We bid goodbye to illness, goodbye to Uganda, to its red soil, its chapattis and to friends, promising to return before too long and set off back on the road to Kenya. We needed just a brief stop off in Nairobi to collect various visas before we headed north. The visa applications proved nothing but palavasome and we left Nairobi after three days with only the Ethiopian visa. Never the less Nairobi was once again awesome, we stayed at our friend James’ house and enjoyed the fact that you can go for a walk in surroundings not completely dissimilar from Wimbledon Common (that or I am feeling more home sick than I thought) and literally walk straight into a giraffe…or two. If they are close to the house a quick rattle of the metal bucket and then wander over to investigate the molasses pellets. I had fed two such giraffe from two full buckets and was feeling at one with the animals when I walked past the mama who suddenly took a disliking to me and ran at me. If you have never seen a giraffe run, it is a very funny sight – legs akimbo and neck waving however I didn’t think I should stand for too long laughing and promptly followed the dogs in their getaway run. But dogs are rather smaller than I and I ran straight into a rather thorny bush. I now have the scars to prove that I was once chased by a giraffe J

The next day we headed north to Maralal. I dismissed the urge to get out and kiss the tar goodbye as Lonely Planet suggests is wise and we were soon drinking beer in a bar reminiscent of Cheers, Sambura Tribe style, surrounded by camels, Massai blankets and East African pop idol. Well rested we headed the next morning for Maralal’s version of the Hard Rock Café for a coffee. To give them credit they had stuck posters of the Spice Girls on the walls but it was certainly a far cry from London.

From Maralal began the journey I think both of us had been anticipating for this entire trip. We passed through gravel, rock, stone and desert at an average of 25km an hour and were rewarded with endless vistas of lava fields, Lake Turkana, flat sand blasted plains and not an electricity pylon in sight.

Each fresh group of people brought a wave of excitement as we investigated their tribal dress and piercings. We sat with a soda at the side of the road in a small village north of South Horr watching girls dressed in three types of sarong and beads covering their necks collecting water, small boys hearding camels and old men stop to investigate the mzungus and I truly felt that we had discovered the wilds of Africa. (Then three missionary vehicles raced past and I thought that we possibly had to look a little further). Still we rewarded ourselves with purchases of a Massai blanket (awesome for picnics) and a beaded wrist watch cover for Rob’s birthday bought, literally off the wrist of a Sambura tribe’s man.

Waking with the sunrise in the midst of a scattered lava field to boil water on the still warm ashes of last night’s fire with not a person in sight is another memory to savor.

Then it was on to Loyangalani – the beach side resort of Lake Turkana. As we crested the hill and looked down I have to say I thought we had missed it. Not a brick structure appeared to be in sight, but stick domes covered the hill side and were arranged, as we saw when we looked more closely, to be arranged in streets.

There was even a shopping district and a high street!

Rather bizarrely the German Ambassador was in ‘town’ to open the desert museum and we were therefore treated to the sight of local dancing and all manner of costume dress. After a chapatti and egg in a small restaurant where locals regaled tales of their time acting as extras in Constant Gardener we left before the magic could fade.

Another tough drive faced us but the desert was so spectacular, so peaceful that we didn’t mind at all. That and the fact that the water tank had kept our Cadbury’s chocolate from melting. My father has a saying, ‘you’ve got the whole world to stand on so why my bloody toe.’ Well Camels are exactly the same. They have the whole of the desert to stand in so why the one track that we are moving along? And why, unlike cows to they not move to the side of the track when they hear us come up behind them but instead try to outrun us? And if they are trying to outrun us why do they swing their legs from side to side instead of back to front like a horse? Unanswered questions my friends but very funny to watch.

We were rewarded by the Africa Inland Church campsite in Kalacha with an old water tank that they have converted into a swimming pool which was more than welcome in the sweltering heat (which we only noticed when we stepped outside our beautifully air conditioned car!). The British army was also staying and our cool box is now full of army issue biscuits, boiled sweets and more strangely, tuna.

The final push to the Ethiopian boarder took us through rolling hills when we really could have been in England, except that the ‘road’ turned to a cattle track with well placed rocks in its centre for a short distance complete with cattle. Then we had 170km of the famed Marsabit – Moyale road. A road famed for corrugations, dust, bandits and punctures. Trust our luck though Daphne performed wonderfully on the corrugations she couldn’t quite withstand the huge great rock that we steamed over and we discovered what a punctured tire sounds like. Like true pros we leapt from the vehicle, used the offending rock to chock the wheels and I began jumping on the socket extension to loosen the nuts. Within minutes a Kenyan family had pulled up aghast that I, the woman, was changing the tire. The father stepped forward with his own socket set only to look rather sheepish moments later when we realized just how large our nuts are. Assuring him that we would be fine he moved off only to be replaced by three army trucks whose contents surrounded us with AK 47s to protect us from the bandits and watched while we continued to change the tire.

We reached the boarder at 4:30 and were through to Ethiopia by 5 back onto tar and this time I really could have kissed it!

Our first day in Ethiopia was wet. Sadly this was also Rob’s birthday so we spent the majority of the day driving through cloud hoping endlessly that it would clear. We finally arrived in Awasa at 5 PM to the most wonderful campsite we have been to, to sunshine and the open arms of German Mummy Janna. It was with Janna that we experienced our first coffee ceremony. A small charcoal stove is set up surrounded by freshly cut blossoms and a mixture of herbs, spices and rocks are burnt to create incense. Upon this the coffee beans are roasted. While you relax in the scent of the incense and spill your tales of woe the beans are crushed and added to boiling water in a special pot. You are then served the thick dark coffee in tiny cups with heaps of sugar. It is delicious. Each cup is supposed to bring blessing, the third cup especially so. The whole thing takes a couple of hours and was a wonderful way to relax – especially since Janna is a true German and produced home made Kuchen to go with the Café. 

We are now in Addis Ababa once again waiting for visas. My goodness the hoops these consulates make you jump through! Still the coffee is hot fresh and tasty, the pastries divine and the home made pastas…let us just say the weight is piling back on. I will not mention the injera…shammy leather stuff, till I have given it a second or third chance.