The Hidden History of Nouakchott: Mauritania’s Capital in the Shadow of Global Crises
Home / Nouakchott history
Nouakchott, the capital of Mauritania, is a city that defies expectations. Unlike ancient African metropolises like Timbuktu or Cairo, Nouakchott is a modern creation—a planned capital established in 1957, just before Mauritania’s independence from France in 1960. Built on the edge of the Sahara, the city was designed to symbolize a new era for a nation straddling Arab North Africa and Sub-Saharan Africa. Yet, its history is deeply intertwined with contemporary global challenges: migration, climate change, and geopolitical tensions.
Before Nouakchott, this stretch of coastline was a sparsely populated region where Berber and Arab nomads traded with fishing communities. The French colonial administration chose the site precisely because it was a blank slate—free from the tribal rivalries that dominated inland cities like Atar or Chinguetti. But the rapid urbanization of Nouakchott, fueled by droughts and rural exodus, turned it into a microcosm of Africa’s urban future.
Today, nearly one-third of Mauritania’s population lives in Nouakchott, many in informal settlements like El Mina or Arafat. These neighborhoods, named ironically after symbols of pilgrimage and refuge, are now on the frontlines of climate-induced displacement. Rising sea levels and desertification threaten the city’s fragile existence, a crisis mirrored in coastal cities from Dakar to Jakarta.
Mauritania’s location—between the Sahel and the Atlantic—has made Nouakchott a key node in trans-Saharan migration routes. Thousands of young men from Guinea, Mali, and Senegal pass through the city, hoping to reach the Canary Islands on ricklesse pirogues. The Spanish archipelago, just 600 miles northwest, has become a deadly symbol of Europe’s border crisis. In 2023 alone, over 15,000 migrants arrived there, with countless others disappearing into the ocean.
Nouakchott’s fishing docks, once hubs of local commerce, are now departure points for these perilous journeys. The EU’s outsourcing of border control to Mauritania has turned the city into a geopolitical battleground. Security funding and "migration management" deals flood in, but critics argue they ignore root causes: poverty, instability, and a warming planet pushing people to leave.
While international attention focuses on sub-Saharan migrants, Nouakchott’s own marginalized communities face systemic oppression. The Haratin, or "Black Moors," descend from enslaved populations and still endure discrimination despite slavery’s official abolition in 1981. In the city’s slums, many work as domestic servants or laborers under exploitative conditions—a dark legacy of Mauritania’s caste system.
Human rights groups accuse the government of downplaying the issue to maintain diplomatic ties with the West and Gulf states. Meanwhile, Nouakchott’s elite—often of Arab-Berber descent—live in gated enclaves like Tevragh-Zeina, a stark contrast to the Haratin’s zinc-roofed shantytowns.
Nouakchott is caught between two existential threats: desert expansion and coastal erosion. The Sahara advances southward at an estimated 3-5 miles per year, swallowing villages and pastures. Meanwhile, rising tides flood low-lying districts like Sebkha, where saltwater contaminates already scarce freshwater supplies.
The city’s reliance on fossil fuel-powered desalination plants—funded by Gulf donors—highlights the cruel irony of climate adaptation. Mauritania, despite contributing minimally to global emissions, faces ecological collapse while oil-rich patrons profit from the status quo.
Mauritania’s vast wind and solar potential has attracted European and Chinese investors. Projects like the Nouakchott Wind Farm promise clean energy, but locals ask: Who benefits? Most power is earmarked for foreign-owned mining operations extracting iron ore and copper, not for Nouakchott’s households, where blackouts are routine.
This "green colonialism" echoes broader African frustrations. At COP28, Mauritanian activists demanded reparations for climate losses, pointing to their vanishing coastline. Yet Nouakchott’s government, eager for investment, often prioritizes extraction over equity.
Nouakshott’s strategic location has made it a pawn in global power struggles. The U.S. operates a drone base near the city, targeting Sahelian jihadist groups. France, the former colonizer, retains military influence but faces growing anti-Western sentiment. Meanwhile, Russia’s Wagner Group courts Mauritanian officials, exploiting frustrations with Paris and Washington.
The Atlantic coast is also a hotspot for resource rivalry. Mauritania’s offshore gas fields, developed by BP and Kosmos Energy, could supply Europe post-Ukraine war. But fishing communities fear displacement, and activists warn of "another Niger Delta"—a sacrifice zone for foreign profit.
Unlike its flashy Belt and Road projects elsewhere, China’s presence in Nouakchott is subtle but pervasive. Huawei manages the city’s surveillance cameras, while state-backed firms build roads and ports. The goal? Access to minerals and a foothold near NATO’s southern flank.
For Nouakchott’s residents, these rivalries feel distant. Their daily struggles—finding water, work, or safety—are shaped by forces beyond their control. Yet in the city’s markets and mosques, debates rage: Is Mauritania a sovereign nation or a chessboard for outsiders?
Amid hardship, Nouakchott’s artists voice resilience. Bands like Noura Mint Seymali blend traditional Moorish music with protest lyrics, singing of migration and inequality. The city’s annual Festival des Désert, though smaller than Mali’s famed version, draws Saharan musicians defying borders with their melodies.
In the bustling Marché Capitale, women sell thieboudienne (fish and rice) and lakh (millet porridge)—dishes adapted to shrinking resources. The irony is bitter: Mauritania imports 70% of its food despite fertile traditions, a result of colonial cash-crop legacies and climate shocks.
Nouakchott’s dilemmas—climate migration, neocolonialism, urban fragility—are the world’s in miniature. Its fate hinges on global choices: Will the West address root causes of migration, or just militarize borders? Will "green energy" empower locals or enrich outsiders? Can a city built on sand outlast the rising tides?
For now, Nouakchott endures, its history still being written—one drought, one protest, one pirogue at a time.