Well Come Ferengee

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Plea note things might be abit hazey, it has been 9 months.

Argh Its Raining
I hauled myself out of bed at 4ish and couldn’t help but notice the rain thumping down outside. Begrudgingly I showered packed a day bag and put my main pack, that I was leaving behind into its pack safe. Renee knocked on my door just too make sure that I was actually awake an d still going as they thought that the whether would have made me change my mind. Natalie even confessed that as soon as she heard the rain she thought I would be staying behind.

Bags in the main office we went down to see if the taxi we had arranged was there. It wasn’t! Instead we did find another taxi driver sleeping in his car. He seemed startled when we woke him. On the way to the bus station we were told to close the windows, there were rabid dogs running around the streets.

Addis Bus Station At 5 am
We carefully picked our way over the rocks and around the puddles and into a fuming clamour of people, old busses, bus conductors touting for business, street vendors and luggage all enshrined by night and thrown into contrast by bus head lights.

Upon asking for the bus to Harar we kindly informed of its correct pronunciation. The gentleman in question made us say it correctly before he pointed to it!

We found a bus and took our seat. At the front and opened a window. Now that we were settled it was the perfect time to go and find a bathroom. Renee stayed with the bags and too keep out seats. And to make sure that the window stayed open. As we reached, what looked like the main building block in the bus station, I looked back to make sure I could identify the bus we were on. It seemed relatively straight forward.

On the way back to the bus we realised that we didn’t actually have a clue where it was and there appeared to me many more busses and people around! We started to search for the bus constantly aware that the sun was coming up so it could set off at any moment. For ten minutes we ran around in circles trying to find it. The busses that were switched off or idling were now being revved up adding to the fog of grey-white fumes. I was just about to start to get onto each bus going to Hara when I noticed Renee sticking her head out of the door of one.

Saved! And just in time. Or so I thought.

We spent the next half an hour waiting for it to leave. I wouldn’t have minded the waiting, and after 7 months in Africa actually sitting on the bus was a relief, at least you know it was about to try to go some where. No the part that made this particular wait bad was the fact that the door next too me was open. The next bus over was revving its engine and the exhaust was lined up with the open door. It made me queasy.

As the day light became complete the busses set off one after another and we were on our way... once the traffic jam had been negotiated on a long straight road to the east of the country... Long straight and flat just the place to catch up on some sleep despite the hard seat I was sat in.

My Friend Is Just Coming, Please Wait One Minute
The first stop was about 4 hours into the journey. There were some stalls set by the side of the road next to a lake. There was a hut. I think it may have been a toilet, that no one was using. Instead the men wondered about 50 meters away from the road and peed in the general direction of an open field. When in Rome I guess.

The ladies... well the situation was a bit more complicated as the land was relatively flat. Conveniently there was a half mound a bit further away. I then took the opportunity to stretch my legs. The horn for the bus sounded I begrudgingly made my way back on it, deliberately waiting until last. Or so I thought. I sat down as the bus doors closed and the engine started to rev. It was then that Renee asked where Natalie was! I glanced around and noticed her walking towards the bus. Oh my God they were about too pull away with out her!

I sprang into action, first asking the driver to wait then, when he didn’t respond I asked the conductor.

“Okay. Sit down.” But the bus started too pull away. I jumped back put my hand on his shoulder.
“Please wait a minute, my friend is just coming!” The panic rising in my voice. The bus jerked to a halt to let some more people on, but Natalie was still not on board. “Please wait.” I implored.

I wish I could tell you that I was about to grab my bag and a travel sick Renee and ask to be let off in a desperate bid to stall the bus. Instaed I pointed Natalie out to the conductor and just asked them too wait. Again

“Don’t worry” the conductor said as the bus pulled away again. Natalie finally started to run at which point the bus did stop and let her on. Phew....

The pains gradually became more arid and mountainous and camels started to crop up every where instead of the usual goats. Then we started descending down some winding roads.

Tthe Great Rift Valley is an amazing scene. This was the eighth time I was traversing it and it is truely spectacular all the way from Llongwe and Lake Tanganyika in Zambia and Tanzania through northern Tanzania with Mount Meru and Kilimanjaro and then into Kenya with mount Kenya, Lake Victoria, then further north into Ethiopia with Lake Chew Bahir on the border and many others on its way up to Lebanon encapsulating the Red Sea, the Sinai Peninsular the Dead Sea and out into the Indian Ocean as well. The scenery goes from bushes, to plains, very fertile farmland to desert.

You can stand at the top of one edge and as you look down the barely notice the towns and roads that lay at its bottom. It is absolutely breath taking. Litterally as well, it gets high enough for the air to thin out and make you pant every time you walk up a hill (this happened a lot in Addis).

Every time we crossed it, with the exception of the Tazara Express, we descended into the valley on meandering roads at a moderate speed. We were no longer pummelling along at 80 km per hour. This is when an idea came to me out of frustration...

Why oh why don’t they just build a bridge over it? I know its thousands of meters deep and I can’t even begin to imagine how wide it is, but a bridge would help speed up the process of getting across it. Surely there must be a way. I’ll even help build it with my hands...


Twenty Minutes
In the middle, at the bottom we stopped for lunch at a town. We were told that we had 20 minutes for lunch. As Natalie got off 6 different people reminded her that we had 20 minutes, in case she actually missed the bus this time.

It made me laugh for a number of reasons. Fore most of which is the fact that long distance public transport in Ethiopia is unreliable, uncomfortable and never runs to any definite time table often waiting until the busses were uncomfortably full, yet they do seem bothered by a foreigner who wasn’t told how long she had holding the bus up by about 90 seconds!

We wondered around for about 5 minutes then found some where in the shade to stand. At this point people started to congregate around us in an attempt to acquire some cash one way or another. They were starting to get just a little too cosey with us sol I wondered off to try to find some water. I then decided that I had better get back on the bus, just to get away from the hordes of people following me around. Unfortunately the doors were closed and no one around.

As I walked back over to Renee I noticed how people were starting to crowd around hewr at a distance that would make any westerner uncomfortable. She was doing her best to ignor them but they were not going away. Once I got there they backed off.

I’ve mentioned before how men and women are perceived differently in Africa. Men are seen as people who could hurt you were women are seen more as a target. As a result no matter how much Renee could actually harm a bloke, because she isn’t a bloke she is not seen like that. BIG mistake. This is also the reason why you get many, many more men traversing Africa solo than women.

We boarded the bus, and waited. 20 minutes came and went. The driver then clambered in and tried to start the engine. It started. He then tried to pull away. It didn’t. The next 10 minutes saw them trying to get the bus going which involved me getting a lung full of exhaust fumes as I was sitting on top of the engine/transmission hatch.

Eventually we were on our way, then we stopped, then we were on our way again, then we pulled up and the hatch was opened. Then we started again and away we went, up and out of the valley. I hope...

Once we had crested the far edge of the valley we started to drop people off and the signs started to Dire Dawa as getting closer (Dire Diwa is the nearest main city to Harar). Finally we started seeing signs welcoming people to Harar. They didn’t exactly say ‘Welcome’ more ‘Well Come’. At least they were trying.

At last we reached the walled city or Harar. Had found a hotel, had managed to convince the staff that I was in the same room as Natalie (they charge extra if a same sex couple shares) and figured out how the hot water works. Unfortunately I was ill from the journey, so I put my head down for while.

The Walled City Of Harar
Harar is a walled city over a thousand years old and at one stage was the capitol of Ethiopia. Entrance to the city was through one of seven gates.

This city is billed as the 4th holiest city in Islam, because it has 87 mosques (unfortunately this claim is irrelevant: the 3 holy cities in Islam have historic and prophetic significance going back millennia, not even Istanbul, Cairo & Damascus are considered important despite their significant seats of power over the last 1400 years).

It is also famous for Hyenas and the Hyena Men of Harar, a tradition that was, until recently, dying out. Amongst its other attractions is the house that Hialie Silasie was born in and his Palace. All this and 2 days to see it in. A guided tour was the only way we were going to get around it.

Unfortunately the receptionist at the hotel , the owner (his uncle) and his friend were too smashed on chaat (they chewed it constantly) and their tour guide credentials were old and looked faked. We couldn’t find tourist information despite spending all morning searching for it (by morning I mean the bit after the late breakfast and before 12). We were going to go back to our Chaat chewing friend, but we tried a local travel agent.

It looked like we were going to have to arrange a tour with one of the many people yelling ferengee at us (we think it means foreigner and was shouted at us constantly), at us our chaat chewing friend at the hotel. We couldn’t decide which was worse.

One last throw of the dice saw us go into the local travel agents. They vcalled some one for us as they didn’t speak any English.

The Only Guided Tour I Went On
The only official tour guide for Harar wondered down half an hour later and once the haggling over price was out of the way we started the tour.

First up was a tour of the local market known as Smuggler’s Bazaar. The reason its called smugglers Bazaar is that e were very close to Somaliland (part of Somalia where there is no central government in control), it was about a days bus ride from here. As a result items are smuggled over from Yemen and sold cheaply. I would find just how cheap later on). It was on to the normal market and then into the city itself.

We were told about the spice trade of the region and the difference between a Muslim butcher (has a crescent moon and star painted above the door) and a Christian one (has a cross painted above the door).

As we were on a guided tour, with some one acting as if he owned the place, we took the opportunity to get our cameras out and use them with out the a significant threat of them being ‘borrowed on a permanent basis’.
We were told how to identify a mosque, also had a crescent moon and star above the door). Then next up was a visit to a typical Hara household. Once I got over the fact that i was in some one’s home I found it fascinating. The way the seating was arranged, the Indian influence shown in the wood work but the thing that struck me the most was the amount of crockery they had.

Not only did they have masses of the stuff but it was very colourful, so colourful that they actually used it as decorations. Why so much though? Apparently its considered a great shame if you have to borrow crockery at a wedding. So they had loads of the stuff. I tried to take as many ppictures as I could. We then found out that we could spend the night there. The cost between the three of us would have worked out cheaper than the hotel we were staying in, unfortunately we had already paid for the hotel...

We walked around the steep slopes of the city between buildings and up rickety stairwells. Looking back it had a very medieval feel to it. In fact if you imagine an early European medieval city then you’ve got the idea. It was round yet another market, a silver smith then please see list of attractions above. After 3 hours the tour was over and it was time too find some where for dinner before the Hyenas that evening.

Hyena Men Of Harar
As sunset came we headed down to the area where one of the Hyena men sets up camp. When we got there he started to call them, but there was a problem. We needed lights so that we could take pictures. As I headed back to the main city to hire a taxi a car drove by that went over the Hyena bloke. Problem sorted, or so I thought.

The car pulled up and every one started to take snaps, first of the 20 or so Hyena that were very near by and then the man feeding them. Then we were asked if we wanted to feed them...

Unfortunately the person who owned the car had other ideas and kept turning off the lights. First it was Renee then Natalie then some Dutch bloke, then once we realised why the owner kept turning the lights off, my turn.

The food was put on a stick as I crouched down i put one end of the stick in my mouth as a hyena caught on to what was happening and skulked up. Then one of the most powerful sets of mammalian jaws opened and moved towards my face. I held my breath as the teeth and tongue moved to grab the meat. I could see the nose. It was wet. Then just as quickly as it came it went back to join its clan.

As the food ran out the Hyenas the driver turned his lights off one last time and wasn’t about to turn them back on. We paid the Hyena man and started to walk back to the cafe where we had breakfast for some tea. It was at this point that the trainee Hyena Man came up to ask and told us we had too pay for the light we used.

Please understand that my patience with Ethiopia was fast running out and that I had gotten very bored of repeating my self numerous times. This is the place where I almost lost all my patience for the second time on this trip. We started to argue. The receptionist from the hotel then got involved (his friend was the one asking for money).

We informed him that we would have been happy to pay but he kept turning the lights off and as a result even if we chose to pay then he would not be getting the full 60 Birr he was asking for. Natalie or Renee then decided to pay the people who had hired the car and told him why. He was kind of bemused by the whole thing. We then walked away wondering why the car was still just sat there. (We later found out that the driver would not move until he was given the money we had handed over)

As evening turned into night we sat on the balcony out side the hotel as the numbers of people dwindled the number of hyenas scavenging in the street in front of us steadily grew. Another thing worth noting was the way the locals treated them. Some just ignored them, the hyenas were part of the city and they didn’t interact. Some people stopped and waited for them to go away before continuing. One person tried to get to get them as close as possible then threw a stone at one of them. She started laughing it ran away. As she turned to walk down the street she stopped laughing and cowered behind her boyfriend when she noticed the other 12 further down. At this point we heard a hyena laugh. A twist so funny I laughed.

The second full day in Harar looked like as if it was going to be one to just relax, and an opportunity for the girls to do some shopping. However at breakfast we came across the Dutch couple and started talking to them.

Apparently the driver of the car just sat there and refused to move until they handed the money over. In the end they bought the guy a drink. They also confessed that they wanted to hire a vehicle to drive back to Addis the following day as the bus trip was too harrowing. We asked them about flying and they informed us that it was university graduation season and all flights were booked. Natalie, Renee and I seized the opportunity too see if they wanted to share and then set about trying to find some one who could do the trip.

Somalia, Can Itr Be Done?
However I had other ideas. For some reason I was tempted to try to go to Somalia. It would have been illeagal of course, but all I really wanted to do was step across the border and then back again. I started making enquiries and was informed at every turn that the next Ethiopian city east, Juba, was a place so dangerous that most Ethiopians didn’t go there. Muslim or not, I would have been considered a westerner and thus a very visible and easy target who they would have assumed was carrying more money than they earned in 10 years. So much for that idea.

Yesterday’s tour guide was summoned to the hotel I had enquired at (a more up market and less chaat orientated place than the one I was staying at). We discussed options and I was directed towards a cafe in the walled city.

On my way down I came across the girls again. They went back too one of the market stalls they saw yesterday and started to pick out earings. The stall owner pulled out stools for them to sit onb while they bought her out! I think they paid the woman a years money in 15 minutes. The other thing they had done was also arrange for a mini bus. I really should have just stayed at the cafe.

Next we haggled in the price and once every thing was settled I went off to buy a few things myself. Cigarets in Addis were costing me 15 Birr a pack. Here I had been charged 5 Birr, but the bloke in the shop down the road from the hotel had told me that I should only pay 2 Birr and 50 cents. I asked if I could buy a brick (the term used for a case of 10). He told me no. I then started to ask around. I asked about 10 different stalls. Only one gave an honest price. I was glad that some of the other that had tried to over charge me when I handed over the money for 4 brick. The stall owner certainly was, He shook my hand with a huge smile. At least I made some one else’s day.

The day ebbed away and I found myself once again sitting on the balcony watching hyena wonder the streets. As we had managed to arrange a private minibus to Addis there was no need to get up at 4 for the bus ride back, instead it was 8 pm for us.


The Journey Back To Addis: Go Ferengee
As the mini bus pulled up an argument broke out about how much each of us was too contribute. The 3 of us were not going to pay more than double the bus fare back, and we made the point that we were not that bothered about the bus and that an extra night would mean that we could go and stay in the Harar house we had seen earlier.

As we set off some one re iterated the conditions that we were to travel under. They sound petty but try spending more than a couple weeks in Ethiopia with out these getting on your nerves:

1) No Chaat
2) No stopping for Chaat
3) No picking up people along the way
4) We didn’t have to pay any bribes
5) And ABSOLUTLY UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES WERE THEY TO PLAY ETHIOPIAN MUSIC.
6) We were allowed to roll down the windows with no objection ( could almost feel the cool airr rushing over my
head

Also as we set out I decided to imitate the busses we had caught earlier by rolling down the window and yell out the name of the destination.

By 9pm we were hurtling towards Addis at a minimum speed of 60 kph, but mainly 100 kph most of the time.

Whilst on the road I was glad that we actually arranged for our own transport, I think I counted six broken down busses, 2 busses on their side, one on its roof and two that had suffered from failed brakes going down hills in the Great rift Valley (why don’t the build a bridge over it?) and run off the road.

The other thing that happened at regular intervals was road blocks. In the bisses we had used before we had been stopped. Now that we were in a bus that was mainly westerners they started looked at us and then told the driver to continue. After the first three the driver didn’t even slow until he reached the official roadblock. Just after this, in plain sight of the the police was an unofficial one. As the driver slowed the person who was waving us down enthusiastically shouted “ahhh ferengee go go go...” waving us of as we sped up.

We were back at the Hotel Wutma via the Sheraton, by 5.30 pm. I enquired at the hotel hoping to find out what had happened to Mike and Ian. Mike had gone off with some friends that were on his over land truck to Nairobi, Ian had left earlier in the week.

It was Thursday and not a lot was happening.

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Photos

Main Market
For an area on the edge of a desert in a country that has a famine riven image there was alot of food around.

Selling The Spices
Enlarge a picture and take a look at the seller. Now thats what you call genuine enthusiasm

Ermm..
Saqib is my brothers name. It is even rarer than mine. So when I saw a carrir bag with his name on it.. What else could I do?

Hara House 1
Lots of crockers

Hara House 2
Lots & lots of crockers. The reason for this is that it is considered a great shame oon the family if they have to borrow any for a wedding.

Hara House 3
At least it was colourful.

Hara House 4
There was a huge indian influence especially ...

Hara House 5
Especially in the details

A View
From the city.

Hialie Silasie's Hara Palace
From the city.

Feeding Hyena
First up Natalie. The picture is courtesy of Renee

Feeding Hyena, Who's Next...
Then Renee. The picture is courtesy of Natalie.

After Lions Hyena Aren't Thast Scary
The picture is courtesy of Natalie. My own camera was trying to think to much in the darkness. Thinking in the dark! Not good.

Feeding Hyena. My Turn
The picture is courtesy of Natalie.

I Would Ask For A Smile
But they could end up laughing instead. The picture is courtesy of Natalie.