If we thought we'd be able to sleep in today, we were wrong. Breakfast at 7:00 to be on the road by 8:00. The tour of the
So be it. During the night Laolao had had a bad bout of stomach upset and bowel distress, but she felt better now and decided to come on the park tour.
Immediately after entering the park gates we saw a troupe of warthogs, a good half dozen, munching placidly nearby. Wow! Our first animal sighting already! We looked eagerly through the van windows for more, but saw little; the bush grew thick on either side of the track. Still, we caught some glimpses of baboons and monkeys. Paulos said the land opened up further along the trail; we would have a clear view to either side. That would be where the zebras would be found.
After about a half-hour in the park, the track began to wind along a cliffside above the lake, with some very steep stretches. The driver slowed, bounced, and spun his wheels. The grade was steep, but this was a 4WD vehicle, surely he could make the grade? He backed up and tried again, giving it more gas – again he got no purchase and spun out. Was he even using the four wheel drive? If so, there should be no need to back up and give it gas; a slow and steady acceleration would suffice. The driver backed up again. He swerved to avoid something and slammed into the cliffside, breaking a taillight and seriously denting the back door of the vehicle. He went forward, spinning out again. Laoye was getting upset, telling Paulos to tell the driver to put it into 4WD. He didn't seem to know how. (Giggles found all of this rather distressing.)
Then another vehicle approached, coming down the hill. Yikes, what would he do now. The other driver got out, assessed the situation, and told our driver to back up to a certain point. It didn't look like there was enough room, but once he backed up (managing narrowly to avoid a second collision with the cliff face) it became apparent it would work. But how to go forward? The driver of the other vehicle jumped out, came to ours, promptly engaged the 4WD and slowly eased up the hill past the trouble spot. Our driver go in again, but not before the other driver showed him how to engage the 4WD. Knowing how to engage it, however, is not enough – one must also know how to drive with it engaged. The driver kept revving up the gas, expecting to need the power to push the vehicle up the hill. This made for a jerky ride. We told Paulos to tell him to ease off on the gas and let the 4WD do the work. "Slow and steady; slow and steady." Paulos told him but it made little difference. We hadn't got far when another vehicle approached and we needed to back up again.
At this point Paulos made a decision. He told us he was going to go back to town and get an experienced driver who would do a better job. We said that was a good idea, but we didn't want to sit in the car for the hour and a half (at least) it would take to get back to town and return with a competent driver. We would get out and walk along the trail until the car returned. Paulos was concerned about this, but said okay. (After all, there are no lions, cheetahs, or other major predators in the park, so extra-vehicular activity is not life-threatening.) We started to walk along the path, enjoying being out of the bumpy van and breathing the fresh air. A moment later Paulos appeared. He had sent the driver back on his own with instructions; he felt he should stay with us to ensure we were taken care of.
Unfortunately, as all this was happening, Laolao was also experiencing a recurrence of the stomach and bowel distress. At first it wasn't too bad, but it quickly grew worse and she'd forgotten the medication at the hotel. Paulos grew more and more concerned. He tried numerous times to reach the driver or other contacts on his mobile phone, even walking ahead to the hilltop for better reception, but could get no connection. (We discovered later that the entire network was down for the day so nobody's mobile was working.) After about 45 minutes, a park ranger's vehicle came along and we flagged them down. They agreed to take us back to the park entrance. We had almost reached the entrance when our van reappeared with the new driver at the wheel and the regular driver in the passenger seat. After a moment's discussion, we all headed back to the hotel to take Laolao to a place she could rest. (The worst of the bout had passed, but she was tired and in no condition to continue.) At the hotel, Paulos gave the rest of us the option of going back with the new driver for the park tour, or staying at the hotel for some rest and then proceeding with the boat ride in the afternoon. If we did the park tour, however, we would not be able to do the boat ride as we would run out of time. (It was already almost 11:00). None of us felt like going back into the bumpy van for another five-hour drive, so we chose the second option.
After lunch, Paulos said we didn't need to wait until 2:00 for the boat ride but could head off right away. If we did so, then we would have time to visit the mountain-top village that we had missed from the itinerary the previous day. That sounded just fine. Laolao was feeling a lot better, but decided to stay at the hotel just in case. We stopped to pick up the boatman; 20 minutes later we'd arrived at the launch area. It was a pleasant, hot and sunny day.
Even out on the water it was quite warm; one didn't need a jacket. We saw cranes and storks, kingfishers and geese. Passing by some reeds, we saw two hippos at a distance; as we passed the place they had been, one of them came up to breathe, blowing our his used air less than three metres from the boat. Then we rounded an island and came to another reedy area and there lounged over a dozen hippos, half-submerged, enjoying the cool water on a sunny day. We slowly motored by, zig-zagging a few times to allow for good photos.
Then it was a short hop across an open stretch of water to a round, dome-shaped island and on a narrow spit of land, basking in the sun on the dirt beach, lay two dozen large crocodiles.
Paulos told us to be quiet here; no whistles, hoots, shouts or any loud noises, as we did not want to startle them out of their slumber. They were powerful-looking creatures, at least four or five metres long with stout bodies and thick legs and tails. I would not have wanted to be anywhere within grasping distance of those jaws!
Our animal-viewing desires at least partly satiated, the boat turned around and sped back to the launch area. Paulos said they almost always saw hippos and crocs at those locations; that's why they take the tourists there!
We dropped off the boatman, then proceeded north towards the Dorzie village. The turn-off led us in a westerly direction and immediately began to climb. The grade was steep and winding; multiple switchbacks carried us higher and higher up the mountain. As we climbed, the vegetation changed noticeably. We entered a forest of conifers – juniper perhaps, or spruce. The air grew cooler and my ears could feel the pressure change. Even here, along this steep mountain road, we saw women carrying heavy loads, climbing towards the village, and cows and goats grazing in the sloping fields along the road. (The road was quite good; gravel but well-packed and well-maintained, with only the occasional rough spot, including one area where it had been washed out by a creek. The driver engaged the 4WD to cross that patch – I guess he'd learned something – but disengaged it right after.)
After a half-hour's winding climb we reached the mountaintop village. This is a place supported by World Vision, and it showed. Though we still saw the traditional houses, the road was good, things just seemed different and not so miserably impoverished as in other places we'd passed.
We entered a compound of one of the families and the second son, Mekonnen, proceeded to give us a tour (in very good English – Paulos said the guides like to take their groups to his compound as his English is among the best).
This community houses 7,800 people, Mekonnen told us. The Dorzie people build very tall houses of bamboo poles thatched with the leaves of the false banana tree (a banana-like tree that bears no fruit). These houses are up to 15 metres tall and can last for 100 years, though the thatch will require redoing at least once during that period. However, termites eat at the bottom of the bamboo, causing the house to slowly shrink (which means the entrance must be cut higher every couple of years so one can still get in!).
Inside, there are places for sitting and sleeping and a small central hearth for cooking.
The smoke from the fires keeps the termites from climbing above the bottom couple of cm. Gourds hang from the roof along the sides; these are filled with butter, grains, and other things.
The hut includes a section for the animals to sleep; they enter the main door and then pass through a small door inside into their own enclosure. The heat from the animals helps to warm the house on cold nights and keep the people warm, too. (The manure is thrown out of the house through a small window cut into the animal enclosure.)
Each compound will have two or three of these houses. One is a "honeymoon" house where the couple enjoys their first three months of marriage; after that it sits empty until the next person in the family marries. The honeymoon house in Mekonnen's compound was currently being enjoyed by his oldest brother, who had recently married. The third hut in a compound is for storage, and occasionally for guests.
Beside the houses, Mekonnen showed us his aunt, spinning cotton into thread, and his uncle, weaving at a loom.
In a garden area behind the compound, we saw his mother preparing the false banana plant for consumption. The trunk is sliced and the slices scraped to create a coarse pulp. This pulp is wrapped in leaves from the plant, placed under a pile of rocks, and fermented for three weeks. Once the fermentation has reached its desired state, the pulp is chopped (as it is still quite fibrous), mixed with water, and baked into a flatbread. This bread is one of the staples of the Dorzie people. (We later learned that it is apparently quite low in nutritional value, to the point that more energy may be expended in its preparation than it provides.)
We then were shown the "guest-houses" the village has constructed – very simple traditional huts consisting of little more than an entrance area with a raised sleeping platform, equipped with an electric light. These are for the benefit of the occasional tourist who might choose to spend the night in the village.
The final stop was the village meeting place.
Here we were served a piece of false banana flatbread accompanied by a very spicy pepper sauce, and its neighbouring vending stalls where I did the tourist thing and bought a few woven items for souvenirs and gifts.
Giggles also saw something there that caught her fancy – an ostrick feather bound to a piece of carved wood. I said okay, I'd buy it for her. I asked Paulos what it was; he said it was a ceremonial object but did not elaborate. When the time came to bargain, the young man of the village was very reluctant to sell it and kept asking what seemed an outrageously high price (well, outrageous in comparison to what they wanted for the woven items that involved so much hard work to produce). The older man kept pushing him to go ahead and sell it. I asked what was so special about it; what kind of ceremony was it used for? It seems it is an object of respect used in funeral ceremonies. When an old man dies, this ostrich feather wand is waved at the funeral and then placed over his heart. With that explanation in hand I felt a bit bad about buying it as a child's plaything, but by then the deal had been struck and the object included in the final price. (For one shawl, two thin blanket-size spreads, two caps, and the ostrich-feather object, I paid 300 birr or $33.)
By this time sunset was fast approaching and we wanted to be down the mountain before dark. So we hopped into the van and began the descent. Laoye was quite concerned the driver was going to strip the brakes by constant braking, as he was not using the gears efficiently as a means of slowing the engine. But we made it down safe, just as the sun was setting. (And still there were people walking up the mountain.) We bought a few bananas (the tiny ones) and mangoes from a road-side vendor at the junction and drove back to town.
Here we learned from Paulos what the people were wanting when they looked through our van windows and pointed at our water bottles, saying something I couldn't understand but that didn't sound at all like "water." Paulos pointed to the label on one of the bottles we had with us. It was
That leads me to another observation. There is very little garbage to be seen littering Ethiopia. In other countries – India, Mexico, China – one sees garbage all over the place, filling dry riverbeds, lining streets, piled in piles everywhere. But here, we've seen the odd pile of garbage in Addis, but virtually nothing in the countryside. I put it down to three reasons. First, not much garbage is produced here. Ethiopians do not have many things made of plastics or other things that do not decompose quickly and there is not much in the way of packaging, let alone excess packaging. Secondly, Ethiopians for the most part simply do not have many things, period. So there is no need to throw out the old to make room for the new. Thirdly, and related to the other two, this is not a disposable society. Things here are used until they are worn out. If they break, they are fixed and used again, or dismantled and the pieces used for something else. Anything that is potentially useful is used. If its original purpose has been fulfilled (as in a water bottle), it is reused again and again for some other purpose. Things will only be thrown out once there is no more purpose for them; by that time, there may be little left to dispose of.
To get back to my narrative, it was full dark by the time we reached the hotel. The driver needed to turn on his lights for the final section of the return journey; to do so, he had to stop the van, get out, lift the hood and connect some wires. He still had no dashboard lights. Maybe Laoye's assessment that the vehicle was a piece of junk wasn't so far off. (Especially now that the tail had been bashed in and one couldn't open the rear doors to access the luggage compartment.)
We met Laolao at the restaurant, ate a light supper, and hit the beds, quite worn out but satisfied after all that the day had not been a total disaster. Tomorrow would be yet another early day. (Laoye complained briefly, saying he would like to sleep in a bit, but I sided with Paulos, saying if we wanted to enjoy the hot springs waiting for us at Wondo Genet, we needed to get there in time to do so. After all, we had seven-plus hours of dusty, bumpy road to cover first.)
(Continue to 29 December: Wondo Genet - A hilltop paradise)
No comments:
Post a Comment