rightfully be called the capital of Africa, Addis Ababa. It's been an
incredible stint. We crossed the equator at Nanyuki, on the slopes of
Mount Kenya, dropped down into the wild bush of northern Kenya,
running the gamut of bandits along the fabled Moyale road, and then
climbed back up into the highlands of Ethiopia. Too much to recount in
a single blog entry, but I though I'd give you a taster by recounting
a single day that illustrates the astonishing contrasts of this part
of the world.
It was Sunday 4th January, and we woke up at Lake Paradise, a crater
lake inside Marsabit National Park, and one of my all time favourite
places. Marsabit is a mountain that rises out of the desert in
northern Kenya. While all around it is flat, dry scrub, Marsabit rises
high enough (over 2,400 metres) to create its own micro-climate, and
is shrouded in luscious cloud forest, full of elephants and buffaloes.
Despite not having to make an early start, were still up at sunrise.
The dawn was just too beautiful to miss. After a relaxed morning
enjoying this incredible venue and catching up on diaries, homework
and some long overdue tree-climbing escapades, we packed up for the
stint across the Chalbi Desert up to the Ethiopian border.
Within half an hour of leaving Marsabit we were back down to below 600
metres (we camped at 1700 metres) and in the midst of wild desert.
Although I've been to plenty of deserts before (and the Kalahari and
the Namib both count as some of my favourites), there's something very
special about the Chalbi. Not only are the roads absolutely
bone-crunchingly abysmal, but the scenery is punctuated by these
sudden volcanic mountain ranges rising up from the flat, flat desert.
Add to that the extraordinarily colourful people that you encounter in
the middle of nowhere (from fully clad Samburu warriors to the camel
trains of Ethiopian Borana), and the ever-present threat of Shifta
(Somali bandits that have been the bane of travellers in this area for
as long as anyone remembers), and you see why traversing this desert
stimulates the senses in a way that few others do.
Mid afternoon we stop for a photo opportunity. The cars have been
shaken as hard at it is possible to shake a vehicle and so far have
withstood everything we've thrown at them. But when we come to move
off, Mahali, our vehicle, won't restart. It's obviously a wire
somewhere that has been shaken loose. If we can find it and reconnect
it, all will be fine. But there are a lot of wires in a Land Cruiser,
so it might take some time. With one eye firmly fixed on the horizon
for Shifta, Robert and I roll up our sleeves and start the
examination.
After a few minutes, we're beginning to fear a problem with the
starter motor. Ordinarily this wouldn't be too serious, but Mahali is
an automatic and you can't push start her, so this will require us to
remove and replace the starter motor in the middle of the Chalbi
desert. Not everyone's idea of a good time (although secretly I'm
getting somewhat excited at the prospect of working through the night
while the kids keep watch and the mums keep the coffee flowing!).
Fortunately for everyone, I finally find the loose wire just as we're
about to start disassembling the starter. By 4pm we're back on the
move.
The next settlement we reach has a police post where the cops run a
profitable business selling armed escort services to passing
travellers. What they do is tell you horror stories of Shifta attacks
(in our case it was a Land Cruiser just like ours that had supposedly
been attacked the previous week, and the driver killed and his
passengers left stranded in the middle of the desert), and then offer
to provide an armed escort for a fee. When you have a mother and
children in the car, it takes considerable willpower to turn this
down! But, knowing this to be a fictional story, we did.
Nevertheless, as we drove the subsequent stretch, there were a few
nervous moments. A wandering nomad materialised from out of the bush
just in front of us at one point, clutching what appeared to be an
AK47 in his hand, and I was convinced we were about to be ambushed.
Drawing level with him I saw it was in fact an axe, not an AK, and
breathed a furtive sigh of relief, hoping Mands hadn't noticed me
flinching. She was too busy telling the kids a story, though, so I
got away with it!
As the sun started to set, we pulled into an isolated Catholic mission
station on the Ethiopian border, and sought refuge in the grounds of
the hospital. With characteristic generosity the hospital
administrator offered us his own personal garden as a site for our
tents. This is bandit country, and no-one questions the need to find a
safe place for the night. The last thing we hear, just as we drift off
to sleep, is a hyena outside the confines of the mission.
From here we're off up to the rock churches of Lalibela in northern
Ethiopia. On Monday we collect our visas for Sudan, too, which opens
up the way for the next leg, and then on Saturday we bid a sad
farewell to Jake, who flies down to South Africa to start his boarding
school. His departure signals an end to the holiday and the start of
"normal" life as a family on the road in Africa. That means schooling
for the kids during the day and homework at night. Universal groans
all round!
Not sure when we'll next get to an internet connection. Probably
Khartoum around the 24th of Jan. Till then, then……
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