The Afar region, north-east of Addis Ababa, along the border
with Eritrea, is a domain of extremes, holding the hottest, driest and lowest
places and the worse roads on the continent. Camels number more than people, or
any other living thing. Moges, our driver, took us farther and farther from
Mekele and civilization, out into the desert, with altitude dropping,
temperature ever increasing, and greenery becoming more and more scarce. We
were a group of seven tourists (from the US, Israel, France, Slovakia, Germany,
and Mexico), two drivers, and a cook in three kick-ass 4WD vehicles—nine men
plus me. The two-day drive to Irta'ale, an active volcano, took us down
mountain valleys, across long stretches of desert—flat and lifeless for as far
as we could see—and through dust storms in which visibility was less than two
feet. We frequently came upon camel caravans, using the same route to carry
salt from the mines to Mekele. After the first full day of driving, we slept on cots in
the open air. Hot breeze blew over us all night.
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| camel caravan |
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| coffee (buna) stop |
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| first night |
I woke the next morning with a mix of excitement and
trepidation; I was apprehensive to venture into Afar region because of a recent
attack on foreign tourists at the rim of the volcano by Eritrean groups. Yet, I
knew that I could not pass up the trip. We drove many hours with the “road”
becoming increasingly treacherous, through more dust storms and then over bumpy
volcanic ash as we neared the base of Irta'ale. Soldiers rode on the roof of
our car—I do not know how they avoided falling off! We stopped at a camp,
enjoyed tea (
shy), dinner (
erat), and a restful few hours before
we began the three-hour hike to the volcano at 6:00pm.
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| roof-top riders |
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| camels in the dust |
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| hut along the route |
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| rest before hike |
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| dustttttt |
We hiked over
volcanic ash and up toward the steamy summit as darkness descended. At the top,
we were welcomed by soldiers that were stationed to provided added security
following the terrorist attack a few weeks earlier. The volcano glowed bright
orange less than half a kilometer from our new campsite, a cluster of little
huts upon the mountain.
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| summit camping |
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| security |
We walked to the volcano, accompanied by four soldiers, and
as we got closer, we we struck by blasts of hot, sulfurous wind. The volcano itself was
a sputtering, angry pit that bubbled away with unfathomable energy. We returned
to our huts only to wake early in the morning to get another peek of the
volcano.
The next day we hiked down and
returned to our dusty, trusty cars to visit the brilliant sulfuric acid
springs. We
walked through a forest of sulfur pillars to a valley of glowing yellow, blue,
green, orange and red sulfur deposits. Crystal-like sulfur deposits covered the
ground like a coral bed. It felt as if I was on the sea floor, on the Little
Mermaid's home turf. Steam and spouts of acid came through holes in the
deposits and a bubbling came from underfoot; only the deposits stood between us
and the acid boiling under our feet.
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| sulfuric acid |
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| sprouting acid |
At 116m below sea level, Dallol marks the lowest and
hottest place on earth (year-round average temperature of 94 degrees F).
Pillars rose up like monuments from the dusty, red earth.
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| camels, camels, camels! |
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| Dallol, the lowest point |
Not far from the springs, we came
to an oil lake. It, too, was boiling. We drove on through shallow water—after
not seeing naturally-occurring water for days. On the ground, large pentagons
of salt (due to its crystal structure) were drying, the edges curling upward
toward the hot sun.
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| drying salt |
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| oil lake |
Off in the distance, a assembly of camels, donkeys, and
salt cutters were working away in the shallow, salt-rich waters. Men cut the salt
into clean squares and stacked them to dry further, the camels and donkeys
waiting patiently to be loaded and begin again the long walk back to Mekele.
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| salty "road" |
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| cutting salt |
We returned safely to Mekele only
to find that flights back to Addis were booked for the next week! I went to the
airport, hoping to get on standby and return to Addis to watch the Superbowl
the next day (I found a TV in Addis with a channel that planned to broadcast
the game). No luck. That afternoon, I went to the bus station to get on a bus
that was scheduled to arrive in Addis the next day. Twenty-one people loaded
into a thirteen-passenger van, including a deaf woman that appeared to be
nearing 100 years old, a screaming baby, and a mentally and physically handicapped
man accompanied by two women, each with a arm around him, securing his head
from flailing around, and routinely wiping the drool from his face.
About 40 minutes into our 15-25
hour drive, just as I had started to nod off to sleep, wedged with three men
into the very back seat of the van, we were pulled over by the police. The
driver got out and policeman took the driver's seat and turned the van around,
headed back to Mekele. I have learned that “why?” (lemin) is not an
appropriate inquiry in Ethiopia. However, I couldn't help myself. From the two
English-speakers in the van, I was given a multitude of reasons: the van was
too full, the driver did not possess a license, the driver was going too fast,
it was not legal for this type of minivan to make a trip of more than 150km. No
one really knew the reason or seemed phased by the incident; Ethiopians live in
the moment, unconcerned about future plans.
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| negotiations |
After 15 minutes of driving, the
policeman stopped the van at a gas station and everyone got out and unloaded
the luggage. We waited beside the road for 30 minutes, unaware of what we were
waiting for, until two more minivans arrived to take us back to Mekele. We
started toward Mekele, but then stopped abruptly only to turn around again! We
then pulled over for another stretch of time. I had ceased asking questions and
played peek-a-boo with the baby next to me, sitting on its mother's lap.
Finally, we backed up to begin the return trip to Mekele. We slammed into a
pile of jagged rocks behind us. This brought about another period of waiting.
Food was exchanged among the passengers, bread, cookies, kollo (barley). And
then, seemingly unharmed, we finally made our way back to Mekele. I was
relieved to be back where we had started, only three and a half hours later. I
had to book a business class flight to return to Addis within the week.
