The attacks, which began in late March, destroyed homes, farms, and small businesses that residents depended on in Bulo-Khalif. Some families fled to nearby districts including Barawe and Afgooye, while others remain trapped in the village, facing worsening hardship without any support.

Among those affected is Aden Gedi Mohamed, whose family of seven has been impoverished overnight.

The airstrikes destroyed his two-room house, a vehicle he used to earn $300 to $400 a month, his water storage facilities, his four-hectare farm where he cultivated maize and vegetables – and his cash savings.

The family can no longer afford even their basic needs.

“We used to cook twice a day. Now even getting one meal is difficult. If we manage once, we are grateful,” he said.

“The bombing burned our house, our food, and my vehicle. Even the little money I had was lost. We survived by sleeping outside that night. No one was injured, but we lost everything.”

With no resources left, his family depends on occasional support from neighbours, although this assistance is unreliable as most people in the area are also struggling due to insecurity and economic strain.

Despite fears of further airstrikes, Aden says he has no option but to stay in the village.

“I don’t feel safe staying here, but I have no money to leave and no place to go where life would be better,” he said.

Getting enough water is a daily challenge, with the family having to ask neighbours to spare them 20 litres a day.

The crisis has disrupted education for Aden’s four children. They were attending a Koranic school, whose teacher fled the village because of the conflict.

Bulo-Khalif remains a contested area between Somali government forces and Al-Shabaab, with residents caught in the middle of ongoing conflict. Locals say they don’t know who carried out the airstrikes, as they receive no information from official sources.

Livelihoods in the area had already been weakened by drought, which reduced crop yields and livestock productivity, leaving families already vulnerable when the strikes occurred.

Some residents fled to safety in displacement camps. Among them is Mohamed Hajji Ahmed, who arrived with his family in Gegsow displacement camp on the outskirts of Barawe in late March.

His nine children are facing severe hardship in the camp, where basic services such as water, healthcare, and education are lacking.

“We only escaped with our lives. Here, we have no relatives and no support. The children sleep hungry most nights,” he said.

Mohamed and his wife survive by begging for cooked food, which is never enough. Access to water is one of their biggest challenges.

“We cannot afford to buy water. Sometimes we fetch from wells, but even that depends on help from others. A small jerry can costs $0.25, and we don’t have that,” he added.

Mohamed had already lost 40 goats during the drought and was unable to cultivate his eight-hectare farm due to lack of rain. He had taken loans from local traders to support his family and now owes around $200.

“I borrowed money to feed my children in the last two months before we left. Now I am displaced and cannot pay it back. That debt is a heavy burden on me,” he said.

He also lost his house in the airstrikes and says he does not know when it would be safe to return.

The chairman of Gegsow camp, Ibrahim Osman, said that more than 50 families had arrived in recent weeks, many having walked distances of 110 to 120 kilometres. Many of the new arrivals were in poor condition and included vulnerable groups such as women, children, the elderly, and people with disabilities.

“They fled heavy bombardment they had never experienced before. Some walked long distances because they had no transport. Their situation is very bad,” the camp chairman told Radio Ergo.

The new arrivals have joined over 450 families already living in the camp, most of whom were displaced by insecurity across Lower Shabelle.

Ibrahim said neither local authorities nor aid agencies had provided assistance to the newly displaced families, leaving camp leaders with limited capacity to respond.

“If they do not receive help soon, their situation will deteriorate,” he warned.

There are no official figures available on the total number of families displaced from Bulo-Khalif since March.

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Read the full report and analysis of feedback from communities across Somalia

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Abdisalan Ahmed Abdi, a former teacher, heads out each day with basic tools to mining sites not far from his home in Milho, returning with income that has significantly improved his family’s living conditions.

He earns at least $15 a day to cover food, water, electricity, and other essentials for his wife and eight children.

“The work has changed my life. I was living in a rented house and was constantly worried for my family. Now I have built my own home, I pay for schooling, and I can meet all our needs. I hope to achieve even more and start other businesses,” he said.

Abdisalan arrived in the area with nothing after fleeing violence in Erigabo in 2024. He has since managed to save around $20,000 after finding and selling gold deposits. He built a two-room corrugated iron house on the outskirts of the town, becoming one of the more stable residents in the community.

He attributes his progress to persistence despite the demanding nature of the work.

“Gold mining is very hard. The place is extremely hot, and the pits are deep. Sometimes it becomes difficult to breathe. It depends on luck – two people can work in the same place, and one may find gold while the other finds nothing.”

In recent weeks, his findings have declined due to rainwater flooding the pits. Global factors, including conflict in the Middle East, have affected gold prices, with a gram of gold that previously sold for over $120 now fetching $90-$100.

Most miners in the area extract gold from shallow depths of one to two metres, while others dig as deep as 100 metres underground despite the significant risks.

“The deeper pits are the most dangerous and we lack proper equipment. Hiring machinery is expensive, and we don’t have tools to detect where gold is. But buyers have slowed down due to the situation in the markets,” he told Radio Ergo.

Abdisalan began mining without any training after failing to find work as a teacher. Others who lost livestock due to drought have also joined, like Ibrahim Mohamed Abdi, a former pastoralist.

He lost 160 goats due to water shortages and lack of grazing. Encouraged by others, he started mining late last year and now spends long hours, often overnight, in the pits making around $10 a day to support his family of eight.

“This work has improved our lives,” he said. “We are no longer begging. I can pay rent, send my children to school, and provide for my family.”

However, the work is labour-intensive and requires multiple steps. Soil is collected, transported to water sources, and washed repeatedly to separate any traces of gold from other residue.

Ibrahim relies on simple, traditional tools that limit his productivity. More advanced imported equipment costing over $3,000 is in use by others. He hopes to acquire essential gear, including breathing equipment to make working in deep pits safer.

“The danger is everywhere. Rocks can fall on you, insects bite, and the pits can collapse. Sometimes you can’t breathe. It is very dangerous work,” he said.

Still, the work has allowed him to rent a two-room house for $80 a month and support three of his children in school.

Local leaders say the influx of people into gold mining reflects broader economic pressures across the region.

The chairman of one of the local mining companies, Mohamed Garaad, said many of those joining the sector are displaced people, former pastoralists who lost their livestock, or fishermen who abandoned coastal livelihoods due to attacks and overfishing by illegal foreign trawlers.

“Anyone can come and mine here,” he said. “There are no restrictions. But the increasing number of people has made the work harder, as miners are forced to dig deeper and deeper.”

He highlighted poor infrastructure as a major challenge, noting that roads connecting the mining areas to Milho were in poor condition, making it difficult to transport equipment and supplies.

“Even bringing in tools is a challenge,” he said. “Most equipment has to be imported, often from China, which increases costs.”

Safety is another growing concern. In the past three months, one miner has died and 10 others have been injured after pits collapsed during excavation. Many of the new arrivals lack the skills needed for safe mining, increasing the likelihood of accidents.

“These are people pushed into this work by hardship,” he said. “They don’t have training, but they have no other options.”

Local leaders say gold mining could develop to provide sustainable livelihoods, particularly for young people, if it is supported with investment, training, and modern equipment.

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The families, living in scattered settlements along the valley, say the new activity has helped them recover from months of hardship after drought destroyed their herds.

Said Barre Salah makes around $16 a week selling at least eight bundles of the tough thatching grass. He previously depended entirely on livestock, but lost around 100 goats over four consecutive dry seasons due to lack of pasture, water shortage, and disease.

During the worst period, his family survived on food aid and loans from others in the community.

“We now cook twice a day, breakfast and lunch. This work has lifted the burden of feeding my family. We are in a better place now than before,” he said.

Access to water has also improved for his wife and seven children, as they now rely on natural springs along the valley instead of paying for trucked water, which can cost up to $5 per barrel in nearby rural areas.

He tried farming last year, investing in onion cultivation on a two-hectare plot borrowed from a relative. However, the harvest failed to sell in Bosaso markets, leaving him discouraged and in debt. He tried casual labour, but couldn’t find enough work.

He uses his own donkey cart to deliver the bundles of grass collected, avoiding transport costs.

“The need to feed my children pushed me into this work. We collect large amounts, dry it, tie it into bundles, and then transport it to sell,” he explained.

After several months, Said has been able to move his family out of a temporary hut into a more stable structure built from thatching grass and wooden poles that he constructed the new home in March, at a cost of about $160.

He enrolled two of his children in school in February, paying a combined monthly fee of $20. He hopes to enroll two more children in the coming months.

In addition, he has repaid $50 of a $700 debt accumulated from farming inputs and food purchases that has eased the constant pressure he faced from creditors.

Although he has 19 goats left, they are too weak to provide anything, although he hopes they will recover if the current rainy season improves grazing conditions.

Other families have also benefited from the same thatching grass work. Mohamed Abdirahman Omar, who supports a household of 12, earns $15 to $20 per week from his sales

His family were severely short of food, sometimes unable to cook even once a day, and dependent on whatever their neighbours could share.

“Now the family can at least have one proper meal a day. Things are better than before. What I earn is what we live on,” he said.

Mohamed moved to the valley last year after losing around 100 goats in Gumbah.

He tried fishing but found it unsustainable due to increased competition. He says demand for thatching grass is slowly increasing, and he hopes to expand his business by reaching larger markets in towns across the region.

“There are still few customers, but we are trying. At least now we have basic daily needs covered, and our cooking fire is no longer always out,” he said.

Mohamed has also started saving about $10 per month to prepare for future challenges. He plans to use the savings to support his family and enroll three of his children in school.

Local community leader, Salad Mahmoud Ahmed said hundreds of men and women were now engaged in collecting and selling thatching grass. Many were driven into the activity after losing livestock or other income sources.

“The people involved include long-time residents and others who moved here looking for a way to survive. There are also women, who had no other means of supporting their families. This work has become their main livelihood,” he said.

He added that the valley’s natural vegetation provided a steady supply of thatching grass, making it accessible to anyone willing for the physically demanding work. Informal networks have also formed among workers, who support and communicate with each other.

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Families have abandoned their homes in search of water and pasture, leaving schools empty across Mudug and Galgadud regions, in the districts of Adado, Galkayo, Dusamareb, Guriel, and Abudwak.

Mohamed Abdi Ahmed is among those who stayed in Haad-fuul, where his four children had been attending the local primary school. Most families left due to the worsening drought so the school closed last December.

“The drought affected us and forced the children out of school,” he said. “Many pastoralist families moved away, but we could not leave. It is very painful for me to see my children without education, and I have no means to support them.”

He cannot afford to send his children to private schools in Dhusamareb, where fees are around $10 per child. He had begun to see the progress they were making at school and hoped they would achieve a better future than his own, as he never had access to education.

His family of 10 is among about 10 other families remaining in the village, where food shortage is a daily reality. The family relies on 37 kilograms of flour, sugar, and rice received from Dhusamareb drought response committee in March, which they stretch by cooking once a day.

“Our situation is very difficult, sometimes we get food, sometimes we don’t. There are many challenges. We have no income, and it is very painful,” Mohamed told Radio Ergo.

He cannot take up manual labour due to a leg injury from an old gunshot wound. His wife has recently given birth, and their young children cannot help support the household.

The drought killed off 60 goats and five camels, leaving only 20 weak animals that no longer provide income. They also struggle to access water, as there are no functioning wells in the area, and wind driven sand dunes prevent water trucks reaching the village. A barrel of water costs around $5.

Mohamed has a long-standing debt of $2,700 owed to traders in Dusamareb that he cannot repay.

The school in Haad-fuul was established in April 2024 and had 136 students.

In another affected village, Hog-dugaag, Zeynab Mohamed Abdi’s three children are missing out on their primary classes as the school there closed too.

“Their lack of education worries me deeply. I can’t take them to town because I can’t afford the school fees or the cost of living there. This situation has made my children idle, and I fear they could go down the wrong path,” Zeynab said.

The nearest school is in Adado, about 40 kilometres away. Without income, her family of nine remain in the village despite the lack of services with just five other families.

They receive occasional support from relatives in Adado and otherwise go hungry. Her small food business that made $10 to $15 a day closed in January when all her customers left due to the drought.

“There is no business without people. Previously, I could provide for my children, but now everything is gone. If the rains return, I hope to reopen,” she said.

The local well broke down two months ago, forcing families to buy water at around $4 per barrel. She usually obtains 20 litres a day from neighbours.

Her family lost 50 goats last year due to drought and disease. Her husband has been unable to find jobs in nearby towns.

The director of planning at Galmudug state education ministry, Bashi Duale, said drought had severely disrupted efforts to expand free education in rural areas.

“Our plan was to bring education to remote communities, but drought has forced schools to close. Families are moving in search of water and pasture, and children are moving with them. Even where schools remain open, students and teachers are no longer present,” the director said.

He added that the government had been unable to prevent the school closures due to the severity of the drought. They were prioritising efforts to support affected communities whose livelihoods had collapsed.

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The families were driven out of rural areas around Buulo-Haaji near Kismayo, where prolonged drought wiped out their animals, dried up water sources, and destroyed the livelihoods they depended on.

Among them is Farhia Daud Omar, a mother of 10, who recently gave birth. Her family came to Kulbiyow hoping to find humanitarian assistance, but instead encountered a distressing situation with lack of food and basic necessities such as shelter.

Whilst they try to survive on one meal a day from members of the host community, they now face the added stress of the seasonal rain that began shortly after their arrival.

“Rain fell on us while we were staying in a low lying area. The water washed away the little food we had. I couldn’t find a place to shelter the children, so we had to move again to an open area,” Farhia told Radio Ergo.

The local community in Kulbiyow has tried to help by sharing small amounts of food and water. Without shelter, the displaced families cannot store what they receive.

Farhia’s newborn baby, less than a month old, was delivered during the family’s 25 day journey. When she went into labour, she was left behind in an isolated area with another woman, while her husband continued ahead with the rest of the children.

Three days later, health workers from Kulbiyow reached her after being informed of her situation. She said they provided treatment, including rehydration and medication, and transported her and the baby to the village.

“At that time, I was very sick. My body was swollen and I had anemia. They treated me, and I recovered,” she said.

Farhia is worried now about how to feed her children and protect them from mosquitoes, cold nights, and extreme heat during the day.

“We sleep on mats on the ground. There are no mattresses or anything else. That is how we live,” she said.

This family has lost nearly all their livestock -35 cattle and 25 goats -leaving them with only three animals that are no longer productive. With their main source of livelihood gone, all they can do is ask for external support.

The families who fled Buulo-Haaji first settled about three kilometres from Kulbiyow, but they were forced to move again after rains flooded the area. They are now living about two kilometres away on higher ground.

Hassan Salad Nur, another displaced pastoralist, said his family of 17 was facing similar struggles. He has 10 children to feed.

“For two nights, we had nowhere to shelter from the rain. It fell directly on us. We only had torn plastic sheets, and even some of the animals we brought died in the rain. I lost six goats,” Hassan said.

Hassan’s family fled Santaro village near Buulo-Haaji after drought dried up water sources and wiped out their herd of 40 cattle and 30 goats. He said the loss of their animals left them in a state of uncertainty, forcing them to depend on others.

They received small quantities of food and oil, but much of it was damaged by rain as they had nowhere to store it. Adapting to life in Kulbiyow has been difficult, especially without social connections.

“There is no shop where I can get food on credit because I don’t know people here. Those who know me are aware that I lost my livestock, so they cannot help much,” Hassan told Radio Ergo.

He described the widespread impact of drought across their home area, saying that locations like Santaro, Abaloley, and Baqdaad had all been affected, leaving people and animals without water or pasture.

“Last year at this time, our life was better. Now we are in a situation that I don’t know how to manage,” he added.

Local community members say they have tried to assist the newly displaced families despite facing their own challenges.

Mohamed Abdullahi Omar, a community elder in Kulbiyow, said residents and local leaders organised contributions to support those who arrived.

“We collected livestock and money from the community to help them. Traders also contributed, and we worked together to provide what we could. It was self-help,” he said.

He stressed that the support provided was not enough to meet the growing needs, especially as more families continued to arrive without any supplies. The host community itself, he said, had been affected by the same drought conditions, limiting their ability to sustain assistance.

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Newly arrived families in the camp say they have lost their sources of income and been priced out of urban life.

Sahra Ali Abokor moved to the camp after failing to keep up with $30 monthly rent, along with the cost of food and her children’s education. Their makeshift shelter made of old cloth and tree branches represents a significant downgrade in their living conditions.

“We are in a very bad situation. There is suffering and hardship. We have no proper shelter, no sanitation, and health problems are increasing. At night we use containers as toilets and empty them in the morning. This place is not fit for living,” she told Radio Ergo.

Sahra is raising eight children on her own after her husband died. Until late last year, she worked as a cleaner for a family in Hargeisa, earning $100 a month that covered their basic needs. But after losing her job in November, she was no longer able to support her household.

She has searched for casual work but has not found any. Former employers told her they could no longer afford to hire help, while other opportunities are now scarce.

Her family depends on cooked meals occasionally shared by neighbours and small amounts of money, as little as a dollar, sent by relatives. They rely on borrowing a single jerrycan of water per day from nearby households.

“Sometimes we don’t cook at all. We don’t have enough water. Life here is very hard, and we have nothing to depend on. We have nowhere else to go in Hargeisa, so we came here,” she added.

The land they have pitched their shelter on is privately owned, and the threat of eviction is another pressure. Living with high blood pressure, Sahra cannot afford regular medication and relies on relatives to buy it on credit.

Her eldest son has mental health issues and is being held at a treatment centre due to an unpaid bill of $250.

“They are asking me every day to pay the money. I don’t have it. If I try to take him out, they won’t allow it until I clear the debt. He is asking me to take him home, but where can I take him?” she said.

Four of her children have dropped out of Koranic school after she failed to pay two months of fees totalling $16.

Other families in the camp share similar experiences. Shamis Adan Daud, a mother of six, said her family has faced hunger, water shortage, and lack of shelter since moving to the camp in January.

“There is nothing I can rely on. We have no income, no assets, and no support. Sometimes we leave the camp and go to nearby neighbourhoods hoping someone will help us. Otherwise, we have nothing,” she said.

Shamis was evicted from her rented home on 31 December after failing to pay her $50 rent for six months. She used to rely on cleaning jobs, but those opportunities disappeared in recent months, forcing her into displacement.

Furthermore, the livestock owned by her family in the rural areas were lost to drought and disease, removing their safety net.

She also cares for a daughter with a mental health condition, but cannot afford treatment.

“I used to take her to a doctor in Hargeisa and she improved with treatment. Now I cannot afford it. She sometimes becomes aggressive, and I cannot manage the situation. I need help,” she said.

Four of her children are out of school, as there are no educational facilities in the camp and she cannot afford transport or school fees in the city.

For years, Shamis supported her family through a small business in Wahen market, which was destroyed in a fire in 2022. Since that disaster, she has been unable to rebuild her livelihood.

Female camp leader, Yurub Abdullahi Jama, confirmed that the newly displaced families were facing extremely difficult conditions. She said they received 42 families since December who had been evicted from rental houses as they couldn’t meet their obligations.

“These people had no choice but to come here. They are facing severe hardship, and there are no services available. There are elderly people, people with disabilities, and others who cannot work. The needs are overwhelming,” she said.

Yurub added that the camp lacked schools and health facilities.

The nearest hospital is about seven kilometres away in Hargeisa. Transport costs are beyond most families’ means, leaving many suffering without access to treatment.

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At the same time, a bigger number of callers spoke about continuing drought causing food and water shortages, livestock losses, and general hardship for communities. These calls came from parts of Somaliland, many locations across Galgadud, Hiran region, and a few from Bay and the Shabelles.

Farmers from parts of Galgadud complained of lack of water and challenges in irrigating crops adequately. Others including in Middle Shabelle were plagued by crop pests. Livestock callers described diseases affecting goats, camels, cows, and sheep.

Female callers this week spoke mostly about rainfall or the persistence of drought and its impact on their lives. They also spoke about nutrition, livestock diseases, conflict, and the need for aid.

Read the full report and analysis of feedback from communities across Somalia

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Gudey Abdullahi Malin, a mother of eight, told Radio Ergo that she fled her home in Baidoa with her children after violence erupted in her area in late March.

She is now living in Buula Gedisoy village, about 20 kilometres away, where conditions are tough and the local community has little to share with others.

“We have nowhere proper to sleep. At night we stay out in the open, and during the day we sit under trees. We don’t have shelter to protect us from the heat or cold. What we need most now is food and water for the children,” she said.

Gudey said her children had gone for a long period without any food, and had begun vomiting after eating again. Some of the children have become sick from drinking unclean water.

A jerrycan of water costs around 5,000 Somali shillings, which she cannot afford, so she has been begging small amounts of water from others, although the water is not always clean.

“Sometimes the children get only one meal a day from people here. Other nights we sleep hungry. They are not used to this environment, and many are sick,” she added.

Gudey and her husband had been making a modest living collecting and selling firewood, earning $5 – 6 a day that income enabled them to meet their family’s basic needs.

She said the conflict had caused them to experience displacement for the first time in over two decades, describing the current situation as overwhelming.

Two of her children were in school and had their studies disrupted by the sudden move.

The situation is similar for Abdullahi Abdi Mohamed, a father of eight, who fled Baidoa to the same village, where he says conditions are poor.

“We depend on what people here can share with us. Sometimes they give us a small meal at night, but other times we have nothing. Today I gave my children dry food that was borrowed from someone. There is nothing stable in our lives right now,” he said.

Abdullahi described the journey to safety as extremely difficult. Unable to afford transport, his family walked for a full day and night. The cost of hiring a vehicle had risen to about $100 due to the sudden spike in demand as conflict reigned.

He had been relying on casual construction work in Baidoa, earning around $5 a day. In the rural village where they are now, there are no such opportunities. The prolonged drought has left local residents’ incomes depleted and unable to provide much support.

“We came here because of the fighting, but life here is even harder. There is drought, no work, and no services. We are staying in makeshift shelters that don’t protect us from the weather,” he said.

Local community members say many of the displaced families were already living in poverty before the conflict, surviving on daily labour in Baidoa. Their displacement has cut off those income sources, pushing them into deeper vulnerability.

Mohamed Abukar Ali, a youth activist involved in relief efforts, said many families were now scattered across villages around Baidoa and other towns such as Dinsoor, where there were severe shortages of food and water.

“These families were already struggling, and now they have lost even the little they had. The areas they have moved to lack basic services, making their situation extremely difficult,” he said.

Mohamed added that local initiatives were being made in response to the crisis, including water trucking supported by community members, businessmen, and diaspora groups. Around 40 truckloads of water had been delivered to affected areas.

“People came together to help as much as they could, but the needs are far greater than what local efforts can cover. More support is urgently needed,” he said.

The UN’s refugee and displacement agency UNHCR reported that about 50,000 people had been displaced by the recent fighting in South West region. Many are now facing a combination of conflict-related displacement and prolonged drought, which has eroded livelihoods and left them with limited access to essential resources.

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Local authorities say the increase in water prices is linked to the growing number of displaced people arriving from drought-hit regions, placing pressure on already limited water resources.

In Maqsud camp, Khadro Mohamed Hassan, a mother of five, says the rising cost of water means it’s impossible for her to meet her family’s basic needs.

“The biggest problem we have is lack of water. Some days we can’t even afford to buy any. The children bring dirt from outside into the house, and there is no water to clean. Sometimes we go around asking people for one jerrycan, but even that is not guaranteed,” she said.

The price of a jerrycan of water has tripled in recent months from 2,000 to 6,000 Somali shillings.

Khadro does not have a steady source of income. She makes three or four dollars for occasional work washing clothes. She carries some of her children’s clothes with her when she goes to do laundry jobs, using her employers’ water to wash them and bring them back home.

Her family were forced to leave their rural home in Ukunji in Lower Shabelle region after losing their 60 goats to drought. Since arriving in Kahda, water scarcity has contributed to health problems in her household, including diarrhoea affecting two of her children.

“Some days I return home without any water because I cannot afford it,” she said. “If you don’t have even half a dollar, you cannot get water unless you borrow.”

Single mother of six, Sahro Mahmoud, also living in Maqsud camp, says the rising cost of water has made survival even harder.

“If you don’t have one dollar a day, you cannot get water. Water is now a business. If you ask for it without money, no one will give it to you,” Sahro told Radio Ergo’s local reporter.

Sahro and her children have been living in the camp for three months since fleeing drought in Jalalaqsi district in Hiran, where she lost 100 goats.

The situation in the camp has reached a point where families can no longer support each other, as everyone is struggling. The lack of water has also affected hygiene and health among displaced families.

“Children are getting sick with diarrhoea and vomiting,” Sahro said. “You don’t know whether to use the little water for drinking, washing clothes, or cleaning. You can spend the whole day looking for water and still come back empty-handed.”

The director of humanitarian affairs in Kahda district, Yusuf Abdi Osman, said the surge in water prices had placed an unbearable burden on already vulnerable families. He explained that the influx of displaced people fleeing drought had sharply increased demand for water, while supplies were limited.

“If this situation continues, we fear a humanitarian disaster. Water is essential for both health and survival. Families cannot afford the current prices, and we do not have the capacity to resolve this alone,” he said.

The district administration has called on aid agencies and other partners to support efforts to address the water shortage, including investing in sustainable water sources or subsidising costs for displaced families.

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