By Suraj Karowa/ANW
Nairobi, Kenya – November 18, 2025
In the shadow of machine-gun nests and razor-wire checkpoints, a surprising scene unfolds along Mogadishu’s sun-drenched Lido Beach: foreign tourists snapping selfies with grinning Somali fishermen, their colorful boats bobbing in turquoise waves.
For decades, Somalia has evoked images of chaos—civil war, pirate skiffs slicing through the Indian Ocean, and Al Shabab bombings shattering fragile peace. Yet, in a twist that defies travel advisories and geopolitical gloom, the Horn of Africa nation is witnessing a tentative tourism renaissance.
‘Threat of kidnap’
Official figures from Somalia’s Department of Tourism paint a picture of cautious optimism: 10,000 international visitors in 2024, a 50% jump from the prior year. This surge persists into 2025, even as the U.S. State Department slaps a Level 4 “Do Not Travel” warning on the country, citing terrorism, kidnapping, and piracy.
The UK’s Foreign Office echoes the alarm with a “high threat of kidnap.” Al Shabab, the Islamist insurgent group, hasn’t relented; it orchestrated deadly assaults in Mogadishu as recently as March 2025, claiming over 30 lives in a market blast.
‘Pleasant experience’
So why the influx? “It’s the allure of the forbidden,” explains James Willcox, founder of Untamed Borders, a U.K.-based operator specializing in high-risk adventures. His firm logged a record 13 group tours to Mogadishu this year—up from a mere two in 2023.
Clients, he says, are often “country counters” chasing the thrill of ticking off all 193 UN-recognized nations, or adrenaline junkies drawn to destinations where a wrong turn could spell disaster. “Mogadishu is our riskiest spot,” Willcox admits over a crackling video call from Addis Ababa. “We’ve run tours here for a decade without a hitch, but the threat is omnipresent. Hotels in the Green Zone—our only safe havens—are prime targets.”
‘Not for the faint hearted’
The Green Zone, a fortified enclave of embassies and aid compounds, is where most visitors bunker down. Swiss globetrotter Karin Sinniger, who dove Somalia’s coral-fringed coast in 2020 as part of her quest to scuba every UN member state, recalls the drill vividly.
“You land and feel the tension immediately,” she says. “Nights in blast-proof rooms, days in armored convoys flanked by soldiers. But step onto Lido Beach?
It’s magical—kids flying kites, vendors hawking fresh lobster. A local diver even jury-rigged a hookah rig when my gear vanished en route.”
Sinniger’s tale underscores the human pull amid the peril. Peter Bullock, a 68-year-old retired engineer from Manchester, England, joined an Untamed Borders trip in November 2024 to notch Somalia on his African odyssey (he’s at 42 of 52).
Escorted by AK-toting guards, he wandered the teeming fish market—piles of shark fins and swordfish glinting under the equatorial sun—and the skeletal ruins of the 16th-century Cathedral of Marka, bombed to rubble in the ’90s.
“It was raw, unlike anywhere else,” Bullock shares. “No illusions of safety, but I never panicked. Departing via Mogadishu International felt smoother than Heathrow—ironic, that.”
This micro-boom isn’t organic; it’s engineered. On September 1, 2025, Somalia rolled out an eVisa portal, slashing red tape for arrivals at Mogadishu’s Aden Adde Airport.
“It’s a game-changer,” Willcox enthuses. “Slicker than Pakistan’s or Tajikistan’s systems—no glitches, instant approvals.”
Early adopters, including his groups, report seamless entries. Yet cracks show: Somalia’s federal writ is threadbare. Autonomous Puntland and self-proclaimed Somaliland—de facto independent since 1991—snubbed the eVisa, insisting on their own permits.
“It’s a sovereignty flex,” notes analyst Fatima Osman at the Mogadishu-based Heritage Institute for Policy Studies. “Tourism could knit the nation, but fragmentation stalls it.”
Somaliland, with its Hargeisa stock exchange, elected presidents, and sharia-lite vibe, markets itself as Somalia-lite: stable, affordable, and underrated. “We’re not Somalia,” insists Deke Hassan Abdi, one of the region’s pioneering female guides.
She leads treks to Laas Geel’s 5,000-year-old rock art—ochre giraffes etched into granite cliffs—and Berbera’s ship graveyard, where rusting hulks evoke a maritime ghost town.
“Tourists gawk at the safety first,” Abdi laughs. “No guards needed in Hargeisa’s bazaars; folks haggle over camel milk like it’s Harrods.” Her outfit, Somaliland Horizons, hosted 2,500 foreigners last year, per local stats—modest, but triple 2022’s tally.
Dylan Harris of Lupine Travel, who’s shuttled clients through Somaliland since 2013, concurs: “It’s the gateway drug to greater Somalia. Laas Geel blows minds; Berbera’s beaches rival Bali’s, minus the influencers.”
But even here, caveats abound. Western advisories bar solo jaunts beyond Hargeisa, mandating police shadows for rural forays. Borders with federal Somalia? Firm no-goes, patrolled by militias.
Claire Makin, a British extreme-travel aficionado, sampled both in 2024. “Somaliland charmed—chatty locals, zero paranoia,” she recounts. “Mogadishu? Claustrophobic. Security choked interactions; I craved the freedom Somaliland offered.”
Makin predicts the former will eclipse its southern kin on itineraries, much like how Iraqi Kurdistan lures before Baghdad dares.
Indeed, Somalia’s tourism remains a niche for the bold.
The UN’s refugee agency tallies 3.5 million internally displaced in 2025, swollen by 550,000 fleeing floods and feuds. Piracy simmers off Puntland’s coast, snaring dhows for ransom. “Some zones are suicide for outsiders,” Willcox warns. “We stick to vetted paths.”
Momentum builds, though. November’s Most Traveled People’s Summit in Ethiopia—drawing 300 obsessives who’ve hit 150+ countries—spurred side jaunts to Mogadishu via Untamed and Lupine.
“It’s buzzworthy,” says summit organizer Paul Hellander. “Somalia’s the new Everest for counters.”
Critics decry the trend as reckless voyeurism, glossing humanitarian horrors. “Tourists sip camel milk while millions starve,” tweets activist Amina Yusuf. Yet proponents like Willcox counter: “Visibility breeds investment. Our groups donate to schools; word-of-mouth debunks myths.”
As 2025 wanes, Somalia’s tourist tally could hit 15,000, if eVisa kinks smooth. For now, it’s a high-wire act: peril packaged as paradise. Willcox, ever the optimist, muses, “We’ve tamed borders before. Somalia’s next—if it doesn’t tame us first.”