54 – Of crocodiles and giant pythons

Tue 19th Jan, National Hotel, Logiya

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.

53 – How I spent my night in a police station with no electricity and two crazies in a cell

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.