On Thursday, September 4, 2025, the streets of Mogadishu pulsed with life as thousands of Somalis poured out to celebrate the Prophet Muhammad’s birthday, known as Mawlid. This year’s festivities were particularly significant: for the first time in years, the government declared the day a public holiday, reviving a tradition that had been forced underground by militant threats and religious controversy. The Ministry of Labor and Social Affairs, citing a Quranic verse on piety, announced that both government and private-sector employees would have the day off—a move that both delighted and divided the population, according to reporting from the Associated Press.
Mawlid, as it’s called across the Muslim world, is celebrated with Quran recitations, religious songs, and processions. In Somalia, these events are led largely by Sufi communities, who have long cherished this day as a time for joy and reflection. The capital, Mogadishu, became the epicenter of celebration. Young people, many dressed in white garments and waving bright green flags, filled the streets. Crowds spilled out of mosques and into open spaces, their voices rising in rhythmic chants and devotional songs. Clerics recited Quranic verses over loudspeakers, their words echoing over a sea of swaying, clapping, and ululating worshippers. The atmosphere—by all accounts—was electric.
Some of the youngest participants captured the moment on their phones, livestreaming the chants and songs to friends and family abroad. Others hoisted banners adorned with verses of praise, adding splashes of color and poetry to the already vibrant scene. Security forces, rifles slung over their shoulders, kept a watchful eye on the festivities. While their presence was a reminder of Somalia’s ongoing security challenges, it did little to dampen the mood. The city, for a day at least, felt united in celebration.
But not everyone shared in the joy. The government’s decision to declare Mawlid a public holiday sparked debate among religious scholars and ordinary Somalis alike. Sheikh Abati Abba Nur, a prominent Sufi scholar, defended the celebrations, telling the Associated Press, “To those who oppose this celebration, I say, ‘fear God.’ This is the month in which our prophet was born, and celebrating it does not contradict Islamic teachings.” His words echoed the sentiment of many who see Mawlid as a vital part of their religious and cultural identity.
However, dissenting voices were not hard to find. Sheikh Abdurahman Diriye, a Wahhabi scholar, expressed a different view. “Muhammad’s birthday was not celebrated in the prophet’s lifetime,” he told the Associated Press, suggesting that the holiday represents a religious innovation rather than an authentic tradition. This perspective, rooted in Wahhabism—a strict, puritanical interpretation of Islam—has influenced religious practice in countries like Saudi Arabia, where Mawlid is not observed. In fact, while many Muslim-majority countries honor the Prophet’s birthday as a public holiday, others, particularly those with Wahhabi influence, do not.
For many ordinary Somalis, the debate over religious authenticity is less important than the sense of community and spiritual meaning the holiday brings. Fadumo Abdulkadir, a Mogadishu resident, captured this feeling succinctly: “People are beginning to recognize the importance of this day as they shed ignorance.” For her and countless others, Mawlid is a chance to come together, reflect on shared values, and celebrate a heritage that has endured through hardship and division.
The story of Mawlid in Somalia is also a story of resilience. For years, the holiday was driven underground by the militant group al-Shabab. During their rise, al-Shabab banned Mawlid celebrations, denouncing them as a religious “innovation” and targeting Sufi communities, whom they consider heretical for their less literal interpretations of Islam. Sufi processions and public gatherings became dangerous, if not impossible, as militants imposed their vision of Sharia law and fought to topple the foreign-backed government.
It wasn’t until 2011, when al-Shabab was pushed out of Mogadishu, that Mawlid celebrations began to reemerge. Each year since, the gatherings have grown, but always under the watchful eyes of security forces. The threat of sporadic attacks remains—a grim reminder of the country’s ongoing struggle with extremism. Yet, the determination of Somali Sufis and their supporters to reclaim public space and revive cherished traditions speaks volumes about the country’s spirit.
Somalia’s experience is not unique in the Muslim world. Across the globe, the Prophet’s birthday is marked in diverse ways, reflecting a tapestry of interpretations and cultural expressions. In some countries, it’s a day of grand public celebrations; in others, it passes quietly, or not at all. The divide often falls along theological lines. Sufi communities, known for their mystical and poetic approach to Islam, have long championed Mawlid as a time of joy and gratitude. Wahhabi-influenced societies, meanwhile, see such celebrations as unsanctioned additions to the faith.
Against this backdrop, the Somali government’s decision to reinstate Mawlid as a public holiday is both a political and cultural statement. It signals a willingness to embrace the country’s Sufi heritage, even as it navigates the complex realities of religious pluralism and security threats. The move also reflects a broader trend in Somali society: a desire to reclaim public life from the shadows of extremism and to foster a sense of unity in the face of adversity.
The celebrations in Mogadishu were not without risk. Security forces remained vigilant throughout the day, scanning the crowds for potential threats. Somalia continues to face sporadic attacks from al-Shabab, and the memory of past violence lingers. Yet, the overwhelming mood was one of hope and defiance—a refusal to let fear dictate the rhythms of daily life.
As the sun set over Mogadishu, the echoes of chants and songs lingered in the warm evening air. For one day, at least, the city’s divisions seemed to fade, replaced by a shared sense of purpose and joy. The revival of Mawlid, once banned and now celebrated openly, stands as a testament to Somalia’s enduring faith and resilience.
In a country still grappling with conflict and uncertainty, the return of public Mawlid celebrations is more than just a holiday. It’s a symbol of hope, a reclaiming of tradition, and a reminder that even in the face of adversity, the spirit of community endures.
