Travel Stories - Ethiopia

It's getting easier; my alarm clock goes of at 5:15 and I decide to go out immediately – throw some cold water in my face, give the key to the guard and walk to the bus station where a minibus is waiting that goes to the little village of "Key Afar". The bus is packed with people and stuff when he finally leaves; in principle I have plenty of time since the market only starts around 10.30 AM but I want to be there just before it starts. I walk to the only hostel in the village which is even ( a bit) marked and meet a Spaniard who has rented a motorbike from a local here for a week, and I conclude that I should have done the same if I’m planning to come back to Ethiopia. No worries about transport problems and that people want to take too much money for a tour. I order an omelette for breakfast and that turns out to be the only eggs in the restaurant hotel because my Spanish friend has to get food elsewhere.

While I’m waiting for my egg-sandwitch, I meet the Frenchman Dominique, with whom I have drunk a beer together in Debark. I put my bag in his room and we decide to go to the market together which is situated behind the hotel. When we go to the field around ten o'clock, half of the stalls are still empty and it is striking that it is a small market while we thought – this is a huge colorful market. We do see some tribe-members of the "Banna" and "Tsemay" people luckily. They arrive at the market with large groups of goats and gather in the shade under the trees to catch up. They are not really friendly to us and do not want their picture to be taken. An hour later we are back and the empty stalls are filled with onions, garlic, potatoes, coffee and corn beans. There are also clothes, empty bins and of course souvenirs such as beaded necklaces, wooden dolls and African knick-knacks such as bracelets and rings. I decide not to buy anything - firstly because you can also buy it in the Netherlands and secondly because I have to carry it for another half year. There are four girls walking around who want to take a picture, ofcourse for some payment and because I want to have a unique beautiful close up photo, I decide to pay them 2 Birr pp. In addition, I make far-off photographs to later retrieve them from the tribe members - beaded necklaces around their ankles, knees, arms and on their heads and a colored loincloth around and sometimes a kind of beaded mat on their chest and for their crotch. Some women are dressed the same while others have a flowerpot haircut with strings and it seems they wear torn clothes. Often on their heads they have a half empty coconut. It is not entirely clear who belongs to whom and with which tribe; later I will read more about those tribes on internet and learn about their separate customs and clothing etc.

When we have crossed the market three times and have been harassed several times to buy all kinds of fumbles, we decide to go to the animal market which is located further on. A wooden fence around two shielded parts of grass. One is filled with goats and the other with cows with sometimes a bull that tries to break loose. If one of the Tsemay wants to try my sunglasses, it is my chance to take a good photo, but it takes me a lot of trouble to get my glasses back. Dominique and I decide to skip lunch and try to get this afternoon to Arba Minch. There would be a big bus and there will also be enough minibus because the market is here. At two o'clock we are standing by the side of the road with our bags but nothing. It becomes three o'clock but no transport at all-in sight and we start to wonder. We talk with an "Isuzu" truck driver who brought crates of drink but he asks 300 Birr pp which is far too much. We sit down again on a couple of chairs for a local restaurant when somebody shows up who can arrange a ride for us. Later it turns out that there is no bus and no minibus; we can participate in an Isuzu for 150 Birr pp - and up to Konso, not Arba Minch. From Konso lots of minibusses should go to Arba Minch where my plane should go from. In the front of the Isuzu we are with the four of us and through the rearview mirror I keep an eye on my big bag on the back, together with the goods and countless local people who sit there. At "Weyto" we unfortunately take a half hour break and I wonder what time we will arrive at Konso. 

Further on we are stopped by the police who complains that there are actually no "faranji" (foreigners) allowed to drive in the trucks and all cargo is checked. We ask if they are looking for drugs or weapons, but a harsh "no" is given to us in a violent way; the officer continues to say: “coffee, cell phones and other goods, especially from Kenya, would be good contraband here”. Luckily we’re allowed to continue our way. Especially climbing hills with the truck it seems like we are standing still and we wonder why the driver uses so often on the brakes, while you can continue rolling. In addition, it seems as if every cow and goat from all over the country is on this stretch of road which, by the way, is largely asphalt. The Konso villages are beautiful; round clay huts in a circle where groups of people are chatting around a campfire. Another reason to come back here and rent a motorcycle. It is already dark when we finally arrive in Konso and the boys have to admit after 4 hours that there is probably no minibus going to Arba Minch anymore. We give the money we agreed on and with the guys a good trip further.