The first time I heard about Daariz, it was through a short social media clip of a market vendor in Hargeisa, fingers trembling as she traced a Somali letter on her smartphone screen, her eyes alight.
By the end of the clip, she was reading a simple sentence—something she never thought she could do. I sat upright. In that moment, I felt the weight of possibility gathered in a few digital pixels.
This is not a story about grand infrastructure or towering institutions. It’s about people—women, children, market vendors, migrants—reaching for words they never thought they’d own.
Over 350,000 East Africans are now learning to read and write Somali through a free app called Daariz. And at its heart lies a quiet revolution: literacy as empowerment.
A Modest Spark In Challenging Terrain
Launched in 2021 by the Sahamiye Foundation, Daariz—whose name echoes the Arabic word for “study”—was born during the global pandemic, when educators and technologists scrambled for new approaches.
The Horn of Africa—Somaliland, Somalia, Djibouti, Ethiopia’s Somali region, and parts of Kenya—has long suffered from low school enrolment and fragile institutions. Many remote areas lack functioning schools; to travel to one may demand a long, dangerous walk. Conflict, displacement, drought, migration, and economic precarity all conspire to keep children and adults from encountering a classroom.
In this context, Daariz is not a silver bullet—but it is a nimble one. The app offers reading, writing, comprehension lessons, and a digital library, all packaged in interactive, game-like modules. It adapts to learners’ pace, gives personalized feedback, and rewards milestones with culturally resonant tokens (virtual camels). Thanks to its offline functionality, users can keep learning even without constant internet access—a crucial design for rural zones where connectivity is intermittent or expensive.
From the start, the Sahamiye Foundation made it free. For those without smartphones, the foundation also deployed loan schemes, providing cheap devices preloaded with the app in schools and community centers. That small decision has altered trajectories: learners aren’t limited by their devices or their ability to pay.
Stories In The Margins: Real Lives, Small Triumphs
Behind every number is a life reoriented. Take Safiya, a market stall owner in Hargeisa. She told local media that when she began, she struggled with even basic names and signboards. She downloaded Daariz, committed two hours each morning, spent thirty minutes per page, and persisted over six months. Now she reads and writes with confidence.
In Nairobi’s Eastleigh, an area with a large Somali diaspora, the app is more than educational—it’s cultural stitching. A Kenyan news expose described how people use Daariz to reconnect with their mother tongue.
One user, Ahmed Abdi, said simply: “Daariz has opened new doors for me. I can now read and write in Somali, which is a source of pride.” Another user, Penina, employed in domestic work, told reporters she can now understand instructions from Somali employers she once struggled to follow.
In Somaliland, the app has matured into a tool for friendly competition: 19 high schools recently held a Daariz speed-reading competition in Hargeysa, engaging more than 300 students in timed reading challenges and comprehension rounds. One student logged an astounding 469 words per minute; another, Hibo from Noradin Girls High, won first prize with 292 wpm. The event attracted 174 girls—an indication that this is not just about literacy but also inclusion.
Also significant: the gender balance among learners. Roughly 48 percent of Daariz users are women and girls, far above their representation in formal schooling in the region. In societies where structural barriers keep many women out of classrooms, this digital path offers autonomy.
Literacy, Cashlessness And Agency
Literacy today is no longer just symbolic—it has become economically essential in many parts of East Africa.
As mobile money, digital payments, and cashless transactions spread across the Horn of Africa, the inability to read or write becomes an anchor dragging people behind.
Many women traders previously had to rely on others to make or receive payments on their behalf, simply because they could not decipher numbers or receipts. Ismail Ahmed, founder of Sahamiye Foundation and also the entrepreneur behind WorldRemit, noted that literacy is not just cultural capital—it’s financial infrastructure.
By imparting functional literacy—learning not just the alphabet but how to read, understand, and use language—Daariz is helping people engage with the modern economy on their terms.
The foundation claims the app reduces the hours needed for literacy from 450 to about 50. If true, that compression accelerates agency: instead of years of schooling (often inaccessible), users gain the tools to transact, to sign, to read instructions, to navigate mobile banking.
In that sense, literacy becomes a cloak of dignity—and a shield against marginalization.
Challenges, Doubts And Paths Forward
No venture is without friction. Some users report glitches or version updates that disrupt access—especially in older devices or low bandwidth settings. Also, reaching extremely remote, nomadic, or conflict-affected zones remains a challenge; offline availability helps, but distribution of devices is expensive and logistically complex.
Another question is sustainability: how will Sahamiye maintain free access at scale? Will donor fatigue bite? What partnerships with governments or ministries of education can ensure integration rather than isolation?
Finally, literacy in Somali is a critical step, but many users must also develop fluency in regional or national languages (Amharic, Arabic, English) to engage with wider systems. As Sahamiye plans to expand Daariz’s curriculum to include mathematics, science, and possibly other languages, the leap from reading to full education remains ambitious.
Yet the early results are promising, especially when compared to past efforts. For example, in the Dadaab refugee camps, another Somali reading app (Sheeko) was deployed on tablets, and evaluations showed four-fold improvements in reading fluency versus traditional literacy camps. That precedent gives weight to the idea that digital, contextual learning can outperform rote classroom models when thoughtfully designed.
Toward A New Chapter In Somali Literacy
On a dusty day in Hargeisa, one imagines Safiya, phone in hand, gently reading a local poem or a children’s tale in Somali. In Eastleigh, a Kenyan domestic worker laughs quietly because she recognized a phrase she had once dismissed as gibberish. In a competitive school hall, students race each other across words and comprehension steps, rewarded by virtual camels that nod to pastoral heritage.
These are small moments, but they are powerful. That a language app—free, lightweight, culturally rooted—can reach hundreds of thousands in a region long marginalized is itself a testament to innovation born of necessity.
The story of Daariz is not over. It is a chapter in progress. But already, it offers a template: give people the tools, respect their language, remove the barrier of expense—then stand back and watch what they build. In this case, what they build is literacy, dignity, and the tool to join the modern world on their own terms.
