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THE PLAINS OF AWASH AND OUR FUTURE
The road to Awash was the same as the road to Harar. This time we were able
to see what we were looking at for we make the fortuitous decision to travel
by day. The obligatory knocked out tank guarded Harar. It looked like a
soviet T62.
“Oh look, it comes with detached turret!” laughed Stuart.
Many miles down the road , we stopped at sunset, and clambered all over a
BTR 60. Sam put on his Afghan hat and pointed to the jagged peaks. “Osama
that way” he cackled and we broke down in hysterics.
That night we pulled into the old railway hotel in Awash station. The Buffet
de la Gare d’Aoache was run by an elderly Greek lady who spoke four
languages. Tactfully I asked if she spoke Turkish. No she replied, so we
communicated in French. I charmed her and got her to make us dolma’s, kofte
and other Greek/Turkish specialities. She was the most gracious host, and
treated the four of us like her children. (This was quite a feat for the 59
year old Sam).Someone turned the TV on and we watched CNN. The constant
repeated subject was the ongoing war in Afghanistan. It was strange to be
watching such important events while sitting in the middle of Africa. This
simply did not affect us. Then I saw some text at the base of the screen:
ETHIOPIAN FOREIGN MINISTER ACCUSES ERITREA OF TROOP MOVEMENTS AND SAYS THIS
COULD LEAD TO ANOTHER ROUND OF WAR
“Oh Brilliant! Now we might be stuck in a war zone, wonderful!!” I said “hey
we can go and take photographs!”
“Probably won’t come to anything” replied Sam “rarely does when they talk a
lot”
“Still not the best news” some one muttered.
We all had our passports but Cisca’s was still in Dar es Salaam with Ben,
waiting for a Sudanese Visa. In the light of the Ethiopian and Eritrean
tension I thought it best to find out what was happening.
I went to the Awash phone booth and booked a call to Tanzania. Twenty
minutes later I was connected. I could ear ben perfectly.
“Hello, any news on the Sudanese Visas”
“No, only Cisca’s has come through, caught a huge fish a few days ago”
“Excellent, now could you please send all our second passports up with her
Visa endorsed. We’ll apply in Addis”
“OK”
“And Ben, please be quick about it, there might be a punch up here.”“
Whaaaaat, this is a terrible line” I could hear Ben perfectky, but he could
barely hear me.
“There might be a problem here.” I bawled
“I cannot hear you”
“There might be a war here. This country used to be one, now it’s two,
someone wants to make it one again”
“OH shit, OK!”
“Right make loads of money, build me a huge boat bye”
“Whaaaaaaaaat?”
“Bollocks, BYEEEEEEE”
“Yeah byeeeee”
I strode out of the booth and five Ethiopian Soldiers stared coldly at me.
It was Saturday Morning and they were obviously about to phone home.
“Err Tenastellen” (hello) I said.
They stared back. I hurried off to give the others the bad news.
“So either we drive through Sudan or we are stuffed” Said Stuart.
“No, if the Sudanese don’t come up with the goods in time, we drive to
Djibouti, ship the vehicle to Suez, and drive through Egypt, Lybia, Tunisia,
and maybe Algeria”
“There’s plenty of desert there.” Said Cisca positively.
“Yes it’s not ideal, but hopefully good fun.
“Damn, I wanted to capture Osama bin Laden in Sudan and make $25m ” said
Stuart.
“He’s in Afghanistan” I replied,
“Naaaah, if the Sudanese won’t give us visas, then they must be hiding
something, I reckon it’s him”
To combat our frustration this became our new task. Find OBL. We asked all
the Ethiopians we met where he was. The waiters, Scouts and Garage mechanics
laughed like drains. And replied that they did not know. The joke soon
became old and we drove into the Awash National Park. The Land Rover’s
exhaust bubbled and backfired as we climbed high up onto the rim of the
Mount Fantale crater. We looked down on the ancient lava flow that was now
tree covered and sat for hours. It was Cisca’s Birthday, so Sam serenaded
her from a cliff top. Sam and I had had little time to chat, so we settled
on some rocks and watched the hawks and bustards circle and wittered on
about all things mundane. He brought me up to speed on his London news, and
I took photographs and videoed the crater. The next day it was time to
return to Addis Ababa. So once more we played that great super nintento
game: “Overtaking trucks on the Addis road”
The journey was no more perilous than usual but this time I was perturbed to
see chat leaves being thrown out of a dumper’s window. As we overtook the
vehicle, the driver could be seen chewing away happily. Ethiopian driving is
erratic, and bad at the best of times, the idea of the drivers of these huge
vehicles being stoned was frightening.
Having managed to avoid a fiery roadside death, we arrived in the nation’s
capital in good time. After a shower we customarily went to the Hilton to
relax. I checked my email. Penny had written to say that they had been in
Addis and had set off up north. Would I please leave their passports at the
British Embassy. There was no word of why they had missed the RV, no
apology, or explanation. There was also no word about another rendezvous. I
was a little surprised. We had obviously worried in vain.
That night I dreamt that Narinder and Penny had stayed behind to watch a
woodpecker for 24 hours.
So now we wait. We wait for Ben in Dar es Salaam, and we wait for the
Sudanese government and their indecision. Are they hiding Osama bin Laden?
Will we cross Sudan and go into Egypt? Will we cross Sudan and go into Chad?
Will we be forced to ship to Egypt and be forced to go diving in the Red
Sea while we wait for the Weasel to catch us up? What fate awaits us all?
So I commend you, my vicarious travellers, watch this space and see where
our adventures will take us next.
Post script:
Stuart says that if he collars the $25m reward, he has no friends and there
will NOT be a piss up in Otley.
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