When a war-scarred country announces a billion-dollar airport project, the world doesn’t just pay attention—it questions everything. Can Somalia really pull this off? Who’s paying for it? And why now?
On the dusty plains of Middle Shabelle, just outside the town of Haabaay, President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud laid the foundation stone for what could become the most transformative infrastructure project in Somalia’s post-civil war history: a brand-new international airport.
Not a facelift. Not an expansion. A full-scale, modern aviation hub with parallel 4,000-meter runways, gleaming terminals, cargo bays, and the ambition to become East Africa’s next major air transit point.
The projected cost? Up to $1 billion.
For a country still grappling with the aftermath of decades of war, clan divisions, and ongoing terror threats, the sheer scale of the project is either madness—or a masterstroke.
A runway through post-conflict recovery
Haabaay, in the Warsheekh district of Middle Shabelle, isn’t just a convenient escape from the congestion of Mogadishu’s crowded Aden Adde International Airport. It’s also a symbol of federal reach into formerly unstable regions.
By planting the project deep into central Somalia, President Hassan Sheikh is not only responding to logistical needs—he’s making a statement: Somalia’s future will not be confined to the Green Zone or the capital’s fragile security perimeter.
“This airport is the gateway to Somalia’s future,” Hassan Sheikh said during the groundbreaking. “It’s not just about travel—it’s about economic development, job creation, and strengthening national capacity.”
That future includes new road corridors, healthcare centers, a seaport, and even a proposed national aerospace science center.
From the outside, it might sound like a fantasy. From inside Somalia, it sounds like something even more radical: hope.
Aviation as a power play
There’s a race taking off across East Africa—and Somalia just joined at full throttle.
Kenya is expanding Nairobi’s Jomo Kenyatta International Airport to handle 35 million passengers a year. Rwanda, backed by Qatari funds, is building Bugesera International, designed to make Kigali a global transit hub. Ethiopia is constructing a new mega-airport outside Addis Ababa to support its national carrier’s ambitions.
Now Somalia enters the runway battle with plans that rival, and in some ways outshine, its neighbors. Two parallel runways, a fuel farm, air traffic control towers, customs and cargo infrastructure, and scalable terminals—this is not a side project. This is central to the federal government’s vision.
The Aden Adde Airport, named after Somalia’s first president, has served valiantly since Italian colonial times. But with just one runway, minimal expansion space, and increasing congestion, it’s become a bottleneck.
That’s no small problem in a country where roads remain unreliable or non-existent, where security threats make land transport risky, and where diaspora ties with Europe, the Gulf, and North America demand better aviation links.
Airports are more than transport—they are diplomatic leverage, economic magnets, and sovereignty in steel and asphalt.
Financing the dream—or digging a hole?
Here lies the real turbulence: no one knows where the money is coming from.
The government has floated a preliminary $800 million estimate but privately admits it could soar past $1 billion. That’s a third of Somalia’s entire GDP. No official financing plan has been released. No public-private partnership agreements disclosed. No donor names confirmed.
So is this Chinese-backed? Emirati-funded? Turkish-engineered? Or is Somalia betting on future oil revenues and diaspora remittances to carry the cost?
A senior official in Mogadishu, speaking anonymously, hinted at “a mixture of sovereign support and long-term international partnerships,” but refused to elaborate.
This opacity worries analysts.
“Transparency is key,” says Dr. Fowsiyo Elmi, an infrastructure policy expert at the Somali National University. “If financing is hidden or unstable, it could saddle the country with debt or lead to incomplete delivery—Somalia has seen that story before.”
Yet others argue the risk is worth it. A modern airport could drastically increase investment flows, attract airline routes, and cut the logistical costs that currently inflate prices across the Somali economy.
“Right now, even flying between Somali cities is a mess. With this airport, Somalia can finally connect to itself—and to the world,” said Ahmed Moalim, an aviation consultant advising a regional airline.
Local builders, global ambition
In a surprising twist, the new airport isn’t being led by a Turkish or Chinese conglomerate—it’s being built by a Somali-owned company.
That alone has generated buzz.
“This is the first time we’ve seen a Somali firm trusted with a project of this magnitude,” says Fatuma Warsame, an economist in Hargeisa. “It’s a gamble, but also a vote of confidence in Somali capacity.”
During the civil war years, construction was a donor-dominated affair, with foreign NGOs and contractors importing materials, staff, and profits. This project signals a shift. Local engineers, Somali architects, and regional suppliers are all expected to be part of the implementation.
It’s also part of a broader trend under Hassan Sheikh’s administration: Somali solutions for Somali problems.
Of course, the real test will be delivery. Can the project stay on budget? Can it meet safety codes? Will it be completed on time—or become another monument to broken promises?
Security concerns never far away
Just 50 kilometers north of Mogadishu, Haabaay still faces security threats from Al-Shabaab. Though the Somali National Army and Danab special forces have cleared much of the area, insurgents remain active in rural zones.
That raises obvious questions: Can a billion-dollar airport survive in an area so recently contested? Will international airlines feel safe landing there?
The government insists yes.
“We’re investing not just in concrete, but in stability,” said Interior Minister Ahmed Maalim. “Security operations are ongoing. This airport is also a message to terrorists: you will not dictate where Somalis can build, fly, or dream.”
Still, international investors will want more than symbolism. They’ll want guarantees.
Symbolism meets hard reality
The proposed airport is already a political lightning rod. Supporters see it as visionary. Critics call it grandstanding.
“What Somalia needs is functioning roads, schools, electricity—not monuments,” said Abdirashid Ali, an MP from Puntland. “Why build a billion-dollar airport when people can’t even afford clean water?”
It’s a fair critique. But others argue that grand projects can galvanize the nation.
“When Jomo Kenyatta Airport was built in the ‘70s, many Kenyans said it was a waste. Now it’s an economic engine,” said Muna Yusuf, a Somali businesswoman who frequently travels between Nairobi and Mogadishu. “We need to stop thinking small.”
There’s also the soft power element. A new airport sends a global signal: Somalia is open, modern, and ready for business.
The road ahead
Aviation experts predict the airport could eventually handle over 5 million passengers annually, rivaling Bole in Addis Ababa or Kigali International. But that depends on far more than bricks and blueprints.
It will require airline partnerships, security coordination, customs reform, and ground transportation links to Mogadishu and beyond. It will require confidence—both from investors and from ordinary Somalis.
If the government can stay focused, if financing is managed wisely, if security holds—this project could become a beacon for a new Somalia.
If not, it could become a cautionary tale.
But for now, construction crews are mobilizing. The flag has been raised. The runways are being measured. And for the first time in decades, Somalia is betting not just on survival—but on flight.