No Pride and a Fall

---

On Monday, I had to deliver a letter to a village around 6 km from Robe, so it was a perfect opportunity to go by horse. Daamaa was being unusually stubborn and not far out of Robe, just stopped; no amount of encouragement would get him moving. Slightly embarrassing! Then an older man took pity on me and started to lead him. He obviously thought I was totally incompetent and when we reached the village and he had to turn off to his house, he handed the rope over to a woman who took great delight in stopping at the house of every one of her friends (and she had many) through the village to explain that she had to lead the Farenji on the horse - we even took a detour to her sister’s house. And I thought pride came before a fall - I clearly had none by this point.

Having delivered the letter, the journey home started off OK - I know from experience that Daamaa goes faster on the way back to the College - I don’t know whether it is because he knows he can get back to the serious business of eating or whether he misses Daallee, the other horse. Half way along Hora Boka main road (loose description) he was spooked by a horse and garri coming the other way, shied up, the saddle slipped, I fell! This was much to the amusement of the villagers who saw it … until they realised that I was hurt. Daamaa, meanwhile, was going crazy kicking to get rid of the saddle that was hanging off him and, having done a competent job of wrecking it, set off at a gallop towards College - in itself an unusual sight!

I felt dizzy and had to sit down, while a small group gathered around me. The crowd did mean that I didn’t cry, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to get back to Robe. The people around me were, on the whole lovely, and concerned - one man kept asking if I had hit my head, another went and caught Daamaa, a third gathered the saddle pieces and mended it. A woman went into her home, near where I was sitting, and came out with a jug of liquid - some kind of thick, wheat based, cold drink. Not pleasant, but I needed a drink and it was very nice of her.

Eventually, they put me in a garri and a kind man, called Mengistu, rode Daamaa back for me. I was in so much pain and could cheerfully have hit the over-zealous police officer who would not let us turn left to the College, which meant we had to go a longer way, via even rougher roads.

All I wanted was a hot shower - but there was no water. Although, as I went pale and dizzy every time I stood up, it may have been a challenge to stand in the shower without falling over. I was so pleased that Hannah is here - she was a star and came to keep me company and cook us a meal, while I lay pathetically on the mattresses that I use as a settee.

On Tuesday morning, walking was difficult. I hobbled to the centre of town to watch the inauguration of the newly renovated fountain. There was even a brass band. Is it a coincidence that we had no water from the day before the fountain was switched on?

I knew that all the College and University staff were going to Diree Sheik Hussein (a shrine around 4 hours from Robe and described as the most important Muslim site in Ethiopia) for a huge Oromo Millennium celebration on Wednesday. It is one place in this region that I have never visited so I was determined to make it. Hannah had been told that there was a University coach going first thing on Wednesday morning which would give me more chance to heal - whereas the College bus was leaving on Tuesday afternoon and my colleagues were planning to sleep in a field (not a pleasant prospect given how much I hurt). I was lying down, clutching a hot water bottle, when Hannah phoned, with a hint of panic in her voice, to say that there was no University bus, we had to go with the College and they were leaving NOW!

We went as quickly as I was able, only to arrive at the bus to be told that there were no seats left. Then, the Dean offered us both a lift - which also worked out well as it meant we got to sleep on mattresses on the floor, in a room with about 12 other women - rather than in the field or on the bus. All the way there, a 3½ hour drive, I was hoping that the event would be worth the pain. It turned out that it was not …

The next morning, we were provided with breakfast - and managed to avoid the gunfo, which is a type of local porridge - before being taken to the field where the celebrations were held. We were in the VIP section, which was useful as there were chairs and also meant that we were not in a huge crowd that every now and then the armed guards had to quell (usually hitting people with a mat, it seemed!). The speeches started. And went on. And on! At one point the marching band (the same one from the fountain) marched. And there was a band with Oromo dancers. They played one song, and then there were more speeches. We didn’t even get to see the actual shrine!

Then the Dean mentioned, in passing, that we might have to stay a second night. Hannah and I were not impressed. Apart from anything else, I needed to get ready for guests arriving on Thursday and Hannah had to travel to Addis (someone we met offered her a lift, which meant she did not have to do the bus journey on Friday). We couldn’t find the Dean to ask what was happening as it turned out that he had gone to look at the new road with some of the VIP guests. Eventually, just as we were losing the will to live, we overheard a conversation about seats to Robe … Hannah leapt into action (I couldn’t) and arranged that we could have the two seats in a huge truck. Not something either of us would do alone but we figured that enough people knew the driver.

Of course, all the way back, we did imagine the case study that we could become, especially at the times when the driver chose to hurtle along a narrow track alongside the official road - a track that did not look wide enough for a car let alone a truck! Then, he decided to take a short cut - to save 5km. The road got narrower, until we were basically following two tyre tracks in the dirt. You would be hard pushed to call it a farm track in the UK. As we came up (quickly) behind an Isuzu truck already on the “track”, Hannah muttered “Surely he will not try to overtake?” Sure enough he swerved onto the grass and on we went. Needless to say, we arrived in Robe OK and he even refused our offer of payment for the ride.

Still no water! And obviously, being a Wednesday evening, the lights went out.

---

Photos

Dirree Sheik Hussein
Following the speeches, many people were presented with pictures from the region.