(If you’re just getting here at Ethiopia, I added the last part of the journey in Kenya to the border of Ethiopia, police arrests and the bike down from the Marsabit to Moyale run)
… and there I had a great conversation with a money changer, tea in fact together on him, a class act, then I tipped him for his time, though buying Birr from his partner at a better price, for they were not partners in notes, only tourism and such.
Now to keep right …… after customs for the bike and immigration, I had my right heel run over by a guy driving a truck he doesn’t know how to yet, the money changers freaked out, then the guy came to me after the argument and apologized, he spun away recklessly after that, he doesn’t have the touch, and I’ll see him in a ditch soon I’m sure.
So finally on my way, when I pulled into a petrol station, my front tire felt suddenly squirrely, so while she was filling the tank I checked the tyre pressure with my hands and sure enough it had a leak somewhere. I pumped it up by hand, and then rode across to the Gomeria(still can’t get the Spanish out of my head), and there I pulled in to remove the tyre. I had to actually physically stop the young man from trying to remove my tyre, he kept trying to do it while I was doing it (he was working for a tip obviously).
So he carried the tyre over to the Gomeria, and there we found this. Can you believe it? After riding all day yesterday over sharp lava rock, this wee thorn made it’s way inside the tube. While waiting one of the kids poked me and pointed for me to look at two bikes riding into town. They stopped at the gas station I was just at, so I walked over to them, leaving all my stuff behind, including my jacket, which I often do as I trust the people I’ve met all along the way, and when not, I don’t (touch wood). Honestly, I believe there isn’t much of a feeling of grab and run, though one reads about it existing in the books for travelers.
A couple from the Netherlands, I can’t remember their names right now, it was such a short visit as they had an hour to cross the border before noon on a Sunday, and I didn’t get a picture either. But they were really nice and excited and disappointed we weren’t going the same way. In the end I let the young man tighten the last nut on the front tyre, watching for that magic spot I think he hit. He was happy about that, and the tip.
Before leaving Moyale, I stopped to buy some extra water and a crowd surrounded me right away. They watched and commented quietly while I put in my ear buds, helmet, glasses, flick the switches to starting the bike. A really good audience. And then finally on my way ….
The Dutch couple had told me about a nice motel 200km’s from Moyale and once there I took a room with a TV and an English movie channel! I also met an English couple in a Uni Mog heading down. They had some questions about the upcoming roads and I was happy to oblige, though regrettably, not much energy for interaction, for I was happy to be hanging by myself in this clean quiet room.
In the morning, on the road again ….
The next day I stopped here for a water cashews chocolate break, sharing lunch with this young man. And then four others eventually. But it was really peaceful, none of us talking much, just eating and observing each other in this beautiful spot. The young man with his hands in his pockets only had one, and the other was deformed, and difficult for him to hold my giving’s.
And then the ride up to about 2500 metres, but more significantly the reaction from the people in villages that were countless; they could hear me coming and the children would run out from their homes, the fields, everywhere and anywhere to wave and be waved back to, screaming with huge smiles on their faces like they had known me all my life and were waiting for my return. It was crazy really. I was nodding to the adults and waving to the kids, everyone of them no matter where they were. It was something that hasn’t happened to me in such an intense way on this whole trip, or in my real life for that matter. In fact, it was becoming so surreal, I began to weep inside my helmet while waving and nodding, looking at their great nothingness. It was an overwhelming experience, the sincerity, the joy, the look in the eyes from everyone. I can’t explain it well just now, it’s still too close.
Though inevitably it also got old as I descended from the poorest part of the day, where the clothing became more modern the lower in elevation I went. Not significantly, but more city like even before the cities. The attitudes changed more to money, opportunity and even slightly aggressive in terms of some of the gestures I witnessed, but more or less the same as before, positive, but still so very different from the misty mountain top ride earlier in the day.
Actually it really began to change after this stop for fuel. I was surrounded by that crowd you see in the picture I took as I’m later riding away. A hundred eyes watched as I lit my smoke, I standing there with a wry smile, and then a moment later I just left my bike and the deep circle for some space fifteen feet away. It was then someone said everyone move back give him some space, but that only lasted for thirty seconds before I decided maybe I should return to the bike, then they all covered me again. At one point one young guy grabbed my knee to see if it was indeed padded, and so I looked down and up then gave the guy a look like, ‘And what do you think you’re doing?’, everyone laughed so I think the joke/point got across. With the greatest audience watching I’ve had so far, I put stuff on and flicked switches like I was flying the USS Enterprise, and then said, ‘Watch your feet now’, and someone translated ‘Watch your feet now’, and I rode away …
Later on I stopped in a spot I thought for sure would buy me some time before the end of my smoke/water/legs/back/mental break, but no …. So my audience contentedly watched me stretch, inhale tobacco, look at the tyres, check the oil and mumble to myself, ‘I feel like Brad Pitt’.
Later in the day, I arrived in Awassa, to find out the reason every hotel in the city is booked because it’s a religious holiday tomorrow, and everyone is here to go to this special Orthodox church tomorrow. However after some advice from the street and my own knowing hunches, I found a room for $10. I had an opportunity to stay at the famous Ethiopian world record breaking Marathon runner’s ‘resort and spa’ by the lake place, but opted no thanks, at 145US/night. I’m happy though he won the race.
Note to self; catch up with your journal, the computer is not your mind ….
During the walk to the Orthodox church in the morning, thousands of people were going to and fro, and the poor and disabled were lined up along the way to receive gifts from the people. I didn’t take any pictures of this, for I think it’s saddistic, but imagine the worst, and you will see them too. Being the only white person, I was again a curiosity but not solicited so much. The Ethiopians seem genuinely interested, and on many occasions I would hear this, ‘You! How are you?’, and I would laugh or ask ‘Good how are you?’. Many times after hearing ‘You!’, they would touch my arm or try and grab my hand, and laugh as they left, and I did too. I’m a pretty guarded person as it is, and didn’t find anyone too much to handle, except the odd crazy person but that’s no different than at home.
At one point I found a small internet place, went inside and asked the woman if the time on the computer was correct. She said it was, and I said where did the day go so quickly?! The few people laughed like they knew what I was saying. Later again I asked the manager of the motel I’m staying in and he said yes, it is now five o’clock. I was walking around for a long time but really I didn’t realize so much time had passed so quickly. So I had a beer since it was a good hour to have one, and then another and went to my room to catch up with the photos and writing, and then it occurred to me when I saw the time on the computer was only 13:30, and after checking my phone which also said 13:30, that they must also go on Swahili time. I went outside to confirm if this was true or if I had truly lost any sense of time, and thankfully was relieved to find out that they indeed work on Swahili time. So now after a couple of early beers, I’m tired and will have a nap before venturing out again.
Oh what a cat nap I had, the sounds of the city moving, talking and the music to wrap me tightly in my sleep. And then out for another walk …. ‘You! You! Why don’t you have your shoes washed?’, they said smiling with their shoe shine boxes. I don’t know I thought, maybe because I have more strength in my dirty appearance than a white guy walking the streets with lot’s of clean bling … Or maybe I don’t know why really …. Or maybe because I don’t enjoy being solicited, or the need to have my boots shined for acceptance, for their were hundreds of shoes being shined all over the streets, even running shoes(trainers for the UK), I think maybe for the importance of having one’s shoes polished clean by the less working class than oneself, maybe that’s it. I can polish my shoes when I want. And then I think well maybe it’s a way of sharing without giving for nothing, and then after all these thoughts, I keep walking by smiling while looking at the people moving toward me looking at my boots, and then my eyes. Maybe that’s it, maybe it’s me that thinks so and nobody else I don’t know eh no lo say.
For an hour I watched a boy with his hand made cart made of wood with a metal front wheel placed inside two holes strapped tightly without the need for bolts, bearings or anything (there are many and not unusual), lying on his cart next to his competition that had some friends. Anyway, for a while I was looking everywhere but always fixating on this boy and his push cart thinking can I take a picture without anyone knowing? In the end I didn’t, but suddenly I saw this same boy kick a nearby car tyre after a bus dropped off people with no cargo, and to seemingly set off the car alarm for fun I was thinking, all alone and bored with his life, but the timing was not good. For the man who owned the car was just walking ten feet behind the boy when he kicked the tyre, and the man walked up to the boy and slapped him hard in the face, the boy running away without his cart. Seconds later the friends of his competitor picked up his cart and threw it upside down and onto the street, and a moment later a friend of the boy picked up the cart and put it back on the walkway, before the boy finally returned after the man in the car drove away, to pick up his cart and shamelessly walk away toward his home in a village outside of the city I assume. Anyway and all in all, I think this is more successful and a better way to manage society, the people and their ways. Consider this, there are over 80 million people in the country of Ethiopia, and only 33 million in all of the second largest country in the world called Canada. But look and see how clearly immediate justice is served without pain and violence; the boy did something he shouldn’t, the man slapped him in the face and the boy ran away afraid and rightfully so, later picking up his cart and rolling away. Even the vengeful gang to be, served a purpose; to enforce the wrong doing, which eventually becomes a police force if you know what I mean. So anyway, let me go further on …. In Toronto maybe a squeegee guy washes the window of a guy who is tired of the process already, and threatens the young dude on the street, but the young dude strikes back and then all hell breaks loose maybe I don’t know, but today’s moment seemed more like a country home sort of way if you still follow me. Like I said a while back, ‘Yeah, I don’t know eh, just wondering’.
I went next door to eat from where I was staying for they made a nice and spicy Ethiopian spaghetti bolognese.
And had my first Ethiopian coffee. This woman was playing old 70′s North American music, that I recorded …. so strange the two of us sitting there, listening to this music. Also the manager was very kind, just like the manager of the motel I was sleeping in.
I stopped here to take some pictures, and three young boys from the field came running. They were repeating every English word I used, and asking for money I think, and most clearly water. So I gave them a two litre bottle of water I had bought just for this purpose. I also bought a whole bunch of writing pens in Nairobi to give away that were packed away at the moment, so I just showed them some pictures and left. It says in the guide books, not to give writing pens, empty water bottles, candy or money. Well, it’s just a guide book.
Arriving in Addis Ababa, I was heading for Wim’s Holland House, another Overlander place to stay and put the feet up and repair whatever ails you. But I was driving around using the GPS to find the place, but was getting nowhere. After a while, I realized the co-ordinates must be incorrect, so I stopped at a hotel for two reasons: one, so I don’t have to stop on the street and get asked all kinds of questions, and two, to use the internet. I found the information I needed, reentered the numbers, and started again to find Wim’s place. And then it rained, hard. So while trying to read the GPS, navigate the traffic and deal with he rain, I finally had to not listen to the GPS as I knew I was within a two block range, and just started heading for the little flag on the screen, and then finally finding it. The co-ordinates are N09.00.589 E038.45.325 ….. if you find the bus/train station, just go down a little dirt road beside a sign for a police station.
It’s great here by the way, and I took the room next to my bike for $10. I’m sorry I missed watching the World Cup here as Ron, who lives here and helps run the place while Wim and his wife are away, well he showed me some pictures and they had a fantastic Dutch time! Also Rob and Miriam who I met at the Jungle Junction, the pregnant couple, are here and leaving tomorrow, as well, the couple who had the pit/rottweiler dog who attacked Jack the Russel in Nairobi. They’re a nice Swiss/Brazilian couple and driving all around Africa.
We all had many good-bye drinks, all of us forgot to pay our bills, and all of us were tired this morning. I decided the best medicine would be to walk, so I went off to buy some oil, send my old carnet back to CAA in Canada, looked for stickers, Kenya and Ethiopia. I found an old Kenyan coin, and an Ethiopian sticker, changed the oil and glued on the coin, oh and I had my boots cleaned and polished, giving two boys money for the job.
A brief interruption everybody, this is Adam, Markus’s brother, he wanted me to add this:
“MARKUS IS UNABLE TO ENTER HIS SITE WHILE IN SUDAN, STORY TO FOLLOW AT A LATER DATE…. HE SAYS ALL IS GOOD, AND THE PEOPLE AND CULTURE LIVE UP TO THEIR KIND REPUTATION”.
I’M BACK, AND NOW IN EGYPT TO UPDATE FTG. THE SUDANESE GOVERNMENT CENSORED MY SITE IN ALL OF SUDAN, AND I WAS UNABLE TO UPDATE UNTIL NOW. THE STORY WILL FOLLOW IN THE SUDAN PORTION OF THINGS …. NOW FOR THE REST OF ETHIOPIA ….
And then, a series of days I can’t explain, in terms of staying more and more days. At first it was the heavy rains, and then it was so I could change my rear tyre, and then it didn’t feel right to leave. I suppose now that I have been here seven nights, I don’t know necessarily why I am still here with the promise of leaving tomorrow morning for the third time already, but I will say what happened a couple of days ago, even though the days don’t tell you what they mean from day to day do they.
Firstly, a trio arrived from Belgium, Steven and Stephanie riding in their truck, and Johan riding his Yamaha bike. We got along instantly and so it was a no brainer to stay another day while they sorted their business before leaving to the south. So we got together at the table for talking, eating and wine, and also Peter the Swiss and his woman Marcia from Brasil joined us, and then also the German staying here a month already, Lutz, to play the dice game.
Peter and Marcia I had met in Nairobi at the Jungle Junction, their dog was the one that attacked Jack the Russell. Anyway we all had a really nice time together. Later I went out to the front gate, to give the old guard a glass of wine while he sits in the dark with his fire. Then I went across the road to the other part of The Holland House to visit with the three dogs owned by Wim the owner of this hostel. As I was leaving, Whiskey, the male left with me to visit with the guard, and then I left them to join the gang back at the table.
A while later I was talking with Johan, as we both shared the same feelings about Peter’s Rottweiler/Pit-bull. I told him about the attack in Nairobi, and my observations of this dog, a weapon in the hands of an experienced dog owner. Peter’s first dog, after being attacked by a man with a screwdriver in West Africa a year ago. I was saying that I wasn’t sure about the safety of Peter’s wife Marcia, for the dog bites at her hands as a form of domination. Peter himself struggles to walk the dog, for it is so strong. And just as I was saying this, we all heard the sound of a dog fight and I knew immediately who was fighting with whom. So I ran from the table, burst open the doors that I didn’t know was propped shut with a cot, as Johan and Steven went around the other way to the same place. It was dark so I just yelled with authority as I was running there screaming, ‘Stop it, No!!!’ Steven got between the dogs some how, and I don’t know what happened, it was all so fast. Peter was trying to hold his dog back, with the broken rope, and I was telling the guard to quickly take Whiskey who was clearly injured back to the other side and put him in the house. After all had settled, I went to see how Whiskey was doing. Not being a doctor and not wanting to injure the dog more, who was favoring his leg, we decided to wait until the morning for the Veterinarian to arrive.
The next morning I was planning to leave, but I felt responsible to make sure all was taken care of by the various people, as Wim the owner is away for a month, and Ron his manager was also away until the evening, leaving Belainesh, a woman who is wise, a woman who I respect faithfully, which I’m told by her the feeling is mutual. The other catch to this story, is that Peter and Marcia were going to take my room, as their truck needs to be emptied, and driven to the welder to repair various breaks in the frame, so they were planning to move into my room after I was gone, and with their dog. When I was passing by the restaurant Peter was having his coffee and he stopped me gently with his hands and wished me a good journey today. Miffed by his selfish needs, I ignored his comment and asked about Whiskey’s condition. He had no answer, so I continued walking to the other side of the road. The guard seemed happy I was there and he let me in the office where Whiskey had spent the night alone. He came out half shaking his tail, limping and sad. I carefully checked his leg and he seemed happy about my tenderness, the other two females, scared and lost without Whiskey were watching, sniffing and listening. Then Peter came in suddenly, and wanted to take over my examination, so again pissed off with his lack of grace, I stepped back to observe, and what I heard was Peter saying the dog is okay, and then I saw him try to feed Whiskey some dog treats he had in his hand. Whiskey didn’t growl, but he lifted his lip and showed his teeth to his hand. I asked the guard to take Whiskey back in the room until the Vet arrived, and then I left back to the restaurant side for some tea, and ultimately to talk with Peter about his dog. It was a long one hour, I kept my diplomacy always and so did he, but in the end he couldn’t hear my words, like a serial killer’s son, the mother never really believing the truth. I said at one point, This could happen to your wife Marcia or a child on the street, and he responded that he would shoot the dog if this happened. Yeah, but what about the scars of your woman or some innocent child? Johan also calmly tried to relate his experience with all animals, including Rottweiler’s he raised with his brothers and father in their family business that required such security, but he seemed to think we were all over-reacting. There really is no point to talk with someone who is in love, or who has no respect for other people and only themselves. So Peter left, and then Johan told me that before I had awoken an hour ago, Peter had taken Belo for a walk, and that he had bitten another dog. Johan said there were people from the neighborhood throwing big stones at the dog and Peter, for in Ethiopia and most parts of Africa I’ve been told and experienced, they don’t wait for the police to arrive, they take care of their business right away. Are you kidding me? So the Vet came and thankfully there was no dislocation or broken bones. Belainesh was already upset from the night before, and she wanted Peter and Marcia to leave with their dog, but as a woman, she could not order an older intelligent man, and since Ron was away, she quietly asked Johan to get Peter to pay for the Vet and for them to leave. They paid for the bill but did not leave. So for the rest of the day, Belainesh, Johan and I watched movies on the TV, and talked quietly about our opinions and feelings. I had long ago in the morning, decided not to leave to help Belai with her wants, to have them leave, for they needed my room so they could unload the tent and everything from the truck. Then Belai told me that their neighbor had come by at some point in the day, showing her a gun in his pants, declaring he would shoot Peter and the dog if they come near his dogs or property. All day people were walking by and looking inside the Holland House, news travels fast here. So all day we sat quietly, as Marcia came and left pretending nothing had happened, and then later in the day Peter arrived, with his dog. He made the dog lie down in the restaurant at his feet in some sort of delusional defiance and then I did everything in my power to remain calm. Meanwhile, Marcia his wife, had ordered a coffee but when Fanna the waitress came out from behind the door with the coffee, she smiled and walked backward and closed the door. ‘Marcia, they will not bring you your coffee while the dog is here, they are afraid of the dog’. She spoke in German to Peter and nothing was done. So Johan and Belai and I were silent, all thinking of the best way to handle this, with the dog at Peter’s feet. In the end I decided I needed to go to my room, to take some deep breaths and to keep my cool, to replace my sandals for boots, and to grab my knife before returning to say something to Peter with his own weapon in hand. —After I returned sharing quick glances with Johan, Belai, and Fanna who had gained the strength to deliver the coffee to the next empty table instead, I sat down and tried to calm myself down so as not to make Peter, then the dog angry. And while taking deep silent breaths, Johan spoke in English with his Flemish tongue, calmly and without emotion, ‘Peter, could you please take your dog to the car because it is making me nervous, now’. Peter sat there with his head down looking at his dog saying Yes, yes, yes over and over again without moving. What the fuck is the matter with this man I was thinking! Mind you, in Nairobi, I was already thinking this long before. We waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity in that uncomfortable silence until Peter finally took the dog back to the car. And then Johan got up and went to his room. Then I calmly said to Marcia in my broken English for this is the way to be understood with so many languages in so many months, ‘Marcia, why does Peter bring the dog in here after what happened? She answered, ‘I don’t like dog in restaurant too’. ‘No Marcia, why does he bring the dog in here, the staff are afraid, we all don’t want this and before Ron left he said no dog in the restaurant’. ‘Yes I don’t like dog in restaurant too’. ‘Does Peter feel strength with his dog in here’, as I gesticulated with a body builder posture, ‘It is not good, and it hurts me you both don’t seem to care how people feel’. Then nothing was said before Marcia left, and Johan returned. I said, ‘Johan, what the fuck is he thinking? He is drunk. Really, all day drinking in his roof top tent? Yes, I think so’. ‘Well, if I spent the whole morning and afternoon drinking I still wouldn’t bring in my dog I can’t handle into a restaurant where the people are afraid after the night attack on their own home dog’. ‘Yes but he has no respect’. And again and again on this trip I quote Bruce my friend and mixer in Toronto who gave me this line long ago …. ‘You’re preaching to the choir’. Just after, Johan told me that he had his hand in his pocket, and the knife blade open, Belai also later admitted she had taken a knife from the drawer behind the bar before. So, the end of the story right, not yet I’m afraid. Later in the early evening Peter takes his dog out for a walk, and we hear barking from everywhere, even the other dogs know. And I’m sitting there nervously watching the TV waiting for the sound of a gun shot, thinking already I will not move, waiting to see who returns instead. But they don’t return and Johan and I share a look that can say many things, thoughts and notions without one word. Later still, the Belgium couple returned, Steven and Stephanie, to hear the updates of the day while they were running errands. In the end Stephanie wisely suggested we stop talking now, as we all wanted, and to enjoy dinner and our last bottle of wine before we leave in separate directions the following morning, so we did. Later still, Ron retuned, and heard everyone’s calm and precise accounts of the day, sitting with us at the table and checking with Belai. ‘Okay’ Ron said with his Dutch/English accent, ‘There is no point to talking to him now if he is drunk so I will wait and then speak with him in a friendly manner in the morning, and if he does not understand I will ask him to pay his bill and leave’. Then later still again, Peter first came to the table and waved to me to move over and I replied, ‘I don’t sit in the middle’, giving him a space to sit between Johan and I. A minute later I went for a piss, returning to find Marcia sitting where I was sitting and I thought, Do I even want to sit there, I knew the answer my thinking mind was thinking but chose to sit as a gesture of a weird kind of friendship called diplomacy, all the while thinking and listening and only commenting when I was asked to, then also Ron decided the time was right then to relate with Peter the news he had heard from everyone upon his arrival. He was very diplomatic, humble, intelligent and straight forward, for Ron knows how to talk. Peter listened and commented without emotion and agreed it was no problem for them to leave, no problem at all, I understand he said, I understand. He can talk too.—Eventually I left for the bar five feet away, getting up to talk to Belai and Fanna about a different part of life, to share with them pictures of my daughter, telling true stories for their questions they gently wanted but never asked for the seven nights I have been here, to play music from my ipod and speaker and to laugh and express. They welcomed my resolve as true friends and family do. Eventually Peter and Marcia left for their truck tent, Ron called it a night, and the four of us including Belai taking over for me for I wasn’t in the mood, played a game of dice while saying good-bye in loving ways. —In the morning I awoke to leave, went to the restaurant for my morning tea to find the Belgium’s almost ready to leave. While exchanging travel cards, sentiments and good fortune, Peter came out of his truck favouring his foot, limping very slowly and using any wall or chair to support his selfish frame. He went straight to Ron and said, ‘I don’t know what is wrong with my foot, but I cannot leave today’. Ron answered with a look that said I know you are full of shit and mumbled something if anything at all, before Peter hobbled back to his truck, to later reveal his cane. No one said anything except good-bye’s and routes out of town, before the Belgium’s drove away, and I left with my camera pointed in the direction they were leaving and going to.
When I walked inside Belai wanted to invite me for breakfast before I leave, which means she wanted to pay for my breakfast before I go, and I said, ‘I’m not leaving Belai, not today’. So for the third day in a row, I sat on ‘my stool’, and watched two movies in a row from the four movie channels between 10 and 3, after Belai said to my answer to a free breakfast, ‘Okay Markus, you are welcome to watch movies here’. After two movies and a gift of an Ethiopian dish for the workers called, ‘I forget’, really tasty anyway, I am now here to write this down. I have seen Peter only once today, and I suppose with his foot and all, camping five feet away from my beer keg room window, he is sleeping but I do not know. Marcia has been back and forth as usual, and Belai and I have confirmed our intuitions of the people we know together with precise exactness, and to a tee. The girls in the kitchen still laugh at my words, and sneak glances while I am in my room writing as they are walking by. The old guard and his young helper trust me as their own, and I …. I wonder and respect knowing, but not for knowing; I am not a selfish tourist or person, and we who understand together, are good friends and family. For this all along my journey, I have always been grateful to give and receive. —And now I hear the voices of Peter and Marcia outside my window, with ‘… but when will Markus leave …. ‘, I’m afraid I don’t know is my answer, until I feel all is peaceful again. I am not one to bow over to one who does not bow, or one who is a stealer of personal space or time …. nor will I be slain from a rogue dog or a human one at that. How can anyone live this life without love and understanding I do not know? Maybe I will stay an extra day, just to make the point …. or maybe I will go, I don’t know, I only feel and move on ….. which is also a fault, but not nearly as dear, as maybe the frame of mind from a crazy person, like the one who waits to see what happens first ….. I won’t give in, and welcome the challenge just the same. —Today it was raining in the morning, so I decided to stay and watch more movies, and to share with Belai her day here. Peter’s foot is miraculously better today, and he asked me if I would move into the more expensive room at his cost, that Belai said was unavailable to them, for it is too close to the kitchen and the mother cat and kitten. So I said yes I would no problem, but first he would have to check with Belai. She said she would confirm with the other woman later in the day upon her return. Quietly I told Belai it is okay with me, and then I thought to myself how selfish people always get what they want. So tomorrow I will leave, contrary to how I feel which is tired, unmotivated and reluctant to ride toward the big time heat of Sudan and Egypt. I don’t know, maybe I’m now tired of traveling. Although having felt this before, maybe I just need to get on my bike and go to discover if this is true. Today I watched, ‘Into The Wild’, the movie that involuntarily confirmed my plans for this trip two years ago when the notion was first conceived. And I noticed something at the end of the movie that I didn’t recall with great significance the first time I had seen the film. He wrote when he was dying by accidental poisoning in the magic bus in Alaska, “Happiness is only conceived when shared”, or something to that effect. Maybe this is why I am here in Addis Ababa for so long like the other places where I found good friendships; for the company and to share.
Now as I write, falls a thunder along with the rain, or the promise of new things to come. And when I step out of the room to look at the darkness in this sky I see the weight of the clouds, and the dog Belo, sitting in the driver’s seat of the truck, bored and calmly waiting for the opportunity to walk by leash, twice a day, without ever being free or the opportunity to run. Now I feel sorry for the dog, and before this revelation, I had thought of Peter and Marcia, and just like their dog, on some kind of leash. Note to self …. It’s time to do some riding! Before retiring for the night, I paid my bill and gave Belainesh some tip money for the four girls in the kitchen, and the old and young guard. I also gave Belai some US dollars for her brand new Ethiopian passport, in the hopes of getting a US visa to live with her husband in Maryland who has a job as a school bus driver. They have been apart for four years. I said I would be back to say good-bye before Belai and Fanna closed, but I did not return.
So after a good sleep, I was up early and ready to go with a little sunshine poking through the clouds. The girls in the kitchen made me a free breakfast, and gave me a present all nicely wrapped; an Ethiopian wallet. I said good-bye to everyone individually, including Peter and Marcia wishing them luck for their truck repairs. And finally I was off, a little uncomfortable with the feel of my bike for all of five minutes, and then all normal again ….
It started out just like when I entered Ethiopia from the south, joyous waving and nodding of the head, a few tears in the helmet, but this time I have the drive to push to Cairo, and feel more business like in my approach to this part of the journey, for I am well rested and need to move on. However, I make eye contact with almost everyone, nodding and waving, for the goodness of life and self perseverance. Some kids who have a loaded hand of rocks, don’t know what to do when I wave, stunned and often afraid, they just either look confused or wave back sheepishly.
—I stopped on the side of the road, where I couldn’t see anyone, which doesn’t mean anything, for the children pop out of the ground, but no one appeared so I enjoyed a smoke and a drink of water on my own, until these two men came walking by. They crossed to my side of the road, and we shook hands and bowed are heads and they moved on. It’s such a relief to say ‘hello’ without being asked for something.
I would stop more often to take pictures with my good camera, but it’s just too much work as the kids know where the good photo opportunities are so they just spend the day waiting for someone to stop and then start the begging. Even non photo opp’s are difficult because there are people everywhere. It may not look like this from my photos, but they are everywhere, and waste no time running from everywhere the moment they hear me gear down.
Heavy wind and rain developed, a little earlier then I was planning to stop but I did anyway.
I stopped for petrol in Debre Markos, deciding whether to push on in the rain while the pump guy was asking me where I was from and what was my name. I answered, ‘Markus, and he said No, Markos? Yes. Welcome my friend to Debre Markos, your place!’ While I was laughing I noticed a motel right above the petrol station so I stayed the night.
I saw three of these tanks over the space of 200km’s. I assume they are Italian but I don’t know. In one village I saw two tanker trucks, both in the ditch and pretty much face to face, bent, rusted and burned black, the surrounding trees growing around the metal carnage.
This ride from Debre Markos to Gonder was the most spectacular ride I have had in one day on this trip so far, particularly the last mountain pass before Gonder. I just kept thinking, ‘When the Christians wrote the Bible they must have been thinking of Ethiopia as The Garden Of Eden.’
This brother and sister appeared out of nowhere, well actually the aluminum house in the background. They didn’t ask for anything and were content with me smoking and asking them questions in English, of which she was able to answer a couple. So mostly I just talked out loud, making jokes for myself which they seemed to find humorous like, ‘I wonder if Canada is this way or that way’, or ‘I think I left my favourite pen back in South Africa’, and then I remembered I had bought a bunch of pens for giving away, so I gave them a couple. ‘Man this no lunch thing every day is making me tired’, and then I remembered a had three candies in my pocket so I gave them one each and we sucked on them quietly while I pointed out that the rain was coming soon. When I was getting ready to go, the girl asked, ‘Monies monies monies?’
I made it to Gonder just in time to get drenched again, found a room and did the same routine as always; empty everything to dry, change into some dirty clothes, eat something in the restaurant, and return to my room for the power outage, only to lie in the dark before falling asleep early, waking to the TV returning to life and watching movies until three in the morning. Hmmmm. Well, I’m sure I’ll be begging for this kind of weather once I get into Sudan and Egypt, with plus 45 degrees Celsius and blowing sands in the desert. Starting tomorrow when I head for the Sudan border, it’s going to be all work for quite some time. And the other thing is, I don’t know when I’ll be able to update FTG, as by the end of a riding day, if there isn’t internet where I’m staying, I find it impossible to go out looking for it. Too tired and not interested in walking around at the end of a day with no lunch for a place I can’t find.
Riding from Gonder in the morning, I couldn’t wait to get to Sudan, to leave beautiful but intense Ethiopia behind for another time.
I stopped for a smoke and to change my riding gear around a little as it had become very hot since leaving the mountains, descending 1500 meters. And this boy who was sheparding his cattle was watching me from afar, but not asking for anything just watching. So when I was finished, I pulled out a couple of pens from my stash, showed them to him and then put the pens down on the ground. He then came trotting over, so I picked them up and gave them to the boy. He smiled and for a moment neither of us moved, until I started to put on my helmet, and he, running back to his cattle.
And now for the border of Ethiopia and Sudan ….
