Reviewing Zara’s transactions reveals that she has spent thousands of dollars on TikTok.
Zara (a pseudonym) is in her 20s, lives in the U.S., and has Somali roots. She became captivated by TikTok’s live battle feature, where influencers engage in playful verbal sparring to encourage donations from viewers, each aiming to win.
Eventually, Zara uncovered a darker side to these games, which she shared with BBC World Service. While live battles are popular worldwide, the Somali version is unique, often pitting influencers representing different Somali clans against each other. These “Big Tribal Games” attract tens of thousands of viewers, with influencers playing music that celebrates their clan’s virtues, bravery, and beauty, though it sometimes devolves into hostile exchanges.
One recent Saturday night battle saw two influencers on a split screen, with around 50,000 people watching. Here, the “battle” consists largely of encouraging viewers to send gifts to the players, which determines the round’s winner. The influencer receiving the most gifts wins, while the loser must acknowledge the other clan’s superiority for that round. Often, events are promoted online for months in advance, with influencers, mostly based in the U.S. or Europe, going live beforehand to hype the crowd.
The players and viewers have developed their own lingo, currency, and elaborate rules. High-value gifts such as the “TikTok universe” (worth over $500) or the roaring “lion” (priced at $400) animate on the screen. Other gifts apply playful filters to influencers’ faces, from a cowboy hat to a seasonal pumpkin head.
Zara said her initial reason for playing was to defend her clan’s pride. “It was exciting, and my side always won,” she recalls. However, she ended up spending more than $7,000 originally intended for her university fees. “If my parents found out, they’d be devastated,” she says, reflecting on what she describes as an addiction. She questions why she invested so much money in influencers who rarely showed any gratitude.
The live battles thrive on confrontation, whether staged or real. Discussions often get heated, particularly when influencers debate clan strengths. Clan identity is integral in Somali society, but it can also be divisive; inter-clan conflicts have deep roots, dating back to the Somali civil war that followed the fall of Siad Barre in 1991.
These games sometimes touch on sensitive topics, like clan rivalry during the civil war, where influencers may insult ancestors or even boast about historical clan conflicts. This dynamic has led to concerns about online toxicity, and TikTok has confirmed that live content must follow its community guidelines.
Beyond TikTok, the rise in clannism and hate speech on Somali social media is concerning, especially from influencers abroad. Security researcher Moustafa Ahmad points out the irony: “People who leave the country for a better life are now perpetuating the conflicts they escaped from.”
Despite the controversy, the Big Tribal Game is becoming popular in Somalia, sparking conversations in Mogadishu’s tea stalls and higher circles. “Even some politicians and elders joke about their clan winning last night’s game,” notes influencer Bilaal Bulshawi, who cautions against trivializing such a serious issue.