Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Goodbyes
We're back in England now. Jo and I returned in July and we have settled into life in London. We've had a lot of things to arrange so I haven't had time to update this blog. Time to catch up ...
Saturday 26th June and Sunday 27th -- Goodbye to Massawa
-----------------------------------------------------
One more trip down to the coast. We've decided to cycle down, as we did all those months ago shortly after we had arrived in Eritrea.
After a night at the Freedom pension we wake before dawn and set off just as the sun begins to rise. It's an easy cycle but the air is chill and my lungs hurt as I take the first few gulps and pedal off.
We wind down the mountain road as the air gradually warms, the cool, clear taste of it refreshing now as our muscles ease into the gentle exercise. I love this time of day: I love the optimism and fresh purity of the new day, and the sharp clarity of the light. An exhilirating ride gentle down to bar 16 where we hope to get some breakfast.
Unfortunatley, the cafe is closed. It is too early. No problem though: we have brought a supply of the ubiquitous Abu Walad biscuits -- sweet, tasteless sandwich biscuits imported from Saudi Arabia -- and a bottle of water so we stop by the road side to refuel. As we eat and drink, there's a movement on the mountainside further down the road. A baboon appears. It clambers down to the roadside, glances nervously up and down, then crosses over the empty road and squats on the other side, looking back where it came from. More baboons appear, half monkey, half dog as they clamber on all fours down the slope. A trickle at first, the procession becomes a river as dozens of baboons flow down the slope, cross the tarmac and continue further down. There are slender females, many carrying tiny babies that cling to their backs. They are marshalled by watchful males: huge in comparison, their broad shoulders turning from side to side as they survey the landscape for danger with frowns on their faces. They have noticed Jo and I, as we creep slowly closer for a better view, but they don't appear to regard us as a threat. I'm glad of that: the males inparticular have impressive jaws, mandibles that flash huge canines as they yawn their disdain.
While we are watching in fascination a truck trundles up the road. The baboons stop to let it pass, waiting patiently by the roadside then continuing on their way. The truck driver leans out as he passes us. "Look! Monkeys!" he cries. His enthusiasm is great.
We continue our cycle, passing through the pretty town of Nefasit and finally arriving in Ghinda. It's warm again here, but the vegetation hasn't completely disappeared yet so it is still fairly green. A juice and a panino and then we put our bikes onto a bus and head off.
When we get to Massawa, it's hot, but not too much. The weather report the day before had shown 47 degrees celsius so we were expecting it to be very hot but it's actually surprisingly bearable. So bearable in fact that we decide we'll cycle the five kilometres or so to the beach. A foolish error: when we get onto the main road the wind picks up. It's a scorching, blasting wind that carries sand with it to torment our skin, mouths and eyes. When we turn off the road, the wind gets worse and we are sweating and struggling against the corroding wind, under a relentless sun. Jo is getting sick: the ride is exhausting her and the heat and dust are making her feel ill. We stop a few times along the way, finally collapsing under a shelter just a few minutes from the hotel. After fifteen minutes rest, drink and biscuits, we continue on, refreshed but still parched and hungry. It is a massive relief to arrive at the hotel. After some food, we spend the rest of the day dipping in the sea and chilling out.
The next day we get up before dawn once again, to watch the sun come up over the Red Sea. Sitting on the shore in white plastic chairs, with the tide swilling close by our feet, we chat and look out to sea as the milky light solidifies into day. Cloud cover obscures the sun but diffuses its effect so that all the landscape and objects around us seem to brighten by themselves. There is no definable light source so the effect is similar to turning up the brightness on a screen. When then sun finally breaks through, and the cloud cover starts to dissolve, we take a stroll along the beach.
Birds skit along the beach, perhaps looking for the hermit crabs that scuttle across the sand to pop themselves and their procured white shells into the safety of small holes they had burrowed prviously. They all have white shells, these crabs. I wonder if there is a "fashion" element to their choice of abode: perhaps their choice affects their mating prospects. The birds are busy little black and white things, a bit bigger than a starling. They prod their straight dagger bills at the sand in between zipping to and fro along the strand.
Further along the beach, towards the mangroves that have been planted in an attempt at providing new habitat, there are several poles driven into the sand, washed by the incoming tide. On one of the poles is an eagle. It has just caught a fish and is holding it under its talons while it pecks at the flesh. The eagle is not far out, and the gradient is shallow here, so we are able to get close enough to watch the eagle at its work.
And so we say goodbye to Massawa. This may be the last time we ever visit the place.
Goodbye Eritrea
---------------
The next two weeks are our last in Eritrea. I spend my time in Keren saying goodbye to people. One last night out at the Keren hotel and Estif's (another favourite cafe): a night of beer and companionship with my friends Isak, Samuel, Alex and Steve. I spend the weekend in Asmara with Jo and then we both head up to Keren to pick up my things, with Semerai, the VSO driver.
I'd packed everything up, so we just have to load the car, then I head round the corner to Isak's. He was in the middle of wriring a message because he thought he would miss me. I hug him, Barhed and Esrom. It's been fine up until now. I've been concentrating on the logistics of moving away, and making the most of our last couple of weeks in the country but now, now that this is the last time I will see them before I go, now that this may be the very last time I ever see them, now I can't hold back. I walk away from Isak and into Jo's arms and burst out crying. He and his family have been great friends to me. They have welcomed me into their home, helped me settle in and solve any problems I have had, made sure I was never lonely. Most of all, Isak has been a great friend. I will always miss our evenings drinking coffee, eating injera, having a beer in the local bar or just sneaking off to my house for a crafty cigarette while we talk about culture, news and people, and laugh and joke. I will always keep in touch and he will always be a great friend.
We stop for food at the new hotel on the outskirts of Keren. There is a moment of crisis when I think I've lost my ring. I wear two now: an heirloom from my Grandfather and a silver band to mark my engagement to Jo. I have had many adventures in Eritrea but the greatest of them all was meeting Joanna and falling in love. So now we are going to get married. But I think I've lost my ring and I panic. I'm on the point of breakdown at Semerai's car. It's been too much: saying goodbye to Isak and now losing my engagement ring and I'm about to lose control when I find it, caught among some papers I'd been carrying. From that point, for most of the journey to Shimagus Lalai, I'm shaking like a leaf.
We get to Shimangus and Jo has to go through what I've just been through. She takes it more calmly than me, but Hadas is beside herself with upset. She cries and hugs Joanna. Meanwhile Rubka looks on from her balcony, strangely detached. Perhaps she finds it hard to express herself in the way that Hadas does so naturally. It is a perfect example of the differences in the characters.
And so it comes to an end. One more night at a good restaurant in Asmara, one more night of beers with some of the VSOs then we take our midnight flight to England via Frankfurt. We leave the meagre lights of Asmara to land about 90 minutes later in the incredible lattice of Dubai, bordered by fountains. Then, after a long while, we finally take off for Europe and our adventure is over.
Saturday 26th June and Sunday 27th -- Goodbye to Massawa
-----------------------------------------------------
One more trip down to the coast. We've decided to cycle down, as we did all those months ago shortly after we had arrived in Eritrea.
After a night at the Freedom pension we wake before dawn and set off just as the sun begins to rise. It's an easy cycle but the air is chill and my lungs hurt as I take the first few gulps and pedal off.
We wind down the mountain road as the air gradually warms, the cool, clear taste of it refreshing now as our muscles ease into the gentle exercise. I love this time of day: I love the optimism and fresh purity of the new day, and the sharp clarity of the light. An exhilirating ride gentle down to bar 16 where we hope to get some breakfast.
Unfortunatley, the cafe is closed. It is too early. No problem though: we have brought a supply of the ubiquitous Abu Walad biscuits -- sweet, tasteless sandwich biscuits imported from Saudi Arabia -- and a bottle of water so we stop by the road side to refuel. As we eat and drink, there's a movement on the mountainside further down the road. A baboon appears. It clambers down to the roadside, glances nervously up and down, then crosses over the empty road and squats on the other side, looking back where it came from. More baboons appear, half monkey, half dog as they clamber on all fours down the slope. A trickle at first, the procession becomes a river as dozens of baboons flow down the slope, cross the tarmac and continue further down. There are slender females, many carrying tiny babies that cling to their backs. They are marshalled by watchful males: huge in comparison, their broad shoulders turning from side to side as they survey the landscape for danger with frowns on their faces. They have noticed Jo and I, as we creep slowly closer for a better view, but they don't appear to regard us as a threat. I'm glad of that: the males inparticular have impressive jaws, mandibles that flash huge canines as they yawn their disdain.
While we are watching in fascination a truck trundles up the road. The baboons stop to let it pass, waiting patiently by the roadside then continuing on their way. The truck driver leans out as he passes us. "Look! Monkeys!" he cries. His enthusiasm is great.
We continue our cycle, passing through the pretty town of Nefasit and finally arriving in Ghinda. It's warm again here, but the vegetation hasn't completely disappeared yet so it is still fairly green. A juice and a panino and then we put our bikes onto a bus and head off.
When we get to Massawa, it's hot, but not too much. The weather report the day before had shown 47 degrees celsius so we were expecting it to be very hot but it's actually surprisingly bearable. So bearable in fact that we decide we'll cycle the five kilometres or so to the beach. A foolish error: when we get onto the main road the wind picks up. It's a scorching, blasting wind that carries sand with it to torment our skin, mouths and eyes. When we turn off the road, the wind gets worse and we are sweating and struggling against the corroding wind, under a relentless sun. Jo is getting sick: the ride is exhausting her and the heat and dust are making her feel ill. We stop a few times along the way, finally collapsing under a shelter just a few minutes from the hotel. After fifteen minutes rest, drink and biscuits, we continue on, refreshed but still parched and hungry. It is a massive relief to arrive at the hotel. After some food, we spend the rest of the day dipping in the sea and chilling out.
The next day we get up before dawn once again, to watch the sun come up over the Red Sea. Sitting on the shore in white plastic chairs, with the tide swilling close by our feet, we chat and look out to sea as the milky light solidifies into day. Cloud cover obscures the sun but diffuses its effect so that all the landscape and objects around us seem to brighten by themselves. There is no definable light source so the effect is similar to turning up the brightness on a screen. When then sun finally breaks through, and the cloud cover starts to dissolve, we take a stroll along the beach.
Birds skit along the beach, perhaps looking for the hermit crabs that scuttle across the sand to pop themselves and their procured white shells into the safety of small holes they had burrowed prviously. They all have white shells, these crabs. I wonder if there is a "fashion" element to their choice of abode: perhaps their choice affects their mating prospects. The birds are busy little black and white things, a bit bigger than a starling. They prod their straight dagger bills at the sand in between zipping to and fro along the strand.
Further along the beach, towards the mangroves that have been planted in an attempt at providing new habitat, there are several poles driven into the sand, washed by the incoming tide. On one of the poles is an eagle. It has just caught a fish and is holding it under its talons while it pecks at the flesh. The eagle is not far out, and the gradient is shallow here, so we are able to get close enough to watch the eagle at its work.
And so we say goodbye to Massawa. This may be the last time we ever visit the place.
Goodbye Eritrea
---------------
The next two weeks are our last in Eritrea. I spend my time in Keren saying goodbye to people. One last night out at the Keren hotel and Estif's (another favourite cafe): a night of beer and companionship with my friends Isak, Samuel, Alex and Steve. I spend the weekend in Asmara with Jo and then we both head up to Keren to pick up my things, with Semerai, the VSO driver.
I'd packed everything up, so we just have to load the car, then I head round the corner to Isak's. He was in the middle of wriring a message because he thought he would miss me. I hug him, Barhed and Esrom. It's been fine up until now. I've been concentrating on the logistics of moving away, and making the most of our last couple of weeks in the country but now, now that this is the last time I will see them before I go, now that this may be the very last time I ever see them, now I can't hold back. I walk away from Isak and into Jo's arms and burst out crying. He and his family have been great friends to me. They have welcomed me into their home, helped me settle in and solve any problems I have had, made sure I was never lonely. Most of all, Isak has been a great friend. I will always miss our evenings drinking coffee, eating injera, having a beer in the local bar or just sneaking off to my house for a crafty cigarette while we talk about culture, news and people, and laugh and joke. I will always keep in touch and he will always be a great friend.
We stop for food at the new hotel on the outskirts of Keren. There is a moment of crisis when I think I've lost my ring. I wear two now: an heirloom from my Grandfather and a silver band to mark my engagement to Jo. I have had many adventures in Eritrea but the greatest of them all was meeting Joanna and falling in love. So now we are going to get married. But I think I've lost my ring and I panic. I'm on the point of breakdown at Semerai's car. It's been too much: saying goodbye to Isak and now losing my engagement ring and I'm about to lose control when I find it, caught among some papers I'd been carrying. From that point, for most of the journey to Shimagus Lalai, I'm shaking like a leaf.
We get to Shimangus and Jo has to go through what I've just been through. She takes it more calmly than me, but Hadas is beside herself with upset. She cries and hugs Joanna. Meanwhile Rubka looks on from her balcony, strangely detached. Perhaps she finds it hard to express herself in the way that Hadas does so naturally. It is a perfect example of the differences in the characters.
And so it comes to an end. One more night at a good restaurant in Asmara, one more night of beers with some of the VSOs then we take our midnight flight to England via Frankfurt. We leave the meagre lights of Asmara to land about 90 minutes later in the incredible lattice of Dubai, bordered by fountains. Then, after a long while, we finally take off for Europe and our adventure is over.
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