Aussie on Walkabout

horn of africa

and boy did I get the horns…

I was nearing completion of my three-month solo-powered adventure of Egypt.  Deep in the desert, close to the border of Libya at Siwa Oasis, when I casually booked a very uncasual month-long, top top-to-bottom, excursion of Ethiopia.  Fully aware it is facing a multitude of challenges, including conflict, humanitarian crises, human rights concerns, and political and economic difficulties but despite this, I had an image of a hidden God and women who walked with pride in my mind.  Ethiopia has the most amount of UNESCO world heritage sites in Africa. It was close to Egypt and I had a feeling I wouldn’t be on the road for too much longer.  

7 years full-time traveling had taken its toll.  I was no longer finding the level of awe, happiness, and wonder as before even in the face of private excursions, five-star living, and once-in-a-lifetime experiences.  A few days ago I had skydived over the pyramids and felt nothing.  I was fucking lonely and had lost my way as a human being with too many debauched nights and blurry days filled with material greatness while my heart and soul begged for scraps at the table of pheasants. 

I knew going in this would be a different trip but I was entering the phase of wanting to swim beyond the flags and enter deeper waters where sharks and currents exist but so does the treasure. Ethiopia is sandwiched between Sudan and Somalia with not one but two civil wars in play. I was to take the historical routes covering north to south with active volcanoes, mountains, rainforests, deserts, and ancient tribes, visiting “Lucy” the oldest and most complete hominin fossils found in 1974 in the Danakil Depression the most alien and hottest place on earth.

A few months prior In South Korea, I was studying Sunmudo- an ancient Korean Buddhist martial art that combines meditation, yoga, and martial arts for a month in a remote Buddhist temple. Here I met with a strange old man who told me about the Omo Valley and its wild tribal lands. The valley is home to over a dozen indigenous tribes, each with distinct traditions, languages, and ways of life. The Omo Valley is considered a cradle of humanity, with some of the oldest human fossils found in the region, dating back nearly 200,000 years. Considered one of the last frontiers of true tribal living famous for the lip plates worn by women for beauty status, bull-jumping by males for virility, and body paintings and scarring with vibrant colors and jumping dancing. I knew I needed to go and see this for myself.

Most of all I wanted to get close to the Arc of the Covenant reportedly being kept at the Church of Our Lady Mary of Zion in Aksum, Ethiopia. The Ark is believed to have disappeared after the Babylonians destroyed the First Temple in Jerusalem around 587 BC. It is watched over by one monk who doesn’t leave the church grounds till his death. The scope of myth and history is far beyond this scope but before you write me off as mad (well madder than I admittedly am) check it out. If you are keen to go deep I highly recommend "The Sign and the Seal: The Quest for the Lost Ark of the Covenant" – Graham Hancock.

Landing at Bole Addis Ababa International Airport the fun started with a 2 hour immigration line at 4am. Checking into a vapid, no-vibe, hotel with a view of the slummy streets my heart sank. It was pouring. My first Western notion was dispelled, Ethiopia is full of water so much so it is called the "Water Tower of Africa" with 12 major river basins and the beginning of the Nile.

For those of us growing up in the 80’s we remember the heart-wrenching ads on TV with kids your own age showing rib cages, flies in eyes, and a crying mother in the sand during the famine.  

Bob Geldof held a Live Aid concert in 85’ to raise funds for famine relief in Ethiopia.  Live Aid featured performances in Wembley Stadium and JFK Stadium with artists like Queen, U2, David Bowie, and Madonna. The concert helped raise over $125 million for Ethiopian famine relief.  It burned awe and sadness into our little psyches but the impact of the money was like pouring water into the desert.  Same problem I saw with my own eyes as convoys of UN cars taking private planes, staying at $500 a night hotels, getting drunk on $20 martinis in the Hilton Bar.  Across town the rich Ethipians buy cars and land, hand in hand with a corrupt government where bribery, nepotism, and favoritism in public offices are common complaints.  Take a drive by the prime ministers opulent and ostentatious massive duel-peacock adored gates and you’ll get the idea.  Shameless in a country that 5 billion USD annually in foreign aid.  If you divided that by the 135MM population that is $37 a head.  While this can’t cover our lunch, given Ethiopia's median annual income is approximately $907, it’s something.  The poverty I witnessed was beyond the beyond.  They are the poorest of poor and young, with a median age of just 19.  

What is wilder is the current Ethiopian blockade of Tigray has caused a famine creating a higher percentage of deaths of those affected than the Ethiopian 1980s famine yet few of us have even heard about it.  Bring back Bob Geldof from the grave! (And Michael Hutchence while you are at it).  

The largest open-air market in Africa is Addis Merkato in Addis Ababa. A chaotic city within the city. I had just seen and smelt the squalor of Garbage City in Cairo so I felt prepared. But no. This Mercado was not to be trifled with. We were warned to keep the windows shut and not allowed to access the market itself, deemed too dangerous for us whities with our iphones and bags of birr (Ethiopian currency). After being robbed without even realizing it in Mexico City at the Witches Market I decided to follow the guidelines this time staying inside, not even daring to look the hungry souls in the eyes. It was more like a human zoo of utmost poverty where everyone was struggling for survival- selling anything they could. Including humans if you knew where to go.

I saw them selling bits of used toilets, animals and flesh pieces in the hot open air, old car tires turned into sandals, rare spices, broken electronics, and car parts turned into furniture (imagine an engine transformed into a coffee table), Christian crosses, and a sea of men willing to make you anything out of various brightly colored clothes. The craziest thing was the dried Hyena Parts- hyena skins, bones, and even hyena fat, which are believed to have spiritual powers or be used in traditional medicine. People think hyena parts can ward off evil spirits or bring good luck. Maybe I should have insisted upon getting some. Lord knows I needed it.

From the hectic city, we began the only real way to get around Ethiopia. Driving. Lots of it. Crossing after crossing, getting bogged time and time again. 8 hour days in the car to see some amazing national park or wild landscape, then back in the car. We stayed with local tribes and slept outside under the stars just as they do. Not just looking at their life but experiencing it side by side. Once again struck by how we are not at all one under the umbrella of life experiences. I was as alien to them as could be. Much travel to harsh lands has taught me that mostly I am a dollar sign in these circumstances. No one spoke English except to ask for money or food, pushing their kids at me in desperation. Getting out to pee I opened the car door and a pack of little boys immediately grabbed a water bottle on the floor of the bus running away with it. Risky and desperate.

The North-East Afar people are some of the most hard-core, fierce, and resilient on the planet. The Afar have historically been organized into clan-based societies, with local leaders (called "sultans" or "dardar") governing their communities. Afar men often wear a white cotton loincloth (known as a "sanafil") and carry a traditional curved knife called a "jile." Women typically wear colorful dresses and adorn themselves with jewelry. These ancient people are brave or mad enough to call the Danakil Depression home, the hottest and most inhospitable place on Earth. Temperatures can reach up to 50°C (122°F), and the region is home to active volcanoes, salt flats, and sulfur springs. I was in awe but couldn’t wait to get back to some level of safety and comfort. I was borderline scared out there. We heard stories about a tourist who went off in the flats by herself, tripped, and was dead, boiled to death in seconds. After minutes she was nothing more than bone.

In ancient times humans killed for salt. It was more valuable than currency. This area was important to the salt trade. Harsh, unforgiving. Like the Nile to the Desert, the Awash river is the lifeline for these folk, yet with current-day conditions they struggle for dependency. Water remains a hardship despite its abundance. As with all the world’s problems, we don’t have an issue of scarcity, we have an issue of timely distribution. Manhattan’s leftovers for a day could feed these people for a month. Despite its extreme climate, the Afar region is home to stunning landscapes such as the Erta Ale volcano, the Dallol sulfur springs, and the vast salt plains (pictures below). It was like stepping into the world of Mordor. It was a daily struggle for me.

Day 6 was another long fucking drive across pitiful landscapes where people walked for days to get to where they intended. Human shacks, UN trucks, emaciated camels. We stayed at a hotel reminiscent of communist Russia in the 80’s, complete with full armed guards. Run by Muslims so I couldn’t even get a beer but made our guides take us to a local watering hole. The food sucked, I was sick of eating with my hands soggy pancakes with mystery meats, but the beer was cold and that had to be enough for now. The next part of the journey was to take us to the mystical side of Ethiopia- to the site of the reported Arc of the Covenant. I had just been to the site where Moses received the 10 commandments at Mount Sinai in Egypt. This was an important pilgrimage. I drank beer in the strange lil club till 2am and by the time the guides dropped me off it was a few hours kip in the commie hotel before we were hoarded back onto the bus of never-ending miles to move into God’s land.

I laid down across the back seats with a jacket over my head sleeping. I awoke to the strangest of sensations. I was on my side and covered in glass and blood. Ringing in my ears. I looked up to the sky through a broken window, trying to get up and out, I could not. Both of my legs were in extreme pain when I attempted to use them. The dark face of the skinny driver appeared with a long, arm, helped me out, and carried me to safety. It was a head-on with a truck whose brakes were not working. I was airlifted with a UN plane within hours to the capital where a long and dark period of attempting to make sense of the situation and get out occurred.

Alone, confused, scared, and not sure who to trust these next 10 days pushed me to the edge of sanity. The first hospital told me I needed immediate surgery, I sent the information to my nurse friend in Australia who said “Get the fuck out of there, now”. The second hospital told me it was a double fracture. I trusted neither. I had booked with Tour Radar who were only interested in money and not my safety. The local company showed up at my hotel daily trying to get me to continue even though I was now in a wheelchair. It was a wild time. I looked at Skyscanner for flights every day but my brain was totally offline and I couldn’t help it. I tried to get the embassy to help to no avail and when I tried to fly back to Egypt for convenience the local guides, Aman Tours, came and picked me up at the airport saying I owed them money. I lost it. I went out to the nightclubs in my wheelchair, ate raw meat with my bare hands, and drank wine upon waking up. I felt I was being monitored. Days and nights of horror and confusion consumed me. Finally, god felt sorry enough for me and gave me the wings to get to USA. I was nervous the local company would try to capture me again but the flight left at 1am so I was able to get out.

As I was wheel-chaired aboard the Qatar Airlines carrier to Doha it was a shocking scene.  Absolutely chockablock of young Muslim girls in full headgear no older than 13, likely a 100 of them taking up most of the plane.  They were giddy.  Laughing, singing, clapping, this was clearly the fist plane they had ever been on.  So excited to be aboard.  Little did they know this would likely be the last plane ride as they were entering into a world of slavery and subordination for wealthy families in Qatar.  No school. No human rights.  They would cook, clean, and many be beaten and raped by their lifetime ‘employers’ in Doha.  

Thus ended this harsh and horrible story.  I was going home to the USA and a new life was just around the corner.  A miracle story unto itself. For another time…

When I got back it took months to physically recover and longer still emotionally. One day I opened my diary totally forgetting this was the last entry before the crash in Ethiopia:

Demons come in all shapes and sizes.  

Let’s start with this one first.  I’m not sure this is safe.  

Death has long followed me, like the little bitch he is.  Death can suck my clit.  

I’m writing this book in the car in Ethiopia.  Bitches love to travel for the idea of being seen.  By the time this gets published assholes will be using programs.  

So for myself.  For who is left of my people in the world.  Rare species.  I’ll tell you. Anyone who has been unfortunate to drink with me will know its all or nutten. 

Strange that lack makes most turn against each other.  Crabs in a god damn bucket. 

Telling God the dog today I ain’t coming back.  Mirrored and flipped one too many times.  Put on Kanye and lick my pussy for eternity.  Ts & Cs mah nigs.

So let’s start this torrid lil tale.  The first time I heard “baby did a bad bad thing” I knew it was for me. Everything in life is a foreshadowing. Pay attention to the signs.  

I shuddered at the irony of the last words. Cried for the obvious pain/anger I was in. In that moment felt it was a gift, not a curse that things occurred the way they did. I was not paying attention to the signs. And maybe, just maybe, the Arch of the Covenant’s energy redirected me to where I most needed to be. Never to be seen, only felt.

“YOUR NEW LIFE IS GOING TO COST YOU YOUR OLD ONE’