The protests of dialysis patients in Hargeisa stirred a young poet to speak, carrying forth an old Somali tradition in which verse stands as the moral conscience of society and lays bare the failings of the political class.
A recent event at Hargeisa Group Hospital drew public attention to the struggles of patients living with kidney failure. Patients protested the dialysis department, citing the limited number of dialysis machines and their inability to receive treatment when needed. Since many patients require dialysis approximately three times a week, depending on the severity of their condition, interruptions in treatment posed a serious threat to their lives.
What made the incident particularly disturbing was not only the shortage of dialysis machines but also the attempt to organize another group of patients to publicly claim that the services were adequate. Rather than addressing the underlying institutional failure, this response shifted attention toward managing public perception by placing vulnerable patients in opposition to one another instead of addressing the shortage itself. Such practices reflect a broader pattern of divide-and-rule politics, in which people with shared interests and common needs are encouraged to compete against each other rather than collectively demanding institutional accountability.
It is this moral inversion that moved Haashi Ibrahim “Saar,” a young poet based in Hargeysa, to respond to the dialysis patients’ protests and the organized campaign against them. In his poem, he connects this particular episode to a much broader ethical and political crisis, writing:
“Mar hadii bukaankii lagu yidhi: “bukaan kale beenee warkiisii,”
Aleylahe, badbaadooy, qof ku doonay baa ba’ay.”
The lines from Saar poetically capture what outraged many people, the idea that once society reaches a point where one patient is encouraged to deny the suffering of another, despite both enduring the same struggle, a fundamental moral boundary has been crossed. It is effective because it sends a strong sense of moral values, and the continuation that the new generation of poets remains active, publicly supporting the patients and condemning the moral and political failures that produced such a situation. Rather than treating the episode merely as a healthcare crisis, Saar transformed it into a broader critique of governance and social responsibility.
This illustrates a longstanding feature of Somali society: unlike political elites, who often remain distant from everyday life, poets are embedded within their communities. They share the experiences of ordinary people, respond to their grievances, and participate in the same social spaces. This proximity enabled poets to build trust and credibility, making their voices more influential than those of many political leaders.
Saar continues the poem by shifting his attention from the suffering of the patients to those responsible for public leadership, reminding them that political authority is ultimately subject to divine accountability. In the Somali cultural context, invoking God’s judgment represents one of the strongest forms of moral condemnation. The expression “Illah baan kugu daayey” (“I leave your judgment to Allah”) signifies that human avenues of justice have been exhausted, and that ultimate accountability rests with the Creator. Rather than threatening retaliation, it places the accused before a higher moral authority from which no political office or world power can provide protection. It is within this ethical framework that Saar concludes his poem:
Ka baruurta liqayiyo,
Kaa bacadka joogee,
Kaliyuhu babanayaan,
Labadaba bayaankood,
Boqor eegayaa jira
Mar hadii bukaankii
Lagu yidhi: “bukaan kale
Beenee warkiisii.”
Alleylahe, badbaadooy
Qof ku doonay baa ba’ay.
Poets have historically occupied a unique position in Somali society. They have served as critics, advisors, custodians of public opinion, and, at critical historical moments, as mobilizers of collective political consciousness. As Said S. Samatar wrote in his acclaimed book Oral Poetry and Somali Nationalism, Somali poetry has long functioned not merely as a literary tradition but as a political institution through which authority is legitimized, contested, and negotiated. As he observes, “Somali pastoral verse is a living art affecting almost every aspect of life” (p. 3). This is where the connection to Poet Saar’s words, “Allaylahe Badbaadooy ninku doonay baa ba’ay,” becomes particularly significant. The word badbaado means “salvation” or “being saved,” and few institutions embody that principle more than a hospital, whose foremost ethical obligation is to “do no harm.” However, manipulating the emotions of patients and taking advantage of their physical suffering was profoundly inhuman. The MMTV, local media outlet, conducted an interview approximately seven months before the reported outbreak, already highlighted the vulnerability of the dialysis unit and the growing concerns expressed by patients. It captured the depth of their suffering, as almost all the patients broke down in tears while describing the challenges they continued to face.
One patient explained, “The machine is the only way we can urinate. Imagine your urination being scheduled, and when you arrive, the machine is not available.” This illustrates not only the physical dependence of kidney patients on dialysis but also the profound emotional and psychological burden created by limited access to life-sustaining treatment. Viewed in retrospect, the interview exposed systemic vulnerabilities that would later become even more apparent.
To use poetry to express what patients are going through and become their voice is precisely what poetry stands for, as argued by scholars such as Ali Mumin Ahad. In Somali Oral Poetry and the Failed She-Camel Nation State: A Critical Discourse Analysis of the Deelley Poetry Debate (1979–1980,) Ahad demonstrates how poetic chains such as Deelley and Siinley became arenas for political debate, ideological contestation, and public engagement during the military dictatorship, a role that is needed now as well. Rather than serving only as artistic expression, these poetic exchanges articulated competing visions of governance, nationalism, and social justice, reinforcing the role of poets as the moral conscience of society. Consequently, the relationship between poets and political leaders has often been characterized by tension, as poets have not hesitated to challenge authority or expose the realities experienced by ordinary people.
It is no wonder that young Somaliland poets have followed this tradition, including the poet Hassan Daahir Weedhsame:
Ilaah ma karbaasho duulna,
Hadday xaqa kaashadaane.
Intay kubadiina buuxdo,
Qabyaalad karkaaro go’ysi,
Dad kaamil ah yeelan maysid.
Bulshada kal-midaysan weyda,
Bulshada koox-koox u qaydan,
Bulshada kibir kala qaloota,
Bulshada kala kaca ku foogan,
Kurkana laga wada shaqeeyo,
Uurkuna kala kaymo daaqo,
Kuf kali waligeed ma gaadho.
For Weedhsame, a society cannot prosper when its people are fragmented, divided into competing groups, unwilling to accept one another because of arrogance, and driven by conflicting interests rather than a shared collective purpose. His analysis locates the roots of institutional and moral failure in the erosion of social cohesion and collective responsibility. In this sense, the realities portrayed in Saar’s poem are the consequences of the deeper structural and ethical conditions that Weedhsame identifies.
This diagnosis is not unique to Weedhsame. It appears that what Gaariye was saying in 1997 and what Weedhsame was expressing in 2014: clan divisions overriding a collective national identity and the urgent need to address them. The problem, however, is that the awareness and political analysis provided by these poets were largely ignored by Somaliland’s political class. As a result, another generation of young poets is emerging, determined to expose political wrongdoing..
One poem that warrants deeper scholarly attention is Daba-taxan by Mohamed Hashi Dhamac (Gaariye), written in 1997. What makes this poem particularly significant is the remarkable accuracy with which it anticipated patterns of political behavior that remain visible decades later. Gaariye writes:
Deegaanba awr baa
Ku kor doobinaayoo,
Waxay daawadaan hebel
Lagu yidhi dartiin baa
Duubka loogu xidhayoo,
La yidhaahdo, “Kama-dege”;
Durbaan bay u tumayaan
Intuu dooddiyaayoo
Hadday cidi danqaabtana
Dirir bay ka xigayaan;
The poem offers a powerful critique of patronage politics. The verse, “Every settlement there is a he-camel acting like the leader,” introduces a deeply philosophical metaphor that interrogates political authority rather than merely describing it. Doobin is the behaviour of a he-camel after it has secured sufficient water and pasture. Having satisfied its own needs, it becomes preoccupied with mating and aggressively prevents any other he-camel from approaching its herd. If another male comes near, it is prepared to fight to protect its exclusive dominance. Within the poem, this natural behavior is transformed into a political metaphor that exposes the logic of power, exclusion, and possessive leadership.
This metaphor reflects the way some Somali politicians mobilize communities by fragmenting them into smaller groups and presenting their personal interests as collective interests. Like the Awr Doobinaaya, they portray themselves as indispensable protectors of the community while preventing alternative leaders from emerging. Leadership, therefore, becomes an exclusive possession rather than public responsibility.
The term Kama-dage refers to someone who constantly seeks to occupy the position of power. The poem suggests that communities often accept such claims uncritically, becoming loyal followers to the extent that they are willing to fight on behalf of these leaders, even when those leaders are physically absent from the struggles of everyday life. The irony is profound: those who claim to embody the community frequently remain detached from its lived realities. They are not the ones dying in conflict, suffering from inadequate healthcare, lacking access to quality education, or living with everyday insecurity. Indeed, they often possess the resources to insulate themselves from these conditions, while the very communities that protect them continue to bear the social, political, and economic costs of their leadership.
More than three decades after it was written, the poem continues to resonate with contemporary political realities, illustrating how Somali poetry functions not only as cultural expression but also as a reflection on power, legitimacy, collective consciousness, institutional accountability, and a sophisticated form of political analysis and historical documentation.
The events at Hargeisa Group Hospital provide a striking contemporary example of an institutional failure. Rather than responding to the concerns of kidney patients through transparent and accountable public institutions, the attempt to pit one group of vulnerable patients against another reflected a political culture in which managing public perception takes precedence over addressing structural problems
Since Gaariye and Weedhsame’s warnings were largely ignored, another generation of poets once again spoke out. Although the President responded to the dialysis crisis by promising additional machines, the poets’ critique extends far beyond the shortage of medical equipment. Their concern is with deeper structural problems: a growing divide in educational opportunities, rising inflation without effective government intervention, weak regulation of essential commodity prices, inadequate public infrastructure, and institutions that have become increasingly disconnected from the everyday needs of citizens. They argue that the system itself requires fundamental reform to serve the people more effectively. In this sense, contemporary poets have assumed the role of democratic watchdogs, using poetry as an informal mechanism of public accountability to scrutinize political authority and ensure that the dignity and needs of society remain visible.