“When preventable child deaths pass without national outrage, silence becomes more than neglect; it becomes part of the tragedy itself.” Dr. Ubah Farah Ahmed
As a Somali physician who trained and worked for many years in Italy, I have spent much of my life navigating two very different worlds—two distinct ways of valuing life, responding to tragedy and protecting children. These differences are not abstract.
They shape how societies react to suffering, how leaders respond to emergencies and how communities understand their collective responsibility. Recently, this contrast has struck me with painful clarity.
In Italy, the death of a four-year-old child from suspected diphtheria dominated national attention for days. Newspapers ran front-page stories. Television programmes hosted experts to explain what had gone wrong.
Medical associations issued statements. Civil society groups demanded accountability. The central question—how could a preventable disease claim a child’s life in a country with a strong health system and accessible vaccines?—sparked a wave of national reflection.
As I followed these discussions, my thoughts returned again and again to Somalia.
A Silent Emergency: The Numbers We Do Not Discuss#
According to epidemic data from the Federal Ministry of Health, Somalia recorded 3,655 suspected diphtheria cases and 143 deaths in 2025 alone. The outbreak, which began in 2023, continues to claim lives despite diphtheria being entirely vaccine-preventable. It is not the only threat: measles and other preventable diseases continue to spread, placing further pressure on families and an already fragile health system.
These figures are not mere statistics. They represent children with dreams, families with hopes and futures that should never have been lost. Behind every number is a name, a face and a story cut short far too soon.
Yet despite the magnitude of this tragedy, it has received limited public attention: few headlines, minimal debate and little sustained national reflection. The quiet persistence of these outbreaks shows how urgent health challenges can remain underrecognised even when they demand collective action.
The silence is deafening.
In a country facing many simultaneous crises, the suffering of children can too easily become part of a wider pattern of hardship rather than receiving the focused attention it deserves.
This contrast raises uncomfortable but necessary questions: How can we ensure that preventable child deaths prompt urgent concern, coordinated action and stronger accountability? Somali children deserve the same value, protection and attention as children anywhere else.
The Weight of Two Realities#
Having worked in Italy’s health system, I have seen how public accountability saves lives. When a tragedy occurs, institutions respond. The media investigates. Society debates. Lessons are learned. Policies change.
Somalia needs the same cycle.
Somalia’s reality is shaped by decades of conflict, political fragility, limited resources and chronic humanitarian crises. These challenges are real, but they cannot justify silence—especially when the economics of prevention are so clear.
Every $1 invested in childhood vaccination in Africa generates an estimated $44 in economic benefits by reducing treatment costs, increasing productivity and preventing long-term disability. Few investments offer such extraordinary returns.
Somalia’s vaccine financing remains heavily dependent on external support, leaving programmes vulnerable when donor priorities shift. A gradual increase in domestic investment would strengthen national ownership and help ensure long-term protection for children.
Strengthening the Quality and Timeliness of Immunisation Campaigns#
Somalia has conducted several immunisation campaigns in recent years, yet many children remain unvaccinated. When significant resources are mobilised and children are still missed, it is essential to examine not only funding levels but also implementation quality, coordination, accountability mechanisms and political commitment.
In many cases, response campaigns arrive late, after outbreaks have already spread and families have already suffered. Earlier detection, faster mobilisation and stronger preparedness would reduce preventable illness and death.
The Human Cost: Greater Than War and Other Man-Made Catastrophes#
Somalia loses approximately 78,000 children before their fifth birthday every year. Let that sink in. This is not merely a statistic; it is a national tragedy unfolding quietly, relentlessly and largely unnoticed.
Most of these children die from preventable or treatable causes, including malnutrition, infections and vaccine-preventable diseases. Their deaths are not inevitable. They result from gaps in access to care, weak service delivery, insufficient prevention, chronic underfunding and limited community-level support. These are solvable problems.
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Yet these losses rarely make headlines. They do not prompt emergency meetings or ignite national outrage. Year after year, however, they represent the largest and most devastating loss of Somali life—far exceeding the toll of conflict, disasters or any other man-made crisis.
Above all, these deaths are preventable.
The Role of Health Professionals and Associations#
Health professionals and medical associations have a critical role in raising public awareness and ensuring that evidence-based information reaches families and communities.
We cannot wait for others to raise the alarm.
Physicians, nurses, midwives, community health workers and public health experts must take a more visible and coordinated role. They can document outbreaks with urgency, support trusted community networks, promote vaccination in culturally respectful ways and address misinformation with empathy and evidence.
If we do not fill this void, the silence will continue—and with it, the tragedy.
The Human Cost of Silence#
Limited public attention is not neutral. It allows preventable deaths to continue, normalises suffering, weakens trust in health systems and leaves families feeling that their children’s lives have not received the concern they deserve.
Somalia cannot afford this silence.
Vaccination is neither a luxury nor an external idea imposed from outside. It is a proven, lifesaving intervention. Children affected by vaccine-preventable diseases are often missed because health systems struggle to reach them, communication does not always build trust and communities may not receive timely information and services.
In Italy, the death of one child sparked a national conversation. In Somalia, the deaths of hundreds barely registered.
This disparity should move us to act with urgency, humility and shared responsibility.
A Call for Leadership#
Somalia needs leadership that treats every preventable child death as a matter of urgent public concern. This requires investment in vaccination, stronger disease surveillance, improved preparedness, support for frontline health workers and greater priority for public health communication.
Protecting children is fundamental to national stability, resilience and development.
A Call for the Media#
Somalia needs media organisations that give sustained attention to children’s health and well-being. Health crises deserve the same seriousness as political developments, with reporting that informs the public, amplifies community voices and supports constructive accountability.
A Call for Society#
Somalia needs a society that demands better for its children while recognising the difficult realities facing families and institutions. We must refuse to accept preventable deaths as normal and work together to ensure that every child has a fair chance to survive and thrive.
Returning Home with Purpose#
As I return to Somalia after many years abroad, I carry a simple conviction: Somali children’s lives must count. Their deaths must matter. Their future must be defended with urgency, compassion and seriousness.
If we do not raise our voices, demand accountability and insist on change, the silence will continue—and so will the tragedy.
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Dr. Ubah Farah Ahmed is a pediatrician and public health specialist with expertise in maternal, newborn and child health and health policy in humanitarian and development settings.
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The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of Dawan Africa.