Mon 25th Jan, Oriental Hotel, Hargeisa There is nothing much to be said of today. In the morning, i had a full lunch of rice and mutton before lazing in the hotel. Went out to just see the many buildings, as well as the lively markets. I get the usual “China!” catcalls, though the irony is that the chinese investment money doesn’t reach here, since it does not receive international recognition. Similarly, international investors are wary of putting money into the country, which the government and Somalilanders outside the country are trying to change by raising awareness of the situation here.
Had dinner of Shiroo (2000 Shillings), which is some sort of corn or millet paste that you eat with milk. The milk is sour, and i asked other patrons if it was meant to be sour. Yes. It was like eating curdled milk and i didn’t finish it, of course. Tomorrow, we head back into Ethiopia, into the walled city of Harar. Days like today are good, just staying put and relaxing. Running around on long distance buses every day would inevitably lead to burnout when one travels for such a long period. That being said, tomorrow onwards, i will be doing the long haul of 4 days from Harar to Nairobi in Kenya.
Elaborate henna tattoos, courtesy of Chris (thanks!).
Sun 24th Jan, Oriental Hotel, Hargeisa Cutting to the chase, today we made our way to Las Geel, 50 km out of Hargeisa. The Las Geel site is where a series of ancient cave paintings carbon dated back to 5000-3000 BC were discovered, back in 2003. And under normal circumstances, such a find would result in tourists coming from all over by the busloads. But since we are talking about Somaliland here, only a trickle of independent tourists make their way to this spectacular location.
First, we needed to arrange for transport and the mandatory security detail. For this, we walked down the main street westwards towards the Ministry of Culture and Tourism. The director general, who was reading an issue of National Geographic when we walked in, is a friendly old man who arranged for our permit. The entry fee into the site is 25 USD, the armed guard is 20 USD, and the transport to and fro is 60 USD. Pretty pricey i think. But there is a personal touch to it, since the director general himself offers us tea and shows us rock tools and neolithic knives in his office. Then he also sends along with us an English speaking employee of the Ministry. Mohamed speaks English with a very London accent, having spent time there before returning to Somaliland.
We took a car there, 5 of us: the driver, the armed soldier, the ministry guide and the two of us. Along the sealed road, we passed by several police checkpoints. They really take the security seriously here. Any harm to tourists would detract from their quest to potray Somaliland as a safe place, and hence for international recognition as a valid country.
Somali saying: “When one tries to ride two horses at once, one often ends with a scratched bum”
We turned off the main highway at the village near the twin Nasahablod hills. A further 5 km on rough terrain before we hit the base of the hill, where a single tourist hut has been built. According to the guide, there were 107 alcoves and sites all over Somaliland, 45 in Las Geel (of which maybe 25 are not caved in, and 5 are accessible to tourists) and 43 stone graves. We started at the base of the hill, visiting a series of alcoves.
The first alcove had the most detailed mural with peculiar shaped cows, people (one man was drinking with some instrument from the cow’s udder!), spears, dogs, dancing people in a circle. Women were painted with only the top half of their body showing. The second cave was similar with more amazing paintings. This one was also used as a council room where disputes are resolved. We continued uphill till we reached the highest cave, which was named the king’s cave. A stone ledge was where king would sit and he could view the entire plains below him from there. This cave was also the only one where it was not concave, an outcropping of rock protruded off the ceiling (dropped off) indicating this was a more important spot. Similarly more paintings. The walls and king’s rock “throne” was glazed with some sort of material so that the paintings would not come off after time. The French team who studied the place actually tried to simulate the same concoction used to paint the walls, but their version faded after only two months (whereas the ancient ones are thousands of years old!). We did a couple more alcoves with paintings, each one remarkably preserved. My favourite painting was a hunter protecting his herd from wild animals. My second favourite were a cow and bull humping each other, lol. Finally we ended at the lookout point. There was a small opening which overlooked the other side of the mountains. From here, the lookouts could use the near and far lookout points to see the entire expanse of the plains and warn their king of impending attacks.
I actually worry about the state of preservation of the paintings. There was a local guide with us yes, but the set up is not geared for the influx of mass groups of tourists, should this arise. Unlikely for now, since on my visa, i am tourist 424 as of Jan 2010. I’m assuming 001 was in Jan 2009, and so the country averages 1 tourist a day, also confirmed by Mohamed. Before leaving, we signed the guestbook, which had the last tourists to this site 4 days ago. So hopefully, these tourists don’t go around touching the paintings and defiling them.
On the way back, we passed the remains of an old tank, where of course i took the photo opportunity. And just inside the outermost checkpoint, our car, which had been traveling on really tough terrain of gravel and quartz, had a flat. The spare tire that they had didn’t fit at all (5 spokes instead of 4 slots available) so we had to wait for a bit before taking public transport back.
Sat 23rd Jan, Oriental Hotel, Hargeisa Woke up and had some tea. Somaliland tea is lovely, shah they call it. It is not like those tea-0 without milk in tiny little glasses found everywhere else which i never could understand. I mean, how can one get enough to drink? One gulp and the shai is gone. Here, however, a generous helping of tea is served in a metal mug, with camel milk in it.
The rest of the journey into Hargeisa took about 1 hour or so. We reached into the outskirts of the city, the residential area. The buildings walls of the shops are painted in bright colours, light green, pink and the wares they sell are painted in English and other languages (somali, arabic) as well as drawn onto the walls. So the electronics shop has pictures of telephones and radios, the restaurant has a picture of plates, goats and camels. The qat booths are green and had pictures of what else, qat.
The 4×4 drove us to the hotel. We ended up at the Oriental Hotel (s/d 15, 25 USD) since the first choice was full. It was a very nice place, if a tad pricey. But split within the two of us, with its excellent location by the souq, and free wifi (woohooo!), im sold. We went out for lunch.
The people go about doing their own thing. The streets are surprisingly relatively clean, police officers, traffi policemen direct people along. In general there is a certain bustle and life in the city. They are also quite welcoming, with none of the hassling found elsewhere. This could possibly be attributed to the need for recognition internationally. Or they are really just friendly people. In town we passed by the MiG jet memorial, and the car which went past 27 countries from Sheffield in England to here, to raise awareness of Somaliland.
The Somali language is distinctly different from back in Ethiopia. Where back there, the people are soft spoken (ish), often ending their sentences with abrupt sucking in of air, and chaining their words fast (even though they argue a lot, over everything and anything, but that’s another story), here in Somaliland, they literally shout out their words. It seems like a coarser language, raising their voices especially when they speak to each other, even though there is obviously no ill intent. As such, the Somaliland women, in the colourful robes and headgear, seem altogether like a more robust bunch of people who are visible on the streets.
As you might see, i like the vibe of the town. We had camel meat for lunch (3800 SSH, erm, thats Somaliland Shillings). The currency is getting bigger and bigger. First it was 1 SGD to 40 Egypt pounds and 1 SGD to 20 Sudan pounds. Then it was 1 SGD to approx 10 Ethiopian birr. Then it was 1 SGD to 125 Djibouti francs. Now it is 1 SGD to approx 4700 Somaliland shillings. And since the only denomination that seem to widely exist is the 500 shilling note (besides the widely accepted USD), i am now carrying an insane wad of notes with me. I changed 20 USD today at the money exchange (check out those cute little money changer boxes and piles) and what i got are a stack of 264 notes. It makes sense however, since most of the country survive on 1 USD a day, poverty is a given outside the city area i think.
yes that wad of cash is 20 USD.
Ok, back to lunch. I had to try camel meat and it was really good too, though i gorged on a little too much camel fat. It is stewed in what tastes like mutton soup back home. Cost? 38000 SSH which fed both of us. That is around 8 SGD for a huge meal (or 76 of those shilling notes!!). After lunch, we went to chill in the hotel (wifi and satelite tv) before going back out again to explore the streets a bit and have dinner. Tomorrow we will try to arrange something to Las Geel, a series of cave paintings dating back to 9000-3000 BC.
Fri 22st Jan, In the back seat of a 4×4, Djibouti – Somaliland Border
Nothing is open this morning in the city. First we went south to the street where the 4WDs are parked. These leave for the Somaliland capital of Hargeisa. We arranged with the people there to pick us up at the hotel at 3pm later today. Price negotiated? It was 5000 DJF for front row seats and 3000 DJF for back row. Of course we picked the cheaper option, with an added 500 DJF each for the backpacks. Next we walked down to the beach to catch some salty air and went back to the internet cafe. There was no breakfast as all the shops were closed. Friday is the weekend. In most places elsewhere, shops open in the morning, close for lunch friday prayers, and reopen again. Here i think shops stay close in the morning, remain closed for friday prayers, and then everyone gets high on qat so everything is closed all day.
After checking out of the hotel, we had a quick lunch outside before making a beeline for the hotel grounds to wait for our pickup. The afternoons nowadays are characterised by both of us hiding in the shade somewhere. It is way too stifling hot here. The pickup was at 330pm and they took us to the 4WD street. Wait here, they say. And we waited, for about 2 hours. We wondered who would be our neighbours in the car. We had lots of time to sit there and wander too. Me, i’m the spectacle who hears “China” or “Hey you, China!” each time they try to catch my attention.
One thing i never could understand is why there is so much rubbish littering the streets. Here in Djibouti City, especially, i would expect to be better managed since it is such a cosmopolitan place where businesses and trade takes place. In front of us is this drain clogged up. True, there are workers assigned as rubbish pickers who walk all over the place to clean up after rubbish thrown by everyone. But why not just put bins everywhere and then get these rubbish pickers to clear the bins. That would be so much more efficient. But like Chris and I concluded, the style of management here is more reactive than preemptive. In this case, if nothing goes wrong, eg. There is no outbreak of disease or eiots or something, then let throwing rubbish on the ground carry on. Strikes me as being a very short term kind of thinking.
The 4×4 finally decides to leave just before sunset. We will travel in the night because the sun would be too hot to travel in the day. There were 12 people in the car, all Somalis. The driver, two ladies up front. 4 guys in the 2nd row, one of whom was totally qat-stoned for the ENTIRE 16 hour ride. And then 5 of us lumped together in the square area in the back. Well 4 actually since one guy was seated perenially on the roof during the journey.
And off we went. First to the border at Loyada, which was a painless process on both sides of the customs. We had to change 4WDs though, and so had to lug our belongings around. I think the reason is because the vehicles don’t run on either’s roads. Djibouti is right hand drive whereas Somaliland is left hand drive, following the British system. One of the Somalilanders in the back with us is a nice guy who speaks English and helps us along the entire trip
A bit about Somaliland then, though i am hardly an expert and my facts are probably messed up. Initially divided during the colonisation period in the ‘Scramble for Africa’. The British got what is today Somaliland, the Italians got what is Puntland and Somalia, while the French got Djibouti, and the Ethiopians got what is today the Ogaden region of eastern Ethiopia. When Brit and Italian Somalia gained independence in 1960, they merged to form present day’s Somalia. The new 5 pointed Somalia flag was done up, a sign of uniting the 5 regions (Somaliland, Puntland, Somalia, Djibouti, Ogaden region). However, over time the northwestern Somalilanders felt increasingly marginalized as the cultures are different, influenced by the marxist like regime of Siad Barre. The Djibouti Somalis, meanwhile prefered continued French rule while an invasion into the Ogaden region failed. At the start of the ongoing Somalia civil war, in 1991, the Somaliland rebels declared a breakaway independent state. This led to the main government reacting and bombing Hargeisa to ruins. However, the Somalilanders have recreated their city, set up a government, ministries, a proper education system and a semblance of proper governance since then. Unfortunately, they are not recognised internationally, despite much effort (this car below traveled 27 countries to raise awareness of Somaliland), and remains a part of Somalia. The reason for this i think would be UN and other bodies still hoping for a resolution to the Somali conflict, which continues to be in the news even now, albeit for different reasons (now extremism worries after the transitional govt etc) than 10 years ago.
So, excluding the occasional trouble where Somali terrorists from Mogadishu sneak into Somaliland borders to cause trouble (there are plenty of recent cases), Somaliland is a safe place. But just in case, we are required to have armed bodyguards whenever we get out of the city.
After the border crossing, the road turns to shite. The road is not sealed, and the terrain is a flat sandy ground, surrounded by dry low 1.5 shrubs. I have no idea how the driver navigates in the absence of a proper road, he is following the criss-crossing tyre tracks ahead. The 4 of us at the back are suffering. You get what you pay for. Sitting cross legged, my head smashes into the ceiling repeatedly, and i have trouble trying to get a hold of something. There are also some equipment undearneath us like a large coil of nylon rope underneath me which made it very uncomfortable. The terrain got worse when we started climbing uphill. Tossed all over to the back of the 4×4, i tried many times to sleep on the floor. But each time my ribs smash into the underside, and i will wake up in pain. Finally at around 5am, we stopped somewhere to sleep for 2 hours, before carrying on.
From top to bottom: La Nation weekly papers in Djibouti, menu from my fav restaurant, fish shoppe, random building, our vehicle to Hargeisa, me by the Djibouti beach that smells of fish.
ps / i really apologise for the crap grammar, but these entries are getting way to long and i cbf to change them. hahaha.
Thu 21st Jan, Horseed Hotel, Djibouti City The best laid plans come to nought sometimes. We started off the day with the intention of taking a dhow across the bay to Tadjoura. As im writing this, we are still in Djibouti City. For the purpose of this entry, the conversion of DJF to SGD is around 125 DJF to 1 SGD.
In the morning, we first got breakfast (fuul and bread and honey for 700 DJF) at a street restaurant before making our way down to the banks and Ethiopian embassy. I didn’t need the latter since I have multiple entries, but Chris figured he’d better sort out his reentry asap.
Waited for a bit, till i got bored and went off to get some Internet time. (300 DJF/ hour). Then we got back to the hotel, and rushed down to the L’escale, which is the set off point for boats carrying Qat across the bay north. Chris wanted to get aboard the slower dhows (which take 3 hours) but there were only the fast speedboats (45 minutes, 2000 DJF) which were pricey. I was ok with just sitting around in the city, to be honest, so in the end we foregoed the idea. The rushing down to the harbour though, left us completely drenched in sweat. The afternoon sun here is brutal.
We had lunch next, at one of the many streetside restaurants. These were considerably cheaper than what lonely planet gives. The author who wrote this section must have really lived well here, for he recommends only the posher eateries where the expat and loaded tourist community who goes on package tours would hang out. Lunch then was by other countries’ standards, very pricey, but affordable (1000 DJF for a meal of what seems like Briyani Rice with chicken and acar and a fruit cocktail for dessert). Entirely worth it if you ask me. The other thing to note is that from lunch to around 3, the qat trucks arrive from Ethiopia, and all the shops close for a couple of hours. And everywhere on the street, the qat eaters get stoned.
I am not well. I must have caught something along the way. Right after the late lunch, we made our way back to the room. My runny nose that i’ve been carrying over the past couple days is getting worse. And now this is compounded by a phlegmy cough. I do hope it is nothing serious. In the late afternoon i decided to sleep it off.
Woke up for dinner feeling considerably better, though i have no voice now. Sigh. We went out nearby to another streetside restaurant. I do not think everyone here speaks fluent French, the restaurant owners do Arabic better. In Djibouti, there would be a host of immigrant workers coming into the city to make a living. Then you have the expats who come in and work here. And when we say expats, it is not only the westerners. We did see the French foreign legion rumbling around town in their jeeps, as well as the occasional American GIs. And we also saw plump western women in tank tops walking huge dogs in the hot afternoon sun. But there were also the the Indian money changers, Africans from elsewhere and Arabs from across the sea. Case in point, there was a group of 5 or 6 expat Arab kids aged around 5 to 12 at the next table. They knew they were the bosses, eating dinner and frequently calling out to the restaurant staff by name and asking for this and that. It was pretty difficult to tell where each one was from though. Elsewhere, facial features would tell from which tribe or people they belong. Here it is a smogasboard (sp?) of people.
Then you have the poorer folk, a stark contrast to the rest of the city. They are everywhere, begging for change (where change is this case can be coins of up to 4SGD value!). Opposite from us, hunched beside a parked pickup, is a father and son duo squatting down and eating from the floor. They beg, not only from the tourists, but also from the locals.
Tomorrow morning, we decided we will leave with one of the many battered 4WDs going to Hargeisa, Somaliland. That trip will take all of 20 hours, and i hope i’m well enough to be up to it
Wed 20th Jan, Horseed Hotel, Djibouti City We got up early in the morning and went out to the main drag. We will need to approach the many truck drivers by the road and try to flag one down. One who would be willing to take us down to Djibouti not at cutthroat prices. It would be difficult, since we didn’t arrange something the night before.
Fortunately, at our 5th or 6th try, a friendly Ethiopian trucker who spoke decent English stopped for us. He was willing to take us to the border and no more. Better than nothing, we thought and took up his offer.
The terrain on either side of the road into Djibouti was described on the maps as plains. I stared out my window. A plain of rocks. Flanked by more rocks. More Afar houses and yet more rocks. After the border crossing though, i begin to see sparse patches of green here and there. It was pretty boring watching these go on for hours and hours. I wonder how truckers break the monotony of driving down the road for 8 hours straight. And our driver will drive for 4 days in total, to and fro. It was easy to fall asleep at the wheel, even in the day. And this was evident from the many carcasses of trucks we see littering the roadside. Little remained of these trucks, anything that was useful from them would have be removed.
The border crossing at both sides was pretty painless. Our driver worried that Ethiopian vehicles were not supposed to carry passengers through to Djibouti. But the customs officer waved off a tout who was trying to get us to go aboard their 4WD. So, we stayed aboard our truck and carried on. At another checkpoint along the way, a Djibouti officer made us open up our baggage and rummaged through everything, going on and on about Al-Qaeda suspects, just because he can. According to our driver, all the guy wanted was a bribe “some Qat money” to let us go through, but no. I was not going to give him the satisfaction. It was a hassle, and yes, he had that smug look on his face, but in the end he let us go. On hindsight, he was probably just doing his job.
We reached the outskirts of Djibouti City which is as far as the truck went and paid our driver (200 birr each). This was an Ethiopian shanty village located outside the city. A minivan took us into the city proper and charged us 50 birr each (the locals we saw paid less than 10 birr). The driver came out and created such a scene until we backed down and just paid him his 100 birr. For a 10 minute ride into the city.
In Djibouti City. Finally, after three solid weeks in Ethiopia, i was exploring a new place. Everything here is in French. The signs, the french foreign legion, the french speaking locals. It was a place to explore, albeit an expensive one where we would not stay more than a few days. But first, we would have to look for our budget hotel. The Horseed Hotel is a budget hotel located at the edge of the city area. It has shared bathrooms and is pretty much what a similar hotel in Ethiopia would look like. The cost of the Ethiopian hotel – 7 SGD, benchmarking the Dessie twin-bed one. The cost of the Horseed Hotel (one of the cheapest, if not THE cheapest, in Djibouti) – 48 SGD.
I went out by myself in the evening to look for the ATM (we had no Djibouti francs with us). The Islamic Saaba bank was the only one that accepted VISA and Mastercard. Walked around a bit more, a foreigner here is a common sight, though in the European quarter, there was the same extraordinary amount of hassle from people wanting to help you with something you don’t need, and then demanding payment. I bought some water and baguettes, getting the change in coins. I noticed that i have to be careful with my coins here. Back in Ethiopia, i give out my spare change once in a while to those beggars who are unable to make a living themselves, due to some disability for example. That would set me back 2 cents SGD. Here a coin could have a value of up to almost 4 SGD!
We woke up at 6 and found our security detail, two policemen, one armed with a rifle, looking over us. We set off, armed only with some biscuits and 4.5 litres of water between us, not knowing how far the lakes were, or even how many days we would have to stay out. This was because we had no way of communicating clearly what we required, which was a trip to the 5 lakes around the region. The two policemen were dressed in uniform on this day, but they were carrying little else, so we figured whatever supplies we had with us would be sufficient.
We carried on the gravel road, continuing where the bus dropped us off yesterday. According to them, it was an 8km walk to the first lake. Along the way, we passed by several Afar homes, many herds of goats, some camels, and locals headed in either direction. All throughout, the birdlife was spectacular. It would need a birdwatcher to truly appreciate the birdlife on show. My point and click Olympus fails miserably at capturing the sights.
We reached a large stream where the bridge was long gone. We had to ford the river further upstream. In the meantime, there was the show of a herd of cows trying to cross the stream. They simply refused to step into the knee deep water even after being cajoled by their minders. It was quite a hilarious sight watching the cows making a beeline for the same bank after they had been pushed halfway across the stream. In the end they did the same as us and forded elsewhere along the stream.
We reached Lake Afambo and Lake Gamarri after two hours walking. The lakes were set against the backdrop of the mountains bordering Djibouti. They were murky swampy lakes, filled with crocodiles, especially on the opposite bank of one of the many tributaries. A few had their mouths wide open on the banks. Another highlight was when we were walking along the lake’s shoreline. Nestled on a tree barely metres away from us was a huge python. We did not manage to go further down the shore though, the undergrowth was too thick.
Then came the surprise. The guides signalled we are done and should go back.
“Back? But what about the rest of the lakes?”
They waved their forefinger tellingly.
“But we specfically stated we want to go to all of the lakes, especially Abbe with its Mars terrain setting”
But there was no way we could convince them otherwise, and we ended up hanging around the lake for maybe 15 more minutes before they again told us we had to go back..
Well that was silly, we going through all the trouble, including a couple of days waiting in Logiya, just for the hour by the lakes. We were pretty annoyed that the excursion was so brief. And the bit that takes the cake was that the fee for each policeman guide was 150 birr. Of course we were adamant that we will not be paying 300 birr for half a days work. Our justification was that we did not ask for two guides (the three 4wds we passed by on the way back had 2 police guides for the 10 foreign tourists), we had spent only half a day and we did not get to see our intended lakes. Instead we will offered 200 birr, which resulted in a protracted negotiation before they finally gave in.
We had reached back by noon and decided to go back to Asaita then Logiya. We will spend the night there (yummy fuul and chilli powder yoghurt) before making our way to Djibouti. At night, we tried to arrange for transport on one of the many trucks that ply their way down to Djibouti City after overnighting in Logiya but the initial price quoted was 1000 birr (why do they even quote us such ridiculous prices!) This eventually went down to 300 but our LP published in Oct 2009 says 200 so we stood our ground. After all, this guy we are dealing with is a middleman. Tomorrow early morning, we will stand by the roadside and try to hitch with the truck drivers themselves, effectively bypassing the middleman.
Mon 18th Jan, Police Station, Afambo village Early morning found us taking a minibus to Semera (2.5 birr) and finally getting the permit done up (100 birr each). With this valuable prize in hand, we returned back to Logiya (Semera was still awfully desolate despite it being a working day) to catch a minibus to Asaita, which is the base to start from when one wants to visit the lakes. The minibus ride was 25 birr (18 for passenger, 7 for my bag).
Reached Asaita at around lunch and asked our way to the police station. There was difficulty here in getting anyone to understand what we wanted, but we eventually managed to get the point across that we needed a guide, as per required by regulation. However, we decided to start from Afambo, a settlement marked on our map as being much nearer to the lakes than Asaita was. We asked around in town and there was a local small bus shuttling between Asaita and Afambo. This would cut down a lot of walking time. The plan was good, since we could also pick up our guide and camel to carry our stuff over there. The bus leaves at 3pm, so we had a couple of hours to spare.
Asaita is a surprisingly bustling little town, with a central square where the minibuses leave from. We had lunch at the Basha Hotel restaurant, (pasta, yum), and the rear of the hotel overlooked the lush greenery of the Awash river. Make no mistake, it was still terrifyingly hot out here, but here along the Awash, a sliver of green trees and shrubs, coupled together with a score of birdlife, stood out against the background of the Afar desert. A reminder that we were still on the lower borders of the Danakil region.
While waiting at the main square after lunch, a local Afar guy offered to beat Chris up. He thanked him but refused. We boarded the bus (6 birr) at the square, before it made a detour to the residential Asaita area where the bus filled up (residential: don’t think big apartment buildings, rather think haphazard maze of straw and wooden shacks. As usual, out here, no one really bothers about overcrowding (what? Your minibus seats only 12? No problem, we can squeeze in 20 people). The Afar locals seated all around us in the bus, with the sharp daggers and sharper teeth. It was quite the spectacle. Then there was the cutest little girl of about 8, with really sharp teeth that she was self-conscious about and tried to hide.
We reached Afambo, around 20 km away from Asaita along a gravel road. I think the village was actually called Hawsa, located in the Afambo district, but i couldn’t confirm it, since out here, barely anyone speaks English. We just refered to the whole place as Afambo. We got off and asked for the police station. A man seated together with a group by the roadside came over. He, in his sarong, introduced himself as the police chief. Okayyyy. It was all wooden shacks in this village, and a couple of dilapidated important looking stone buildings at the back of the village, a full 100m away. We headed towards one of these, the police station. It looked more like an abandoned single storeyed mansion more than a police station, notwithstanding its faded pink exterior facade.
Surrounded by more sarong wearing policemen, we showed them our permit. “No problem, no problem” which seemed to be the only English they spoke. We would have to stay overnight in the village, before waking up the next morning, where our security detail would act as our guide as we make our way towards the lakes, namely, Lake Afambo, Lake Boha, Lake Gamarri and Lake Abbe. This would take some days, but as we discussed with each other, basing ourselves at Afambo meant we needed to only take day trips out, thus avoiding the need for camel porters to carry our bags.
There was a grand total of one village shop selling neccesities in Afambo. This particular shop does not sell bottled water (wuha? No sorry, we don’t sell wuha). Neither does it sell any supplies one might need while traveling to the lakes iunder the hot sun. The other problem (“no problem, no problem” says the policemen) was that there was nowhere to spend the night…we were told to sleep in the police station itself.
And so, in the evening, we set up our sleeping bags on the dirty floor, in the one room in the police station that was not locked. This room, devoid of any other furniture, was the sleeping quarters of the local sarong-clad police force. Still, they were kind enough to share with us their humble abode. None of them were there yet when we turned in. It was dark, there was no electricity in the entire village, and it was hot in the room. So, slathering myself with mosquito repellent, i went outside within the police station grounds for a walk. And there alone, for want of a better thing to do, underneath the African starry sky, i begin to dance. Oh, and i forgot to mention, there were a couple of prisoners locked behind bars together with us in the back rooms of the police station. They shouted at us to come over, and I fled.
Sun 17th Jan, National Hotel, Logiya Now the Afar region we were in is decidedly Muslim, and the locals were dressed in sarongs. They would be able to pass off as dark skinned arabs easily, especially the older folk, if not for a couple of things. First, the young guys had their funky hair. The locals here grow their hair long, in neat afros, and the epitome of fashion here is to have a twig or a leaf sticking out of their hair. The women, on the other hand, had theirs delicately plaited. The other standout feature was their teeth. I tried hard not to stare, but i could not take my eyes off their sharpened teeth (incisors included). Not all of them had them, but those that did, looked fearsome indeed. Photographs of people were a rarity here, for the locals did not want some faranji coming along and making them some sort of exhibit.
It is Sunday so the tourist office was still closed. I spent the rest of the day reading. Chris lent me one of his many books, Shadow of the Sun, and anecdotal account of the author’s (Ryszard Kapuscinski) travels in Africa over 40 years. It was a good read, and i’d recommend it.
Meals in Logiya were a heartening affair. Possibly here in the far corners of Ethiopia, injeera was not the de facto dish. Over the past couple days, i have had spaghetti with local sauce (10 birr), their version of fuul (my favourite, possibly 8 birr), and a peculiar yoghurt-like cold dish which you eat with bread and chilli powder mixed into the yoghurt (?? – sometimes sugar in place of the chilli powder also works). For drinks, i had, besides the usual bottled coke, a malt like cold drink in a mug and fresh milk in a recycled bottle (goat, sheep or maybe camel). After each meal, i would be happy (since its not injeera based) and Chris would be happy (cos he ate a lot).
Sat 16th Jan, National Hotel, Logiya The bus from Dessie went east towards to Asaita, but we would be stopping halfway in Semera (41 birr). Semera is the administrative capital of the Afar region, and we are headed there to pick up the tourist permission and compulsory guide to travel the lakes. For the purpose of this and the next couple of entries, the bus route through the towns is in the following order: Dessie –> Bati —> Mille –> Logiya –> Semera —> Asaita. From Asaita, a little local bus goes to Afambo village.
We started off in Dessie, made good progress on good sealed roads, hitting Bati for breakfast. Bypassed Mille, which was on a T-junction joining the road from the south and going northwards The terrain started to change dramatically as we moved northeastwards. From the cold highlands of Dessie, we traversed into the sweltering Afar region.Trees gave way to sparse bushes and rocky expanses of wasteland made more obvious by the complete absence of a water source. And in the midst of all this are the Afar people. Their domed huts dotted the side of the roads. One hut here, a few there. How do they survive in this heat? Why do they live here? Is there a settlement nearby? Where do they get their water supply? It is truly mind boggling, and i think i will not last a day out here. More on the Afar later.
When we hit Logiya, a bunch of passengers got off. Next stop was Semera, a mere 8km away from Logiya. The bus nearly skipped the town, not stopping till i yelled Wora Jaale! Which means stop! We were the only ones to get off, and we should have seen this as a warning of things to come. For Semera, the regional capital, with its stone buildings, is a ghost town. There were buildings, barracks aplenty, but there were no shops in sight, and hardly any activity going on. And it was hot, oh, it was HOT. We got off and found the one hotel in town, a seedy 5 room place by the side of the main road (oh look, a made-in-the-USA condom supplied on the dresser).Placed our things (man, this place is hot) and looked for the tourist office.
It is difficult to find anymore English speaking locals up here, so we were in trouble with our non-existent Amharic. Fortunately, there was a french speaking security guard who tried to help us. Unfortunately, he couldn’t, for it was a Saturday and all the offices were closed. Two options, skip the lakes and go up to Djibouti directly tomorrow, or stay the weekend and come back here on Monday. We took up option 2, and decided to make our way back to Logiya, 8km down south, where there was some semblance of village life. Semera is a dead town, the kind you imagine in those old westerns, with balls of straw rolling on the sandy ground. And it is hot.
We had to flag a passing truck to take us back into Logiya. Now this was a proper little town. We took up a coupld of rooms at the National Hotel (25 birr each) and went out for lunch. Lunch was in a restaurant with a sheep on the restaurant floor (we had tibs for 20 birr). Yes a live sheep, nonchalantly going about its own business. It could be their pet, or potentially dinner, i really don’t know.
There was no power supply in the hotel, and the barely there light emanating from the light bulb in my room was powered by a generator that ran from dusk till 11pm. There were communal toilets, and the shower was a little straw shack placed over some rocks. We had to get buckets and collect water from the trough to bathe with. Sigh. We had Sunday as well in this town, so we might as well get comfortable. Oh and somewhere on the journey from Addis to here, i lost my headlamp. I replaced it with a chunky made-in-china torch (25 birr).
