Colonial Legacy to Independence: Historical Journey Through Djibouti City

The European Quarter (Quartier Européen) feels like stepping into a Franco-East African time capsule. The wide boulevards lined with whitewashed buildings sporting wrought-iron balconies whisper stories of French colonial ambitions. Place Menelik square stands as the heart of this district, anchored by the iconic Hamoudi Mosque whose minaret has watched over the city since 1906.

My partner and I wandered through the streets during the golden hour, when the setting sun painted the colonial facades in warm amber hues. The architecture here is surprisingly well-preserved—a mix of Art Deco and traditional Somali influences that somehow works beautifully together.

After hours of exploration, we retreated to the shade of Café de la Gare, housed in a restored colonial building near the old railway station. The espresso here rivals anything I've had in Barcelona, and they serve it with a side of local cardamom cookies that perfectly balance bitter and sweet. I pulled out my travel sketchbook to capture the scene while my partner flipped through historical photographs provided by the café owner.

Les Corniches, the seaside promenades stretching along Djibouti City's coast, offer more than just beautiful Gulf of Aden views—they're outdoor museums chronicling the country's journey to independence. We started our morning walk at the imposing Independence Monument, a concrete sculpture whose upward thrust symbolizes Djibouti breaking free from colonial rule in 1977.

The morning coastal breeze made the 75°F winter temperature feel absolutely perfect as we strolled past diplomatic buildings that once housed colonial administrators. Many now fly the Djibouti flag proudly, a powerful visual of the transition from colony to sovereign nation.

Midway through our walk, we discovered a small local museum housed in a former customs building. The curator, an elderly gentleman named Mahmoud, walked us through black-and-white photographs documenting the independence movement. His personal stories of participating in demonstrations as a young man brought history vividly to life.

Pro tip: The coastal walk can get intensely sunny even in winter, so I was grateful for my sun hat which provided perfect face protection while still looking stylish in our photos. My partner relied on his cooling towel which was a lifesaver in the persistent heat.

No historical journey through Djibouti is complete without diving into the sensory overload that is Bab-el-Mandeb Market. Named after the strategic strait connecting the Red Sea to the Gulf of Aden, this market has been a commercial crossroads since French traders established formal trading posts in the late 19th century.

The colonial influence is evident in the market's layout—organized sections reminiscent of French marketplaces but filled with distinctly East African and Middle Eastern goods. We wandered through narrow alleys where vendors sold everything from traditional Somali textiles to Ethiopian coffee beans and Arabic spices.

As a chef, markets are my love language, and this one spoke volumes. I filled my spice organizer with fragrant berbere, dukkah, and a local salt blend flecked with dried herbs I couldn't identify but couldn't resist. The vendor explained how French colonists initially established spice trade routes that are still active today, though now controlled by local Djiboutian merchants.

The market's central café, housed in what was once a colonial customs office, serves a fascinating fusion tea blending Indian chai techniques (brought by colonial-era South Asian merchants) with local cardamom and cinnamon. We sat beneath slowly turning ceiling fans that have witnessed decades of history, sipping our tea while watching the commercial pulse of a nation that has transformed colonial trade routes into independent economic lifelines.

Rising above the city, Plateau du Serpent offers the most comprehensive view of Djibouti City's historical evolution. This elevated area once served as a French military stronghold, strategically positioned to monitor shipping through the Bab el-Mandeb Strait. Today, it houses government buildings and the presidential palace, symbols of independent governance.

The climb to the plateau is steep but manageable, though I was grateful for my insulated water bottle which kept our water cold despite the heat. The bottle's self-purifying feature also came in handy throughout our trip when we weren't sure about local water sources.

At the summit, we discovered a small but powerful museum dedicated to the resistance movement. Photographs, letters, and artifacts tell the story of Djiboutians who fought for independence. Most moving was a display of handwritten manifestos from the 1960s, demanding self-governance and the preservation of local cultures.

Our guide, Ahmed, whose grandfather had been imprisoned by colonial authorities for resistance activities, pointed out how the very buildings that once housed French officers now serve as cultural centers promoting Djiboutian heritage. The irony wasn't lost on us as we watched a group of schoolchildren practicing traditional Afar dances in what was formerly the colonial commandant's residence.

As the afternoon call to prayer echoed across the city, we sat on a bench overlooking the Gulf of Aden, watching container ships navigate the same waters that French warships once patrolled. The juxtaposition of colonial history and modern sovereignty was never more apparent.

As a chef, I believe no historical exploration is complete without tasting the culinary legacy of colonialism and independence. Djibouti's food scene is the perfect embodiment of its complex past—French techniques applied to East African ingredients, with Middle Eastern and Asian influences woven throughout.

We started our culinary history tour at Restaurant La Mer Rouge, housed in a restored colonial-era customs building along the port. Here, traditional Yemeni fahsa (spiced meat stew) is served alongside French-style baguettes—a delicious metaphor for the region's cultural collisions. The owner explained how his grandfather worked as a cook for French officials but secretly maintained traditional recipes that are now proudly featured on the menu.

For a more intimate experience, we booked a cooking class with Madame Fatouma, whose home kitchen in the old quarter has been teaching visitors traditional Djiboutian cooking for over twenty years. Under her patient guidance, we prepared skoudehkaris (a spiced rice dish with influences from both French and Arabic cooking techniques) using her family's mortar and pestle. The same type of stone grinder has been used here for generations, long before and after colonial presence.

"Food is how we preserved our identity when others tried to change us," Madame Fatouma told us as we ground fresh spices. "The French brought new ingredients, but we kept our flavors."

Our final evening led us to Café de la Gare, where the chef prepares a fusion menu that intentionally traces Djibouti's culinary evolution. We enjoyed camel meat prepared with a French red wine reduction alongside traditional laxoox flatbread—the perfect representation of a nation that has absorbed outside influences while maintaining its core identity.