From Colbinski Chronicles
Contrary to popular myth or maybe just excessive farangi talk, I did not see crushed or crashed vehicles littering the side of the “Death Road.” It was crowded and I could certainly see the potential for serious accidents. In fact on the ride home we passed an overturned piggyback trailer that spilled its contents of salt all over the place. One thing to understand about Ethiopian driving is that a semi truck turned over on a two-lane road with heavy traffic from both directions does not really slow you down much. This is even with the presence of the Federal police and a clean-up crew on the road. No more than a five minute delay. We just followed all the other vehicles and breezed in between the men with shovels and the overturned truck and the vehicles coming from the opposite direction. Driving in Ethiopia seems to consist of using the horn and steering wheel often and the brakes seldom.
OK, so the trip. I knew we were going to visit malaria labs but for some reason it never occurred to me that it was an overnight trip. I showed at the office and everyone started taking about hotels. I was unprepared and ended up having to buy toiletries in Shashemene and wearing the same clothes for two days. Nothing I haven’t done before. The first day we visited labs and health posts in Debre Zeyit and Adama. Then we made our way to Shashemene for the night. The next day we made our way back to Addis stopping at labs in Shashemene, Ziway, and Meki along the way. In between the labs we spent some time at Lake Langano, which was nice but it was raining the whole time we were there. I also suggested we spend the night in Awasa which is supposed to be a beautiful small lake town. Awasa is only about 20 kilometers from Shashemene but our driver nixed that idea so we stayed in Shashemene instead. Which was and is too bad. I wanted to see Lake Awasa. But I wasn’t driving and don’t think I would want to drive in Ethiopia.
Shashemene is listed in the LP guidebook as “a grubby and raucous” town. I don’t disagree and not only because I would have rather spend the night in Awasa listed as a “more pleasurable stop.” Shashemene has loads of truck traffic as roads go in all directions from it. It is also the home of Ethiopia’s Rastafarian population. The former Emperor Haile Selassie, who’s given name was, get this, Ras Tafari, gave land just outside of Shashemene to the Rastafarians, who I think believe he was some sort of god or something. I don’t listen to much reggae but I hear that Bob Marley mentions Ethiopia and the former emperor in his songs. Apparently, the influx of Jamaicans was difficult to take at first but over the years an uneasy truce has developed between the native Ethiopians and the Rastas and everyone is tolerated. I don’t know. This is what I have been told. Other than seeing many buildings with Rastafarian colors and a few people that I could identify as such if I didn’t know that Rastas were supposed to be in Shashemene I don’t think I would have been like “Oh, boy there’s a lot of Rastafarians there.”
Overall, Shashemene was a charmless town and I would have preferred Awasa. The constant rain during my time in Shashemene added to the lack of charm. But while walking around Shashemene I realized that many Ethiopian towns and villages lack, not necessarily charm, but an individual personality. Just like the villages that dot the main roads, towns like Shashemene all seem the same. The same type of buildings, the same small shops, the same corrugated metal constructions. Towns like Bahir Dar or Adama have wide palm treed main roads and are great places to visit but the outskirts are all the same. Someone told me that when one person opens a hotel or restaurant or a store in one part of Ethiopia they usually open the same thing in another part. Hence, the similarity between places. But the people act the same also. Whether it was Bahir Dar or Adama or Shashemene or Addis. The same “You!” “You!” The same shoe shine boys. The same kids selling chewing gum and cigarettes from wooden trays. The same women grilling corn on open flames on the corners.
Admittedly, my time around Ethiopia has been limited but this sameness surprises me immensely. I know that the various tribes in the South have local customs that differ widely but I was expecting to see some local variation in architecture, occupations, and even the type of hassles and cons being run. Ethiopia must have a very good communication network between towns because everyone and everything seems the same.
More Driving
The drive south from Addis through the “Death Triangle” on the “Death Road” was done with an SUV. This is a different experience than the bus ride to Bahir Dar. But where I began to trust that the bus driver would get us to Bahir Dar in one piece my respect for the handling of the SUV by our driver waned the longer I was in the vehicle. A few words about driving in Ethiopia. First, passing is done regardless of road conditions or even oncoming traffic. I don’t know why they even bother to paint solid lines or hash marks on the road to indicate OK or Not Ok for passing. No one uses them. No one. Unlike elsewhere in the world where traffic slows when people and livestock are in mass quantities the villages are places where you speed up to make up for lost time. Also, you never stop for animals in the road. You expect that they understand the horn means for them to move faster and then you guess in which direction your horn will send them while you swerve in the other direction.
Our driver tried to pass all the time. When he saw he couldn’t he would just sort of glide over the center line in the road forcing the oncoming vehicles a bit onto their shoulder side to pass him. He loved just floating in the middle of the road. It was maddening. He also drove with a heavy foot both on the gas pedal and the brake. Start, stop, start, stop. Arrghh! His worst habit was just stopping in the road. Not pulling off the shoulder but stopping directly in the road. Full stop. Then he’d get out and check some phantom noise or kick the tires or something. It was never for some real reason. One time he just stopped he caused quite a back up of trucks that had to wait for oncoming traffic to go by before they could pass. Then they all passed quite angrily and noisily, the passenger sticking his head out the window, arms wailing, and pointing to the unused shoulder. So this stupid stop for no reason just caused us to be behind like five trucks. Five trucks, all angry at us. Naturally, being in an SUV he tried to pass the trucks. Traffic was beginning to get heavy in the opposite direction. Under normal circumstances passing would be precarious. Every time he tried the truck directly in front of us, the last to pass us as we stood motionless in the middle of the road, would veer to the center for the road and not let us pass. It may have been my imagination but I think the truck driver was playing a little game. We would try to pass and he would prevent it. After miles of this and me beginning to think that our driver was oblivious to what was going on I just figured we’d become another statistic on the death road. Eventually, the truck driver relented and we passed. No other trucks attempted such chicanery and we safely leapfrogged all the other trucks in front of us.
I have been trying to make an apt analogy for Ethiopian driving. I was looking to convey how stupid the risks are compared to the immediate and not always positive gain. I came up with a few but not sure if they are adequate. If driving in Ethiopia where a circus act it would be walking the tightrope without a net. If driving in Ethiopia where a science it would be alchemy. If driving in Ethiopia where a financial market it would be day trading. If driving in Ethiopia where an art it would be pop culture trash. If driving in Ethiopia were an animal it would be a….damn, I can’t think of a good animal comparison.
Lake Langano
Donkey Riding
The ride south of Addis towards Shashemene was nice but very different than the ride north to Bahir Dar. Many lakes a few hours south of Addis but not many streaming rivers and no Gorge. The land is still mightily cultivated. My understanding is that in the north everyone mainly grows teff. While teff is grown in huge quantities everywhere in Ethiopia there was more diversity of crops in the way south. The most jarring scene were the cut flower quonsets. These were set up on the side of the road and continued outward toward the horizon. A sea of light colored tents propped up by long bent poles housing flowers to be sent to Europe. Big business in Ethiopia now. Driving through this area I noticed many signs declaring an agri-industry owned the plots of the land behind it. This was for many crops and not only cut flowers. I’m not sure if this is an improvement or not. I find it interesting that two of the major exports from Ethiopia – chat and cut flowers – are both highly perishable items. I’m not exactly sure why but hanging your economy of items with a very short shelf life is interesting in some way.
One thing about Ethiopia is that people are everywhere. The road down south (“the death road”) was chock full of people. Actually, chock full of everything imaginable. People walking, cars, trucks, livestock, and donkey and horse carts. These latter two abounded throughout all the towns and villages. The horse carts used as taxis and the donkey carts used to carry goods or people or any burden imaginable. The poor donkeys are loaded down with burlap sacks and maybe a young boy brazenly riding on its back. Or pulling a cart piled with firewood or crops. Watching these donkeys dutifully carrying on I began to recite the lyrics from “Donkey Riding” in my mind. I would have sung out loud but then I would have to explain to the Ethiopians I was with why I was singing about “stowing timber on the deck” and about being in Quebec so I forwent that and just sung it in my head. “Hey Ho Away We Go!”
Really, people were just everywhere. The young men signaling wildly with their arms to every passing vehicle, secretly indicating that they can sell illegal charcoal. The woman with baskets propped on their heads walking to and fro the village. The bare-bottomed children in only a ratty shirt playing in the muddy waters of the roadside ditches. But the donkey carts really stood out. Not just because I got to sing “Donkey Riding” to myself. They were everywhere and this was in stark contrast to driving up north. For as many people walking there was one or two on a donkey cart. Going north I only remember people walking.
All in all an educational and enjoyable experience. Not as spectacular as driving through the Gorge but very nice. The lakes peeked out from behind hills and grabbed your attention. A massive sugar cane plantation could be seen from any high spot. Koka dam prevented the Awash River from chugging along backing it up to create a massive reservoir. The area around some of the lakes was closed off to farming and formed a national park. I was able to spy ostriches, string-necked and crooked-legged, strutting through the acacia trees. The acacia trees were a constant sight on the landscape. Large trunk rising from the ground until the crown spread out, reaching fantastically to the sides, the top flattened as if the sky was a heavy weight pushing it down. This perpetual struggle between tree and sky creates some of the only scraps of shade to be found. I imagine hyenas gathering under the acacias at dusk, waiting for the sun to set, planning that night’s adventures.
Speaking of hyenas, this weekend I will be in Harar hanging out with them. Next week I finish up with my internship. Then a few days in Lalibela and Gondar before heading back to New York. A lot to do in the next two weeks.