Ethiopia overland

So I left Egypt behind and arrived in Addis Ababa Ethiopia around 2am. While in Cairo, I looked up hotels in Ethiopia and found one or two, so I sort of new where I wanted to go.  


When I got off the plane I was bombarded with a dozen offers for a taxi. From Egypt and Greece, I had  more or less figured out how to hustle with the locals and get a fair price on food and taxis.  I approached a taxi driver off to the side and asked how much to get to the place called Baro Hotel. He gave me a price, I thanked him, then went to another guy and asked the same question.  His price was about the same but a little more.  I then made him an offer of half the price; he walked away. Since the Ethiopian airport is a lonely place at 2am, I figured I was getting a fair price with the first guy. 


After a short leisurely ride (in stark contrast to Egypt) we arrived curbside at a massive iron gate. Before I got out, the driver offered to change some money.   I knew what the rate at the banks would be and I also knew black market exchanges can be better or worse depending on how you deal. 


He made an offer, already better than the listed rate because US dollars are a nice hedge against inflation for locals. (Technically its illegal to change money outside a bank.) We argued a bit and I got even more out of him; all this was done in broken English and hand signals. 


He was nervous about the kids up the street. Just then, the iron gate opened and a 90 year-old man packing an AK-47 walked out and asked if we were coming in or not cause the kids up the road might break the windows of the taxi if we hung around much longer.  

Inside I got a room for 110 Ethiopian Birr, which is dirt cheap, and the room reflected the price. The bed was lop-sided (I would find out later why), and the shower was an open pipe hanging next to the remnants of what used to be a toilet. The sink was a cement basin. I was surprised not to see more mosquitoes with all the standing water in the bathroom. It would be my first of many hand showers in Africa. There were several packages of condoms on the nightstand, but no bars of soap, which I thought odd.

There was no mosquito net, but I had been taking Malarone so I prayed it would work its magic on the malaria and keep me safe. I slept with my cloths on after looking over the sheets. I lay down and felt things moving; bedbugs. I pulled out my rain parka and used it as a sheet, then placed my sleeping bag over that. The sound of the bugs hitting the plastic parka was eerie; it was sort of like rain hitting a tarp and would get louder whenever I moved. It seemed to be working, so I settled in for the night. 


Not long after, I noticed a lot of activity in the rooms around me. It was keeping me up so I got up and was about to open the door when I saw the notice on the door about the "services" and how things were to be conducted at the "hotel." I realized then that I had booked a night in a hotel the doubled as a whorehouse. Fabulous. That would explain the two girls at the entryway, the condoms but no soap, and the broken bed. It was very clear now, and all I could do was laugh at myself. I put in my earplugs (which have saved me many times, by the way) and tried to sleep.

I left Addis the next day because I was due in Nairobi in 8 days and wasn't sure how long it would take to cover the 2,000 kilometers overland. 
The bus "system" works like this; you go to the central bus station, listen for someone yelling the name of the town you go to, then hop on as the minibus drives by. The driver and the advertiser drive around in a circle in the main area of town until the the bus is full; otherwise its not worth the trip.  I was lucky passenger number one. 


We drove around in the same 1/2 mile circle for about an hour until we were packed in like sardines. My knees were up in my chest because my bag was under my seat. I drove about 7 hours this way, across territory most people on see on Aid commercials. To keep from getting ripped off, you just give them what you think the trip should be, which you should find out from unbiased locals beforehand, then look away and act like you know what you're doing.  They sense weakness, and if you hesitate they will be on to you in a heartbeat, asking for more money.

We went south the first day, to a town called Awasa, then I found out that there isn't a bus from Awasa to Moyale, so I had to back track to Sheshemenee.

Outside the capital city of Addis, few people have cars so donkey carts are everywhere. Building materials are taken from what is in the area so most villages are of thatch roof huts with mud walls, just like in the movies. The larger villages of more than 100 people had about 70% cement shacks with tin sheet roofs. Kids would come up the minibus and hold up mangoes, bananas, bottled water, and peanuts for the travelers. I hadn't seen a white person or a tourist in 2 days. The entire 5 days I was in Ethipiopia I met one tourist and saw a couple white people in a LandRover driving by.

The kids new two sentences in English; what is your name, and give me money. When they saw me they were especially zealous in their attempts to sell whatever they had. I thought it was funny how local markets were selling foreign aid food, right from the very sacks that had in big, bold, important lettering 'NOT TO BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED.' Some of the bags of peanuts had foreign aid labels and had been opened and split up to get more bang for the buck. The mangoes and bananas came from the well watered highlands, which I would pass through in the following days. 


Our aid had destroyed their economy.  Sometimes giving freely is a disservice.


I could only shake my head and smile as everything I'd read in economics came as an avalanche of thoughts while watching the scenes around me. How a once profitable cotton industry here could be obliterated by free cotton t-shirts; how a pharmacy industry would never exist here while free drugs from the west were dumped here, and how an agricultural industry can be erased, not by a bad crop year, but by free corn and rice from well intentioned countries.


 I didn't think it possible that a people that had existed since before the time of the Egyptians could be reduced to this.  "What should be done with the poorest of countries?" Sitting in a minibus in the middle of nowhere a small compassionate voice in my head wanted to reply, "Give them nothing." Of course, I don't mean that in an absolute sense. We should help them all we can with raw materials, manufacturing technology, education, etc., but not with finished goods that distort their already feeble market. I could talk all day about what should be done, but that’s for another time. One thing is certain though, that the free food, cloths, and shoes being given to them is being sold at local market places.

In bullets, the following were also noteworthy:

• Small children, not more than 5 yrs old, herd cattle, goats, and sheep in the middle of nowhere.
• In the dry areas, people haul water for miles, the lucky ones have mules. children too small to carry the heavy 5 gallon barrels lay them down on the side and roll the barrels along, kicking them with their feet.
• no running water for 4 days. Guest houses I stayed in had no power for most of the night. Power is hydroelectric and rationed.  no running water.  reminds me of the Rez haha.
• Very nice people, but many are desperate to sell whatever they have to survive. They live day to day.
• I ate a lot of really good food and breads. I chewed chatt, which is a local bad habit from a native bush. The ladies on the bus thought it was hilarious. Everyone in the back of the bus eyed me for about an hour, with wide grins, anticipating some sort of spectacle to happen. It’s supposed to make you crazy for a while, but didn’t have much of an effect on me. They were mildly disappointed.  Maybe I was chewing it wrong.
• One bus listened to the same CD for 6 hours. The locals loved it and sang along. It was really beautiful at first, but after a few hours I wanted to put a hole in my head.
• there is a superstition among a lot of locals that the wind makes you sick, so the older people and people who didn't ride the bus less often made sure all the windows were rolled up at all times. Not good for me.
• The bus stops whenever someone needs a ride, sometimes in the middle of nowhere to pick up a lone tribesman, only to let him off a few miles down the road.
• I saw all sorts of different tribes, but took relatively few pictures because every time I pulled out my camera I felt more or less embarrassed at being such a tourist, so mostly I just looked at them.