Monday, August 13, 2007

Ethiopia: A sting in the tail (tale?).

I just know that my kind hearted buddy, Feetay, would be thinking 'I'll nip to the $2 Shop and get a replacement set of sunglasses for Mad, and send them over.' Thanks cobber. But Gonder provided the opportunity for me to relieve you of such pressure, mate.

A street vendor on the way to the bus station, had an enticing range of crass goods. "How much?" pointing at a pair of sunglasses. "25 birr." (surprised me, not such an outragoeus first bid.) "Ten" "OK, fifteen." "No, I said ten." "OK" "I can't believe it, Max. You just bought a pair of sunglasses for $1.40!" says Deb. "Nah, he gave in too easily. I've probably been ripped off." Hoping you're proud of me Feetay.

From Gonder, and the Ethiopian Highlands, to the border, you drop altitude. Ethiopia, on the western escarpment of the Rift Valley, although not 4% of African land surface, has 50% of the continent's land above 2,000 metres, and 80% of the land above 3,000 metres. So, therefore with the rain season it's also been a tad cooler. Even though it's in Northern Hemisphere, they call it winter.

But as we head down and west, it starts warming. There are signs it has been raining, but nowhere as wet.

Just after the start of the first big descent, the bus puts a stone through its radiator. All off. We sit on the side of the road, watching fuel tankers labourisly crawl the climb, for two hours. And read our books. The driver has caught a bus going the other way, back to 'somewhere', and sent out a repacement. It arrives just as the conductor cum mechanic, drops out the radiator. It's thrown onto a truck. Back to 'somewhere' again for repairs I guess.

Although it's the same passengers, still going to the same place, we have the ticket exchange routine again. I reckon this is the way they audit for paying the replacement.

With about 50km to the border town of Mehemet, we are all piled off and onto another bus at Shehedie. Probably because we are now a bit late for the buses return. The new conductor tries to hit us up for another fare. No, no. I know how this replacement ticket sytems works. Locals aren't paying. He can get stuffed.

By no means are we trail blazers, but the stop and staring of people in Mehemet, and confirmed by a bar owner, tells us very few foreigners pass this way. We are not hounded at all. Hardly spoken to, just stared at.

Having booked into a basic, no - make that very basic, hotel we go for a stroll. Surprisingly, Mehemet has all you need for a forced stopover. A couple of hotels (some, purely brothels), restaurants, cafes, bars. All road side, dirt floor, canvassed wall and roof establishments. Arabs come across from The Sudan to have a beer, and avail of the working girls.

We stopped for chai, and a woman was making injera. Deb showed interest in the process, and allowed a try. The whole cafe (all men, of course) stared and laughed. A crowd gathered in the street and stared at proceedings as well.

Over late lunch, a joker intoduces himself. Harmless. A practice his English session. Later when walking the street he waves us into his bar/hotel. Gives us a Pepsi, bottle of water, gets his two sisters to boil up a coffee ceremony, make some injera and beans (fasting), and pop some corn. We are joined by some friends. All very nice. Offer some money as we leave. They are all shocked, absolutely refuse payment. Is this still Ethiopia?

It apeared not to have rained for a few days. It was dry and dusty. But a downpour that night turns mainstreet into a mudbog. Out boots are clogged with mud as we tromp into immigration (a reed shack). In the no-man's land we conduct negotiations of Ethiopian/Sudanese money exchange.

We're walking into Sudan.

This should be different. What do you reckon?

Max
aka Mad

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