Semera

We have found accommodation – clean, modern room with en-suite bathroom, and with airco! – in Semera, ahead of our four days camping in the Danakil Depression. The chance to have a last shower, even though it is cold (which is not really a punishment, in the heat of Afar country!). Also last chance to charge whatever optical and electronic equipment we are carrying.

Semera is a strange town. Apparently, the government decided some time ago to establish a new administrative centre for the Afar region, and built Semera, a collection of modern offices and apartments for officials. Seven kilometers from an existing town, Logiya. Seven kilometers from where all the facilities, shops, non-office workers etc. are. Why on earth they required a seven kilometer gap is anybody’s guess, it is certainly not for lack of space in Logiya. Now minibuses plow the distance, adding to the chaos on the road that comes from the hundreds of trucks that use Logiya as an intermediate stop, and those that don’t.

The good thing is that Semera has the only hotel with en-suite bathrooms in the entire Afar region north of Awash.

(1) Logiya is a simple village, mud houses and corrugated iron

(2) Semera, on the other hand, is a modern town, modern offices

(3, 4) and then there are the outer suburbs....

(5, 6) baboons know the places along the road where truck drivers slow down, and throw food out of the window

(7) and another landscape picture, burnt rock

Assaita

The road to Assaita turns off the main Djibouti road some 100 km before the border, and goes through totally flat, grey desert, here and there some trees, but mostly the familiar nothingness. Except that quite a few gazelles still find a living here, and the occasional wild ostrich. And except that, in one way or another, quite a few Afar find a living, too, or at least are living in the occasional hamlets; herds of camels and goats roam around the huts.

(1, 2, 3, 4) the road to Assaita is fairly uniformly coloured, and gazelles, ostriches, camels or people do not change that much

Assaita itself is somewhere described as a cul-de-sac at the end of the world. It is, but because of it, it is actually a wonderful place, unspoilt. At the banks of the Awash River, this is the heart of Afar culture, those Afar that are reputedly such fearsome warriors, but who turn out to be some of the nicest, friendliest and most genuine people we have met so far in Ethiopia. Everywhere along the road, people break into a smile when they see us, rare ferenjis, pass; nothing like the hysteria in other parts of the country. This is also the first area where we manage to visit a village, and actually have some meaningful conversation, through an interpreter. Most Afars are Muslim (wonder whether that has anything to do with the genuine hospitality, and the general absence of begging here). Our host, Husser Burhaba, is a wealthy man, who has acquired already three wives, in three different villages, and has child number 10 on the way. He mostly raises animals – cows, goats, camels  – and sells them, but he also has some vegetable gardens, for which he needs the wives. He cannot understand why I have only one wife, but just in case I want to do away with her, too, he is prepared to make a reasonable offer – we don’t go into detail. Husser lives in a small hut, with bamboo cover, which is remarkably cool in the afternoon heat; we hardly fit through the entrance, though, big people as we Europeans are. His children, and many other children in the village, are initially afraid, but after a while they get used to us, curiosity is stronger than fear.

(5, 6) Husser and his family, and a few of the children outside the hut, having overcome their fear for the feranjis

(7, 8) cattle herding is still the main economic feature, here

We take a walk to one of the lakes outside Assaita, one of the many in which the Awash River disappears – as Thesiger demonstrated long ago. A bridge near Afambro, another Afar town, has collapsed, years ago, and the only way across is by tree trunk bridge. It turns out that the law has recently changed, or so we are told by the police in Afambro. We are no longer allowed to continue without police escort, which, however, they are happy to provide, against a nominal fee. Some features of good old Ethiopia slip back in.

All the way, the area is green, showing what irrigation can do. You can only imagine what Husser could become if he shifted his main attention from cattle herding to agriculture – how many more wives he could acquire! The nearby water also supports a lively bird population, of course (I realize that the subject “bird” is rapidly replacing the “market” of earlier weeks): I have never seen Kingfishers at 100-200 meter intervals.

(9) one of the lakes in which the Awash River disappears (and a whole lot more, it looks)

(10) a hut on the way to the lake, decorated with the things people find important here

(11, 12, 13, 14, 15) colourful birds they are, aren't they? whether nesting on the river bank or in trees, or just contemplating the world in tree or electricity pole

Assaita is also the place where we reach rock bottom as far as accommodation is concerned. The Bersha hotel is pleasant enough, reasonably clean rooms, and we have the suite, with double space, two large beds and ceiling fans, and windows onto the central courtyard  – but the common shower and toilets, latrines really, at the end of the courtyard are, well, not quite filthy, but definitely smelly. To the effect that it is better to keep the window closed. And the window on the other side, well, that opens into the cow shed. Choice of human or animal excrement smell. And something else: perhaps we are getting too old for holes in the ground. But like elsewhere in Assaita, the people are so nice, so helpful, so friendly.

A stroll through town – without our driver, without guide – is equally pleasant, unhurried. Everybody is outside, interested in the foreigner, but not with the sole objective to make money, they are actually genuinely curious, eager to talk. As if we are in a different country.

It is almost a pity we stay only one night – except for the hotel comfort, that is.

(16) the minaret of Assaita's mosque behind some shops

(17, 18) some of the towns inhabitants

(19) and the window of the Millenium Bar, closed unfortunately (the bar, as well as the window)

Awash

We are heading north again, this time to the Afar region and the desert area of Danakil. A stop-over in Awash allowed us a brief round through the Awash National Park, the first place where we do see some larger mammals, in numbers. Gazelles, and especially the majestic Oryx, as well as Kudu and what I think are Hartebeests are crossing our road, or rather, the park tracks. Plenty of birds, as well, of course. A viewpoint at a safari lodge provides our first glimpses of the Awash River, the river that Wilfred Thesiger – about whom more later - followed, some 80 years ago, to explore its course.

(1) on the way to Awash, the disused Addis Abeba - Djibouti railway, or rather, the alternatively-used

(2) I wonder where these people are heading - on the way to Djibouti, they may well hide once closer to the border

(3) sunrise (!) in the Awash National Park

(4, 5) an oryx (above) and a gazelle of uncertain origin (below)

(5) plenty of birds, this being one of them

(6) and a view of the Awash River, from one of the lodges in the park

Awash also has the Buffet d’Auouche, the hotel built next to the railway station, and obviously dating from when the Addis Ababa-Djibouti line was opened. Apparently, here is where Haille Salassie slept, and Charles de Gaulle, amongst others – likely in the same fabulous room, with private veranda and rocking chair, that we occupied for the night. This is one of those gems, stuck in a previous era, a bit run-down by now, but still with all its romance from a time long gone. And the best of it was, they had Gordon’s and Schweppes! So, temporarily back in gin and tonic mode, and what better place to have it than here!

(7) the railway crossing, in Awash town

(8) Gordon's Gin and Schweppes Tonic, an unbeatable combination

Mago National Park

I believe that in every national conservation strategy the one thing to avoid is to have National Parks in which pastoralists are grazing their animals, this just leads to continuous conflict between the interests of the pastoralists and the wild animals the park tries to protect. The Mursi, pastoralists, live in the Mago National Park. Although various sources, including our guide, claim that there are still many mammal species inside the park, we only saw very few, a dikdik, a klip springer and two kudus, a adult kudu and a young (interpreted by our guide as a Greater Kudu and a Lesser Kudu).The fact that the Ethiopian government is now constructed a major road through the park, won’t help either.

Yet the park, mostly bush and savannah country, mostly flat, supports at least a fine bird population, which we enjoyed, on the way back from the Mursi. They didn’t mind being photographed, some even posed for the camera, it seemed, and all for free.

(1) entrance to the park

(2) Mago river, near Mago Bridge, one of the nicest picknick spots - I have no idea why you are not supposed to visit around here, none of the guides and guards objected

(3) Mursi village on a slope in the park, and for good measure they have also nurned flat the area around the village

(4, 5) all sorts of wildlife, and to be pretty doesn't necessarily mean to be big

(6, 7) although, as a bird, it helps to be big; the top one I have no idea what it is, never seen anything like that before, the bottom one was sitting right next to the road, not disturbed by tourists at all

Arba Minch

(Right, having been almost three weeks off-line, it is good to see that nobody, save one, actually missed us, considered us killed, kidnapped, crashed or just vanished off the face of this earth. It is comforting to know that you all have such great faith in our travel abilities! I will now pick up again from the moment we head to the south of Ethiopia, after having returned from Somaliland - it means that you will be reading about our adventures a little longer, well after we have returned, but he, you wouldn't want to miss any of this, now, would you?)

With our return to Addis Ababa we have left a few things behind. One is the east, the predominantly Muslim part of the country. Another is long bus drives, and minibuses, and the associated haggling over fares and suitcases on and off the roof. For the remaining three weeks of our Horn travels we have upgraded ourselves to a private car with driver – not our usual way of traveling, but given the planned destinations, first the Omo Valley in the south and then the Danakil Depression in the north - two places where public transport is either almost, or totally absent -, we saw no other option than the car and driver. And a bit of comfort.

(1) the most common form of long distance public transport in South Ethiopia

To get to the south we drove to Arba Minch, and we entered a different country. Gone are the dramatic mountains, the steep valley and the basalt-covered plateaus, gone are the dry, treeless landscape and the small, minimalist hamlets. And at least immediately south of Addis Ababa, it seems that gone, too, is the abject poverty that we saw in the north, and even more so in the eastern fringes of this country. The land is much greener, the trees are more numerous, and much taller, the herds of cattle are much bigger – they are moving constantly, over the road, from their homes to the watering places, or to the grazing fields, guarded by small boys with sticks. The tukuls, the traditional round huts that we have seen in most of Ethiopia so far, here are somehow bigger, better constructed, and even decorated, sure enough a luxury only available to those who have a little more than the poorest of the poor.

(2, 3) especially in the mornings and late afternoons, many roads are clogged with cows, going to drink, or - literally - coming home; negotiating these is tricky, given the size of some of those horns!

(4, 5)  round huts - tukuls - of a much more luxurious nature than we have seen so far, even decorated

On the way we pass the world-famous stelea field of Tiya – never heard of, but interesting enough, 12-13^th Century stelea depicting the profession of the deceased who are buried behind it. Good for a few pictures, but difficult to place in historic perspective. Where in northern Ethiopia everything is myth, somehow fitting – or not, but at least you can debate it – within a greater complex of history and legend, the southern part of the country, everything south of Addis Ababa really, has only relatively recently be added to the nation-state. At the end of the 19^th Century, emperor Menelik II expanded the Ethiopian territory, originally limited to the northern highlands, by incorporating the various sultanates in the east, like Harar, and by subjugating the southern tribes into the empire, too, not only the so-called Gallo – a troublesome people that is now called the Oromo people, and, incidentally, now consists of no less than almost three-quarters of the population (you don’t use the word Gallo anymore, it apparently means something like Barbarian, a really offensive term) – but also the many smaller, animist tribes in the border area with Kenya and South Sudan. Problem is that they do not really seem to have any history comparable to the great Amharic and Tigrayan north, or at least nothing written about. From all the books on the reading list, only Nell Westerlaken spends two short chapters, at the very end of her book, on Southern Ethiopia, all the others ignore the area completely.

(6) stelea field, actual graves behind the upright stone, and (7) one of the nicest carved stelea, that of a warrior

So, we entered a different country, different not only politically and historically, but also geographically. Ethiopia features significantly the Great African Rift Valley, a crack in the earth that doesn’t have an equal comparison anywhere else in the world. From north to south, from the Middle East (the Dead Sea) all the way to Tanzania, Malawi and Mozambique, this is where - who knows - ultimately over millions of years a new ocean separating continents may develop. South of Addis Ababa is the one of the most expressive part of the Rift Valley, in the form of a series of lakes, and a wide, flat valley, bordered on both sides by high mountains. And Arba Minch, or better even, our hotel in Arba Minch, overlooks two of those lakes.

(8) traffic on the road to Arba Minch

(9) and pumpkins being sold along the road, another sign of prosperity, some variation in the diet

(10) and one the rift lakes, from the veranda of our hotel - sunrise, this is, believe me!

Of course, any lake invites a little boat trip, no less if the lake supports something called the crocodile market. Obviously, you will first need to buy an entry permit to the National Park, and then rent a boat, somewhere else, and employ a mandatory guide. Our guide didn’t speak English, and didn’t know the names of any of the birds we asked him, not even in his own language, so that the boat driver could have translated. But the boat trip didn’t disappoint. No small islands with churches and monasteries, like Lake Tana earlier, but plentiful hippos, and a whole bunch of crocodiles, quite sizable ones, at a sand bank which is called – indeed – the crocodile market, despite nothing being traded there. The pictures, you will agree, are far more convincing than last year’s dolphins in the Mekong River. In addition, the lake shore is home to many birds, fish eagles, pelicans, herons, and a range of smaller ones – a true delight for the newly converted bird watchers in us. It didn’t matter that we almost burned to death, here – one of the things that hasn’t changed is the temperature, of course!

(11, 12) we were watching all the animals open-mouthed, and so did they!!

(13, 14) a bunch of hippo's - rather convincingly, I would say - frolicking in the lake

(15, 16) and "crocodile market", including a very courageous bird!

(17) plenty of water birds, of course, of which I have many more, and better, pictures, but this one shows both herron and pelican

(18, 19) and this fellow, an African fish eagle, we surprised during his breakfast, which he decided to take to safer regions straight away (just in case we were going to rob him of a headless fish)

(20) I temporarily forgot the name of this one, pretty bird

(21) but this is one hell of a baboon, happily munching a banana in the middle of the road to the lake