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Diary - Ethiopia - Addis Ababa to Moyale (6th Jul to 15th Jul)
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Addis Ababa is a typical African Capital, large, dirty, smelly and a mix of everything from metal shacks to high rise buildings right next to each other. We spent our time putting Gweneveer into another garage as she had been low on power and spitting out lots of smoke during our journey round the north. Even though this garage on appearance looked much more professional than Khartoum we had no faith in what they were telling us. However they did provide us some amusement with the mechanic giving out a scream at the sight of our fake snake that lives around the gear stick.
We also seemed to waste time hunting for things that you would think were bound to be in a capital, but even if you are given an idea of where, it is still a real struggle. It just stresses the importance of good preparation and ensuring that you think everything through. The good thing about Addis Ababa was we were camping again at Wim’s Holland Place, although most evenings it rained we spent most of our time in the bar.
We decided to head south and explore the other half of Ethiopia with our Dutch friends Roy and Sandy. Having driven through the mountainous north where most trucks have two very overloaded trailers making them inch along the difficult roads, if they are not broken down, it was interesting to see that the southern trucks carried very little in comparison on the flatter, easier southern terrain. With the altitude dropping the further south we headed the scenery opened up, giving the villages a completely different look and feel. Rather than being crammed together they became more spread out and spacious, the houses even having gardens.
After the last two weeks of always staying in hotel rooms it is a delight to get back to camping every night. Not only are there campsites in the south but we can buy fruit and veg at the side of the road again. We drove through villages that we renamed “Onion village” or “Potato village” as this is all they sold, hating “Papaya village”. It is always interesting buying food on the roadside and tends to be a mini adventure in its own right. The stalls wait for you to come to them, though they tend to multiply with people the second a white person stops, all wanting to see the rare sight! Some people normally try to help; others try to encourage a high Faranji price, even forcing Katie on occasions having to ban people from following her along the stalls. The street sellers are the lazy but frantic way to shop as they chase you down the moment you stop and start shoving bananas or anything else through your window.
Our first night away from the city proved to be perfect as we found an idyllic camping spot at the Bekele Mola Hotel on the edge of lake Langano, that resembles the largest cup of tea you have ever seen due to colour. It meant for the first time in ages we could sit back and relax, as nobody was about to stare at us like a zoo. This allowed Steve and Roy to play with the catapult and Katie to find some more birds to photograph.
“If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and avoid the people, you might better stay at home.” - James Michener It is not possible to ignore anything about Ethiopia, there is no escaping it no matter how hard you try!!
Ethiopia has worn everyone’s patience a little thin, as the constant harassment from locals is draining. With the girls shopping for supplies for our trip to the Nechisar National Park the boys stayed with the cars. Within minutes a guy appeared at the window asking if they were off to the National Park. This always leads to the same offer of them wanting to be a local guide for us, at a good price of course! Instead of saying no, Roy looked rather shocked at the fact that there was a National Park here and proceeded to explain to the man that they had travelled here only to watch the traffic on the round about ahead. With Steve desperately trying not to laugh the three of them faced the roundabout and watched with amusement at the different cars, pointing out their favourites.
Having escaped the town we headed into the National Park, fully loaded with cakes, with the plan of finding a beach that is meant to be full of crocodiles. Unfortunately although an advertised track it became heavily overgrown to the point of not being able to walk any further, never mind drive. This gave us one choice, to turn around, resulting in a game of push and shove with the surrounding shrubs and bushes as the space was tiny. The park proved to be tough going with some really challenging sections of rocks and steep inclines, Katie even managed to tip the vehicle sideways into a large ditch. However the only issue was the speed of our hearts as Gweneveer pulled us out with little effort. We spent a total of five hours driving but due to the tough terrain we only covered a total of 41km. That included the 10km getting to the park! The park is meant to have herds of a hundred plus Zebra but we never saw more than three together. So instead of animal spotting we set up our wild camp and spent the evening playing cards, loving the peace and quite. |
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Our next stop was the Omo Valley where you can visit different tribes still living the traditional lifestyle. After much deliberation we opted for hiring a guide to help us with communication and finding the different villages. Luckily the Dutch have space in their car to take him, so Steve didn’t have to be squashed in the middle of ours again. Leaving the rubbish town and even worse hotel in Konso we headed west for our first tribal village.
Visiting the first tribe was a shocking experience because as soon as we pulled up both cars were surround by the tribe all demanding a photo for a 2 Birr (13p) or for us to give them something. Our expectation of being able to see the tribe in their natural environment and how they live was completely shattered. Even though you get taken to the village, or rather one hut, everyone is after something. The one with the camera is at most risk of being poked, pulled and even hit with a stick just to get your attention so you will take a picture. Not realising that this is the last thing that you want. Some even ask for your t-shirt or demand a sweet and pen. And then when you do want to take a photo you feel bad as you have to hand pick who you want, meaning only the pretty or interesting people get used. Steve even took a photo of a hut that resulted in the owner hassling for some money for the photo, even threatening to beat the car with his stick. It didn’t take long before it became too much and we tried to escape, only to have the car mobbed by children asking for things. This resulted in the invention of Katie’s new favourite game, scaring the children with our fake snake (a leaving gift). She simply chased the children with the snake in her hand and treating it like a small pet!
Rather than travelling from place to place and finding a new camp spot each day we decided to base ourselves at Turmi, as we found a quiet campsite up against a dry river bed, similar to most rivers in the area. This proved fantastic as it meant we could wander up to the main road simply to sit and watch the tribal people going in an out towards town. The Hamar tribe that are in the area look almost cave like, with only goat skins as clothes and even digging into the river bed to find their drinking water.
Our second village was almost against the Kenyan border in the town of Omorate, which was far from impressive and really nothing there. The Dasenech tribe had to be reached by crossing the Omo river, of course there were no luxury vessels to take us across, instead we went in pairs in a dug out, banana shaped log! This was a very slow means of travel as nobody had thought about making oars, instead they continue to use a normal, round stick. We even got beaten across by some local kids swimming that seemed to have nothing better to do than follow us about. After our initial experience the day before we spoke to the chief and asked if we could arrange payment for as many photos as we wanted, therefore not having the continued harassment that we got when climbing the bank up to the village. It almost worked but they ended up standing in a line for us to take photos, making them very much like a tourist attraction. The arrangement was much more relaxing though as we were then offered some freedom to wander around the village, not before Katie had chance to chase little naked kids and make them cry. |
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Returning to Turmi we headed straight for the weekly market where all the people from surrounding villages come to trade their goods. Unlike most markets, there was not much fresh food, only beans, lentils, eggs and honey. They also sold a lot of coffee shells, as they sell the beans to businessmen and save the shells for themselves due to the cost. Unfortunately it was here that the discrimination of our white skin was felt the most as the ridiculous costs for both jewellery and honey was closer to five times that of a local (Habisha). It wasn’t till the next day that we were refused to buy something because we were white. Still the time at the market was fascinating watching the locals go about their daily routine all wearing fascinating clothes, colourful jewellery and with similar clay covered braided hair.
After two very exhausting hassle filled days we decided that we would cut our time in the Omo Valley by a day as although interesting, it just gave us all an uncomfortable feeling because of the way the people were towards us. So our final day was to nip up to Dimeka to another market and whilst there we went to another village. Thankfully this one was a friendly, rarely visited village and did not even charge us the obligatory (50Birr per person) fee. However Steve and Roy were treated to a bit of a shock when the chief strolled towards them whilst still getting dressed, giving them a full frontal view of his man hood. It was an interesting piece of hospitality but is similar to other experiences of men simply stopping and having a pee, even whilst facing us from a distance. The human body is certainly not given the same admiration as it is in western world, possibly because the limited clothing means all is on show everyday.
With some curios, eggs and lots of the small, immensely sweet bananas onboard we headed away from the Omo Valley and towards the border. We were all in need of a different culture and an end to the incessant begging and asking that had worn our patience thin to the point of shouting and screaming back at them. We even came to dancing ourselves at those trying to dance along side the road for money. Enough was enough and we were headed to Kenya, only to find a small area hidden from everyone to have a true wild camp on our last night. It was a lovely way to finish Ethiopia and something we wish we could have done more of throughout the stunning mountains of the north. Our day to the border was a surprise as when we did stop for a coffee and some supplies we were treated equally, though Steve did get slaughtered at foosball (table football) by a ten year old Ethiopian. |
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| Goatee Steve |
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| Veg Shopping |
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| Camp Spot |
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| River Omo Crossing |
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| Market Time |
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| Tribal Girl |
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| Exposing Chief |
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| Village Hassle |
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| Naked Boy |
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| Market Fun |
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