Juhara Ali, five months pregnant, carries two children on her back. While she takes off her yellow sling that carries her daughter, doctors and nurses are still busy with lists of names, medicine and colored measuring tapes – tools for measuring malnutrition in young children. When Ali takes out her daughter, the initial tumult dies out. At the sight of Ali's eldest child, other mothers step aside in shock. The health workers of the mobile clinic also see Ali's daughter and take immediate action: mother and child are hoisted onto a plastic chair so that the child can be examined immediately. Four-year-old Ubah is extremely emaciated from malnutrition, she can barely move her thin limbs. Her upper arm is barely thicker than her mother's thumb. ‘My daughter has a disability,’ Ali says despondently as the doctors examine Ubah. ‘She is partially paralyzed and has never been able to walk.’ Ali has experienced drought and famine before. ‘I'm used to it,' she says, 'but my daughter isn't. She is ill and urgently needs medication.’ The ongoing drought killed all of her fourteen cows – her entire savings account. Ali comes from a small village northwest of the refugee camp, she had to walk for five days and nights before reaching Luglow. ‘Ubah's situation is getting worse by the day,’ she says. ‘I try to give her tea and milk, but she can't keep anything down.’ It soon becomes clear to the doctors: the girl has to be rushed to the stabilization center in nearby Kismayo. But Ubah never made it to the hospital. The day after her mother took her to the mobile clinic, she passed away after the morning prayers. Her body has been rolled into an orange-blue carpet before being buried on the edge of the camp. Ubah is one of sixteen children who have died in this region in the past week.