development” has come to mean dispossession.
Together, these incidents reveal the deep and ongoing tensions surrounding land ownership and governance in Mogadishu — where development projects, cloaked in the language of modernization, often collide with memory, belonging, and survival.