When Yared Agonafer, an Ethiopian gold and silver merchant, set out to buy a car five years ago, he settled quickly on the model: a 1977 Volkswagen Beetle. The low price was its main draw, but nostalgia motivated him too.

“My father had a Beetle when I was a kid,” says Yared, who recalls being ferried to school and family parties in the car. “Whenever I drive mine, I have these memories. I love it.”

The Beetle was pioneered in 1930s Germany, the product of Adolf Hitler’s desire for a cheap and reliable vehicle for the masses. In the decades after the second world war, millions were shipped abroad, and the car became an unlikely symbol of hippy counterculture. It held the record for most vehicles sold until about 2000 when it was overtaken by the Toyota Corolla.

Beetles arrived in Ethiopia during the reign of Haile Selassie. When the emperor was deposed by communist soldiers in 1974, he was bundled into a Beetle on the steps of his palace and driven away to imprisonment.

Today, Beetles are still a common sight in Addis Ababa, the capital, where they can be spotted negotiating cobbled residential streets or parked in rush-hour traffic. Their enduring popularity is a quirk of Ethiopia’s distorted car market, where import duties of up to 200% mean secondhand vehicles are wildly expensive. A 25-year-old Toyota can fetch 1.3m Ethiopian birr (£9,200) for example. By contrast, Beetles cost about 250,000 birr (£1,750).

With their sturdy frames, the cars have a reputation for durability, and they are easy to maintain. Spare parts can be readily sourced, and you can fix most problems yourself or with a mechanic at the other end of the phone, says Yared. Another reason Yared likes his Beetle is the stiffness of its clutch and steering wheel. “Driving this car is good for your health, like a workout,” he says.

Then there is the tug of fond childhood memories.

“Ethiopians love Volkswagens because they grew up with them,” says Nigussie Desalegn, a body technician at a specialist Volkswagen garage in Addis Ababa, whose compound is strewn with the rusting shells of old Beetles that have been cannibalised for their parts.

Nigussie has spent two decades working on Beetles, vehicles he describes as “living museums”. “For a long time, this was the only car people knew,” he says. “Nothing else was available in Ethiopia.”

For Esayas Gezaghe, a carpenter and metalworker getting his battered white and yellow Beetle serviced at the garage, the car’s practicality is its biggest draw. He uses his Beetle to transport heavy loads of wood and steel, which he fastens to a metal frame on the roof. But he also remembers summer holidays spent helping his father, a mechanic who fixed Beetles. “I started my business with this car 20 years ago,” he says. “I’ll never sell it, it’s part of my identity.”

Many people in Addis Ababa associate Beetles with old men who still pootle about in the rickety models they bought half a century ago, but a younger generation of petrolheads have also embraced the car and its vintage look.

These include Abiy Nigussie, who recently set up a body shop that restores Beetles and other retro cars to pristine condition. He owns two Beetles, including his father’s orange 1971 model, which sits at the back of the workshop covered in a fine layer of dust, awaiting restoration.

In his office, Abiy pulls up a series of photos on an iPad showing his father and uncles with the car in its heyday. For Abiy, it is more than just a vehicle. “This car witnessed decades of family history – building a home, having kids – it basically raised us,” he says. “From my earliest memories, it’s been there.”

Abiy belongs to a club of 20 fellow VW Beetle enthusiasts called City Cruise, which only admits those with immaculately restored models. The members are mostly young professionals – lawyers, architects, data analysts – who have refurbished their Beetles from top to bottom, from the engine and paintwork to the chrome wing mirrors and leather upholstery.

The group convenes once a month for coffee, lunch and a cruise around the city. “We would always see each other at the garage when we went to service our cars, so we decided why not set up a club,” says Emmanuel Alemayehu, City Cruise’s co-founder. “It’s more like a family now. We support each other, as well as driving these beautiful cars.”

During a recent meet, passersby and other motorists stopped to wave, shout compliments and take photos as the convoy of gleaming Beetles drove through central Addis Ababa. “People are ecstatic when they see these cars on the street,” says Emmanuel. “There’s something about them that they just love.”