We arrive at the customs, where we need to stand in line in the queue. The word
queue suggests that there is a certain order in space and in time. In a queue people
organize themselves in such a way that the person in front is the first gets one's turn
and the second in line is next, so that everyone knows where he or she stands and
the staff and the people in the queue can apply their energies in a smooth and
efficient handling of the process. In that sense, we cannot speak of a queue. The
chaotic crowd stands in a large semicircle before the two counters. So I would
rather speak of joining the crowd instead of getting in line in the queue. It is
everyone on his own. Everybody is fighting for positions. We are not too good in this
fight. Although we landed early in the morning in Addis Ababa, it takes two hours
before we took this first hurdle. The next thing to do is finding the bicycles.
We find the bikes and after preparing the bikes and obtaining Ethiopian Birrs,
we are ready to go.
Addis Ababa is high, at about 2,000 meters. That does not mean that it's cold. The
sun is shining and without significant effort the first rays of sweat are already
running down my face. Judging by my friends, I am not the only one.
Addis Ababa is the sweltering capital of Ethiopia. The city stretches out chaotic
and incongruently in all directions. Every time we think we are leaving the town,
a new center of activity presents itself. As we are in Africa, a center of activity
means a chaotic crowd, exploding with energy. The roads are wide and largely
filled with (old) cars, but in addition there are also cyclists, hikers, mules
and other livestock on the roads. Everything and everyone moves. Even the
apartment buildings are moving. The population growth of the city is so fast,
that hundreds of apartment and office buildings are mashed from the ground. The
buildings under construction are surrounded by a kind of flexible nets that sway
with the wind. Probably these nets have a function for the safety of the workers
inside.
Addis Ababa is busy, full, energetic or chaotic in relation to other places on
our planet, but the city can also be considered quiet, serene, laidback and
even well-organized in relation to the Merkato. Many tens of thousands of people
are crawling like ants through the narrow passages of the largest market in Africa.
No millimeter is left unused. Like ants, the people are able to carry massive
weights and volumes above their heads, even if the three-dimensional geometric
space does not seem to allow it. Although the first impression is far from
organized, there is certainly organization. It is questionable whether we should
see the Merkato as a market. Most of the merchants do their business in small shops,
surrounded by proper walls. Strictly speaking, this is a mall and not a market but well,
it is a mall in sizzling high-energy African style. The most popular product turns
out to be the plastic flowers. Especially plastic tulips in bright, shiny colors
are doing well.
We have not come to Ethiopia for shopping. But we do indulge ourselves in another
Dutch habit in Ethiopia. We sit down in the suburbs of Addis for our first Ethiopian
coffee. Where in the Netherlands the label 'fresh' is rather devalued in relation to
coffee, this predicate is more than apt in Ethiopia, although no one feels the necessity
to use the predicate. The Ethiopians will not easily come up with the idea to call filter
coffee fresh, let alone coffee from a machine in an office building. In Ethiopia
the fresh coffee beans are ground on the spot, burned, dried and subsequently dissolved
in the water in a process that takes at least several tens of minutes. The result is
no less than a little African paradise. It feels like I am tasting the African Earth
itself while drinking. Pure, powerful and full of taste sensations. A completely
different world, yet completely natural. In retrospect I come to the conclusion
that our Dutch filter coffee does not deserve to be called 'fresh' and moreover,
that it does not deserve to be called "coffee" either.
Directly north of Addis Ababa is a large ridge. a paved road leads steeply up
against the wooded slopes. After an absence of more than two years on the road,
climbing with a fully loaded bike on the steep road takes quite an effort. That
applies for all of us. Tired but satisfied we reach the first pass.
On the other side of the pass is a scrawny dirt road with large boulders. Willem,
Marco and Marc have suspension mountain bikes and descend smoothly. With my
trekking bike I have a serious disadvantage and I am bouncing my way down. Even worse,
I am riding on tyres that are too thin, which dig themselves into the loose stones.
I am slipping from left to right and frequently I need to put a foot on the ground
to prevent myself from falling. I have never felt so miserable on my bike. In the
distance I see Willem, Marco and Marc waiting. I think they are waiting for me,
but when I arrive Willem and Marc are turning around and start cycling back up.
Marco also turns around. He explains to me that we are on the wrong way.
Climbing on this road with these tyres is just as horrible as going down. My bike
is drifting in all directions in a an uncontrolled way and I sink deep down
between the stones. Adter half an hour we are back on the pass, where we continue
on the right path. But this new road is not beteer. I am still sinking into the
loose stones. It is clear that I brough the wrong material. That has not happened
to me before. On a steep passage my rear wheel cuts itself deep into the stones
and slips away, fatally so this time. I fly over the head, but I manage to land
on my feet. Marco, who was cycling right behind me, is catapulted by my bike and he and
his bike are flying through the air as well. Fortunately, Marco is also unharmed.
And both the bikes are unharmed as well.
It is twilight now. I doubt whether I should continue to cycle with this bike on
these kind of roads. It's no fun and it proves dangerous as well. Moreover, in
the downhills I am much slower than my friends. As these scenarios are passing
through my head, we reach the village of Dire. First things first: we have to find
something to eat. And if possible: a place to sleep. The village, however, seems to
have neither a restaurant nor a hotel or a campsite. After some asking around, some
children bring us to a house, where a group of people is eating. This looks like a
sort of restaurant. Moreover, we can pitch our tent in the backyard.
Day 2: Dire - Muke Turi 67 km
At dawn I wake up. I decide to look around in the area and to make use of the
beautiful morning light to shoot some pictures of the atmosphere of the village.
If I open up the tent, there are people that have been waiting in the courtyard
for us. Quietly, silently, patiently. I wonder how long these people have been
waiting for us. An older man, a young adult and two boys around seven years old
come to me. Now the first person has got up, that's the signal that they can
break the silence. One of the boys asks me a question in fluent Amharic. I shrug
my shoulders and wave my hands in the air, the universal gesture that I did not
understand the question. The message comes across, because he asks the same question
again, but slowly and very well articulated. Despite his efforts I still do not
understand the question. This time I try to get the message across verbally:
>> No Amhari!!
The message comes across this time and the boy converts easily to English:
> You bicycle?
The boy is pointing to me to be sure whether this is really is my bike?
>> Yes, that's my bicycle.
> You bicycle me bicycle??
Now the boy is pointing at himself. He looks at me with questioning eyes.
I think again. Maybe the boy hopes that I carelessly give away the bike, but
he probably only wants to do a test ride. That in itself is okay if it were not
that a whole tribe has gathered around the tents in the meantime, while my friends
are still sleeping. I decide that the circus needs to move and I leave the courtyard
and walk to the main road, outside the immediate hearing of my friends. Marc has
also awakened and he comes over to me. Taking turns, we entertain the crowd and make
pictures. It was a spirited atmosphere and every single moment there is something
to see or to experience.
Whether the village life is that interesting to the people themselves is the question.
From young to old, everyone seems to find it infuriatingly interesting to see what
we are doing. And never a dull moment! The people clearly have nothing better to
do than to continue to monitor the developments closely. The perspective of the
villagers is completely opposite to that of our own society. The people do not have
jobs, they have a lot of time to do fun things but they lack the money to be able
to actually do so.
After one hour, Marco and Willem also awake and we can break up the camp.
We are not alone on the job. No less than a hundred people want to help us.
Breaking down a tent normally lasts about two minutes, but with so much help
it takes considerably longer. Our insist that the help is really not needed,
is conceived as courtesy and our politeness is praised so much that the people want
to make an extra effort for us. When we take our bicycles and we ride away, we are
being pushed. They do not have to push a long time, as we have to fill up our water
resources. Then the long awaited farewell is finally taking place. We say goodbye
and we cycle away. We let ourselves be pushed for a few hundred meters and then
we accelerate so that we can also have some exercise today.
The landscape is hilly and surprisingly green. I had expected that the landscape
north of Addis Abbeba would have been dry and desert-like, but for now my expectations
prove wrong. In particular the eucalyptus trees do well on the slopes. Fortunately,
the road is better than the trails of yesterday, although the road can still be
considered inaccessible due to the large, loose boulders that it is composed of.
Because of the stoney terrain I have to endure severe blows, while my friends are
moving around significantly easier through the landscape on their mountain bikes.
For now, however, I count my blessings. On this road I am managing pretty well. The
wheels do not sink into the loose stones of the road like yesterday. Moreover,
there is a more permanent solution awaiting. Marc has offered his spare tyre and spare
tube to lend me. If I use those for my back wheel, the bouncing over the cobbles
can be diminished considerably and my bike will be much more stable between large
loose rocks.
We cycle on a more or less thoroughfare, albeit without traffic, but a road that is
leading somewhere. Namely to Muke Turi, on the main ring road that connects Addis Abbeba with
all the major cities in the north. The ring is a circle of two thousand kilometers.
We do not have time for that. Besides the road paved. That is not the plan with the
mountain bikes. Definitely not for Marc, who cannot cycle on asphalt. If the track is not
challenging, Marc is bored and gets tired. If the road is so bad that there it is
hardly possible to cycle, Marc is in his element and he turns the pedals smoothly
around, as if it were asphalt. All in all we are best off to keep on cycling on
bad roads. And that is exactly what we intend to do. Between the western branch
of the ring and the eastern branch is a long dirt road to Dessie, a road that is
not shown on any of our maps but it is on digital maps. From there we want
to cycle on a similar road to the spiritual city of Lalibela, the city
of the rock-hewn churches.
Unlike yesterday, we regularly pass villages. The villages are not mentioned on
maps, not even on the digital map of my GPS. We draw a lot of attention again
and each of us is surrounded by loads of children running with us. There are the
necessary deterrent stories on the internet of children who are throwing stones
at passing cyclists. This is usually accompanied by the word 'Ferenzi', the Ethiopian
variant of the gringo. We do not have any problems at all in the villages. The
atmosphere is hectic but otherwise fine and I am enjoying myself. The people are
friendly and open. Presumably there are no problems here, because we are not on a
main connection. The people never come into contact with foreigners and it is not
in their system that we could possibly be a problem, and therefore they do not feel
that we need to be chased off. When we sit in a tavern for a coffee break, all the
village children gather around us. We are taking pictures of the children and show
them. More and more adults gather around us and the children and soon we are
surrounded by a busload of people.
We move on through ever drier landscapes. The terrain is slightly undulating and
open; we have definitively left the hills behind us. The wind has free play in the
relatively flat and open landscape. The wind, the heat and the bouncing on the cobbles
we have to make a strong effort. We lose a lot of sweat and we drink gallons of water
to compensate. We pass an overturned bus on the side of the road. Marc is curious and
takes a look. To our amazement there are people climbing out of the bus. Apparently
these people have turned the overturned bus into a family home.
We reach Muke Turi, along the tarmac road from Addis Ababa to Gonder. We will not
follow this paved road. Instead, we will follow the obscure road towards Alem
Ketema and Dessie. For today, however, the work is done. In Muke Turi we take a
simple hotel. That will likely be the biggest luxury until we arrive in Dessie.
We enjoy the relative comforts. I get a spare tube and tyre from Marc so that
I hopefully do not slip away anymore tomorrow. Not that I slipped away that much
today, but it is possible that we will get the same bad roads like yesterday under
our wheels again the next days. As a precaution, I change the tyre therefore.
I feel ready for what is coming the next days.
Day 3: Muke Turi - Campsite in the first canyon 70 km
After half a kilometer asphalt the road to Alem Ketema and Dessie is unpaved
again. We assume that the road will continue to be so until Dessie. The terrain is
plane. We find ourselves on a vast plateau with yellow and brown fields with
few trees. Almost the entire landscape is in use for agriculture. Ethiopia has an
agrarian society. Except Addis Ababa there are no major cities, but still the
country is vety densely populated. At the moment nearly a hundred million people
are living in the country, although a third of the country is desert.
The road lies more or less as a straight line in the landscape. At times
there is a small depression in the landscape and there are a few zigzags down and
a few ones up to lead out of the depression again. Subsequently, the road leads
in a new straight line between the ocher and brown earth fields until the next small
depression. There is hardly any motorized transport on the road. The ratio of
vehicles: walkers: cattle is an estimated 1: 100: 1000. On every car there are a
hundred people on foot and a thousand cows, oxen and donkeys. The people are smiley,
despite the poverty. The people live from the land and that is just enough to stay
alive.
After a few hours of cycling we reach a large village, where we drink some coffee.
It is the ideal place for a coffee break. The village lies on the edge of the
plateau. Immediately after the village the landscape tumbles down more than a
kilometer altitude into the depths. Those altimeters we have to climb again on
the other side, where a new plateau awaits us. On the route to Dessie there will
be another canyon and if we manage to cycle in the remaining days to Lalibela,
there will be another two deep canyons on our way. Besides the four canyons there are
also two ridges on the way to Lalibela, one between Alem Ketema and Dessie, the other
one we have already crossed immediately after Addis Ababa.
Then we arrive at the canyon. A breathtaking landscape stretches out before us. A complicated
three-dimensional mosaic of steep and flat areas lay before and especially under us.
On the flat parts are pastures but als on the medium steep parts are terraces with small
strips of farmland. Vitually every inch of land is being used for agriculture. The
descent winds infinitely down over and in between the flanks.
On the long descent I am clearly at a disadvantage, compared to my companions with
mountain bikes. Regardless of the terrain, they go down at high speeds, where I
am painfully struggling my way down, bouncing over the stones. Although still
relatively slow, with the tyre of Marc I can descend considerably faster and smoother
than I would have done otherwise. I am much faster and surer on the long descent than
I was on the first day. All in all, I am not that much later down than Marco and
Willem and the best descender of us, Marc, is not even down.
We are still waiting for Marc. After half an hour he still has not arrived. we discuss
what to do. We decide that someone should go up to check the situation. Willem
feels strong and cycles back. After another half an hour more the two men finally
arrive. Marc appears to have had a double puncture as he rode over a sharp rock that
hit both the front and rear tyre. We have already had our fair share of punctures
on this trip, but after this double bang Marc is the leader of the puncture list.
We go on our way, but now Marco seems to have a flat tyre. Again we can get ourselves
in the repair and wait mode. In the meantime the clock is ticking. The idea was to
climb as many altimeters as possible today. That would mean a cooler night. It is
a pity that it went this way, but there is nothing to do about it and we have to
make the best of the situation. That is not too difficult, because after ten minutes
of climbing we find a beautiful campsite. We set up our tents and we cook a simple
but nutritious pasta meal. Marco is handy with fire and so we make a nice fire of
the existing acacia branches. Moreover, we get help from two Ethiopian boys, who
appear to be even more crafted in the noble art of making a fire. The boys would
also do well as investigators, as it is a complete mystery how they were able to
find us despite our precautions. Luckily these guys have no sense of evil and
they only want to help us.
Day 4: Campsite in the first canyon - Alem Ketema - Campsite in the second canyon 46 km
At the break of day we get up. We have a long climb ahead of us to the plateau and
we would like to be on the plateau while the heat is bearable. Down in the canyon
it is about ten degrees hotter than on the plateau so it pays to be on the plateau
before the midday heat. Moreover, we have nothing to eat. It is the great art to
avoid hitting the wall because of food shortage or to postpone it as long as possible.
The sooner we get up, the better. At the rim of the plateau is a small town, where
we are probably able to get something to eat.
Early in the morning it is already warm, but I am doing fine. So far the climb goes
okay, although we did not have breakfast. Yesterday evening we have eaten a lot though,
and on these energy supplies we are climbing ever higher above the valley. We pass
some small villages,but we do not see any shops. Even in much larger villages there
are hardly any shops and if there are, they usually do not sell anything edible.
Regarding nutrition, we rely on restaurants along the way. The difficulty here is
that these restaurants do not present themselves as such. The hometown residents
know who does and who does not cater for others, but travelers like us cannot know.
Because there are probably never travelers or other outsiders around, it is not
necessary to signpost restaurants. In the meantime we have developed a third sense
for detecting whether a mud hut is a restaurant or the house of a big family. On
the basis of indicators such as the height of the stack of beer crates we enter a
house and sit down and so far we have never been wrong. In the small villages
on the flanks of the canyon it is obvious: there is no restaurant.
After a few hours we are finally on the plateau. The last few hundred meters of climbing
I found myself on the verge of hitting the wall. I could avoid this by moving up
slower. By reducing the energy consumption in time it is possible to delay hitting
the wall considerably, but at some point the man with the hammer comes anyway. But
we find ourselves on the plateau now and we cycle into a large village, where we
are safe. provided that we find a restaurant obviously.
Marc sees a small hut in the distance with a three-meter-high stack of beer crates.
>>> Look, a restaurant!
Marc exclaims. We push our bikes through an obscure gate into a courtyard and
sit down, in the expectation that someone is coming to take the order. After a minute
there is someone indeed. A friendly guy asks us what we want.
>>> What do you serve??
> Injera.
Usually the national dish of Ethiopia is the only thing that is being served.
The injera is a kind of thick sour pancakes, with pieces of vegetables, meat or
fish with a spicy sauce. Thus, every day we eat injera twice on average. And it
never gets boring! At least that is true for Marco and me. Willem and Marc are surely
less enthusiastic for the Ethiopian culinary curiousity. It turns out that every time
injera tastes different. Like the dozens types of curries of Indian cuisine all have
their own charm, so do the different types of injera. For the bicycle traveler, there
is a big added bonus of the injera: it has energy that lasts for many hours of
cycling. Especially since the portions are usually very generous. And if the sauce
is finished, just like American fast food chains, there is the right of 'refill'
and we get extra. Today the injera is even better than usually. According to me
this restaurant gets three Michelin stars, reason for a very big detour to Ethiopia.
After having eaten record-breaking amounts of injera the cyclists from the Lowlands
are completely prepared to cross a new plateau again. This plateau is only a small
one. After a kilometer or twenty we will reach Alem Ketema, the largest city on
the route of Muke Turi to Dessie. This is followed immediately by the descent into
the second canyon. Just before Alem Ketema Willem has a flat tyre. On a terrace this
problem is solved quicly and we combine business with pleasure by drinking a few cups
of Ethiopian coffee in the meantime. Then we try to buy supplies, but we do not succeed
fully, due to the limited supplies on the one hand and hundreds of men, women and
children who swarm around us all the time and severely limit our room for maneuver.
We have the reverse experience that Moses and Aaron must have had in the Red Sea.
With every step we take a hedge of people closes in before us so that we cannot
move forward. In those claustrophobic conditions we start to descend. As soon as
we get the chance we accelerate to full speed, chased by hundreds of enthusiastic
children and adults that wave us 'goodbye'.
The full speed descent does not last long. Rarely have I bounced so hard on a stone as
now. In a second the tyre is empty. After a half hour the tyre is patched and we can
move on. Later drive downhill Marc has a leak and then it is my turn again. We
are actually in the same situation as yesterday. We have to abandon our plan to
climb a part of the climb out of the canyon and we arrive again at a campsite
on the bottom of the valley near the river.
After setting up our tents, it is time to light a campfire. It is already
dark when we gather acacia branches. Nevertheless, we easily locate suitable
branches. The site is full of acacia branches. One last time I set off for a
last pile of branches. When I walk back, suddenly a shooting pain runs through my
right foot. I have no idea what is going on. Then I see that a huge branch is dragging
behind my foot. I must have stepped in an acacia needle. I immediately grab the
branch to immediately pull it away. Just in time a thought runs through my mind: if I
am going to pull the branch the thorn will remain in my foot. And will I then succeed to
get this evil out of my foot? I will have to endure the pain a few moments more to
think of a better plan. I inspect the situation and now I see that a thorn runs
straight through my shoe in my foot and has drilled its way through my fore foot to
protrude on the outside. The thorn has completely drilled its way through my shoe and my foot.
I try to pull the branch from the bottom of my shoe, hoping that the thorn will come along
completely. This plan works better than expected. After a few moments, the thorn is
removed completely. The pain immediately departs. I must have been enormously fortunate.
The thorn has worked its way between a metatarsal and a tendon and has hit nothing vital.
Day 5: Campsite in the second canyon - Maranya 36 km
Again we are faced with the situation that we are without food and again we
probably will not find something to eat until we have climbed out of the canyon.
Unlike yesterday there is no village and not even a settlement on the flanks of
this gorge, and this time we know for sure that there will be nothing to eat.
Slow down is the motto to save energy. Unlike yesterday, we do not suddenly climb
out of the canyon, but we first climb two hundred meters to descend into a side
canyon and only then the real climb starts. All in all we will have to climb about
1,500 meters for a breakfast. What does not help us in our need, is that Marco alrady
has a flat tyre on the preclimb. Then I am the one who has two flat tyres, both
down in the side canyon. So that makes three punctures before we start the real climb!
After the false start we do not experience more bad luck. After the descent of the
preclimb we find ourselves in a side valley of the second canyon. This valley is
the best so far on the trip. A beautiful landscape stretches out before us in ocher,
earth brown and olive green toning. The punctures have cost us precious time
and in the meantime it is late in the morning.
The heat is on. The sweat production is working overtime on the steep climb. Not
only the food supply but also the water supply is a problem. Luckily all of us
are climbing easily today. The road winds up over the steep flanks, offering ever
new vistas of the mysterious landscape. Suddenly we reach a new piece of road that,
although not paved, is so cofortable that we move as easily as over asphalt. We
seem to fly. After half an hour we arrive at a ridge, where a village is situated,
with on either side views steep downward. Maybe there's even something to
eat and drink!
The village is like an eagle's nest on the narrow ridge. The village consists of
thirty houses on the left of the road and thirty houses right. Before one of the
houses are large piles of beer and cola crates. That must be a restaurant!
We open the door and enter a dark room. When our eyes are accustomed to the low
light, we see that we are in a kind of a stable with a mud floor with hay.
Everywhere there are piles with crates of beer. We sit down on a bench which
comprises of two stacks of stones with a shelf on top of the stacks. On the other
side is a young woman in a traditional white robe. She gestures us to sit and bids
us welcome. In the meantime she is preparing coffee. When the coffee is ready,
she serves us the coffee and she starts cutting meat. It is the meat of a
recently slaughtered ox. The beef is powerful and punchy and incredibly fresh.
We are in a three star Michelin restaurant again: reason for a very long detour
and even for a long trip just to be here. Contrary to three star restaurants in
Europe, we do not have to save money for a couple of months for this splurge.
Both the coffee and the beef prove to be a gift. All of this to celebrate
the Ethiopian New Year which is a few days later than our own New Year.
After our belated breakfast we have enough energy to continue. We only have to continue
ten more kilometers to Maranya, where we will probably find a hotel. Right after
the village the road climbs steeply. We are not alone. As we leave the village, we are
being waved goodbye by several dozens of children. The children are enthusiastic and
persistent. After a kilometer they still run behind us. On a small descent we are
able to accellerate. The attention is very enjoyable but it is also nice to relax
and enjoy nature. And there is a lot to enjoy here. We are almost on top of the
plateau and we have dizzying views of the ravine more than a thousand meters below.
After a few flat or mildly climbing kilometers we turn up the plateau and cycle
into Maranya.
There appears to be a small hotel indeed in Maranya, which is renamed the 'Stable'
because of the physical resemblance. Apart of the walls and the ceiling the room
consists solely of a wooden bed with sheets that have probably never enjoyed a wash and
a door which cannot be closed. After having parked our steel horses in our stable,
we go nosng around in the village.
The Netherlands is an aging society where the streets are dominated by people in their
fifties and sixties. In Ethiopia we see children and we see teenagers. There seem
to be very few adults and elderly are a rarity. In Maranya the proportion of
children approach a one hundred percent. As a kind of rat catchers of Hamelin we
gather all the children of the village. And that proves to be a lot! Especially
if we begin to entertain the kids and we start fooling around with them, they are
completely out of control. Both the children and us, everybody is having great fun.
After an hour or two the night falls and it is time to end the show. After a
tumultuous encore our audience goes home. It would remain turbulent for a long
time in Maranya.
Day 6: Maranya - Degolo - Were Ilu 67 km
The past few days we went without breakfast on the road, but that will not happen
to us today. At least that is the intention. We scour the whole village down, but
everything appears to be closed. Until we realize that we can have breakfast in
our lodge. We have to wait, but God created time but he never talked about rushing
it.
Today there are no long climbs and descents on the program. There is seventy
kilometer of flat plateau before our wheels. The road is in general of a decent
quality and we get along well. Luckily so, because until now we have not progressed
too well, partly due to the many punctures, and there is a high risk that we will
not reach Lalibela in time.
Around noon we cycle into the town Degolo. We have made good progress and that opens
the possibility to move on to the next town: Were Ilu. But first we will have
lunch in a restaurant in Degolo. The music of Mahmoud Ahmed sounds from the radio.
In the early seventies, in the period of Haile Selassie, a typically Ethiopian
music bloomed, a style that is referred to as 'Ethiopian soul'. The mostly
uptempo rhythms are reinforced with saxophones and trumpets. The sound of the horns
sometimes sound like powerful soul arrangements but often the saxophones create a sultry,
brooding, intense and deeply mysterious atmosphere. The great emotional depth of
the rhythms and the arrangements are only the background for outstanding vocalists.
The best known of these singers is Mahmoud Ahmed. On his most famous album 'Era Mela
Mela' but also on all his other discs the so-called 'Nightingale of Addis Abbeba'
covers an enormous emotional range. Lithe and liquid and apparently effortless
the music moves and grooves through the explosive cocktail of emotions. After
Mahmoud Ahmed several other Ethiopian artists gained attention of audiences abroad,
even beyond the Horn of Africa. Perhaps the best known of these artists is Aster
Aweke, who delivered traditional records but also made fusion records with western styles.
We are heading to Were Ilu. We have been sticking a bit too long in the restaurant
and now we have to move on to reach Were Ilu today. On the open plains a firm headwind is
blowing towards us. The loose stones that we ride on are considerably worse than
the road surface we experienced this morning. Fortunately, we have angels on our
tyres today. We have the unique experience of a completely leakless day. Kilometer
after kilometer we cross the road straight through the empty landscape. Although:
empty? In the distance high mountains loom above the horizon. Among these is the
mountain range that we will tomorrow will cross tomorrow.
A few kilometers before Were Ilu we reach the end of the straight road. After the
wide plain follows a small descent. At the end of the descent the road turns
to the right. A new kilometers wide plain lies in front of us with a road
that is completely filled with a colorful procession of people. An Old Testament
scene unfolds before our eyes. Hundreds of donkeys, oxen and men and women in their
finest are slowly moving towards us. It appears that there has been a big market
today. Now everyone is going home. For half an hour we enjoy the procession passing
by, while we ourselves are slowly moving slowly toward Were Ilu, alternating with
a chat here and a picture there. Then we ride into the little town.
Were Ilu is bigger than expected and the main street is even paved. Even more surprosingly:
there is even a hotel with almost European standards. The price is quite lower though.
We enjoy a nice warm shower and then go to dinner. Along the way to the center a man
jumps before Marco and tries to get him into a grip. Marco sees the danger and
tears himself apart quickly and looks the robber straight in the eye. Marco radiates
in everything that the robber is not going to make business today. Soon the robber
realizes that indeed he does nt make a chance and do drips off quickly to never
show himself again. We continue our way and we find a restaurant that manages to
prepare fine injera fare.
Day 7: Were Ilu - pass (3.700 meter) - Dessie 107 km
A high mountain range of peaks up to 4,000 meter elevation separates us from Dessie.
These mountains we have to cross. The pass is about 3,700 meters. Ideally we will
descend afterwards to Dessie, so that we have more opportunities to reach Lalibela
this journey. The return flight of Marco and me is scheduled over six days, which
means we have a maximum of five days of cycling. We estimate that we will need at
least four days to cycle from Dessie to Lalibela, so that automatically means that
we must achieve to reach Dessie today. However, the provincial town is something
more than a hundred kilometers from Lalibela. Since we have not cycled one single day
over seventy kilometers, reaching Dessie today must be considered a mission impossible.
So we are not really engaged with the aim to retrieve Lalibela. It is not difficult at
all to let go, because it is extremely beautiful here. In contrast to all previous
days we are not cycling in a landscape of high plains with canyons today, but for a chance
we are riding through classic mountain scenery with valleys surrounded by mountains.
The landscape is still open and wide. The mountains are up to four thousand meters high,
but that does not mean that these mountains are steep. Rolling hills would be a good
description if those were hills instead of mountains. Both the mountains and the
valleys are cultivated. The only trees we often see the foreign eucalytus trees.
The scenery reminds me of the lower Altiplano landscapes of Southern Peru. Only
when we reach a village, I realize that we are really in Africa and not in South
America.
The mountain villages exude an African atmosphere, but because of the height it feels
unafrican fresh. The pleasant climate gives this area a slightly different feel than
the villages in lower areas. The people seem to be a little more cautious. The villages
and the surrounding fields look relatively well organized. The whole impression is
remarkably neat. It is certainly not as raked as a Dutch lawn though, but it just
a little bit more like that.
When we are eating a bit in a restaurant, the children seem to come out of their shells.
From outside they try to make contact with us. As we leave the restaurant, a large
proportion of children from the village knows by now that there are ferenji or foreigners
in town, and the whoe scene becomes a spectacle where the people are still talking about.
Dozens of children block the passage. Marc and I are showing how to make a typically Dutch
polonaise and meanwhile we invite the children to join in. We walk away from the
restaurant so that the road is clear for Willem and Marco. After the polonaise
the children are divided between Marco and Willem and Marc and me. Enough space
is created for the bikes to leave the battlefield. Some little top athletes are running
behind us. After a few kilometers they still manage to follow, but on a flat section
we are able to accelerate enough, that the kids cannot follow anymore.
The road is not very steep, but all in all we gain elevation pretty fast. The road
is also pretty good and we have only had two flat tyres, a relatively good score
compared to an average Ethiopian cycling day. I am in a good mood therefore. It
strikes me that even in the highest parts of the country, many people are living.
Ethiopia has a population close to one hundred million people and the majority of
them live in rural areas. We see lots of people everywhere, but we have not passed
one single town of any reasonable size in three hundred kilometer. No less than
eighty percent GNP is earned by farming. Most of the production of the land is for
own use. The country yields substantially, but it is just enough for nearly one
hundred million people. If the wet season would fail to come in a year, that will
certainly lead to very serious problems.
The road climbs steeply up and we climb rapidly above the surrounding landscape.
We climb an hour this way until we are almost at pass elevation. We reach a pre-pass
and we descend onto a kind of small plateau at 3,500 meters altitude.
When everybody has arrived at the pre-pass, we want to go on, but I have a flat
tyre again. So I first have to repair the puncture. Twenty minutes later we can
continue. After a kilometer We reach a crossroads. To our surprise the road here is
freshly paved. We turn right in the direction of Dessie. On the asphalt we climb
relatively quickly to the pass and at four o'clock we are on the highest point.
We still have fifty kilometer to cycle, but now the road turns out to be paved,
Dessie is suddenly within reach.
Less than one and a half hours later we are down in the valley. It is only a few kilometers
to Dessie now. Unfortunately all these kilometers go up. It looks like we have to
climb three to four hundred meters. Suddenly we all feel tired and bored. Like a snail
we creep up over the smooth asphalt. Halfway the climb we pass a stall where cola
is sold. Marc has a serious energy dip so we have to have pause, despite the night
falls. Now we have to wait anyway, I fill my own energy stock with cola too.
In the twilight we climb the last kilometers and in the dark we cycle into the
town. Dessie is a small city with a hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants and
owes very few highlights. We are even unable to find a proper hotel with a shower.
Only after two hours of searching we finally find a pretty decent hotel, where a
restaurant is present as well. And so Dessie does have at least one highlight.
Day 8: Dessie - Settlement in the third canyon 35 km
Before we set off today, we will first have to replenish our stocks. We walk
to the center to do business. On the way to the center we pass the smallest
coffee house of the world. The cottage is about two by two meters. With the four
of us we barely fit with the hostess and the coffee machine. With hearty laughter
the hostess prepares the coffee and after half an hour she offers the coffee with
the same warm smile. The coffee is prepared with love and that is what we taste.
After several times drunk caffeine level is so high and the sugar level so low that
it is high time to terminate the coffee ceremony and to start up a breakfast ceremony.
After breakfast, we fill our stocks and saddle our bikes to head for Lalibela, that
we hope to reach within four days. Today we have to cross the mountain range again
that we crossed yesterday. Unlike yesterday though, the pass is low and we only need
to climb a few hundred meters. The road is unpaved but not bad. We are riding through
a wooded landscape, the greenest landscape so far in Ethiopia. Only in the narrow
valleys there are farm fields. For the first time on the trip we have gray skies
above us. The air is a thick, a porridge of moisture. It would not surprise me
if it will start to rain hard soon.
We quickly reach the pass and we start go down into the third canyon. Unfortunately,
Chinese companies are working on the road and the largest part of the descent is
completely turned up. Moreover, we have to wait frequently for roadwork. When we
finally reach the bottom of the ravine, we have blue sky above our heads again.
Above our heads is also the road, but that is not available to us. Over a length
of about twenty to thirty kilometers the Chinese road workers are working on the road
and they are not lazing around. Everywhere ugly machines are at work, doing nasty things
with the landscape. The road is not available and we have to find a way forward
on a trail in the river plain.
After two hours we leave the zone of the road works and we have a normal,
but not too good road under our wheels. More problematic is a pitch-black sky
that is coming our way. Rarely have I seen such a threatening sky. Just before
the storm will erupt, we pass a settlement consisting of a few open cabins made of
branches with some plastic sheeting over it. There is not even corrugated roofs
here. Marco advocates to try to arrange an overnight stay, a plan where no reasonable
objections can be made against. We sit down in a tea stall, but after half an hour
still nobody has helped us or even greeted us. Now it is still dry, we try our luck
in a tea stall across the street. This can be considered our last chance as there are
no more tea stalls. We sit down and order a tea. Then we ask if they have something
to eat. This also works out well, because a little later we have fresh injera with
a simple sauce. So far so good. We ask whether it is possible to sleep in our own
sleeping bag here. That is also okay. We can use the wooden benches or lie on the
ground. Since we have mattresses the ground is preferable. While the storm is raging
and the rain is splashing against the roof, we are wonderfully dry. We go to sleep
and we will see how the weather will be tomorrow.
Day 9: Settlement in the third canyon - Wegel Tena 41 km
When we wake up it is still raining and it is still raining hard. We linger a little
because it is not attractive to get off in the rain. The moment we have gathered
the courage to go, it suddenly stops to rain completely. The showers do not makr
space for clear skies though. It still looks like it is going to be a wet day.
But for the moment it is dry and since there is nothing but the moment, there is
no problem. We continue our road through the canyon, which is also pretty under
the menacing black skies. For an hour or two we continue our way through the valley.
Then the big climb out of the canyon starts, a long ascent of just under 1,500
meters in altitude difference.
I climb with Marco out of the canyon. A few minutes after us climb Marc and Willem.
On the winding road we have a good overview, so that we cannot lose each other out of
sight. After several hundred meters climb I have a puncture again. Inspection shows
that the inner tube is torn, close to the valve. A precision operation is required.
I cut a long enough patch to fit the crack. Marc and Willem have overtaken us in the
meantime as we start to climb again. A kilometer further my tyre is flat again.
Again, there is a crack in the tube, right in the patch that I have just applied.
A kilometer after the new repair I have another flat, on the double patch. I decide
to remove both patches, a dangerous job that miraculously turns out well. I then
apply a patch on again, the last major patch which I can produce. A kilometer further,
however, I am repairing another puncture on the same place. Apparently there is too
much pressure on the tube, maybe because the tyre is too wide for the rim. This is
the tyre that I borrowed from Marc and which is actually meant for mountain bikes
and not for a bicycle with a narrow rim like mine. I need to fabricate a long patch
again. I get one from Marco, which is nearly the las patch he has in stock, since
he has also had many punctures. I decide to use my own tyre and my own tube again.
That means that I will bounce over the boulders again, but that also means that the
tsunami of punctures will be over now.
Without further problems Marco and I climb again. But we have lost two hours
with the punctures. If we arrive in a village we see Marc coming out of a restaurant.
Willem and Marc have been waiting for us. The coffee and injeras have already been
ordered.
After lunch we begin with part two of the climb. Slowly but surely, the sun gains
more space and when we reach the rim of the canyon, the setting sun casts an
orange glow over the canyon.
Once on the plateau the landscape is suddenly completely flat. The road leads through an
expansive patch of pastures and fields. After a few kilometers we cycle into the small
town Wegel Tena. The first building of the village is a hotel. We put our bikes
on the inside courtyard and unpack our stuff. Just as we have accommodated ourselves,
the clerk tell us that the price is twice as high as he agreed in the first instance
with us. He checked the price again with the boss, he explains.
> Tell your boss that we will not pay the additional amount.
>>> That will not do. This is the price. I can not give any discounts.
> In this case, we will go to another hotel.
>>> Yes but...
> Go to your boss, then we make agreements with him.
So far we have only seen cheerful and lively people in Ethiopia, but it appears
that even in Africa sullen and discontent people exist. Living proof is provided
by the boss, who start the negotiations on a stern tone.
>>> What's the problem?
The boss looks at us with a challenging and insolent stare.
> We have no problem.
The boss has a face like an earwig. Now he must make the first move.
>>> I have understood from my servant that you do not want to pay.
> We want to pay, but no more than the amount that we have agreed.
>>> I have agreed nothing with you. You just have to pay the price.
Obviously we have no desire to make new arrangements with this man who thinks he
can catch more money.
> Well, then we'll go find another hotel.
>>> That will not be possible. You have agreed to stay here.
> We have agreed nothing with you.
We load our bikes and get off. As we walk towards the exit, we see that a group
of women of easy virtue have gathered in the cafe at the complex. We could have
expected this at hindsight in a hotel right outside the city. As we walk through
the exit, the boss comes running behind us. Finally he comes to offer a lower price.
We walk by without even giving him a glance. Then he comes with a final bid of
the original price. As we ride away, the boss shouts to us what exactly is the
problem. We let him find out for himself.
.
We cycle a little bit further and in the town itself we find a hotel with a fine
atmosphere.
Day 10: Wegel Tena - fourth canyon - Qom 65 km
We walk through the town looking for a place to have breakfast. That is not so
easy as it seems. There is no establishment that is open. As we walk through the
streets, it strikes me that we are being overtaken left and right by everybody.
While we are walking fast. We are not overtaken by a few hasty boys. Everyone walks
faster. If I look more closely, I must conclude that none of the people are in a hurry.
On the contrary, they seem to wander with a sluggish pace. If those people are in a
hurry like us, they will ceratinly be quite faster. These people must be verym very
much stronger than we Europeans. I wonder how Europeans can ever win a marathon
from these people.
We start off by bridging the twenty-five kilometers on the plateau until the rim
of the fourth canyon. After a puncture of Marco we can really start the job. The
trail is relatively easy and after half an hour we reach the edge of the canyon.
There we meet some baboons. Luckily it is not a clash. Baboons are smart and
exceptionally strong. It would be a fight where our chances would not be good.
After following the rim of the canyon for a few kilometers, we reach a tiny settlement
with a huge market. It is a complete mystery where all these people come from.
Wegel Tena? That does not seem to be obvious. But not too many people seem to live
in the direct environment of the market. It is one of those strange mysteries of
this interesting country, where the impossible proves to be possible. After the
market the road takes a turn to the right, straight into the canyon.
We go down into the fourth and final canyon. For the last time we bounce down over
the stones. After half an hour we are down. We cross the bridge and we start
the ascent. We have a few hours to reach the plateau with the first town before
the night falls. Just no punctures now, is the motto.
Everything goes well on the climb and the usual flat tyres fail to occur. At
half past four we reach a settlement on a flat piece in the canyon, surrounded by
pastures. In the settlement is a small shop where we buy Coke, a little bit of
well-deserved fuel for the second half of the climb.
With new energy we climb again. After an hour, we get the flat tyre, which was waiting
to happen. This time Marc is screwed. Despite the malheur we reach the plateau, while
it is still light. Then we cycle on to the town of Qom, where we find a simple hotel.
Day 11: Qom - Geshena - Lalibela 77 km
Across the undulating plateau we cycle to the town Geshena, where a large market is
going on. After Geshena the landscape becomes more interesting. The plateau ends
abruptly and we have a beautiful view over the dramatic landscape that stretches
out before us. A few dozen kilometers away major mountain ridges are rising like
wide steep walls from the depths. At the foot of the most imposing mountain ridge lies
Lalibela, the spiritual center of Christian Ethiopia.
We descend a few hundred meters and reach the dramatic landscape that we saw from
above. Plenty of small hills are spread where we meander between or sometimes over
must climb. On a hill we have a nice view over a scenically located village with
a large market. Here we can charge us for the last bit to Lalibela. My stomach
does not feel good today so I skip the coffee this time, but the injeras
I will not leave untouched.
In this mysterious landscape we find ourselves in a world that feels far away from our
contemporary Western world, but far away from other cultures as well, even from other
African cultures. Ethiopia is a lonely Christian bastion for more than two thousand years
surrounded by indigenous religions and later Islam.
We are beginning with the final ascent now. In ten kilometers we have to climb a few
hundred meter. The climb is paved and is not too difficult. Everywhere around us are
imposing rock walls. Meanwhile the sun is low and erratic cloudscapes make the last
kilometers a grand finale. Eventually we reach the end of the climb and we cycle
into Lalibela. The spiritual center of Ethiopia is not immediately recognizable as
such. The famous churches are located in locked areas and are not visible from the
streets of the city itself. I also do not see priests walking around in the city.
At first glance there is nothing special about lalibela, although it has a nice
atmosphere and simply enjoys a fantastic location, on a plateau above the surrounding
countryside and not too far away a rock wall that towers one and a half thousand
meters above the city.
Day 12: Lalibela 0 km
Today we will take the time to explore Lalibela. Lalibela has two special
characteristics: the many churches that are carved out of the rocks on the one hand
and the traditional round mud houses on the other hand. We have the whole day to
explore. Tomorrow we will fly back to Addis Ababa and to the Netherlands.
We walk between the traditional round houses up. We have seen uch houses elsewhere,
but in Lalibela entire hillsides are occupied with these houses. A beautiful sight.
But the most important phenomenon of Lalibela are the churches. We arrive in the
main complex, with some of the most important churchrs of Lalibela. The churches
are not really carved into the rock, but The rock is carved away so that the church
remains behind as a kind of island in the surrounding landscape.
thiopia has always been a world on its own and the country has largely escaped
European colonial grip. Only in the thirties and forties has Ethiopia been a
colony of Italy for several years. Certain portions of Addis Abbeba are
reminders of that period of time, but we have not seen anything from the Italian
domination in the cities or in the countryside. The mythical figure of Ethiopia
after the Second World War was undoubtedly Haile Selassie, born under the name
Ras Tafari. At the time in 1930, Ras Tafari was crowned king Haile Selassie,
virtually the whole continent of Africa was under colonial occupation. The global
impact of the coronationat was huge at the moment and even led to a new religion,
the Rastafari.
Haile Selassie was seen as a prophet with the status of Moses, as the new Christian
role model that could lead Africa and the world to a righteous, harmonious and
spiritual society. Without faith and trust you will never achieve great things,
but these expectations were very high and could therefore never come true.
Haile Selassie was reasonably successful in curbing the Italian colonial power,
which began with an invasion in 1935 from Eritrea, but ended relatively soon in
1941. Then a relatively stable period followed, but Ethiopia was not able to reform
its economy sufficiently in that period to prevent itself from the recurrent famines.
The country also suffered from corruption and after the great famine of 1972 to
1974 Haile Selassie has lost much credit. The communist Derg overthrew the regime
in 1974 and led a reign of terror.
Political opponents were murdered and famines were fiercer than ever before.
The famine in Tigray, in northern Ethiopia, is perhaps the world's worst famine
of all times, and a million people died an grim images of deadly underfed children
were spread around the world. A few years later also the regime of the Derg was
overthrown. Soon, the next major problem was about to come. Eritrea split off after
a civil war. Until today there are serious tensions between Ethiopia and Eritrea.
Meanwhile Ethiopia slowly but surely made the transition to a democratic society.
Nowadays there are major challenges such as tensions with Eritrea and the fundamentalist
and terrorist hotbed Somalia and the eternal threat of famine. Positively stated
we can also conclude that the Muslims and Christians are living in peaceful coexistence
and that, despite the huge growth of the population of recent years, no famines have occurred.
We enter the first area with churches. UNESCO has built huge iron constructions with
large white cloths spanning the churches. The idea is that these cloths protect the
rock churches against erosion by rainfall. Personally I think it is not a good idea
protect beauty by building something ugly. I would prefer the erosion. In our own
culture we would never take this kind of drastic measures. What would the public
think when we would do something like that to the Notre Dame that suffers a lot more
damage from erosion? The views of the churches may be spoilt from the outside,
inside the churches we enter a mystical world that is unlike anything else on this
planet. Priests move around in white robes or immersed deely in studies of ancient
copies of the Bible. We have all the luck of the world that we may attend a ceremony.
With drums, a deep rhythm is produced. A group of twenty white coated priests begin
to chant. The rhythm and vocals create a deep cadence, full of energy and at the same
time as peaceful as a calm sea. For minutes everyone is in a trance until the rhythms
are gradually phased out and the chants mortify in a harmonious silence.
After the breathtaking ceremony we visit some other churches and then we proceed
to another zone with churches. Here UNESCO has not yet visited and the churches
are visible as they must have been for many hundreds of years. One of the churches
is carved into the shape of a cross. When looking from above you see a hole in
the terrain with a large cross in the center. We go down to the carved hole in
the rock and ente the church. Again there is a ceremony. After several hours, we
leave the church area and go back to our hotel.
It is afternoon now and we have seen the main churches of Lalibela. It is time now
to celebrate that we have reached our final destination. For a long time it looked
like we would not reach Lalibela anymore, so we have reason to celebrate that we are
here after all. At least that is the conclusion which we are sharing now. In a
beautiful terrace surrounded by dozens of species of native flowers and numerous
special tree species we have a beer. And another. We have not even been two weeks
underway in Ethiopia but we have collexted as many impressions as if we have been
traveling for a year or more. What a country...
We have not come to Ethiopia for shopping. But we do indulge ourselves in another
Dutch habit in Ethiopia. We sit down in the suburbs of Addis for our first Ethiopian
coffee. Where in the Netherlands the label 'fresh' is rather devalued in relation to
coffee, this predicate is more than apt in Ethiopia, although no one feels the necessity
to use the predicate. The Ethiopians will not easily come up with the idea to call filter
coffee fresh, let alone coffee from a machine in an office building. In Ethiopia
the fresh coffee beans are ground on the spot, burned, dried and subsequently dissolved
in the water in a process that takes at least several tens of minutes. The result is
no less than a little African paradise. It feels like I am tasting the African Earth
itself while drinking. Pure, powerful and full of taste sensations. A completely
different world, yet completely natural. In retrospect I come to the conclusion
that our Dutch filter coffee does not deserve to be called 'fresh' and moreover,
that it does not deserve to be called "coffee" either. 
At dawn I wake up. I decide to look around in the area and to make use of the
beautiful morning light to shoot some pictures of the atmosphere of the village.
If I open up the tent, there are people that have been waiting in the courtyard
for us. Quietly, silently, patiently. I wonder how long these people have been
waiting for us. An older man, a young adult and two boys around seven years old
come to me. Now the first person has got up, that's the signal that they can
break the silence. One of the boys asks me a question in fluent Amharic. I shrug
my shoulders and wave my hands in the air, the universal gesture that I did not
understand the question. The message comes across, because he asks the same question
again, but slowly and very well articulated. Despite his efforts I still do not
understand the question. This time I try to get the message across verbally: 
>> No Amhari!! 
>>> What do you serve?? 
Again we are faced with the situation that we are without food and again we
probably will not find something to eat until we have climbed out of the canyon.
Unlike yesterday there is no village and not even a settlement on the flanks of
this gorge, and this time we know for sure that there will be nothing to eat.
Slow down is the motto to save energy. Unlike yesterday, we do not suddenly climb
out of the canyon, but we first climb two hundred meters to descend into a side
canyon and only then the real climb starts. All in all we will have to climb about
1,500 meters for a breakfast. What does not help us in our need, is that Marco alrady
has a flat tyre on the preclimb. Then I am the one who has two flat tyres, both
down in the side canyon. So that makes three punctures before we start the real climb! 
We open the door and enter a dark room. When our eyes are accustomed to the low
light, we see that we are in a kind of a stable with a mud floor with hay.
Everywhere there are piles with crates of beer. We sit down on a bench which
comprises of two stacks of stones with a shelf on top of the stacks. On the other
side is a young woman in a traditional white robe. She gestures us to sit and bids
us welcome. In the meantime she is preparing coffee. When the coffee is ready,
she serves us the coffee and she starts cutting meat. It is the meat of a
recently slaughtered ox. The beef is powerful and punchy and incredibly fresh.
We are in a three star Michelin restaurant again: reason for a very long detour
and even for a long trip just to be here. Contrary to three star restaurants in
Europe, we do not have to save money for a couple of months for this splurge.
Both the coffee and the beef prove to be a gift. All of this to celebrate
the Ethiopian New Year which is a few days later than our own New Year. 
The Netherlands is an aging society where the streets are dominated by people in their
fifties and sixties. In Ethiopia we see children and we see teenagers. There seem
to be very few adults and elderly are a rarity. In Maranya the proportion of
children approach a one hundred percent. As a kind of rat catchers of Hamelin we
gather all the children of the village. And that proves to be a lot! Especially
if we begin to entertain the kids and we start fooling around with them, they are
completely out of control. Both the children and us, everybody is having great fun.
After an hour or two the night falls and it is time to end the show. After a
tumultuous encore our audience goes home. It would remain turbulent for a long
time in Maranya. 
In the early seventies, in the period of Haile Selassie, a typically Ethiopian
music bloomed, a style that is referred to as 'Ethiopian soul'. The mostly
uptempo rhythms are reinforced with saxophones and trumpets. The sound of the horns
sometimes sound like powerful soul arrangements but often the saxophones create a sultry,
brooding, intense and deeply mysterious atmosphere. The great emotional depth of
the rhythms and the arrangements are only the background for outstanding vocalists.
The best known of these singers is Mahmoud Ahmed. On his most famous album 'Era Mela
Mela' but also on all his other discs the so-called 'Nightingale of Addis Abbeba'
covers an enormous emotional range. Lithe and liquid and apparently effortless
the music moves and grooves through the explosive cocktail of emotions. After
Mahmoud Ahmed several other Ethiopian artists gained attention of audiences abroad,
even beyond the Horn of Africa. Perhaps the best known of these artists is Aster
Aweke, who delivered traditional records but also made fusion records with western styles. 
We are heading to Were Ilu. We have been sticking a bit too long in the restaurant
and now we have to move on to reach Were Ilu today. On the open plains a firm headwind is
blowing towards us. The loose stones that we ride on are considerably worse than
the road surface we experienced this morning. Fortunately, we have angels on our
tyres today. We have the unique experience of a completely leakless day. Kilometer
after kilometer we cross the road straight through the empty landscape. Although:
empty? In the distance high mountains loom above the horizon. Among these is the
mountain range that we will tomorrow will cross tomorrow. 
When we are eating a bit in a restaurant, the children seem to come out of their shells.
From outside they try to make contact with us. As we leave the restaurant, a large
proportion of children from the village knows by now that there are ferenji or foreigners
in town, and the whoe scene becomes a spectacle where the people are still talking about.
Dozens of children block the passage. Marc and I are showing how to make a typically Dutch
polonaise and meanwhile we invite the children to join in. We walk away from the
restaurant so that the road is clear for Willem and Marco. After the polonaise
the children are divided between Marco and Willem and Marc and me. Enough space
is created for the bikes to leave the battlefield. Some little top athletes are running
behind us. After a few kilometers they still manage to follow, but on a flat section
we are able to accelerate enough, that the kids cannot follow anymore. 
compared to an average Ethiopian cycling day. I am in a good mood therefore. It
strikes me that even in the highest parts of the country, many people are living.
Ethiopia has a population close to one hundred million people and the majority of
them live in rural areas. We see lots of people everywhere, but we have not passed
one single town of any reasonable size in three hundred kilometer. No less than
eighty percent GNP is earned by farming. Most of the production of the land is for
own use. The country yields substantially, but it is just enough for nearly one
hundred million people. If the wet season would fail to come in a year, that will
certainly lead to very serious problems. 
Before we set off today, we will first have to replenish our stocks. We walk
to the center to do business. On the way to the center we pass the smallest
coffee house of the world. The cottage is about two by two meters. With the four
of us we barely fit with the hostess and the coffee machine. With hearty laughter
the hostess prepares the coffee and after half an hour she offers the coffee with
the same warm smile. The coffee is prepared with love and that is what we taste.
After several times drunk caffeine level is so high and the sugar level so low that
it is high time to terminate the coffee ceremony and to start up a breakfast ceremony. 
When we wake up it is still raining and it is still raining hard. We linger a little
because it is not attractive to get off in the rain. The moment we have gathered
the courage to go, it suddenly stops to rain completely. The showers do not makr
space for clear skies though. It still looks like it is going to be a wet day.
But for the moment it is dry and since there is nothing but the moment, there is
no problem. We continue our road through the canyon, which is also pretty under
the menacing black skies. For an hour or two we continue our way through the valley.
Then the big climb out of the canyon starts, a long ascent of just under 1,500
meters in altitude difference. 
> Tell your boss that we will not pay the additional amount. 
Today we will take the time to explore Lalibela. Lalibela has two special
characteristics: the many churches that are carved out of the rocks on the one hand
and the traditional round mud houses on the other hand. We have the whole day to
explore. Tomorrow we will fly back to Addis Ababa and to the Netherlands.
thiopia has always been a world on its own and the country has largely escaped
European colonial grip. Only in the thirties and forties has Ethiopia been a
colony of Italy for several years. Certain portions of Addis Abbeba are
reminders of that period of time, but we have not seen anything from the Italian
domination in the cities or in the countryside. The mythical figure of Ethiopia
after the Second World War was undoubtedly Haile Selassie, born under the name
Ras Tafari. At the time in 1930, Ras Tafari was crowned king Haile Selassie,
virtually the whole continent of Africa was under colonial occupation. The global
impact of the coronationat was huge at the moment and even led to a new religion,
the Rastafari.
Haile Selassie was seen as a prophet with the status of Moses, as the new Christian
role model that could lead Africa and the world to a righteous, harmonious and
spiritual society. Without faith and trust you will never achieve great things,
but these expectations were very high and could therefore never come true.
Haile Selassie was reasonably successful in curbing the Italian colonial power,
which began with an invasion in 1935 from Eritrea, but ended relatively soon in
1941. Then a relatively stable period followed, but Ethiopia was not able to reform
its economy sufficiently in that period to prevent itself from the recurrent famines.
The country also suffered from corruption and after the great famine of 1972 to
1974 Haile Selassie has lost much credit. The communist Derg overthrew the regime
in 1974 and led a reign of terror.
Political opponents were murdered and famines were fiercer than ever before.
The famine in Tigray, in northern Ethiopia, is perhaps the world's worst famine
of all times, and a million people died an grim images of deadly underfed children
were spread around the world. A few years later also the regime of the Derg was
overthrown. Soon, the next major problem was about to come. Eritrea split off after
a civil war. Until today there are serious tensions between Ethiopia and Eritrea.
Meanwhile Ethiopia slowly but surely made the transition to a democratic society.
Nowadays there are major challenges such as tensions with Eritrea and the fundamentalist
and terrorist hotbed Somalia and the eternal threat of famine. Positively stated
we can also conclude that the Muslims and Christians are living in peaceful coexistence
and that, despite the huge growth of the population of recent years, no famines have occurred. 
protect beauty by building something ugly. I would prefer the erosion. In our own
culture we would never take this kind of drastic measures. What would the public
think when we would do something like that to the Notre Dame that suffers a lot more
damage from erosion? The views of the churches may be spoilt from the outside,
inside the churches we enter a mystical world that is unlike anything else on this
planet. Priests move around in white robes or immersed deely in studies of ancient
copies of the Bible. We have all the luck of the world that we may attend a ceremony.
With drums, a deep rhythm is produced. A group of twenty white coated priests begin
to chant. The rhythm and vocals create a deep cadence, full of energy and at the same
time as peaceful as a calm sea. For minutes everyone is in a trance until the rhythms
are gradually phased out and the chants mortify in a harmonious silence. 
It is afternoon now and we have seen the main churches of Lalibela. It is time now
to celebrate that we have reached our final destination. For a long time it looked
like we would not reach Lalibela anymore, so we have reason to celebrate that we are
here after all. At least that is the conclusion which we are sharing now. In a
beautiful terrace surrounded by dozens of species of native flowers and numerous
special tree species we have a beer. And another. We have not even been two weeks
underway in Ethiopia but we have collexted as many impressions as if we have been
traveling for a year or more. What a country... 
