海角大神

Long before major international pleas for anti-drought funding in Somalia began, or images of the gaunt and hungry started to circulate in the world鈥檚 newspapers, Amir Sheikh knew exactly what was happening. For months, the news had been coming to him by Facebook and WhatsApp, by email and over scratchy phone lines from Mogadishu:听the country was parched, people were dying. And if money didn鈥檛 arrive 鈥� lots of it, and soon 鈥撎齮hings were going to get worse very quickly. 听听

So Mr. Sheikh, who heads up the Somali Community Board of South Africa, did what he always does when he receives news like this from home. He sounded the alarm.

He sent volunteers to talk to business owners in 鈥淟ittle Mogadishu,鈥� a street in Johannesburg鈥檚 Mayfair neighborhood crowded with Somali coffee shops and internet cafes, and gathered money collected by small groups of concerned Somali women. He began asking restaurants about hosting fundraisers and reached out to other migrant communities in the city for help.

鈥淚t is not hard for us to reach people in Somalia because it is where we come from,鈥� he says. 鈥淲e are locals, we are not afraid.鈥�

In February, the United Nations declared a famine in parts of South Sudan, and warned that three more nearby countries in the midst of their own severe droughts 鈥撎齋omalia, Nigeria, and Yemen 鈥撎齱ere precariously close. To stop them from tipping over into catastrophe, the agency鈥檚 humanitarian chief said, it needed to raise $4.4 billion by July. Meanwhile, the US, , is reportedly seeking deep program cuts.

鈥淭here are people [in need] who we are not assisting because of funding in every country we work in,鈥� says Challiss McDonough, the senior regional communications officer for the United Nations World Food Programme in East Africa. In Somalia alone, she estimates, the agency needs $209 million more than it currently has in its coffers in order to reach the 6.2 million people at risk of famine.

But in a world worn down by what UN humanitarian chief Stephen O鈥橞rien recently called , there is one group that has never stopped giving 鈥撎齋omalia鈥檚 diaspora.听

A country of 10.8 million people, cut apart by nearly three decades of civil war, Somalia has :听at least 2 million people born in the country now living beyond its borders, to say nothing of their children and grandchildren. But beyond its size, the vast constellation of Somali communities spread from Minneapolis to London to Johannesburg stands out for another characteristic: generosity.

Every year, Somalis abroad 听鈥� or a quarter of the country鈥檚 GDP 鈥撎齧aking them Somalia鈥檚 largest provider of aid.听Somali-Americans for example, while Somalis in Germany send more than $4,000 and those in Saudi Arabia send about $1,500.

And that money travels through highly intimate channels, almost always moving directly from donor to recipient with few or no people in between. 听

鈥淧eople know exactly what happens to the money they send because they can just call up their relatives in the village and ask what鈥檚 happening and where it鈥檚 gone,鈥� says Ayan Ashur, the ambassador to Britain for Somaliland, a self-governing breakaway state that is recognized internationally as an autonomous region in Somalia鈥檚 north. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a more accountable way to donate because it鈥檚 so personal.鈥�

That also means that in times of crisis like the current drought, Somalis are among the country鈥檚 most efficient and effective sources of relief, able to identify need, move money, and analyze impact faster than almost anyone else. 听

During Somalia's 2011 famine, for instance, personal social networks听鈥� including diaspora connections and remittances听鈥撎�听in how well people and communities coped with the disaster, as international aid groups struggled to respond, according to a report from Tufts University's Feinstein International Center.听The better connected you were to people who weren鈥檛 experiencing the same crisis, in short, the more likely you were to survive it.听

But that also meant that the diaspora, like other aid groups, was at times unable to reach those who need help the most 鈥撎齮he marginalized and poorly connected, as well those living in areas controlled by the Islamist militant group Al Shabaab. More than 250,000 Somalis died during the 2011 famine, the worst of the 21st century; half of them were children. And Somalis' ability to send money home has become听, with several banks across the US, Europe, and Australia into the country for fears of being penalized for inadvertently supporting terrorism or money laundering.

Still, for many in the region, waiting for other forms of aid is hardly an option. The United Nations has blamed , in part, for the 2011 tragedy, and is anxious not to see history repeat itself. Today, 20 million people are living in drought-hit areas of Somalia, Yemen, South Sudan, and Nigeria, according to the UN, which warned last month that it had raised .

鈥淚nternationally, it took so long and there is still so little鈥� in the way of aid in Somaliland, Ms. Ashur says. 鈥淭he diaspora has been reacting since November, where we only saw the international community begin to come in around March. I think it鈥檚 fair to say this situation would be so much worse if this diaspora had not been active.鈥�

For Brooklyn-based fashion designers 听and a group of their Somali-American friends, seeing the news from home was like hearing the echoes of history.

鈥淭his cycle of famines and droughts has been going on for our entire lives,鈥� Idyl Mohallim says. 鈥淲e already know too well what the consequences are if help doesn鈥檛 get to Somalia sooner rather than later.鈥�

So in early March, she and her friends cobbled together a short video explaining the need for aid in the country, and threw it onto a hastily-assembled . They circulated it among friends and family, and by early April, they had raised more than $25,000. 听

Part of the reason for the fundraiser鈥檚 brisk success, Ms. Mohallim speculates, was the fact that the organizers could vouch personally for the charities they had decided to donate their funds to 鈥撎齡roups they had worked and traveled with in the past, and whose work they knew well.

鈥淚 think people want to be involved but just have no idea how, or feel there鈥檚 no way they can change a crisis like that,鈥� she says. 鈥淲e are giving people both a way to take part and that accountability that the money is going where it needs to be.鈥�

But like Sheikh in Johannesburg and Ashur in London, the organizers don鈥檛 feel the work they鈥檝e done is anything newsworthy.

For Somalis, after all, this kind of charity is the norm. In their community, they say, not giving what you can, whenever you can, would be the glaring exception.

鈥淐ulturally, this is all very ordinary to us,鈥� Mohallim says.听