“Why I spent my college tuition on a massive tribal game”

Browsing through Zara’s transactions shows she has spent thousands of dollars on TikTok.

Zara (pseudonym) is in her 20s, lives in the United States, and is of Somalian descent. She was hooked on the platform’s real-person battle feature – Two influencers got into verbal squabbles and sometimes even mocked each other as they solicited money from their followers to win a contest.

She later discovered there was a darker side to the games and shared her story with BBC World Service.

These battles are popular with TikTok users around the world, but the premise of the Somali game is different in that influencers on both sides, often representing Somali tribes, sometimes exchange insults that can turn into vitriol.

It’s been dubbed “The Big Tribal Game,” and thousands of people tune in regularly as influencers play rap music extolling the virtues of their tribes, with lyrics praising the bravery and beauty of their people.

The event we watched on a Saturday night in October was a prime example: two influencers on a split screen. There were about 50,000 people watching with us.

Playing “battles” largely means encouraging the audience to give the players more gifts, which they need to win each five-minute round.

The winner is the influential person who receives the most gifts, while the loser gets to congratulate their opponent by acknowledging that their tribe was stronger that night.

Sometimes these events are advertised online months in advance.

These influencers, usually from the United States and Europe, broadcast live before the game to hype up the audience.

When a match begins, sometimes arguments continue, but in-game discussions can be fairly mundane. The action occurs between people donating to each other, trying to outspend each other.

The game features an entirely new language, a digital currency, and many arcane rules that add a surreal quality to the events.

We’ve seen some of the highest value items being given away, such as the “TikTok Universe,” which is worth over $500 (£385), equivalent to nearly 50,000 TikTok coins. It triggers an animation of people dancing to a catchy song.

Priced slightly cheaper at $400 (£308), the fan favorite is the lion, which roars loudly as it runs across the screen. Or there are gentler whales swimming out of underwater tunnels.

Some gifts add filters to the influencer’s face, such as a cowboy hat and mustache, a red beret, or a seasonal pumpkin head.

Zara said she started playing because she wanted to defend the pride of her tribe.

It was “exciting,” she recalls, and “my side always won.”

But Zara spent more than $7,000 on the competition, which helped pay for her college tuition.

“My parents, if they found out I spent a lot of money on TikTok, they would be very upset — they wouldn’t [be] It’s a pleasure – but somehow it’s a bit like an addiction.

She also questioned why she would donate her hard-earned money to influential people who rarely show any gratitude.

But as she is pulled deeper into the world, she experiences something far more sinister.

We’ve seen evidence that an American male influencer has been degrading and threatening female TikTok users – threatening to post pornographic images of them.

Zara says this happens all the time: “They find out who you are, they take your family photos, your pictures, and then they say, ‘I’m going to expose you.'”

She said she was so frightened that the American male influencer did this to her that she couldn’t sleep at night worrying that her family would see the photoshopped photos he threatened to share.

“Imagine your family seeing a naked photo of you. They have no idea it was photoshopped.”

When Zara reported the account to TikTok, she said they took no action.

The influencer, known online as Hussein Kibray, has more than 200,000 followers. He often competes.

Zara believes other women have been threatened in this way, but we have yet to see him share Photoshopped images of her or other women in the public domain.

We asked about his behavior but he did not respond to our messages.

After the BBC contacted TikTok about Kibray’s account, the social media platform responded that it had now banned the accounts because they violated its adult sexual and physical abuse policy.

“We prioritize the safety of our community and have some of the strictest streaming requirements in the industry, including specific policies for Match content, safety tools tailored for viewers, and the ability to only allow Live broadcast or send gifts to anyone over 18 years old.”

TikTok’s live-streaming game thrives on confrontation, and sometimes at least aggression — whether staged or real. Competitions can get heated as influential people debate the superiority of different tribes.

Tribal identity is deeply ingrained in Somali society and politics, but it can be a sensitive subject. After long-time ruler Siad Barre was overthrown in 1991, Somalia’s civil war broke out, pitting tribes against each other, with the worst fighting continuing until 2001.

Sometimes influential people relive the civil war—who won, what happened—and insult their ancestors, even bragging about killing opponents.

Many people worry that these games can also contribute to a toxic online environment. TikTok tells us that live content must comply with community guidelines that apply to the entire platform.

Away from the arena of tribal big game, there are serious concerns about the extent of tribalism and tribalism. hate speech Disseminated on social media platforms through influential Somali accounts, often based outside the country.

There’s an irony to this, said Mustafa Ahmed, a security researcher specializing in the Horn of Africa.

“People who are leaving the country because of the conflict, because of the tension and building their lives in the West are becoming part of the West. [the] This cycle perpetuates violence and intercommunal tensions in the region,” he said.

Big tribal games have proven popular in Somalia – discussed at many tea stalls and at the highest levels of society in the capital, Mogadishu.

“Sometimes you see some politicians and elders talking about how their tribe won last night’s game and joking. It’s not something we should joke about,” said the influencer, who has nearly 2 million followers and is known for his funny videos and online challenges. Bilaal Bulshawi said.

He lives in Somalia, and unlike many who participate in TikTok battles, he said he joined one when they started to become a trend, but it wasn’t a tribal match planned in advance.

He has been watching rising spending on these events and suggested the money could be used to help the country.

“It’s really unfortunate to spend so much money, knowing that Somalia is suffering, and asking the world for help,” he said.

If you do some basic math, it looks like influencers could potentially make thousands of dollars on the most high-profile contests.

However, the reality may be less impressive, said Crystal Abidin, founder of the TikTok Cultural Research Network and professor of online studies at Curtin University in Australia.

She has not studied the “fighting” in Somalia, but said influential people often create the illusion of great wealth.

“Many followers are under the impression that all the coins and shiny graphics floating around the screen indicate there is a lot of cash flowing directly into the pockets of the influencers,” Professor Abidin said.

“In reality, the exact numbers, amounts or percentage breakdown is actually quite opaque.”

From her research elsewhere, she said, there are some unseen costs: Platforms take a cut, sometimes there are people managing creators, and sometimes there is seed money to create the impression that donations are organic.

We know that the emotion and interest are real for many people who play Big Tribal games.

The events are expected to last for months and are driving high engagement – but Zara understands why some “gift-givers” will be desperate to quit.