Road To Addis Part 3: Marsabit, Africa's Own Wild West

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The lorry roled into a small, dry, dusty outpost of a town where trucks congregate to form a convoy before heading north to Moyale, as what lay ahead was bandit country and lorries are prone to being raided by Somali's fleeing the fighting in their own country and desperate to get anything they can sell on. This was also the place where they were assigned armed escorts (a guy with a sub-machine gun). If it wasn't for the African people, this could be a hollywood film set for a western.

There were 3 blocks of buldings that were made up resteraunts, shops and pubs that had faiding paint and covered in the yellow dust that formed a gritty layer over everything including my clothes, face and hands. The town has about 3 small blocks of shops, pubs, resteraunts amd hotels. I'm not sure it had running water so rather risk streaks of mud over my face with no water too wash it off I oly washed my hands off.

The truck parked in the middle of a junction (the only traffic of significance were the trucks about to head off to Moyale) and we where told that this is where it would be staying for the next 2 hours.

We climbed off the lorry, very stiff from the ride and headed towards the nearest resteraunt that would serve us chips. After a small serving we decided to walk around Marsabit for a while. This is when we noticed that the truck had moved. The drivers assistant told us that it had just gone to unload and would be back soon. So we continued walking.

As I said earlier, Marsabit is not very big. We didnt have far to walk. The local cinema (a room with chairs/benches and a tv at the front) was about the only entertainment on offer. The show was a Nigerian soap opera. At least we had found some where to watch the Ecuador-England game if the truck was stopping here for the night (the people on it didn't speak English that well and so we didn't know if they were giving us answers to the question we asked or the question they thought we asked).

An hour later we went for another walk to look for the truck, the drivers assistant told us to wait at the cross roads and the truck would be there in the next half an hour. We went back to the cinema and ended up watching a weird Nigerian music video starring a 'blinged' up 7 year old kid dancing in the middle of some provocitivly dressed women, rubbing their asses on his head!

We kept checking the cross roads for the truck, but it still hadn't turned up. After it was an hour over due I realised that the other trucks heading north had set off in convoy. We walked around the town trying to find any one on the truck. We couldn't see them.

Then the thought that maybe the truck had left with out us entered my head. We waited abit longer. The truck was now over 2 hours over due.

It was time to asked for help. I found the resteraunt owner that served us earlier as he spoke fluent English and explained to him what had happened. He told us where to look and when that bore no fruit he went off to look for himself. He returned 20 minutes later and pointed us in the direction of the police station.

Mike decided to walk back to the meeting point and wait while I was making out the police report.

It was a long walk to the police station all I could do was keep going over the things in my pack and remind myself that I don't actually need anything in there it was just sentiment that meant that I was sad about the incident. Then I remembered that the memory card with my photo's from Lke Nivasha were also in the pack.

Once I got there I was approached by an English speaking police offices who asked me if I was lost. I explained what had happened. He asked me for the registration of the truck...

I realised, at this point, that I had forgotten to do the simplest thing in the world and take a note of the trucks registration. I felt about about as big as an ant. I proceeded to write out what we had on the truck.

They then explained to me what happens next. Basically there is atleast one other check point just outside Moyale where they would stop every truck and search them. If they managed to retrieve our bags then the police in Moyale would keep them for us until we got there. When ever that was. I also started praying that the other truck drivers would not curse me for holding them up (Mike and I stood out like penguins in a desert).

Just as they were radioing through when Mike comes running up. This could mean one of 2 things,...

Firstly that he had found out that they had set off. Or that they had turned up.

THEY HAD TURNED UP!!!!!!!!!! What a releif. I almost started singing.

We ran back to the pick up point borded and waited for it to leave.

And waited.

And waited.

It was now 6pm and the England - Ecuador game had started. Niether of us dared leave the truck this time so we had to settle for occassional trips to the cinema to catch a glimps of the score. At least they had gotten rid of the wheel barrows and half of the boxes (the half at the front of the of the cargo area) so now had lots of space and a flat area where we could stretch out in. If only the damn thing would move.

At the start of half time we set off. At last. Or so we thought. We actually drove round the corner and started loading crates of fizzy drink bottles. The space was now filling up and crates of coke aren't the most comfortable thing to sleep or sit on. Damn.

How ever my spirits were high after finding out that my bags hadn't been stolen that I even started to help load the thing.

When every thing was loaded we started driving. We drove back to the pick up point as they had run out of meera and needed to stock up.

As every ones English had improved with the consumption of meera (and some food) I took the opportunity to ask how long until we got to Moyale. I was told that it was about a 7 hour drive as the truck was now not over loaded and we should be able to make good time. We were then told that we would actually be stopping off over night but we would be leaving very early in the morning. The general line was not to worry, we would get there in time to catch some sort of bus to Addis Ababa.

Finally, after another 15 people plus cargo had gotten on we set off. The armed escort boarded at the Marsabit gate, checked his AK-47 and was then handed some meera!!!

The drive was being conducted at night, but I figured that they knew what they were doing. Besides there have been so many places that I have visited that rumour and official advice say not to set foot in and once I get there there it's not much different from every where else I've been.

Besides how bad could travelling through bandit country on a dirt road at night a thousand miles from the nearest major city with an armed guard smashed on meera be?

I kept an eye out any way.

At the moment we were still on course to make Addis Ababa on Monday evening, despite the jokes from Natalie and Rennay that it would talke us at least 5 days (Monday was day 3).

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