Gedo has long served as a useful barometer for the health of relations between Nairobi, Mogadishu, and Addis. Straddling the tri-border Mandera Triangle, the Mareehaan-dominated region of Jubaland has been a key staging post for Al-Shabaab's continued infiltration into Kenya and Ethiopia for years. And as such, both Nairobi and Addis have a vested stake in Jubaland as a security buffer zone against the jihadists, developing close ties with key political actors within Gedo and the southern Federal Member State-- which they helped co-establish in 2013. Over a decade later, with Hassan Sheikh Mohamud back at the helm in Mogadishu, the focus has returned to Gedo, as he has resorted to a well-known destabilising playbook by attempting —and failing —to wrest the Mareehaan into Villa Somalia's orbit. But amid the government's months-long campaign to destabilise Gedo, including seizing Garbahaarey and Luuq from control of Jubaland to carve out Darood tents for its rigged elections, Addis has remained silent-- until now.
With political insecurity and conflict simmering across nearly every country in the Horn of Africa, Nairobi's relative stability —barring the fitful Gen Z protests —is a welcome and necessary change for regional elites, compared to the ruins of Khartoum and the insecurity of Juba and Mogadishu. In prominent hotel bars and restaurants across the Kenyan capital, exiled opposition figures routinely gather to discuss their next moves or commiserate about the state of their country and region. The political elites of Ethiopia, Somalia, South Sudan, and others have long maintained families and properties in Nairobi's lush neighbourhoods, aware of the need for a potential haven amidst the mercurial politics of their own countries. But with insecurity and political repression rising across much of the Horn, so is the capital flow increasing into Nairobi as growing numbers relocate their wealth-- often illicitly.
Since the collapse of the Somali state in the 1990s, the country's private sector has played a particularly prominent role in service delivery, flourishing in the cracks left by the absence of a central government. In this space of the ungoverned economy, those providing essential utilities — such as healthcare — were assumed by businesses and economic cartels, which have reaped immense profits in turn amid the vacuum. However, in the years since, as the state-building process has gradually attempted to deliver or centralise such services, the incestuous relationships between business cartels and rent-seeking politicians have persisted. And in the meantime, the fractured and uneven nature of healthcare providers in Somalia continues to pose severe dangers to the population.
This week, dozens of senior Rapid Support Forces (RSF) commanders, Sudanese politicians aligned with the paramilitaries, and foreign officials gathered at the Kenyatta International Conference Centre (KICC) in central Nairobi. The widely publicised and controversial ceremony—backed by Kenya, Ethiopia, and the UAE—marks the launch of a "parallel government" intended to challenge the authority of the UN-recognised military administration currently based in Port Sudan.
On 21 November, the next phase of the disarmament, demobilisation, and reintegration (DDR) of 75,000 Tigray Defence Forces (TDF) soldiers commenced in Mekelle. Over two years have passed since the signing of the Pretoria and Nairobi agreements, with the DDR process intended as one of their central elements, but federally-driven progress to date has been slow.