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Opinion

Mogadishu is losing its aesthetic identity

21 January, 2025
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Mogadishu
Mogadishu Light house (Photo by Abdirahman Bulshawi)
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Mogadishu has long drawn on the architectural styles of the age, from Swahili influences to Italian and later tropical modernism. But poor urban planning and climbing high-rises now threaten its aesthetic identity & coastal character.

In 1331, the renowned Moroccan traveller Ibn Battuta described Mogadishu as “an exceedingly large city,” a vibrant and prosperous hub along the trade routes of the Indian Ocean. Merchants in fine attire traded goods from distant lands, and the city thrived as a cultural and economic centre in the western Indian Ocean. At that time, Mogadishu was ruled by the Mogadishu Sultanate, a powerful city-state that had emerged as a dominant trading hub in East Africa. The sultan, Abu Bakr ibn Shaikh Umar, maintained a sophisticated court and presided over a city known for its wealth and hospitality. Later, Mogadishu became part of the Ajuran Sultanate, a centralised Muslim state that dominated the Horn of Africa from the 14th to the 17th centuries.

The Ajuran period saw significant advancements, including the implementation of hydraulic systems such as dams, wells, and irrigation networks along the Shabelle and Jubba Rivers. These innovations allowed the Ajuran Sultanate to consolidate its influence, transforming its territories into centres of agricultural and architectural excellence. Mogadishu flourished further under their rule, with the construction of extraordinary buildings, such as the mosques of Arba Rukun and Jama—masterpieces of coral stone architecture blending Arab, Swahili, and Somali styles. These mosques, with their white façades, intricate arches, and domes, reflected a harmony between beauty and function. Mogadishu’s identity during this time was deeply tied to its role as a cultural melting pot, with traders from India, Arabia, and China leaving their marks on the city.

Vasco da Gama, the famous Portuguese navigator of the 15th century, observed Mogadishu’s multistorey houses and grand palaces, symbols of the wealth generated by the trade of gold, ivory, and textiles. Mogadishu was not merely a centre of commerce but also a focal point of cultural exchange. As the city changed hands over the centuries—from the Muzaffarid dynasty in the 14th century to Zanzibar’s rule in the 19th century—its architecture absorbed influences from its diverse rulers and residents. This rich legacy made Mogadishu distinct from the interior nomadic traditions of Somalia, giving it a cosmopolitan urban character that set it apart. The transformation of Mogadishu into a colonial city began with the arrival of the Italians in 1889.  

Vasco da Gama, the famous Portuguese navigator of the 15th century, observed Mogadishu’s multistorey houses and grand palaces, symbols of the wealth generated by the trade of gold, ivory, and textiles.

Under Governor Giacomo De Martino, the old walled city was radically altered. The walls were demolished, and the compact Arab-style layout was replaced by a new urban plan that introduced wide avenues, government buildings, and European-style public spaces. The 1912 town plan marked the first major attempt to reorganize Mogadishu, creating two new suburbs and a central administrative district that connected the city’s two historic neighborhoods.  

Unlike other colonial cities in Africa, where European quarters were built alongside native areas, the Italians inserted their structures directly into Mogadishu’s historic core, reshaping its identity. During the fascist era, Mogadishu was further transformed to reflect the ambitions of the colonial regime. Grand avenues like Corso Vittorio Emanuele became stages for parades and imperial displays, while landmarks such as the Catholic Cathedral and the Arch of Umberto I emphasized Italy’s dominance.  

arch

The Arch of Umberto I stands damaged on December 6, 1994 in Mogadishu, Somali. (Photo by Scott Peterson/Liaison/Getty Images)

The Croce del Sud Hotel, designed by Carlo Enrico Rava in 1933, introduced modernist aesthetics, signalling a shift towards functional, stripped-down designs. Despite the heavy-handedness of these interventions, this period left Mogadishu with an architectural legacy that would influence its post-independence development. After Somalia gained independence in 1960, the young republic embraced modernism as a way to assert its national identity and aspirations. The government of Siad Barre, which came to power in 1969, used architecture as a symbol of progress and unity. Buildings such as the National Theatre and the National Assembly embodied these ideals with their clean lines and minimalist designs, inspired by tropical modernism. These structures projected an image of Somalia as a forward-looking nation, breaking away from its colonial past.

Public spaces were revitalised as centres for national celebrations, and Mogadishu became a showcase of Somali ambition and resilience. In 1974, the city was further transformed to host the 1974 OAU summit. In his opening speech at the conference, Siad Barre, the country’s military leader, encapsulated the spirit of the era in Somalia when he declared: “The Somali people are a revolutionary people, who believe in a revolutionary Africa where justice and peace prevail.” Nuruddin Farah, the most celebrated Somali writer wasn’t so impressed however. In his novel, Sweet and Sour Milk he decried the construction of “tumorous architecture” and the erection of “monuments of false hope”. Farah was biting in his criticism of the way Mogadishu was changing under Barre’s rule and what the changes meant. “If you ever come to Mogadiscio and you go to the centre of it, you will now find new buildings, new high structures whose ribbons of inauguration have been cut with the very scissors which made the wrist of the nation bleed and this country grow weak.”  

Public spaces were revitalised as centres for national celebrations, and Mogadishu became a showcase of Somali ambition and resilience.

The optimism of this period eventually gave way to devastation as the civil war engulfed Somalia in the 1990s. The conflict reduced much of Mogadishu’s architectural heritage to rubble and bullet-scarred buildings, erasing landmarks that had defined the city’s identity for centuries. The war fractured the city’s social fabric, leaving neighbourhoods divided and historical sites neglected.  

Mogadishu’s political history has left its mark through various eras the city has embraced, from the medieval Islamic sultanates and the colonial era to the socialist period. However, the brief interregnum during the early 1990s, when the city either stagnated or was in a state of full descent was eventually brought to an end in the 2010s.

Mogadishu entered a phase of rapid reconstruction, driven by private investments but largely unregulated. The ability of the state to guide urban development remains weak. Today, Mogadishu is one of the fastest-growing urban centres in Africa, yet this growth comes at a significant cost. The lack of urban planning has resulted in an architectural landscape that often disregards the city’s history and climate. Traditional homes, once defined by shaded courtyards, wide balconies, and natural ventilation, have been replaced by high-rise buildings that are poorly adapted to the coastal environment. These structures, often built with cheaper materials, are ill-suited to the heat and humidity, making them less sustainable and less comfortable to inhabit. The coral stone that was once a hallmark of Mogadishu’s architecture has been replaced by generic concrete and steel.

Traditional homes, once defined by shaded courtyards, wide balconies, and natural ventilation, have been replaced by high-rise buildings that are poorly adapted to the coastal environment.

The aesthetic identity of Mogadishu has also suffered. The city’s once-cohesive colour palette, dominated by whitewashed façades that reflected sunlight and emphasised its coastal character, has been replaced by a chaotic mix of bright, clashing colours. Arches, a defining feature of Mogadishu’s traditional design that symbolised Islamic and Swahili influences, have been replaced by plain rectangular lintels that lack any cultural resonance. These changes have stripped Mogadishu of the unique architectural elements that once earned it the moniker The White Pearl of the Indian Ocean.

The historic districts of Xamarweyne and Shangani, which were the heart of Mogadishu’s cultural and architectural heritage, are among the areas most affected. Modern developments often ignore existing regulations on height, style, and material, overshadowing centuries-old mosques and coral-stone houses. Public spaces, once vital for social interaction and community life, have been privatised or encroached upon by new construction. The privatisation of these communal areas has further eroded the city’s social cohesion, as residents lose the shared spaces that once brought them together. The current trends in Mogadishu’s construction are driven by short-term economic gains rather than long-term sustainability or cultural preservation.

The absence of coordinated urban planning means that new buildings often lack consideration for their context or the needs of the community. This unregulated growth risks turning Mogadishu into a wild urban sprawl, disconnected from its rich history and cultural roots. 

The loss of architectural identity is not just an aesthetic issue; it has profound cultural and social implications. Mogadishu’s historic architecture told the story of its people, their resilience, and their interactions with the wider world. By replacing this heritage with generic, poorly designed structures, the city risks losing its soul. This erasure affects not only the urban landscape but also the collective memory and identity of its residents.

Mogadishu’s historic architecture told the story of its people, their resilience, and their interactions with the wider world. By replacing this heritage with generic, poorly designed structures, the city risks losing its soul.

Despite these challenges, Mogadishu has the potential to reclaim its identity. Community-driven preservation efforts, such as the restoration of the Jama’a Xamar Weyne Mosque and the Arba Rukun Mosque, demonstrate the importance of local involvement in safeguarding the city’s heritage.

Learning from examples such as Stone Town in Zanzibar or Timbuktu in Mali, Mogadishu could integrate heritage conservation with urban development. These models emphasise the role of community engagement and thoughtful planning in balancing modernity with tradition.

Reclaiming public spaces and incorporating traditional design elements into new constructions could help restore Mogadishu’s architectural character. Coral stone, arches, and white façades could be reintroduced to bridge the gap between past and present, ensuring that new buildings complement the city’s history. Promoting cultural tourism and investing in the restoration of landmarks could also provide economic opportunities while celebrating Mogadishu’s unique identity.

Mogadishu is more than just an urban space in which people gather to trade and live; it is Somalia’s showcase city. Its architecture tells the story of a society that has navigated centuries of change, from the grandeur of the Ajuran Sultanate to the challenges of the modern era. By prioritising heritage conservation and thoughtful urban planning, Mogadishu has the opportunity to emerge as a city where history and modernity coexist in harmony—a beacon of cultural and architectural excellence on the East African coast.

As The White Pearl of the Indian Ocean, Mogadishu holds the promise of a future that honours its past while embracing the possibilities of tomorrow.