From Dire Dawa to Babogaya

July 30, 2011

We rose early this morning. We had sent some of our luggage ahead with Brother Retta, who was visiting from Nazarit. Breakfast was at 6:30, with a 7:00 departure scheduled. Well of course there was a little problem. They sent the wrong van. One thing led to another and we left Dire´Dawa at 9:30. The day was overcast and one of the coolest since our arrival. The road from Dire´Dawa to the top of the valley is 10 miles of hairpin curves and probably a 20 degree temperature change.

The difference in landscape is incredible. From desert rocks to arable land in just a few short miles. The clouds started to close in and soon we found ourselves in a driving rainstorm and fog so thick you could have cut it with a knife. Villages appeared like ghosts as we past through. It was really chilly, which was infinitely better than heat, but it cause the windows to fog continually and in the absence of a defroster, it made of a lot of window wiping. The roads here tend to be very good and oncoming traffic had lights, it is the people, donkeys and goats that were hard to see. Every town was a muddy mess, with even the livestock seeking shelter under the eaves of any structure they could find. Even in the rain there were so many people on the roadsides. I guess wood and water need to be gathered despite the cold driving rains.

We didn’t stop for lunch until we were out of the highlands. It had already stopped raining in the lower elevations, but everything was still wet. Again, it took nearly two hours to feed everyone. Every creek and river had water in them. As the ground level, so did the architecture. The square mud dwellings with tin roofs of the higher elevations gave way to round thatched huts in the valley. There men, with their single-bottom oxen pulled plows were everywhere there was a cultivatable spot of land. The plows haven’t changed in hundreds of years. They are a 10-12 foot pole which is more or less straight fixed to the yoke of the oxen. The pole angles to the ground where the wooden or sometimes metal blades is attached to a smaller poll that acts as a rudder or steering device. It is more visually appealing that efficient. In a few places there are people cultivating with a broad hoe type implement that has an ax type handle. They are probably too poor to afford oxen.

As we enter further into the valley, the structures and landscape change. Here there must not be enough rain to make agriculture profitable. The villages are close to the road and close together. The huts are the hive time home of the pastoralists. The are constructed of sticks covered with tarps or plastic or cardboard. Most of them are surrounded with barriers made of prickly acacia branches. There are more goats and camels than people.

We finally arrive in Awash, technically for a bathroom stop, but there is no bathroom. We continue out of town and find an empty field, so we created a tourist sensation, except the locals were the gawkers. I guess seeing 20 white people peeing in a field would draw a crowd just about anywhere! Awash marks the half-way point.

We make a final stop at a soda lake to wash our hair. Dols was more enamored with the results than any of the kids. Emily said it looked like someone had used the lake for a bathroom, but washed her hair anyway. The land next to the lake gave testimony to the volcanic nature of the area. There were lava fields and huge outcroppings of black lava all along the road.

It was dark by the time we reached Nazarit. But Debre Zeit was close to there. We arrived at Babogaya with dinner waiting for us. The hot soup tasted so good to all the bone weary and chilly travelers. It was too dark to see the lake, but the property here is lake front, so everyone will enjoy that tomorrow.