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Meeting people and midnight snacking in Kampala

Stories, The journey, UgandaNov 18 20136 Comments

It is a sunny morning and I’m sitting next to the car listening to the morning birds singing while overlooking the shadowy garden. Cornelius is still in bed trying his best to ignore the noise coming from the construction site next door. We are at a backpackers lodge in delightful Kampala, Uganda. We did manage to get here bribe-free, which was not at all easy, but unfortunately not fine-free. Let me tell you the stories.

When we arrived in the early morning at the Kenyan-Ugandan border, we entered the customs office. There was a typical customs guy sitting: comfortable, somewhat arrogant posture, nice office and not giving the idea that efficiency is a word in his dictionary. But he smiled friendly so we dared to hope on a good exit.

Upon entering and exiting the country, there is one important paper that we need to get stamped: the Carnet de Passage. This paper proves that we haven’t imported a car and sold it here. It guarantees the local government that you don’t sell your car on the (black) market. This way they protect their car market and the government makes sure that when you import a car, you are paying the ridiculously high import tax.

For this piece of paper, we deposited several thousands of euros at the ADAC (= ANWB in Germany) that we’ll only get back after we hand in a fully stamped Carnet with not one single piece of paper missing. So, after our car, this is the second most valuable possession. Customs know this, so refusing to stamp it is a way of putting pressure.

Our customs guy asked where we entered the country. “At Moyale, you say? Then you still have to pay 84 USD road tax” while pulling out a price list that indeed showed 84 dollars. Road tax? Never heard of. Shit. Large sum. Actually pretty strange that we haven’t heard of it. Hmm. Let’s discuss first what to do before tapping into our stash of emergency dollars.

To make the story short: we insisted first that he showed us the regulations on official paper. He then kept repeating what we had to pay and why. This went on for about 60 minutes before we walked out saying that we’d call the embassy to get some advise. We never reached the embassy (no network), but people on the street told us that road tax is only to be paid when visiting the country for more than 2 weeks. So when we confronted him with this knowledge, he couldn’t do much more but to give in. Mumbling some feeble explanation that kept him from losing face, he budged and stamped our carnet. Our 84 dollars still safely in our pockets. We entered Uganda that afternoon with an immensely good feeling and the sweet taste of victory in our mouths.

Our first stop in Uganda was in Bujagali, a small village close to Jinja, which happens to be the town where Idi Amin (by military coup proclaimed president for life) grew up and was recruited for the army. Bujagali itself is a typical African, small village where nothing happens, apart from the water activities that several tourist agencies organise. There is white water rafting, kayaking, mountainbiking and village tours. All at prices that can match easily with European levels. We parked at this backpackers hostel from where all these activities were organised. We only went for 2 hours of kayaking for two reasons: price (rafting was 165 dollars) and the fact that we plan to go on a 2 day rafting trip on the Zambezi river in Zambia. A very luxurious position, we know, but let’s not spend that money twice 🙂

The good thing about staying in this hostel were the people that we met there. Finally, having conversations with other travelers again! We met Wouter, a Dutch former hospital director who quit his job and is now traveling through Africa and the Americas. We enjoyed his company very much, since he was on another level than most travelers who either just graduated from university, or are the type NGO believers who are the geitenwollensokken or Waldorf types (sorry, no offence intended here…). With Wouter, we could share our ideas on entrepreneurship and business and get some challenge on our personal development. Very refreshing.

After 4 days we drove to Kampala, the exciting capital that is built on seven hills. The Kampalan hilltops boast a mosque, two palaces, a cathedral, two temples and a posh government building. And just like how Rome and Istanbul were also originally built on seven hills, Kampala too is a busy and crowded city with beautiful slopes, a city that is buzzing, 24 hours a day.

With matching horrible traffic, unfortunately. But we drove like grandma on a Sunday afternoon: we were very determined to abide by all the rules. No, today, we would do NOTHING wrong, we said upon entering the city. On the first large crossing we were a bit confused. There were four lanes of cars and motorcycles and just two traffic lights. In the complete chaos, we couldn’t figure out in what lane to wait so we just took the one that seemed most logical. And when the lights turned green, we gave gas, just as the other in our lane. Except: when driving on the crossing we were alone, all alone.

Hè? Shit, all other cars turned right. And not even a second later a white uniform with whistle and cap pulled us out. No, not again! We sighed deeply and pulled over to the very present group of police officers that were scanning the crossing like eagles looking for mice on the ground 200 meters below. Reckless driving this time. 100.000 Shilling, or 30 Euro. Luckily this time no threats of court dangling over our heads. No bribes either. We had to pay our fine at a nearby bank and after producing our receipt, we would get our driving license back and were free to go. Everything clean and above the table. Uganda certainly had their police force more under control than the Kenyans.

The police were friendly though and one officer asked where we were traveling and said that we were very welcome in Uganda. Quite childish of me, but I sneered back ‘that not being able to apply some coulance to righteous foreigners could hardly be called welcoming somebody’ and I closed the window. Although we were wrong and the fine was in place, we still felt that it would have been more suitable to let us get away with a stern warning. This is what the Dutch and the German would have done when they would believe the good intentions of a foreign driver.

Distance Bujagali – Kampala: 75 km. Total time driving (including police and traffic jams): 5 hours. Sweet.

We parked at a backpackers hostel where we met again many other travelers. And the good thing about this city: everybody, either local or traveler, goes partying almost every day. As far as the eye can see, there are bars, restaurants, music venues, clubs, pubs and galleries. There are so many minibuses that the city is one big traffic jam. The solution: boda boda’s, or motorcycle taxis that will take up to 3 people and snake itself through heavy obstructions. It is fast and cheap but the reason that it’s cheap is that every time you get on, you risk your life: the drivers handle the gas like madmen and don’t mind if their mirror or your knee hits another vehicle. Helmets not compulsory. There are now parliament discussions to prohibit boda boda’s to radically reduce the number of fatal accidents. But until then, we’ll keep on using the only form of public transportation that actually gets you delivered on your address with less then 3 hours travel time.

With a group of friends we met here in the lodge and some locals we met via via, we went to a vernissage (yes, very classy indeed :-), rocked 3rd place at a pubquiz in the O’Leary’s and went dancing in local clubs. We even had a genuine all-the-way partynight until 6 a.m. including nightsnacking grilled chicken. We really enjoyed this first partying in 4,5 month!

The young Ugandans that we met here are very friendly and eager for contact, so we have daily invitations to come to their homes and eat together, to join a wedding, or just to hang out. It makes us feel welcome and through them we are getting to know this beautiful country better.

The only minor thing that annoys us here, is that the mosquitos are as fanatic during the day as during night. The rule that mosquitoes get active during nighttime does not apply here and often we can enjoy fresh mosquito bites in the mornings or middays.

Uganda, former playground of cruel dictators Idi Amin and Milton Obote, who both slaughtered millions of people to get and remain in power. We visited a site where the former King of Uganda was overthrown by Obote and Amin, a site that both dictators later used for torturing and killing (potential) opponents before disposing the bodies in Lake Victoria.

Uganda, the homeland of warlord Joseph Kony, who was infamous for recruiting child soldiers for his Lords Resistance Army that believes that the whole world, starting in northern Uganda, should be ruled only by the 10 commandments. Kony had the horrible habit of the cutting noses, ears and lips or just simply having kids killing their parents when people resisted.

We have now seen the happy and developed part, but are curious to learn more about the history of this country, how it affected its people and what organisations do to help for example former child soldiers in coping with their personal tragedies. So three more weeks in this country and then off to Rwanda.

We’ll keep you posted!

Paying our way through Kenya

Kenya, StoriesNov 09 20133 Comments

“Huh? Did you see that? Was that a Q7?” “No, it can’t be”. “I’m sure though. And look there, now, to your right, a Cayenne!” “No way, are you kidding me? Impressive. And so shiny and clean!” This was the first conversation we took a turn for the ring road leading to Nairobi. And let me tell you: this country is a fresh breeze of development and Westernization. Or to be specific, some parts of Nairobi are, since this large city also hosts the 5th biggest slum in the world. The fact that we really enjoy the modernisation will probably have some of our colleague overlanders and backpackers frowning (because luxury = not done), but hey, we don’t care and enjoying the laundromat and the first good pizza in three months.

Kenya is very different from Ethiopia. Sure, you can still find the typical tin roofed shops with commercials painted on the side and dirt roads, but this country is far more developed. Apart from the cars and the quality of the roads, traffic is more organised, there are climbing lanes in the hills for heavy loaded trucks and diesel prices are close to European levels. People with some money have large malls at their disposal, there are kindergartens and amusement parks and stylish bars. And…some people actually wear white clothes! Haven’t seen that either for a few months. Because white pants obviously means a) not having to sit on dirty and lice-covered seats, b) not using public transportation, c) having a washing machine or a washing lady with magical skills, and d) having a full closet. A contrast to the image of people sitting in their underwear or naked chest under the washing line, waiting for their clothes to dry.

In Nairobi, the English character is omnipresent. There are luxury closed living communities where rich folks hide from the regular Kenyans. These gates communities carry names like ‘Mulberry heights’, ‘Lush garden grounds’ or ‘Olive tree residency’. Every fifth car is a Land Rover and we see an occasional stiff upper lip (accompanied by that typical English broad and flat bottom) walking by. Instead of coffee bars there are tea-with-milk bars with some cookies served on the side. To say it in an English manner: it has a rather pleasant atmosphere. Although this changes rapidly as soon as you drive towards the suburbs: the security around the houses and communities becomes heavier and heavier, neighbourhoods look dodgier and no one wears white anymore. All this ends in Kibera: the fifth largest slum in the world (after Mexico city, Islamabad, Delhi and Cape Town).

The first day that we drove in Nairobi, or actually the first 20 minutes, we learned the hard way how disciplined and strict the Kenyans are. When driving on the ring road, we noticed everybody driving really slow and complying to all traffic rules. At that time we didn’t drew any conclusions, but later we found out that we should have. When entering the city we were a bit overwhelmed with the heavy traffic, driving on the left and the navigation system that was forcing us to zig-zag through the city. So when we took a wrong turn and the purple arrow on the Garmin indicated a u-turn, we intuitively followed its example. We took for granted that there was a continuous yellow line. A few cars had to wait for us, but hey, that really wasn’t a big deal.

However, at the first traffic light we got stopped by a police officer. “Driving license!” he demanded strong voiced. We could hear in his voice that he meant business. After scrutinizing the paper, he barked “open this door”, pointing at the side door. Cornelius wasn’t so fast to reach, so we got an “Open this, now!” again, quickly followed by his hitting the door with his rubber bat. Cocky little fellow. “You made a wrong u-turn and caused obstruction of traffic. You have to pay a fine and go to court.” Oops. A female police officer with badly fitting whig climbed in and directed us towards the police station. There we had to pull over alongside a minivan, hosting an overly-well nourished police officer. He told us that for our offence, we either had to go to court and pay a fine of 30.000 to 50.000 Shilling. Or, we could pay him 10.000 Ksh (86 EUR) now, and we were free to go. “But sir, we don’t have 10.000 Shilling, we only have 2.200,” Cornelius objected. The officer wasn’t discouraged. “Ok, what do you have then, you must have a creditcard.” Conny reluctantly admitted. “Good, across the street is a bank. You get my shillings there. I’ll accept 5.000”, he offered generously. Crazy, crazy. This was not our first encounter with corrupt officers (we are still carrying a large red fire extinguisher, the product of a rotten, Egyptian customs policy), but the first one done so openly, not in an office, actually in front of the police station for everyone to see! We asked opinions from locals walking by. They all advised us to accept the bribe (‘only 5.000? this is actually a good offer’) so, reluctantly, we handed over the 5.000 Shilling. But also relieved, because this bribe offered us a convenient way around court. Not so admirable from us, to play along in a system that we condemn principally. It stayed on our minds for days.

Only later we learned a few things: that last year the traffic rules were intensified such, that even minor things, like shortcutting via a petrol station, can (and probably will) get you 3 month in prison That police officers earn such low wages, that they procure their own weekend and Christmas bonuses by squeezing money from scared drivers And that the state accepts this corruption (off course they condemn it in the press) to maintain peace & quiet.

Kenya didn’t grow on us as much as the other countries. I think it is a combination of fear of the police, high prices and finding this country too discovered, to developed. Hardly possible to do any ‘offtrack’ things here. It is a bit frustrating that the offer of luxury products, great food and wildlife and entertainment is beyond imagination, but mostly beyond our reach because of the tight budget. For example: every square inch in this country is a national park, and for every national park you have to pull out the big bucks. It leaves us longing for more, whereas in Ethiopia we could afford a certain luxury because 1) there hardly was any, and

2) it was so cheap that we could treat ourselves sometimes.

So we are not spending too much time in Kenya. We treated ourselves to one national park though, Lake Nakuru. A pretty little park where we hade our first game drive (game drive, such a strange word! Game…gaaaaame. We don’t get it). Here we spotted zebras, baboons, buffaloes, giraffes, rhinos and flamingos from our own car. It felt good that we were in our own car and not in a Pope-mobile-like safari vehicle in which all other tourists got driven in. A little bit offtrack 🙂 And we enjoyed an amazing streichel-zoo (no, this isn’t a synonym for swinger club): handfeeding giraffes. Feeling a soft hairy round lip on my hand was the highlight of my day.

So, now off to Uganda where we plan to stay about 4 weeks. Hope that we can come though bribe-free!

PS: if anyone knows where the word ‘game’ comes from, please enlighten us with your knowledge!

Driving Through Zion on dangerous roads

Ethiopia, How to, Things you didn't know about this countryOct 28 20130 Comment

Upon arrival in Shashemene we drove into Jamaica and we immediately understood where this neighbourhood got its name from. Houses were painted in the typical red-yellow-green colours and raggae music sounded from the bars. Relaxed rastafaris greeted us from along the road, yelling “hallo bother, yes, sista!” Shashemene is the Rastafari refuge in Ethiopia, a small patch of promised land within the larger Zion. We always thought that the Rastafaris grew large on Jamaica and had mainly the smoking, laissez-faire attitude and hair-growing at its core. We were ignorant, we learned here.

The Rastafari movement has its roots and purpose in Ethiopia. An ancient prophecy is written in the Bible, that one day the King of Kings will rise. Marcus Garvey, a Jamaican, predicted that this prophecy would fulfill around the early 1930s. In this year, a new emperor was crowned in Ethiopia: Haile Selassie, with birth name Ras Tafari. So the movement designated him as the true King of Kings and started worshipping him fecoriously, adopting the red-yellow-green from the Ethiopian flag.

The Rastafaris believe that all black people will someday return to Zion,, the promised land of Ethiopia. Not to be confused with the Zion that the Jews use to indicate their promised land, though.

Some Western people try to be Rastafaris. Maybe they don’t know the actual meaning, that liberation of blacks from the white (colonial) oppressor is at the core of the belief, or perhaps they try to show their support to the cause of these blacks. Anywway it is frowned upon by most Rastas.

They adopted the red-yellow-green from the Ethiopian flag and added the black, symbolising independence of the black people who had been oppressed all over the world throughout recent history, including on Jamaica. Rastas cling on to a verse in the bible telling that ‘herbs are designed for the used of man’, or something alike. Herbs they interpret as marihuana. The long dreadlocks are a sign of devotion and should never be cut.

So when the Rastas persisted in worshipping emperor Haile Selassie and seeing Ethiopia as their zion, he finally budges and gave them some land in the town called Shashemene. There is now a small community of ca. 1000 Rastas living here and it is a nice contrast to see the happy colours and walk through the clouds of ganja fumes during midday. Their numbers haven’t been growing, so I guess most Rastas still have to find their way to the promised land.

Back to the road. We have driven the Ethiopian asfalt and dirt for 6 weeks now and we must tell you: it is a challenge. The biggest adventure here is dodging all obstacles and getting to the next town safely. For those of you who would be interested in renting a car here during their holidays: here’s a head’s up on what to expect.

We try to drive on tar as much as possible, because the piste and dirt roads is a real strain on the car. The Bushi can manage all terrain, off course, albeit slowly. We found out that what one overlander told us, is true: “when you have money, you drive 60 km/h on piste. If you don’t have money, you drive 15 km/h.” We are with the latter party…

The road is always buzzing with activity. Left and right there are people selling corn, wood carvings of home-brewed booze. Many locals sit in the shade with large packs of luggage, waiting to get a ride. When we pass by, they signal us to stop. We guess that most think that we are a local transport minibus, because they don’t wave to toury-filled landcruisers, nor to cars driven by locals with space for hitch hikers. Besides, the Bushi looks almost identical to the local minibuses here. Well, apart from the 20 people squeezed into it like sardines and apart from the 3 meters luggage, 5 sheep or an occasional camel piled on top of it.

We never stop for hitch hikers though. First of all, because locals also don’t stop either to give their fellow Ethiopians a ride. And we figure there must be a reason for that. Second, it is not without risk taking complete strangers. Some carry rifles, some swing giant machetes. We are willing to trust people, but on the other hand, this bus is everything we have. And poverty and hunger may just induce crazy ideas…

Then there are loads of kids trying to make some pocket money by dancing along the road. They shake their harlems for faranji as well as habesha (Ethiopians). They have a diverse repertoire: some move Elvis-like by swinging their knees while balancing on their toes, while others jump straight up, a bit like pencils. The most popular move is the upper body shake. Imagine that ‘Around the World’ video clip by Daft Punk and you have a slight idea of what it lookes like. We were advised never to give these kids any money, because it stimulates them to skip school.

Driving in Ethiopia is not without danger. Let us enlighten you on the things that have us waking up in the middle of the night, bathing in sweat.

Threat 1: the animal parade

In Ethiopia, the road belongs to everybody. In fact, the cattle are the real kings of the road. There are no separate trottoirs or bike lanes, there are no fences to keep animals off the asfalt. And because public transportation for people as well as transportation of goods is limited, there are cars, donkeys, cows, sheep, people and dogs everywhere. When people hurd their sheep and cows, they don’t just let the animals walk on the sides of the roads. Why would they, if it is far more comfortable to use the road in its full width?

When cars or trucks approach, the shepherd waves his whip lazily, but there is no real eagerness in getting the animals to the side. So everything goes slowly. Animals react different to you approaching with 80 km/h. Goats are scared and jump away when you almost hit them, cows are less scared and just turn their heads to the safe zone when you pass. But donkeys! They don’t seem to hear of see the danger coming towards them and stop dead in their tracks (which you don’t expect, so breaking pedal to the metal), or walk backwards in your direction (which you certainly don’t expect, so breaking pedal to the metal even harder). Or they jump from the side onto the road when you pass by (pedal to the metal AND pulling the handbreak). Donkey are, well, donkeys.

The owners don’t seem to worry about it, but we wonder several times a day what happens when we collide with one. Conny is always calm and seems to know exactly which path to drive to not hit an animal, but I must admit I am always scared. I broke out in tears once already because I came so close to giving a cow a deadline ride on the Bushi’s grill. By the way the only roadkill we see are dogs and an occasional monkey, so we guess dead cows end up on that evenings Injera.

Threat 2: Everything on 4 wheels

Cars, trucks, minivans…they all drive like crazy. They tend to drive on your side of the road because they are also avoiding animals, people and holes in the road. When you approach, they sometimes wait to the last possible second to move to the right side. Many vehicles don’t have break lights, so more then occasionally the Bushi has almost kissed the butt of the vehicle before it.

When driving on a dirt road, the passing car leaves such a large dirt cloud that you are blinded for a few seconds. The combination with passing cows could in that case be a fatal one, but luckily we haven’t experienced that yet.

Threat 3: Potholes

Maybe our most villain opponent on the road are potholes. There are many and they tend to catch you on the moments that you least expect them. And always when you take your eyes from the road for 2 seconds to admire a view, you are immediately punished with a loud bang of the wheels hitting the bottom. We try to avoid these holes as much as possible to spare the car’s suspension and tires. It must be a funny sight, us driving left and right, swinging over that tar as if we had too much to drink. It seems to be a rule rather than the exception: every day, we hit one hole. But we’re working on it, trying to do our best to reduce this number to zero.

At night, is gets dark. And when we say dark, we don’t mean light brown, but deep black. When driving in the black of night, you can’t see anything. Don’t have the illusion that you may see a glimpse of any animal or hole in the road, because you won’t. Street lights are non-existent here and no one carries a torch. So be warned: leave the road before 7 p.m.!

The Sheep thrower and Other Random Stories

Ethiopia, StoriesOct 26 20131 Comment

Long days of radio silence, because here in the South, Wifi is as rare as finding clean toilets.

During our 6 weeks here, we have come to really appreciate Ethiopia (apart from some not so nice habits) and got used to the African pace. Let us share some of these experiences with you.

Africans have the time

African service and way of doing things is like driving on the A13 highway in the Netherlands during rush hour: it is very slow and inefficient. Everything takes a long time and people take it slow. This slowness is not only visible in the fact that a fruit shake takes 20 minutes, breakfast 40 and dinner sometimes more than one hour, but it is also a typical posture and look in the eyes. You order, the waitress stares at you, as if she didn’t hear correctly. After a few seconds she turns around and slouches back to the kitchen. We often have to reorder, because an item was forgotten. It’s not that people are unwilling, it just looks like they haven’t fully awoken yet or they have to switch from a sort of ‘snooze-like’ mode to an ‘active’ mode.

Us German and Dutchie are gradually switching to African pace. Some activities just take far longer than they would in Europe:

– Doing groceries in Europe: 30 minutes. In Africa: up to 2 hours. Depends on what you need, but finding bread can be an hour-consuming business. Shops have no signs and no ‘showrooms’, which forces us sometimes to jump into 10 shops in a row.

– Getting money in Europe: 5 minutes. In Africa: up to 3 hours. Sometimes there is no ATM, sometimes there is an ATM but without service to our German bank, sometimes there is an ATM but there is no money in it and you wait until the money guy comes to replenish. Sometimes there is an ATM but there is no internet connection to Visa.

– Laundry in Europe: 30 minutes. Laundry in Africa: up to 4 hours. Every underpants, every sock, every towel by hand. (I always try to dry my underwear in a discrete place, but in this case I wasn’t lucky and these men made themselves comfortable right under my laundry. Awkward!)

So you can imagine, we can easily fill our days with the absolute basics. In Africa they have a proud saying: ‘the Europeans invented the watch, but Africans have the time.’ If you can’t beat it, join it!

In Africa, anything is possible

We don’t mind the grandmother-behind-the-stroller pace and the unstructuredness. In fact, we love it. Because it brings opportunity! Everything can be arranged, Africa is the ‘sjacheraars’ paradise. One time, we were short on cash at the Sudanese border to Ethiopia. In Sudan, it’s not possible to get money with any bank card, so we had to get cash up front. We calculated exactly how much we’d need. If things turned out to be more expensive, we figured that we could change some of our emergency dollars. So far, so good.

A short background story: in Egypt, the customs forced us to buy 2 fire extinguishers. They were deaf to the fact that we already had one in the car. “No, 2 are compulsory.” “But sir, we already have one, so when the law says we need 2, we only need to buy one extra.” “No, yours is no good (without laying eyes on it), you need to buy these 2.” Conny fought his battle, but the guy wouldn’t budge. “No extinguishers, no car.” What choice do you have as overlander? So we left the Ethiopian port with 2 large proofs of Egyptian corruption.

Back to the Sudanese border. Of course, we didn’t have enough cash to get our visa and pay customs. So Conny dug out some dollars while I waited at the customs office and made some nice chitchat over tea with the officers on duty. Conny asked him where the exchange office was. He pointed out a rickety shack with a guy laying on a bed. When Conny approached the guy, he didn’t bother to sit upright, hand tucked firmly in his pants. “Where’s the exchange office?” Conny asked. “I’m the exchange office.” Mr. Lazy Ass turned out to be the local cash king, who knew his business well: people exchanging at the border are desperate. And desperation means cash. So he asked a ridiculous exchange rate. Connies Swabian genes forced him to pull back and admit defeat. From this one battle, not from the war…

He thought of other ways to get money and a great idea popped up: selling one of our 2 big, red fire extinguishers that were taking too much space in the car. Hussler guy was interested. He even sat upright when looking at the brand new load. But again he knew his business and offered a ridiculous low price. And again, Connies inner ‘Scrooge’ forced him to retreat.

In the meantime, I had made friends with the customs officers and shared tea with them when Conny returned with one extinguisher. He placed it in the middle of the circle, presenting it for sale. We told them the story of Egyptian customs and we showed our big red friend. They looked interested, but were mostly amused by our story. More chitchat, more tea. I opened: “you have a beautiful office, lots of wood. Interest in buying one of these beauties?” More laughter, more tea. Conny continued: “brand new, super quality. Never used. I think it would really improve your safety if you had one of these.” Still things didn’t look promising. But suddenly we saw the head chief customs with a large bundle of money, which he put on Connies lap. We were shortly puzzled, but our attempt had succeeded! He bought our extinguisher for such a good price that we could buy visa, pay customs and, as an unexpected bonus, fill up with cheap Sudanese diesel. We lost some battles, but won the war. Hooray for Africa!

They are very pragmatic, shown for example that time when we wanted to park at a lodge but the car didn’t fit on the parking lodge. The owner just took an axe to hand and cut our way to a good night.

Diet coke? What is that?

Another sharp contrast to Europe, is the meagre availability of products. Understandable, because this country suffered from famine still a decade ago. There are hardly any supermarkets (at least nothing what we would call supermarket). There are small shops with tin roofs, all carrying the same line: pasta, tomato concentrate, noodle soups, soft drinks, beans, porridge and other products that survive a fridgeless environment. That’s about it. It has been very difficult to find things that are obvious to us: toilet paper, something else to put on bread instead of the red chemical jelly that goes as sorry excuse for marmalade. No yoghurt, cheese, very little fresh vegetables, only overpriced chicken. Light soft drinks are non-existent. But then again, so are overweight Ethiopians. And judging by the many skin-and-bones locals, they can use the sugar.

So when we cook ourselves, we keep to sweet bread, beans, injera and pasta with strange red sauce. Conny misses his French cheese and German sausage and eats like a socialite wanting to fit into size zero: almost nothing. He lost so much weight that he’s practically swimming in his clothes.

Doing well with the bricks, madam!

You thought feminism was a Western thing? Think again. What we have seen here, we haven’t seen in any other country before: women in men professions. And I don’t mean the sissy stuff like working in offices from 9 to 5, but the real thing. The muscle and sweat part. Ethiopian women work as brick layer, construction worker, painter. They pour concrete, clean shoes, transport wood and water on their backs and work as car mechanic. We were very impressed. I had the faint hope that feminism would have been a fully accepted part of Ethiopian society. That if women were doing men’s jobs, men would also be doing women’s jobs. Indeed, I’ve read that compared to other African countries, women do have a relative equal position to men. But, when I was invited to a coffee ceremony at a local family, the husband explained that in Ethiopia, no self respecting man would ever set foot in a kitchen, nor would even consider to take a broom to hand or attend to the kids. So it seems that women just got the worst of both worlds…

The sheep thrower

Another peculiar thing we already told you about, is the stone throwing. Conny is very annoyed by this. I see his jaw tightening when another bunch of kids comes running towards the bus. One day, we weren’t even on the road for more than one hour and we already had our share of kids demanding “You you, give me money!”, “give me pen!”, “Give me banana!”

We saw some new menaces running downhill when we shortly paused. They were herding sheep and the car was surrounded by animals. When we didn’t give them what they requested, one of the boys bend over, swung his wooden stick and hit it against the car. Conny exploded, hit the brakes, got out and ran after the boys. However they were a lot faster than him, so he dug his hands into the first thing he could reach, which turned out to be a sheep. With a grand swing, he threw the sheep several meters away. The boys called us names, the sheep landed on his woollen left side. After it rose to its feet, it stared around a few seconds before taking his first shaky steps forward. In case the WFPA reads this: it had no injury.

Seeing the combination of Connies face, the screaming boys and the flabbergasted sheep flying through the air, I cracked up laughing. It was hilarious. We laughed the entire rest of the dirt road.

Being commercial 2.0: Sigaar uit eigen doos

Some Ethiopians are so utterly commercial, they know how to squeeze that dollar, or in this case euro, from a traveller. And they do it scrupulously, the shrewd little foxes.

Their tactics: first, they pretend to be students just wanting to help to clueless travellers. We met two of those in Lalibela, passing us by in the street. It happened quickly: “Are you Americans? I have a dollar” holding the dollar note proudly. “Want to have it?” Surprised, because it was the first time somebody offered money instead of asked for it. In an impulse, I grabbed the note and put it in my pocket, saying “Thanks mate!” I walked on, leaving the boys flabbergasted behind. After 10 seconds, we returned the dollar and engaged in conversation. He told us that he collected coins from Western countries, and he was dying to get his hands on a pound and a euro. It sounded innocent, because you can’t change one coin at the bank nor spend it there, so there seemed only sentimental value to it. We had a good talk and he showed us a very good and cheap restaurant. We were glad to have met somebody who seemed honest. So we surrendered: “tomorrow we give you a euro as a present. Worth 25 Birr, so it is a good present.”

When we met next day, we somehow had an awkward feeling. Not at all the same lightness as the day before. But we paid no attention to it. The young man was happy with his euro. But at the moment we said goodbye, our guy gave the euro to a smaller boy, who immediately ran after us. He pulled Connies arm and said boldly: “You European, want to buy this euro? Only 15 Birr.”

This time we were flabbergasted. Our illusions got smashed right then and there. But I also felt a laughter inside. That we, stupid tourists, hit a genuine tourist trap. Well done boys!

But despite these stories, or even because of these stories, we would recommend anybody to visit Ethiopia. Great place to work on your bargaining skills and sixth sense for people. The food in restaurants is great and very cheap and the landscapes are marvelous. We are still very happy to be here and will be enjoying our last 2 weeks in the South.

Next time more stories about being on Ethiopian roads and the origins on the Rastafari movement!

Extra Pictures on Flickr

UncategorizedOct 18 20132 Comments

Hello picture lovers,

We’re more then happy to share more pictures from our journey with you. It is sometimes difficult to upload all these megabytes because the upload speed in most African internet cafes is, well, non-existent.

But despite these challenges, we have managed to serve you some snack sized eye candy on Flickr. I thought, that when you click the pictures below you actually get redirected to my Flickr account. Turned out not to be the case 🙂

So here the link: Margitha’s Flickr account.

I salute the first brave soldier who fights his way through all the 750 images!

Danakil and Lalibela: hitting our lowest and highest points

Danakil Depression, Ethiopia, Lalibela, Stories, Things you didn't know about this countryOct 07 20130 Comment

Hi! Some of you have requested more eye candy: happy to oblige! From now on, we’ll post some more pictures in the photo albums and additional ones on Flickr. When you click on the Flickr link in the footer of the website, you get directed to our photo stream.

We have been in Ethiopia for 2 weeks and are already looking back on some experiences and sights that made a strong impression. Many things about this country are surprising to us, three of them we’ve already described in the previous story. Let me take you on a imaginary trip along the things we’ve seen and experienced with words and pictures. I hope the right feeling comes across. Let’s start after where we ended in the previous story: the Danakil depression.

As mentioned before, we were anxious to go there because of the risk involved. In 2012, a tourist group was kidnapped and several people got killed, among which 2 Germans. They were on an organised tour with guards, in fact one of the guards was part of the plot: he suddenly revealed himself as rebel and killed the other guards when his rogue party showed up. The government, being worried that tourists (read: dollars) would stay away, they’ve created some extra jobs in the army: accompanying tourists through the area. It’s also no longer allowed to explore the region on your own.

After talking to many people and reading about the government measures, we decided to go if we could bargain a good price at the travel agency. And man, did we bargain! It took us 1,5 day to reach the price that we found acceptable. We were very content with the 300 USD discount we eventually got, and we joined a large group consisting of mainly Israelis, 2 Dutchies, 2 Japanese and 2 Commonwealthies. We didn’t like the fact that we couldn’t drive the Bushi ourselves, (later we were very glad that we didn’t), and this trip felt very touristic. Like betraying the ‘off the beaten track’ style. But still, a once in a lifetime thing so we surrendered.

This organised tour consisted of 2×2 days. First, we visited the hottest and one of the lowest points on earth, hence the name Danakil Depression. With a party of 5 Toyota Land Cruisers we got driven over very rough terrains to the ‘Angry Village’. Here we picked up the guards that were to stay with us for the first part of the trip. Why the Angry Village? Somehow the locals didn’t like faranji, the name they use for foreigners, and have quite perfected the stone throwing. So after stocking up on security, we first drove through unending dried up, grey-coloured salt lakes.

There is still a traditional and lively salt trade with the city. Caravans of up to 50 camels walk to these lakes. They work a pretty straightforward supply chain: men cut rectangular blocks from rough pieces of salt for 2 birr (0,08 eurocent) per block that they just pick up from the ground. The next man loads 20 blocks per camel and also gets 2 birr per block. Then the caravan owner takes his 50 camels to the city and gets the big bucks: 41 birr per block. This may seem a lot, but we learned that for an Ethiopian camel, people pull 1000 USD from their wallet, so it takes some time before they have their return on investment.

The Danakil desert seemed unending and boasted that dry heat that we also experienced in Sudan. Imagine getting out of the car, looking around you and seeing nothing but emptiness, cracking salt blocks under your feet and a sizzling heat burning on your forehead that forces you to squeeze your eyes. It feels like the end of the earth.

Here we visited Dallol, an area tremendously rich in minerals like potassium, sulphur and magnesium. These minerals react with each other and with rain, resulting in large warts of salt and minerals in a broad range of colours. Very surreal! A mild smell of rotten eggs surrounded us and the air held some acids, which slightly irritated the eyes.

The guides told us war stories of a girl in the previous trip who was so eager to get a shot up close, that she fell in and her skin was burned away by the acids. I think this was more an attempt to keep us in the safe areas than that it was actually true, but we remained on safe grounds anyway just in case. The next hospital was at least 6 hours away…

We also enjoyed a moon-like landschape of oddly shaped, sharp rocks in the middle of the desert. It felt like these rocks were placed there so randomly, that even Yuval, our Israeli travel buddy who is a sort of Ph. D. expert on nature and a walking encyclopedia, couldn’t explain the phenomenon.

Lastly, we wandered the white and grey surroundings of Lake Asale, a white salt lake that reminds of the Bolivian pride. We enjoyed it so much that we could have stayed there for hours, but some sissy co-tourists couldn’t stand the heat and had to find refuge in the airconditioned Land Cruisers.

That night, after driving another 6 hours, we returned to Mekele with salty skins, sunburns and a feeling of great satisfaction. We had our hopes up high for what the next 2 days would bring us.

Part two of the trip was overwhelming. It started by driving for 8 hours to the base of the active volcano, Irta’ale. This driving was an experience in itself. Have you ever seen terrains that consists of dried lava stone? The large black bumps and waves that looks like thick cookie dough was poured from a bowl? We had to master a road that lead through these rough terrains and it was even a skill to sit in the car without bumping your head to the side of the car.

The drivers were real road renegades: they are not only skilled off road cowboys, but also car mechanics. And the way that they force these four wheeled wonders over the rocks, this is not an abundant luxury. They managed to fix blocked breaks, a broken 4WD driveshaft, a flat tire and leaking break fluid.

We had a stop at a military camp in the middle of the desert. Here we had to arrange the permits to access the area and stock up on security: we got 7 soldiers, 2 police officers and 1 scout (again, not so impressive because the Ethiopians are so thin, it looks like that they would rather fight for a good meal than to fight for a bunch of tourists…)

After arriving at our ‘base camp’ where we had dinner at the end of the day, we walked up to the mouth of the volcano for three hours. It was a bit eerie to walk through a pitch black night, soldiers with rifles to all sides, the heat drawing sweat from pores in places you didn’t even know you had any. With our head lights, our colonne looked like a giant rope of christmas tree lights. You walk at night, because walking during daylight is simply too hot.

The soldiers checked the crater area for 15 minutes before allowing us to enter. In all excitement we had forgotten that we were about 15 miles from the Eritrean border, in a conflict area and exactly on the spot where the killings took place in 2012.

We were lucky: the volcano had an active night and presented us immense blows, vibrating hot air and grand fire works. It was spectacular indeed! It was our first lava, and standing at the edge of this giant melting pot, we got an idea of the forces of nature that are at work in our earth’s core.

After having watched this spectacle for 2 hours, we slept for 3 hours next to the crater under a beautiful starry sky before walking the 3 hours to base camp again.

It was a new experience to be on an organised tour in a large group. A large group of Israelis, for that matter, was an experience in itself. From now on, we can spot the Israeli from hunderds of meters distance. By what? First of all, their appearance. Small, long faces with thick eyebrows and dark hair. Big hair, lots of hair. Only one receding hairline spotted, but he had a second nationality 🙂

Secondly, without exception, they wear Teva sandals. They even told us that when there is a funeral, people don’t dress up but come in their regulars, including their rubber Teva tracking sandals.

Thirdly, and I find this is a bit more difficult to explain, is that to me they seem to have a sort of hippie-air over them. Still today, they have to serve 3 to 4 years in the army, both men and women (unless you can prove you are religious). After that, most go on their large ‘walkabout’: backpacking for a longer time to explore the world. Only by the time they are about 24, they start university. So their ‘serious working life’ starts years later than in Europe. I don’t know if it’s this student-like feeling, or the fact that some of the people in our group still lived in a Kibboets. It got us more interested in Israel and its history though, not in the least because of the interesting history lessons Yuval gave us. This might be one of our next travel destinations.

But, needless to say, that we had a great time with our new Israeli and Japanese friends. It was delightful to get some new input, learn new things and have different conversations than just with each other.

After spending days on the lowest place in Ethiopia (-125 meters), Conny and I drove the Bushi to Lalibela. On the road we hit the highest point by car until now: 3520 meters! Lalibela houses the most beautiful, unique rock-hewn churches in the world. This Unesco heritage site is situated in beautiful mountain surroundings and the village itself looks very friendly. The most famous church is the Bet Giyorgis, or St. George church. This church is carved 15 meters deep, perfectly cross shaped and free standing from the surrounding rocks. We found it to be true what they say about these churches: ‘you may have seen dozens of picture, but nothing compares to seeing it for yourself.’ It might be boring if we start describing all churches and their beauties, so we’ve just added some more picture this time in the Ethiopia photo album and definitely recommnend visiting them yourselves. The sheer effort of hewing a plane rock into a precisely shaped church is astonishing.

Our next story might take awhile because wifi is scarce, but when we get connected again, we’ll share a bit more about our daily routines and living on the road in the Bushi. Thanks for staying tuned!