A Side Trip To The East

When the author of the Lonely Planet guidebook on Africa wrote that Harar is a "must see," I think he had been chewing too many chat leaves. The "hyena men" feeding the scavangers outside the town wall was a bit of a show for the tourists as we had to negotiate a fee before hand. Of' course, they sent Your's Truly for some serious Chinese haggleling. As for Harar's old town, if you have been to any old city in the Middle East or Zanzibar in Tanzania, you aren't missing much. Despite being the fourth holiest city of Islam, it's basically a small Arabic town on African soil chalk full of mosques. There's just under a hundred mosques or Islamic shrines in the space of 1 to 1.5 km diameter. The incomplete town wall is puny but the narrow alleyways does have some atmosphere walking through the residential homes and courtyards and around open sewage, while being chased by kids calling you "Faranji!" (foreigner) and asking for money.

Ethiopia is very different from the rest of Africa as it sits between "Arabic Africa" in the north and "Black Africa" to the south and still maintains its' own identity and culture. The Ethiopians are quick to point out they have never been colonized. One local remarked Ethiopia is more aligned with the Jewish culture than an African one. The Lion of Judah and Throne of Solomon are symbols that figure prominently in this country. The Amharic language with its' 72-letter alphabet, though distinct has some letters that are similar to Hebrew. Even some Amharic words are Hebrew like shabat and shoah. The Ethiopians also note that they are linked with the Hebrews biblically through the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon of Israel, and traditionally believe their son, Menelik brought the Ark of the Covenant from Jerusalem to Abysinnia (Ethiopia) where it remains in Aksum. The Orthodox Church in Ethiopia plays a significant role in the culture and on Sundays the call to prayers piped over the loud speakers are not for Muslims but for the Christians.

Ethiopia also differs from the the rest of Africa in their food with the semi-fermented crepe bread, injera as their staple and the near absence of rice, corn meize and Indian-influenced dishes. The locals also love to eat meat (except on the fast days of Wednesdays and Fridays), and raw chunks or minced beef with a spicy sauce is very popular. A traditional restaurant will usually have a butcher at the entrance complete with hanging slabs of beef, horse, or goat meat and the sounds of chopping and mincing on the cutting board. Speaking of eating, it is impolite to go for seconds in an Ethiopian celebration like a wedding. Everyone just tends to pile their plate high!

It's not customary for Ethiopians to greet one another if they don't know each other. And when they do, the locals shake hands and acquainted males lean in for their shoulders to touch. Never do this to a woman, I learned that from experience. They also call each other by "you" but in Amharic, there are several forms of "you" addressed to those of higher, similar or lower status, to males and females, and children. Unfortunately, it doesn't translate well to English as you are constantly getting yelled at by the locals with a "You" followed by "Where you go", "Taxi", "Give me money" or other broken English sentence.

Even the time and calender is different, with the Ethiopian midnight starting at 6:00 a.m. and their year is divided in twelve months of equal thirty days and a thirteenth month of five days (six on Leap Year). Want to say you are younger, come to Ethiopia, it's officially the year 1999!

Back to Addis Abba now to rest up a few days before heading to the monuments in the north. The roads are rough and the bus rides long...

Coffee Drinkers Rejoice !

"I have measured out my life with coffee spoons." - T.S. Eliot

"When you drink a cup of coffee, ideas march in like an army." - Balzac

Dark, strong, and typically organic. Coffee in Ethiopia is a staple beverage and widely consumed by the locals all day, whether in fancy pastry shops or at make-shift roadside stands. I love the fact that even the smallest, dingiest cafe, restaurant or hole in the wall will have an espresso machine, piping out fresh coffee and steamed milk. I guess I shouldn't be surprise, after all, the coffee plant did originally come from this country. Most of the beans are still grown wild and harvested in the forest of south-western Ethiopia. In fact, the word "coffee", derives from the coffee-producing region of Kaffa. Ethiopia even has a coffee ritual. The slow roasting of coffee beans over an open fire, the grinding of the beans on a mortar and then heating of the water and coffee grinds in a traditional vase-like kettle. Believe it or not, the internet cafe I'm in now is making traditional coffee, complete with the smoke of the roasting coffee beans over a little charcoal fire. Ah... fresh coffee.

I am in the capital city of Addis Abba. Somehow the occasional wandering goat herd or sack-laden donkey fit in perfectly with the plush hotels, zipping mini-bus vans, shanty shacks, UN trucks, businessmen talking on cell phones, fume-sputtering trucks and children begging or selling tissue and candy. Addis is full of contrasts. Left over Italian Fascist buildings can be on the same street as a communist monument, orthodox church, mosque and shopping center. Addis really has no city center and is simply just spread out over several hills but it's not a bad place to just rest a bit. It does have a few good museums and some excellent Italian restaurants. The Italians may not have done much here when they occupied Ethiopia in the 1930's and early 1940's, but they left behind some great food. Just about everywhere, you can order and happily munch on decent pizza, pasta, and cakes and pastries for about two to three bucks. Let's just say, I haven't been holding back. The traditional Ethiopian fare is pretty good and tend to be minched or cut up meats and vegetable in some sauce. Usually, you grab the meat and vegetables and mop up the sauce with a piece of "Injera," a slightly-sour flat round crepe made from teff, a type of cereal. I haven't really acquired the taste for Injera but the fresh bread is excellent. Off to the east tomorrow to the ancient Muslim town of Hara, a long two day ride on the bus.

A Wild Ride Across Africa

I was lucky, no goats. But the land crossing from Northern Kenya to Ethopia is one of the roughest roads I have encountered so far and not an easy go. Riding ontop of a cattle truck along with 20-30 people, with my legs wrapped around a railing and my hands gripping on the bars as my body is jostled everywhere is exhausting. I'm trying to avoid being thrown off the truck while ducking the occasional tree branch. It's sort of like an African version of bronco riding. If you get motion sickness easily or don't like rollercoaster rides, you might want to try another way up north. The truck was packed with people, luggage and heavy piping below as we left Isiolo at 1:00 a.m. for the cold night ride. Sleep was impossible, but it was reassuring looking at the stars to see the Big Dipper again and not the Southern Cross, and know I was in the Northern Hemisphere. I had crossed the Equator earlier around Mount Kenya.

Men were chewing and spitting out the semi-narcotic stimulant chat leaves all night and morning, and at times travel was slow to 20-30 km/h through this semi-arid region. We arrived in Marsabit eleven hours later, initially for a quick lunch. The town's population is a wide mix of Somalis, Msais, Ethiopians, and Kenyan tribesmen in brightly coloured atire.

Despite reassurances the road was safe and free of bandits and rebels, that morning and afternoon a tribal conlict suddenly flared up over a five-year old cattle dispute. Forty men attacked a village and gunfire was exchanged. As the police closed the road, we stayed the night in Marsabit with the other trucks and waited for morning for the situation to cool down and go as an armed convoy. This soon falls apart as any trucks that break down are left behind.

I found out later from a Kenyan police officer that there's also an Ethiopian anti-government group, the Oromo Liberation Front who often cross over to Kenya to steal cattle and has sporadic clashes with the police. Northen Kenya, neglected and less travelled sure has a wild west feel to it. You can pick up a AK-47 rifle for about two cows.

The stretch to the border of Moyale is only slightly less bumpier but definitely dustier and marked with deep pockets of sand. Everyone and everything is soon caked in a thin layer of dust. Another full day of riding ontop of the truck with the sun beating down. We finally arrived in Moyale around 5:00 p.m. and I quickly cross over the Kenyan border. Unfortunately, the posts are not co-ordinated and the Ethiopian side is closed. I was then presuaded to give a "present" of 20 Birrs ($3 Canadian) to an Ethiopian Immigration Officer to re-open the office and stamp me through or else it was back to Kenya and fork out money for another transit visa.

I am now in Awasa at a guesthouse in a Pentacostal Church. It's a peaceful place to rest and clean up. I met a Swedish missionary man who has been working in this country with his wife for over 27 years who gave me some helpful advice and directed me to the guesthouse. Ethiopia is very different from the rest of Africa but more on that later...

Robbed in Nairobi

True to it's nickname of "Nairobbery" I got my camera stolen yesterday. While awaiting for my visa to Ethopia and get through another bout of diarrhoe while fighting off a bad cold, I decided to leave my hotel for some fresh air as I couldn't sleep anymore. Somewhere walking along the crowded afternoon streets or near the mini-vans, my camera got swiped from it's case. When I reached down to casually check if everything was OK, I was horrified to find the camera was gone. I let my guard down for one moment and the bastards strike. In vain I looked around and even scoured the pawn shops later but no luck. I was really upset and mad at myself for being so careless, and could hardly sleep or eat yesterday. All the pictures from Tanzania, Rwanda, and Uganda are now all gone.

Leaving Nairobi this morning with a bitter taste in my mouth, I have arrived in Isiolo, gateway to the northern frontiers and the last remaining tarmac roads. It's all rough, bumpy dirt roads from here on. The scenery reminds me of home, or more precisely Northern B.C. with the Alpine trees, rolling hills and mountains, cool air and occasional wooden house. At midnight I catch a ride on a commercial truck to the Ethopian border at Moyale. Hopefully, it's not carrying goats.

Human Frog'ging in Kampala

After passing a few non-descript towns by bus, I rolled into the sprawl and congestion of Kampala. It could very well be there are more potholes than people here. The capital city of Uganda is shaped like a giant toilet bowl. On the one side of the upper lip is the main street of Kampala Road dotted with the usual banks, hotels and shopping. There are also scores of barefoot begging children and women carrying babies walking back and forth or plopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Meanwhile down on the bottom of the 'toilet bowl' where the exhaust fumes and people collect, and all the main roads seem to lead, bringing with them the honking buses, mini-vans and motorcycles. It's mayhem with everyone rushing and trying to squeeze in, and get nowhere fast. It's funny going down the 'toilet bowl' costs 300 Ugandan shillings as the taxi mini-vans cut their engines and let gravity take over but charge 500 shillings for going up.

Whether it's day or night, you try to avoid the mini-vans, cars, buses, bicycles, motorbikes, and people who are trying to avoid you as you cross the street and negotiate the traffic. It's sort of like a human version of "frogger" (That arcade classic game!) as vans back up without looking, motorcycles zip on the sidewalks and multiple cars merge in on a single lane. It's totally nutty.

On the bright side, for an African capital city, Kampala is remarkably safe, even at night. Plus, the Ugandans are very friendly and have a charming habit of beginning or ending their conversations with "ey", which the best I can tell means "yes", "it's all right", "no" or "too bad."

Off to Nairobi this afternoon. Visited the charming colonial town of Jinja yesterday. The source of the Nile River where the water flows out of Lake Victoria, taking three months to get to the Mediterrean Sea.

The Gorillas and Lake Chill'ing in Uganda

Tracking the gorillas in Rwanda's Parc National Des Volcans was no walk in the park. We had to hike through bamboo, stinging nettles, over vines and through steep terrain as the ranger hacked through the deep bush with his machette. Our supposedly short walk ended up to be six hours of tough hiking. With one ranger and two armed guards, we made our way up and then down a volcano to see Gorilla Group 13 who allowed us to watch them lie around, eat, and play under a canopy of trees and bush. It's surreal seeing the gorillas in their home, often as close as five feet away. We circled the group or the gorillas walked past us only a couple of feet away, grunting and carrying their young on their backs. We saw about 8 or 9 out of 650 wild gorillas left in the world (located only in Rwanda, Uganda and troubled Congo). The gorillas, identified by their nose print are always followed by armed rangers but they are free to roam wherever they please. Not good on our walk as I wanted the ranger to pass a message to the gorillas, "Please stop moving." The gorillas behave very human-like and when they make eye contact with you, it almost feels like they want to communicate.

After an easy border crossing into Uganda and a motorbike taxi ride to the town of Kisoro, I took a scenic ride to Kabale through terraced farmed hillsides, little villages and isolated lakes. I am now relaxing on one of the thirty or so islands on Lake Bunyonyi. It's very beautiful. The waters are very calm due to the numerous islands which act as wind breakers. Riding one of the small dug-out canoes as it is paddled slowly across the water perfectly prepares you for the peaceful pace of life here. Taking a stroll around the terraced island, paddling in the lake, washing some clothes or catching up on some reading is the extent of my activities. Saw some pygmies along the way. I didn't think they were that short.

Off Road Bus'sing to Kigali

I like Mwanza, Tanzania despite the flow of arms and Nile Perch through it. Plus, the dirt roads out of the city is the shits. Rough and bumpy, made for 4X4 vehicles and... our bus. With people and bags stuffed to the limit, heads knocking and elbows jabbing into bodies, the bus finally coughed and heaved it's way to Benacco after ten hours and getting stuck in the mud once. Then it was a short shared taxi-ride to the Rwandian border and a four-hour mini-van ride to Kigali.

Coming late at night with the street kids begging and the residential street lights dotting this spread-out city, I realize how hilly Kigali is. Rwanda seems a bit more orderly and cleaner, and the roads better than Tanzania but it is a whole lot more expensive. There seems to be more street kids and moms carrying babies asking for money. There is also a lot more motorbikes zipping around. A bit hair-raising as you ride on the back of one of the motorbike taxis at night wearing you big backpack. I'm heading out to Ruhengeri this afternoon to see the Gorillas at the Parc National des Volcans tomorrow.

If you are ever in Kigali, I highly recommend you visit the Genocide Memorial Museum. It's very well presented and poignant. I struck up a conversation with a friendly local woman and she brought up the subject of the 1994 genocide. She feels the people were healing and forgiving one another and saw themselves no longer as Hutus or Tutsis but one people. She believed the root cause of the hatred that fueled the genocide could be traced to the Belgium colonial rule in making a distinction between the two.

I found out from the museum the Belgiums crazily distinguished the Tutsis as those owning 10 cows or more, and Hutus as those owning less than ten cows. The Tutsis were than given more priviliges in exchange for loyality and the rift was created. Jump forward to the 1990's, the civil war erupted and then a flimsy peace accord was signed in 1993 between the Tutsis' RPF and the Hutu government. But then in 1994, president Habyarimana's plane was shot down as it was about to land in the Kagili airport. In a purely planned and calculated fashion the Hutu majority began killing innocent people identified as Tutsis. Road blocks were immediately set up and house to house searches conducted and the Interahamwe militia began killing. Young, old, babies, children, men, women, were hacked by machettes, shot, burned or clubbed to death. Pure madness. Almost one million people were killed in three months and often were mass buried or allowed to rot on the streets. Neighbours, co-workers, friends, and even family turned on one another incited by hate and propaganda. One day laughing, eating or talking together, the next day hunted or part of a mob on a killing spree. Walking around the city, it is hard to imagine what happened and what brought people to this madness. Very sad indeed.

One Way To Start the New Year

The safari is over today and I am in the city of Mwanza on the shores of Lake Victoria making my to Rwanda to hopefully see the mountain gorillas (a.k.a. gorillas in the mist fame).

I spent New Year's Eve with an English tourist, a Danish student and an older Israeli retiree. We ate an Indian buffet dinner and then visited a local watering hole, the East African Pub and then a disco called Alberto's Pub, chatting with the locals and playing pool. It was fun counting down to the New Year in Swahili despite fending off the pickpockets and overt friendly gestures of the African prostitute on the dance floor. Although one of the guys didn't seem to mind and ended up walking back to his hotel with a hooker.

Viewing the animals on safari into Lake Manyara, Ngorongoro Crater and the Serengeti National Park was outstanding. We saw the "Big Five!" Several herds of elephants along the road, a lioness with two cubs eating a hippo while another lioness and lion watching in the background, water buffulos lying in the grass lands, three Black Rhinos watching the trucks of tourists watching them, and the elusive leopard lounging ontop of a tree. Despite our Land Rover having a fuel leak problem and the accommodation turning out ot less appealing then originally described, the safari ended to be pretty well. Going down the Ngorongoro Crater and viewing the animals at the bottom of the extinct volcano bottom is truly beautiful scenery. And the Serengeti... as one appropraite African saying goes, it's "where the grass meets the sky." The wide open grasslands and big sky with small rock croppings is what I liked best. The wildebeasts were just outside in the game park with a few scattered inside. The Serengeti is absolutely beautiful (even without the animals) and what I had imagined Africa to be like.

Off to grab some grilled meats for dinner. Got to catch the 5:00 a.m. bus tomorrow to Benacco.