Crossing the Somaliland–Djibouti Border: A Desert Journey from Hargeisa

Crossing the border from Somaliland to Djibouti overland is not something many travelers attempt. The journey from Hargeisa to the Djibouti border involves a long night drive through the desert and a crossing that can sometimes be unpredictable. During a trip in 2022, I tried to cross this remote border during Eid, only to discover that things were about to become far more complicated than expected.

Eid break, 2022.

My plan was simple.

Fly from Dubai to Hargeisa, spend a few days exploring Somaliland, and then cross the border overland into Djibouti before flying back home.

On the map it looked straightforward.

In reality, it meant a 12-hour night drive across the desert — which, to be honest, was one of the things I was most looking forward to. That kind of journey was actually one of the highlights of my plan.

The journey from Hargeisa to the Djibouti border is usually done in an overcrowded jeep, bouncing along sandy tracks that only experienced drivers seem able to navigate. There’s no GPS, no road signs, just drivers who somehow know their way through the desert.

Not the most comfortable journey, but definitely my kind of journey.

I was also the only foreigner in the jeep, the only white guy around.

At some point in the middle of the night we stopped in a small shack in the middle of nowhere. It was little more than a structure made from scrap wood, metal sheets and fabric.

There was absolutely nothing around it.

Everyone got out of the jeep and simply lay down on the floor to sleep.

I did the same.

A few hours later, around sunrise, we continued the drive and eventually reached the dusty border village.

At the checkpoint, a few officers were sitting on the ground drinking tea.

Everything seemed relaxed.

Too relaxed.

Then one of them said something that instantly changed the mood.

“The border is closed today.”

Closed?

“What do you mean closed?” I asked.

“It’s Eid.”

Apparently, on Eid the border simply doesn’t operate.

Everyone else waiting to cross seemed perfectly calm. As it often happens in Africa, nobody looked particularly surprised.

Only a local guy and I insisted.

After a long discussion, an even longer wait for the ancient computer to turn on, and my first ever $5 bribe, I finally got my passport stamped out of Somaliland.

Passport in hand, I started walking into no man’s land toward the Djiboutian border.

The distance between the two checkpoints was a couple of hundred meters. I had only walked about halfway when a group of Djiboutian soldiers started shouting.

“Go back! The border is closed!”

I tried to explain that I had a flight from Djibouti in a few days and couldn’t wait.

They didn’t seem interested.

“Come back tomorrow.”

Five minutes later, I was entering the Somaliland border building again.

The problem was that to visit Somaliland you normally need a visa that can only be obtained at the airport or at one of their diplomatic missions abroad.

The officer didn’t seem particularly concerned about it.

He stamped my passport again, this time on one of the first pages — the pages meant for the passport information itself, not for visas or immigration stamps.

Then, almost feeling bad for me, he said something I didn’t expect.

“Here… take your $5 back.”

I refused to take the money.

And just like that, I was back in Somaliland.

With no real plan.

My options were simple: spend the day in the border village and try again the next morning, or find a jeep going back to Hargeisa.

So I spent the whole day walking back and forth along the only dusty street of the village, chatting with a few peculiar characters — the kind of people you often find in remote border towns.

Eventually I made up my mind.

That same evening, I managed to find a spot in a jeep heading back to Hargeisa.

And just like that, I was crossing the desert again.

Sometimes travel plans don’t work out.

But the stories they create are often even better.