Somewhere South of Addis: Langano Lake

It is nearly a month since I arrived in Addis Ababa. While the city still amazes me in so many ways, I have become numbed to the events that left me overwhelmed on my first day.  To put it differently, my answer to, "How do you like Ethiopia" has changed from, "I'm adjusting" to, "It has been an adjustment".  

I have written three articles, two of which have been published and have received good reviews.  My first was on a rehabilitation center for traumatized mothers and children. The second was on my impressions and experiences riding in the city's shared taxis.  While generally reliable, these things are scary when coming straight out of Europe! Read them by following the links below:

From Misery to Self Sufficiency

Riding in Addis' Shared Taxis

Driving through a more jungle-ish segment of the route

While I have been enjoying writing on things around Addis Ababa, I now want to focus more on travel reporting. Ethiopia provides so many fantastic opportunities to enjoy incredible nature, ancient history and meet diverse cultures. I just returned from a weekend on the Langano Lake in the south; although my reasons to go there are more likely to be found in the bottom of a bottle rather than through binoculars. Nonetheless, it was surprisingly recuperating to get out of the capital and see what the country has to offer.  The drive to Langano traverses astounding natural beauty. The Lonely Planet recently ranked the Ethiopan Great Rift Valley one of 50 wonders of the world and they certainly aren't fooling anyone. Descending from Addis takes one through a green, hilly landscape. The two lane road is bordered by the small fields of sustenance farmers, ploughing and planting their fields before the rainy season.  At the final hill, one gets an incredible view over Langano Lake and its surrounding areas - primarily deforested land now used for agriculture.  Dispersed trees now make up for most of what surrounds the visitor's side of the lake.  

Birds bringing back materials to their nests,
check out the rainbow!

Canoeing on the lake

While I was surprised to see paved roads taking us the entire way up until a short distance before the the campsite, the road safety is sheer madness.  While extremely risky overtaking manoeuvres with cars (or trucks) that don't give up until the very last second are part of the danger, it isn't the major concern.  What makes it so dangerous are the cows, donkeys, goats and people that are constantly crossing or following the road. It comes as no surprise that brutal roadkill is a common feature on the tarmac.  Sometimes the situation is simply so bizarre that it just becomes funny.  Once a woman riding a donkey wagon was riding on our lane and motioned for us to go past on the other lane. But while she was doing that she was also turning onto the other lane giving us too little room. Another time, an old man who could not care less about fast approaching cars crosses the road right as we were coming.  We had to come to a near still stand and drive around him to avoid a death that will probably come sooner than he thinks with that attitude.  As we turned onto one road, I thought we came upon a Hollywood chase scene where something aways comes in the way.  Out of a side road, a donkey comes pulling a wagon of enormous 10 meter sticks, a child herds his family's goats across the road, one lane is being taken up by hay carrying donkeys, etc.  We even came across perhaps a hundred camels being herded on the road!

Speke's Weaver sitting by its nest

In any case, don't be deceived by the brown water of Langano Lake.  It isn't dirty or muddy.  In fact, the minerals that make it brown are what makes the water free of Bilharzia! I mention this in the article I wrote on Langano so I'll leave a space below for the link if it gets published. As I want to avoid reiterating everything I say in the article I want to be brief here.

I was invited to come down to Langano in a group of 10 people to an Embassy campsite by a great new friend here.  It is situated in a gorgeous cove protected on one side by a jungle peninsula that has been taken over by Speke's Weavers, a beautiful bright yellow bird.  The campsite had a kitchen, camping chairs,  already set up tents protected with roofs as well as its own beach with a volleyball net and a house holding canoes and kayaks. The only thing one has to worry about it bringing all the food and drinks down - which is a lot for 10 people.

The food was excellent. Home made lasagna, fried chicken, stir-fry and shakshuka as well as pancakes for breakfast. Definitely the best food I've had in weeks. We went on a canoe trip, swam but most of the time just relaxed. The evenings were the best part though, when the party began after dinner. Despite the photos, the weather was excellent the whole time.

Quite a large part of me didn't really want to go back to Addis on Monday. Addis is a loud, dirty and stressful place.  Nonetheless, I do feel refreshed to continue as a journalist  here. I have plans to do more travelling to other places in Ethiopia such as Lalibela and the Simien Mountains which I hope I can realize.


Here is the link to my article on Langano:

Down in Langano

My First Locust Swarm

I was just arriving home from the Reporter office when I realized everyone was looking up in awe.  Above us, the blue sky had disappeared and had been replaced by millions of locusts! It was a hellish sight.  One felt completely powerless against this terrorizing force of nature.  The heart of the swarm was flying at about 20m above us, moving unpredictably and with no sense of direction except to locate harvest to destroy. Averaging at about 10cm long, the insects struck fear when some began to fly low. One even flew down onto my face before hitting the ground. These were the ailing locusts that came to the surface to die, the residue of a passing swarm.

They had put large distances behind them. One man claimed they had flown across the African continent from Senegal, razing fields as they passed. In pursuit of the swarm are the birds. Sparrows, weavers, pigeons and more made a feast of this abundance. 

The Heart of the Swarm

Locust swarms aren’t normal to Addis Ababa. My host mother could not recall ever seeing one and she has lived here all her life. From the shocked reactions and by the way people brought out their smartphones to take pictures, it was equally spectacular for everyone around me as it was for myself. 

It was quite entertaining to see the children so terribly frightened. When one landed on the ground near the youngest of the family, a boy of 5, he screamed and ran to hide behind me.  The others began making jokes that there was one on his back, which sent him running around trying to whack at where there was nothing.

This construction worker was
whacking away all around him

A dying locust compared with my foot

Staring at one of nature’s great instruments of destruction, I felt very lucky not to be a farmer. Against such a ravenous hoard there is nothing one can do but watch as the harvest, and the year’s income along with it, is eaten away.

For more photos of the swarm as well as my other experiences in Ethiopia follow this link

A Note on Haircuts

A few days ago I had my first haircut in Ethiopia.  While at first that seems like a trivial and irrelevant matter, I have come to find a fascination for it. After getting my hair cut in several countries now, a pattern has emerged.  The further south I go, the cheaper it gets.  In Sweden, I paid 300 crowns, in Germany, I paid 15 Euros and in Spain just 7 Euros. Here in my newfound barbershop in Addis Ababa, I paid 25 Birr. I estimated that I could get over 30 haircuts in Sweden at that price. 

Admittedly, I also paid for a lot less.  When I walked in, I had to wait for a bit so I sat on a low couch covered in a cloth with a pattern of blue flowers.  The two barbers were passionately clipping away at their customer’s hair so as not to leave any protruding strands to disturb that perfect Afro finesse. It is of course important to note that the scissors they were using were nothing more than small office scissors.  I then realized that the only tool they had present intended for cutting hair was a shaving machine.

When my turn came I saw the barber preparing the shaver by pouring some flammable liquid over a screwdriver, lighting it, and then passing the flame across the steel knives. Why? I don’t know. Without worrying too much about that, I explained to him what I would like. The machine, size 3 on the sides and trimmed down on the top. The barber pointed to what is perhaps the Afro version of that; portrait 16 on a poster filed with possible looks.  “Yeah, that’s the one!” and so he began.

I was used to having my sides cut with the machine but never the top. So when he did bring the shaver over my cranium I got a bit nervous. But no! With much care he brushed over my hair with it and trimmed as I asked. As we got to know each other, I realized why hairdressers like to talk to you. It is to keep you distracted while they do their thing without you jumping out of your seat at the slightest clipping. The barber himself is a geography student at university who has been cutting hair for three years trying to make some money on the side. His plan is to become a high school geography teacher.

In any case, I was quite satisfied with the final result and am sure to visit the same shop again. Maybe I’ll even start a new charity: Scissors for All, Barber Aid or perhaps, The Trimming Trust.

Impressions of a Distant Land

I arrived in Addis Ababa early morning on Friday, 2^nd of May. I didn’t have much sleep on the plane and I knew it would be a long day. However, I did not quite know what exactly was coming my way.

For all the news and special documentaries reporting from Africa, they all do little in showing what it is really like to be there. A camera only catches what it is aimed at and only presents visuals and sound. To be there, and sense it all in 360° from a rackety old Russian Lada, is an entirely different experience.

I was picked up, along with another volunteer, from Bole International Airport by a Projects Abroad coordinator and given an orientation of the city in a taxi hired for the purpose.  As we exited the airport we turned left onto a small road well over its capacity teaming with loud and congested traffic.  Looking to my left, I saw children in dirty clothes splashing water from a bucket over the tires of a minibus and begin cleaning it in such a way that told me they have done it over a million times. Then, I saw a boy standing up from behind a bush, grab a leaf to wipe his behind and pull his pants up.  It was 8:15. School begins in 15 minutes. As Freweini was saying something about Ethiopia being different, a man walked past holding up the front legs of a sheep on either side of his hips as the animal trailed behind, clumsily on its hind legs.

I began reading Dracula by Bram Stoker on the plane and I can’t help but feel an eerie parallel that can be drawn with one of the novel’s most famous quotes, “We are in Transylvania; and Transylvania is not England. Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things”. This would follow me the rest of that day and quite possibly the rest of my time here.

Volunteer Ken taking me to the shared taxi stop

However, this encounter outside the airport hardly captures Addis Ababa in its entirety.  We were brought to a café for a quick breakfast and had lunch at a restaurant that might as well have been on the Malaga beach promenade. Both places were filled with the new Ethiopian middle class there on business, with family and friends or on a date.

The food is cheap.  An omelette at the café was 35 Birr, approximately €1.50. A large beef stir-fry with spaghetti cost 85 Birr, just €3.15 (the exchange rate is around €1 – 27 Birr).  While there was a blackout towards the end of our lunch, I was surprised to see a reaction that probably would have happened in Sweden.  Everyone took out their smartphones, some putting them on flashlight mode, so that they could continue eating until the problem was fixed about 5 minutes later.

The road where I live

After driving around town all morning, we were heading to the Projects Abroad Office. On the way, a torrential rain began to violently bear down on us. After weaving our way through the chaotic traffic of a construction site for a new road, we arrived at the office… only to find it flooded with water pouring down from the ceiling like a breach in the lower decks of a ship.  Minassie, director of Projects Abroad Ethiopia, was there barking madly into his phone, probably at maintenance. We began to use everything we could find to get the water out.  We used brooms and mops to push, pull and whack the water down the stairs or out onto the balcony. 4 buckets were collecting the incessant rain. Water was everywhere, in every room of the office. In some places it made puddles that would swallow your shoes and soak your socks. When the skies finally calmed, it took us another half hour at least to clear the office of water.  For us, the new volunteers, the whole situation was so crazy that we just laughed about it. “What a reception!” joked Minassie when we finally had a chance to meet him.

Children playing football on the asphalt in front of the
communist monument 

After being introduced to Projects Abroad, our volunteer programs as well as the country and her culture, we would meet our host families and get settled in our new homes. And how different a European home is from an Ethiopian one! You enter the house into a courtyard of sorts.  Straight ahead you see a sheep tied to a tree baa-ing at your arrival. To the right is a path that takes you around to the entrance of the house. However, houses are not organized the same way as in the West. The central building is only used for bedrooms as well as the living and dining rooms. The kitchen, office and other working areas are all in separated rooms outside the main structure.  Walking in this path that separated house and working rooms, one comes across curious new smells emanating from the kitchen, leaving one interested in discovering what it could possibly be. 

However, at this point I was utterly exhausted. I was tired from lack of sleep, I was finding it difficult to breathe because of the thinner air at 2500m and was overwhelmed by a completely new people and way of life. It is at these times when one wonders what one is actually doing. I have never felt this far away from home and Stockholm is a little more than a weekend trip away. However, I do believe that in time I can learn to like and enjoy this place. It will take time and it will be difficult.  But if I begin to enjoy my placement as a journalist I think I might just be realizing my African adventure.