A Day Around Home: Kismayo’s Port, Lido Beach, and Gobweyn

Today I took a friend, a guest in town, around a few corners of Kismayo — the place I call home. We started at the seaport, and I realized, walking down toward the docks, that I hadn't set foot there in close to ten years. Ten years, in my own hometown, at a place I used to know well. It wasn't busy. June, July, into August, the winds of the Indian Ocean turn fierce enough that no vessel dares travel, and the port sits still because of it. We walked the docking area at our own pace, no crane noise, no shouting dockworkers, just the water and the wind. From there, you get a view of Kismayo from the south that you don't get anywhere else in town — the whole place laid out low against the coastline. I looked it up later — the port was built in 1964, with American support. You can feel that history standing on it, and you can also feel everything that came after. There has been no real renovation since the Somali government collapsed, and it shows: scars in the concrete, breaks in the structure, rust wherever metal meets salt air. And yet this same aging port still carries real weight — it matters to Jubaland's economy, and even to towns across the Kenyan border that depend on what moves through it. From the port we drove to Lido beach, and it was stunning — genuinely clean, wide open sand, water so clear it looks touched up. On our stretch, there was no one else around. Looking further down, though, we could see the other side of the beach full of life: young men playing football, others swimming, the kind of ordinary day scene that makes a beach feel alive rather than just scenic. There's also a new hotel going up right on the beach — we were told an Emirati company is building it. Whatever else is true about this town, someone is betting on Lido's future.

After that we headed north to Gobweyn, about fifteen kilometers out, where the Jubba River finally empties into the Indian Ocean. The drive alone was worth it. It's the rainy season along the coast, so everything roadside was green in a way this area doesn't always get to be — cattle, camels, and goats grazing loose along the way, the kind of scenery that makes you put your phone down and just look. Before we reached the river and the palm groves everyone talks about, we passed through stretches of farmland — maize, banana trees, vegetable plots, all of it green and working. It's easy to forget, sitting in an office in town, how much actual farming happens just a short drive away.

At the river itself, we took photos, drank coconut water straight from the source, and just sat with the place for a while — under the palm trees, listening to the wind move through the fronds, watching the river meet the sea. It's the kind of quiet that's hard to describe and easy to remember.

We drove back into Kismayo as the light started changing, and I dropped my friend off at the hotel. A few hours, start to finish — the port, the beach, the river — and somehow it felt like we needed this. Fantastic day.