On Safari: Tarangire and the Maasai

I was not a newcomer to safaris when my cousin Jacob and I traversed the vast Tarangire, Serengeti and Ngorongoro in our specially adapted Toyota Landcruiser. Having family in South Africa meant that the rare visit provided the opportunity to see Africa's iconic nature. Nonetheless, my fading memory of those childhood experiences as well the uniqueness of the Northern Tanzanian parks resulted in an experience that felt entirely new.  The sheer density of wildlife to be observed is nothing short of remarkable.  Added to this are the rare geographic phenomenon that have given the area the rightful title of a natural wonder.

Our first destination was Tarangire National Park. It is here that during the dry season, thousands of animals - elephants in particular - collect on the shores of water holes to survive the consequent aridity. These water holes, no more than ponds in size, become the scene of the emblematic African biodiversity. The small warthog, or pumba in swahili, disturb no one and stand proudly in what small space they occupy. The zebra, which under closer examination shows closer resemblance to a donkey than a horse, are found standing close to their kind. It is, of course, the effect of them standing together in large groups to give the appearance of one large animal that deters predators from hunting them.  Ever living in peaceful coexistence with the zebra are the gnus or wildebeest.  This populous species takes advantage of its numbers to spread across all open areas where the males seek to establish their own little contested spheres of influence.  Nonetheless, like pigeons flying from a running child in a city square, the gnus give way to the much larger elephant when it is their turn at the water hole.  The largest land mammal is both menacing in its size yet decidedly peaceful in its slow and gentle movements. The giraffe, sometimes reaching 6 meters in height, walk clumsily from acacia to acacia in search of their lofty snacks.

Surrounding the animals are the immense baobab trees watching in their idleness. Along with having one of the most dense elephant populations in the world, the same is true for baobabs which rise from the landscape like dandelions in Spring. Baobabs exist only where there are large reserves of ground water, explaining why they do not appear in for example Serengeti. They are often called the upside down tree because of their reciprocal appearance - legend says that the baobab was cast down from the skies landing head first with its roots upwards.

The first half hour of a safari tour is perhaps one of the most exciting where every animal you see is cause for jubilation and a hundred photographs. Then, slowly but surely, you become accustomed to the wild life and it takes truly special things to awake your interest. This increases from a passing elephant herd, a family of baboons and finally to the big cats. We saw our first lion of the trip laying comfortably on the branch of an acacia. With this rare sighting of a lion in a tree we discovered that all lions in fact climb trees, dispelling the myth of the “Tree Climbing Lion” supposedly home to the Manyara-Tarangire region. In the two days of tours into Tarangire, we could come across more lions as well as 8 cheetah (always in pairs).

On our third day out on safari, we were on the road again on the way to Serengeti. However, on the way we would first make a visit to a Maasai village. We had seen numerous Maasai on the way herding their cattle in their unmistakable red cloths. Like most Maasai villages open to tourism, ours was just off the main road. We were welcomed in the traditional welcome dance which can be seen being performed in this video:

As we were brought through the village gate the Maasai formed a line and invited us to join their famous jumping dance. My years of basketball did little in my hopes of competing with the warriors who soared above me. 

A Maasai village is structured in a simple fashion as a result of their nomadic culture. The houses are made of a combination of dried mud, grass and cow dung. Each house is divided into three sections; one bed for the parents, one for the children and the kitchen.  Cooking is done inside over a fire fueled primarily by cow dung. With only the door for ventilation, I can only imagine how the house fills with smoke as they prepare their meals. All houses are built within a sort of wall built by dried bushes. Inside the village is another ‘wall’ where the cattle are kept at night. The threat of wild animals such as lions is real. The Maasai warrior who guided us told us he has killed 7 lions and thus deserving the right to wear a lion tooth necklace (which he can also sell to tourists at a handsome price).

Outside the village is the kindergarten where young Maasai children are taught the alphabet and numbers in Maa, Swahili and English. They are then sent to boarding schools far away to complete the rest of their education.

The Maasai are a proud but simple people caught in the tangles of modernization. They once controlled most of the area of today’s Kenya and Tanzania and are the southernmost Nilotic speakers. However, they suffered near total destruction in the 1890’s with the arrival of Rinderpest and smallpox as well as successive years of droughts.  Some estimates claim that as much as 90% of cattle died in this period. Furthermore, German and British colonization resulted in much of their land taken away for the purpose of settler ranches. Nowadays the Maasai are reduced to a poor minority in Kenya and Tanzania where they struggle to integrate whilst upholding their culture. Through tourism, Maasai villages can make several hundred dollars a day during high season but this must of course be divided among the 120+ people that make up a village. The consequences of this are yet to be seen, but there might be evidence of “When Tourism becomes a Double-Edged Sword”, as my former colleague writes in the Ethiopian Reporter. For the time being, however, the Maasai and for that matter, Tanzanians in general, warmly welcome more tourists to their country.

My Time as a Journalist in Ethiopia

Working as a journalist in Ethiopia has brought me to the most remarkable places and has allowed me to meet incredible people.  I have reported from various parts of the country, most memorably so in Benishangul-Gumuz and the Wollo Highlands near Lalibela.  It has been a joy and I have gained a lot from it.

While I have relished the opportunity to write and travel almost without restriction, I have been unable to decide if a career in journalism is something for me. If I were a journalist, I feel that I would have to be some sort of travel columnist or commentator on the opinion pages.

What has irritated me in the past few months has been the overwhelming independence and the lack of knowledge/experience of what I am supposed to be doing anyways. First of all, as a journalist you have no schedule; there is only the deadline for your articles and any appointments you have made. This makes it difficult to find motivation to go out and do things, which brings me to my second point. While the aim of a journalist is quite straight forward (find stories and write about them), without any training or contacts it is difficult to find good things to write about. 

A lot of the time I relied on my creativity to put together my impressions and observations into a readable story. This is most evident in my last article, which may or may not be published tomorrow. Originally, I planned to meet my friend Julius so that he could show me the work his NGO has done. This would have made a relatively easy article to write as all I must do is put facts into sentences.  However, fate would have it different when some internal problems in the NGO would make it inadvisable for me to write about them. Since two other stories I had as back up didn’t work out either, I was forced to create something out of what I had observed on Entoto. However, as it turns out, the article might actually be better than anything I could have written purely about Julius’ NGO. As it happens, to turn something that is at first sight bland into something of interest to the reader is quite a stimulating challenge. It is in fact what I prefer to do over a more generic, explanation-of-fact based article. 

Only today did I meet Yacob Wolde-Mariam, a veteran journalist and editor of practically every English speaking Ethiopian newspaper since the early 50’s. He is 85 years old and and has lived through Italian occupation, Selassie’s Empire, the Dergue dictatorship and the current more democratic and development oriented regime. He speaks 5 languages (Oromo, Amharic, English, French and Italian) and has travelled to various parts of the world, including Germany, as a correspondent to international conferences and events. 

He still works passionately as ever as an editor of articles by coming to The Reporter every Friday to proof read all the articles that pass the preliminary check. He sits by the window on the desk diagonally across from me listening to music and in deep thought while he awaits the next article.  Once he has gone through them, he goes over the corrections with the respective journalist and then brings it to the next person responsible.  He also corrected my article and was pleased with it only giving a correction on Ethiopian history.

Yacob actually gave me a signed copy of his own book, “Brief Autobiography and Selected Articles”. Judging from the preface and one of those articles, I quickly determined some similarities between him and myself although he naturally claims a vastly superior wealth of experience and knowledge.  Rather than articles about restaurant openings or reports on events (which I am sure he wrote plenty of), they are what he calls “timeless”. This means that they can be read at any time without any reference to a specific moment in history such as an event. They are first person and generally criticize some point in society.  For example, the article I read was called, “Man, the inferior sex” which spoke against rampant sexism in the city of Asmara (current capital of Eritrea) and praised women.

Interestingly enough, Yacob began by studying engineering in Imperial College in London.  Yet he spoke of how German and French philosophy along with his love of literature overcame him and brought him to pursue a career in writing instead. It seems to have worked out!

With or without the guidance of this new mentor, I feel quite ready for my early morning departure tomorrow.  Although I now feel settled in this city and sad to leave yet another great group of friends, I am content and prepared to return to a land of reliable convenience. Of course, that is not to say that I would skip what is to come first.

The climax, or quite literally the ‘summit’, of my gap year is still to come.  Tomorrow I leave Ethiopia to fly further south to Nairobi, Kenya where I will meet my cousin Jacob and stay for one night. Then it is off to Northern Tanzania where the wilds of Serengeti, Ngorongoro and Tarangire await with the finish on Uhuru Peak, Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Full list of my published articles:

From Misery to Self-sufficiency
Ring in Addis' Shared Taxis
Down in Langano
The Historical Turnaround of the Gumuz
TESFA for Ethiopia
Where will you watch the World Cup Finals?
The Forgotten Mountain

The Wonderful Accidents of Travel (Unpublished)

A few of the articles I have written did not make it though editing to the final newspaper.  Of those, this piece on my experience in the Kuk Yelesh Maryam Church near Debre Birhan, Ethiopia is included. Enjoy!

17/07/14

 

The priest asked us to stand up and follow him through a dark curtain that revealed a pitch tunnel. I watched as the people in front of me were consumed by darkness and seemingly disappeared into an endless void as they entered.   It became my turn and, reminded of my childhood claustrophobia, I nervously let my fingers pass along the cold, stone wall of the tunnel as I listened to the soft footsteps of hundreds of pilgrims inch forward in silence. 

This is Kuk Yelesh Mariam, 10km outside of the unsuspecting town of Debre Birhan.  It is a bit of a hike getting here.  First, a bajaj takes you as far as roads allow when you must get off and make the rest of the trip on your feet.  It is perhaps another 2 or 3km along an uneven surface until the church.

Like many other rock-hewn churches, this one was hammered and chiseled out of the rock face of one of Ethiopia’s spectacular plateau drops. Built 22 years ago, it became the life’s work of a single man.  It is important to take shoes off and for all women to wear appropriate dress for church before entering the grounds. There are four churches on the premises, the most remarkable of which is to be found by walking around the hill, along a path built on the side of a cliff. Engraved red, yellow and green Orthodox crosses adorn the precipice while below them are the entrances to the caves.

I arrived on a Sunday afternoon at about 14:00 (8:00 Habesha) together with two friends. As I peered into the left church entrance I saw a large crowd of people seated closely together, eagerly listening to the priest holding mass. The priest stood in the middle of the cave where a curtain divides men and women.  Behind him the caves went on into three further openings hidden behind drapes. As I found a place to sit down I gave a quick wave to my friends sitting on the other side. The priest spoke for some time until the scene from above unraveled.

The blackness of the tunnel is total and absolute.  You are made blind. You do not know where you are going, how long you will be there or if the ceiling will begin to close in.  It is perhaps one of the closest sensations of your soul being lost and forgotten that can be created.

Indeed, the tunnel is symbolic of hell. It is an experience created for people undergoing difficulties in their lives and who seek spiritual support.  It is all the more cause for rejoice when the people round the last corner and light guides them out of the tunnel. The phrase, “follow the light!” is made into reality. You emerge into another cave where sunlight shines on pictures of Mary that embellish the walls.

A queue is formed that leads the crowd further into this new cave where a priest stands waiting.  In his hands, he holds a bundle of smooth, black rocks. He first rubs them across your face and then draws a cross on your chest with them.

With the priest’s blessing, the passage was complete. The crowd dispersed to go home or appreciate the other churches further down the cliff. The stairs zig-zag unceasingly below when at last, the path takes you to another cave where the entrance is protected by a roof painted in Ethiopian colors.  A crowd of people was sitting outside but as was the case previously, they were eager to show a foreigner what they were all here for and let me go in. 

The cave was filled with people but rather than being spoken to, they watched and listened as priests spoke to God.  Reading from Ge’ez scripture, priests nervously read pages and pages while holding a type of candle.  A higher priest sitting in a separate cave segment, removed from the crowd, intermittently corrected them on their pronunciation. Some of the readers had painted around their eyes in white adding a whole new mystique to an outsider such as myself.

I had no expectations before entering Kuk Yelesh Mariam. It had only been recommended as a site of one of Ethiopia’s rock-hewn churches.  I had come so close to skipping it out of exhaustion from the previous days’ travel and the danger of not getting the last bus to Addis Ababa.  All these concerns were taken away when I stumbled into the most magnificent manifestation of Orthodox faith I have seen so far. It seems as much as one can see this country, a new surprise lies around every corner. We walked away tired but content and made it back to the capital that night, in time for dinner.

My Trip to the Remote Benishangul-Gumuz

My journey to the far western Benishangul-Gumuz region was probably the height of my experience as a journalist in Ethiopia.  Being in such an isolated and obscure place was exactly what I was looking for when I chose to do this.  At home, when I watched or read about journalists reporting from these places in far off and poorly studied regions of the world the Tom Sawyer in me became filled with excitement. When I got the opportunity to do this, I simply couldn't refuse. 

Originally, I only planned to see Bahir Dar and Gondar with fellow volunteers when I set out from Addis Ababa on the 2nd of June.  This was the case until a Canadian man approached us asking where we were from - our various accents sparked an interest (French/Ethiopian, English, Dutch, German/Danish). As conversation ensued the Canadian man came to talk about what he was doing here. He was from a Canadian charity called devxchange that was funding a project in the 200km away Benishangul-Gumuz region with three others.  They told me how they had been there and how successful this project had been, how the cultural mindset of the people had been completely turned around.  This got me very interested and they agreed to let me write an article about it and gave me the number of Feru, the director of the project.  Feru showed particular interest, as I would be the first to write about his program in the 8 years of its existence.

Chines road construction

Still a lot left to pave!

The trip to the Gumuz is about 200km west of Bahir Dar but takes about 5 hours due to difficult road conditions. Only the first 100km are paved and on many dirt roads, maximum speeds only reach 30km/h. Currently, huge road construction is underway to pave the road all the way to the far off Great Ethiopian Renaissance Dam on the border to Sudan. This will eliminate a major logistical hurdle for the many truck drivers delivering materials there. All thanks to the Chinese of course. But despite the slow pace, the drive goes past such remarkable country side that it is really a good thing.  The contrast between the lush green and the freshly ploughed deep brown of the soil is spectacular. Heading closer to Sudan also brought us in a region of Muslim majority. In the town of Injibara, what will supposedly be the largest mosque in Ethiopia is currently being constructed. In what was perhaps some sly joke towards religious diversity a ranting Jehova’s witness also gave us some flyers. Of course these were more of a source of comedy than anything. It was however in this town that I began to feel the extent of how far away from anything I was going.  I felt like in whatever direction I could have walked, I would have experienced the same hopeless result.

Mountain separating Gumuz
from Amhara

Gumuz lowlands

The border between Benishangul-Gumuz and Amhara couldn’t be more geographically complete. A large and steep green mountain oversees the underlying Gumuz low lands.  There the oppressive heat and the lethal authority of malaria make the land nigh on inhospitable. It was of course tribal warfare that lead to this separation of these lands.  The militarily advanced and traditionally elite Amhara drove the Gumuz away and took over their territory.  The Gumuz have historically been enslaved to the Amhara and as such have been discriminated and kept on the edges of society and country as a backwards and neglected people. This illustrates only a fraction of the difficulty of uniting a country of 80 unique tribes all carrying their own languages and dialects.

Gumuz farmer Andargie

Gumuz farmer Gisa

It was well over 40°C when we reached the town we would stay at. For all my attempts to recall it, I can’t remember its name. It was a small town but growing due to its location on the way to the dam as well as a center for the urbanizing Gumuz. The hotel I stayed at was minimal but better than I expected. The rooms had toilets and even fans for the inescapable heat. Upon arrival we had lamb tibes (Pronounced t’ehbs (harsh T)) for lunch, which tasted alright-ish. That evening I found out that this was actually a trucker’s motel. Here passing truck drivers partied late into the night and brought prostitutes back to their rooms. Luckily I was so tired that my ears were spared of most of it. 

Lamb tibes

And suddenly.. hailstorm!

In any case, following an hour’s rest in our rooms, my investigative work would begin.  Feru introduced me to the model farmers I would interview and showed me their farms. What ensues is all in my article, “The Historical Turnaround of the Gumuz”. 

I was truly impressed with all that I saw. Feru has built a sustainable operation and the results were to be seen everywhere. In the way everyone greeted Feru as a close friend or the way farmer Andargie’s eyes gleamed with pride as he told me he is sending all 12 of his children to school.  While anthropological laments of the loss of their ancestral culture are real, I feel that this shouldn’t stop the way of progress, which is finally arriving. The people are poor, rely on deprived nutrition and suffer from preventable diseases. Who is to blame them if reaching a higher standard of living is followed by wearing western clothes and perhaps having a smoke now and then. Listening to Feru’s visionary plans for the future, I see great things coming from these people. The land they live on is extremely fertile; it only requires the necessary investment and belief to make things happen.

Me with the man himself, Feru

The Landscapes of Ethiopia - Addis to Gondar

It seems everywhere you go in Ethiopia, the magnificent landscapes leave you gob smacked.  After my first good impression driving south to Langano, I couldn’t believe the views on the drive from Addis to Bahir Dar and from there onwards to Gondar.  The lands are varied and shift from deep gorges to high, mountain passes.  Everywhere, a unique vibrant green mixed with dark brown, freshly ploughed fields are a gift to the eyes. 

The 9–hour drive to Bahir Dar flies past by simply looking out the window. The most momentous experience on the road is the crossing of the Blue Nile. The views from the windy road down the valley escarpment are second only to crossing the bridge over the river itself. The moment only lasts a few seconds but provides a ‘gorge’-ous view through the gorge with high, vegetated cliffs on either side. Driving back up to the plateau takes you passed successive colorful Orthodox churches while the Blue Nile twists and turns beneath.

The most astounding natural feat near Bahir Dar is beyond doubt the Blue Nile Falls. It is a 40-minute drive on a bumpy, dirt road to reach the place where you begin your walk to reach the best view. Before reaching the Falls, you cross the Portuguese bridge that was constructed in the 1600s. It is built out of stone and rather than being straight, it extends diagonally in the direction of the flow of the river and then turns diagonally back to end straight across from its starting point, forming a triangle. It is used today as it was 400 years ago, with time leaving little trace on the antiquated structure.  Perhaps the shockingly low level of water in the river has made it easier on the old stones.

Upon reaching the Falls, I was amazed at its sheer size. Steep cliffs drop for over a kilometer with water sliding over the edge at three distinct places.  The biggest of these is the furthest on the right, which you can hear from kilometers away.  On the left flows a fall from the dam that diverts much of the water and severely damages the Falls’ former grandeur.  Hopefully, when the Renaissance Dam is completed, this one will be taken out of action, and the Falls will be returned to their full immensity.

A more threatening disappointment of the country is the level of abject deforestation noticeable everywhere.  Magnificent native trees stand scattered between fields while gatherings of young Eucalyptus trees are waiting to be cut down. When the trees go, what then? Where the earth has been cut clear, the soil will soon be carried away, deserting its ancient home. Wood continues to be the primary source of energy for cooking, light and keeping warm as well as the most important building material for traditional homes and Addis’ plethora of scaffolding.

While this is noticeable on the road to Gondar, the concern is almost drowned by an epic landscape of mountainous, fertile land. Traditional villages are found among the terraced hills they rely on for subsistence. From the slopes protrude giant stone colossi rising hundreds of meters into the air.  It is as if they were titans from another time banished to eternal slumber. The more scientific reason is to be found in the geological history of the Great Rift Valley.  According to Planet Earth, millions of years ago, immense volcanic activity created an enormous stone dome over what is now Ethiopia. Through millennia of erosion, these great rock formations are all that remain.

Although the city of Gondar does boast some impressive scenery, the medieval castles are a testimony to Africa’s pre-colonial kingdoms.  Gondar was founded by Emperor Fasilides around 1635 and served as the capital of the Amhara-led Ethiopian Empire until 1855. The castles of each successive emperor still stand, if in dire need of renovation.  The castles are built of stone and wood and were the first of their kind to appear in Ethiopia. However, these castles are not in line with the European imagination.  They are quite small and poorly defended by a low wall that goes around the compound.  The advent of cannons had not quite reached Ethiopia at this time shifting the priorities of architecture from high, slanted walls to more small scale and resource conserving buildings. Unfortunately the tourism services are lacking and there is little information open to the public unless you are willing to pay for an expensive guide. There are no visual reconstructions of the castles so the mind is left to itself to picture them at their height. Hopefully, with the arrival of more tourists and greater investment, the castles will be put on a more memorable display, worthy of its appeal.

For more photos of Ethiopia, follow the links below:

Bahir Dar
Gondar