EA VI: Axum

Axum is a very small town about 75 kilometers from the border or Eritrea. It is an ancient place that boasts Queen of Sheba's birthplace, palace and tomb. It is in Axum that the Empirical line started with the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon and apparently continues today in the descendants of Hallie Selassie.

Since the days of the bible when the Ark of the Covenant was brought to Axum, there's been some pretty hard times.

Even still, you must have a filling station.



Our guide, a former archeologist, negotiated a chance for us to sit on a camel, at last fulfilling Wendy's camel-riding dreams, which nearly had us trekking in Mali instead of touring Ethiopia.



The camel was not impressed with us, kept making this angry bellowing noise. He made us very happy that we were in Ethiopia and not on a camel trek through Mali.



You can't see them in these photos, but in this market were the remains of two very large weapons (maybe an anti-aircraft gun of some kind?)left over from the war with Eritirea. They were rusting away, living out their final days as hitching posts for mules.

Axum is home to Stelles. These are very large obelisks and there are an awful lot of them in town. This one stands 23 metres tall:



Two metres are below ground. It is supported at its base by two very large stones. Underneath all of this is a tomb, thought to be filled with treasure.

All of the stelles are grave markers. According to our guide, it was custom to bury someone with all of their wealth so that their children wouldn't become corrupt and lazy. Hear that, Paris Hilton?

The view from the ground:



The Italians, after invading Ethiopia in the 1930s, spent a lot of time looting the country. One of the things they grabbed was the third-largest obelisk in Axum. They have returned it (unfortunately in several pieces) and it's lying in shipping containers on the site. There are plans to erect it in the future.

Like the one the Italians stole, the largest obelisk in Axum never actually stood. This is the largest one, which we were told broke falling over while it was being erected (a process that involved elephants and hundreds of men).



How big is it? Very big.



At the largest cathedral in Ethiopia, there is a 300-year-old bible hand-printed on goatskin. The guide: "Go ahead, use your flash. Why wouldn't you?"



None of the pictures of the monastery where the ark of the covenant is kept are ready for posting, but this is a very old, (don't remember how old, at least 400 years probably more like 600) painting of St. George. He's a favourite of Ethiopia Orthodoxy, there are paintings of him everywhere and the most popular beer is even named after him.

I took this photo in the monastery next door to the ark. Sorry Wendy, again no women were allowed. But weirdly, they did let me use a flash. It was very large so I took several photos and Wendy later sewed them together:



Our last historical/educational adventure was at the local museum. Our guide seemed to take a great deal of pleasure out of posing us for photos. Here's me, pretending like I can read an ancient inscription that reads, left-to-right, then right-to-left on the next line, same as a plow in a field.



Pretending to peer into a glass case. The top shelf held some nifty wine glasses and other pottery. The middle shelf, a human skull.



At the end of the tour, he had his buddy at the museum open up a locked door. Inside there were relics packed onto shelves waiting to move to a brand new museum set to open later this year.

It was too dark for us to see any, but that's what the flash cameras are for. We took this picture so we could see what it was later. It's an old piece of ivory, very nicely carved.



Here's our guide (right) and his museum buddy, inside the little room full of treasures:



This is sunset from a swanky, former government-run hotel, overlooking the stelles. To the left (outside the picture) is the Queen of Sheba's swimming pool. It's way bigger than any puny little Olympic size pool. But this does give you some sense of the way the stelles loom over the town.

EA V: Lalibela, "eighth wonder of the world"

The northern Ethiopian town of Lalibela was named for a King Lalibela, whose name means "the honey eater." He was so named because a swarm of bees attended his birth, we're told.

Before that it was called Roha and the old name is still used today by some restaurants and bars.

In the 12th century, following some political intrigue and visits from angels, Lalibela's older brother, who was king, abdicated. Lalibela took over.

Lalibela was very religous and had many dreams and angels visit him. One told him that he should recreate in Ethiopia the city of Jerusalem, which he had visited.

So Lalibela set about to do that. He ordered churches be carved out of the stone around the city, which was the capital of Ethiopia at the time.

Twelve churches were built in Lalibela over 24 years. An extra year was necessary for the vestments and stuff.

Today the monolithic churches of Lalibela are considered the "eighth wonder of the world," (or so they continually tell you in Lalibela) and the city of 14,000 has become a mecca to Ethiopian Orthodox followers, especially at Orthodox Christmas.

Many of the churches were covered with scaffolding and tin roofs to protect them from erosion; apparently UNESCO is working on a plan to build less intrusive-looking domes of some sort over them. But we were pleased to see that Bete Giyorgis, the one photographed in all the tourist brochures and posters, did not have scaffolding so we could take our own picture and share it with you:



Tourists are allowed inside almost all the churches, which are still used for services. Most are lit by candles, single light-bulbs or by the windows alone, and many of their ceilings were covered with beautiful painted frescoes. Flash photography was mostly not allowed, so we didn't take many photos inside.

Each church has its own special cross, made of solid gold or silver or brass. Priests are on-duty all the time to take care of the crosses and other saintly or holy items no one is allowed to see.

The priests take up the crosses when people come in, and they let us take pictures of them. As you can see, they were very cool:



Ha, really they put on the sunglasses to protect their eyes from all the tourists taking photographs of them all day long. [Wendy says: I turned off my flash for this one, so he looks much more serious]:



[Wendy notes: I found the crosses very interesting. We saw dozens of different corsses, usually very elaborate, incorporating birds or leaves or other extra designs, and each was named for a different saint or religious figure (See some here).

But we never even once saw what I previously considered the "typical" Orthodox cross, the type found on many Orthodox churches in Winnipeg -- this one with the extra bar or bars.

I asked several of our guides about this, but they either didn't know why this was or didn't know what I was talking about. But I later learned that there are different types of Orthodoxy, so maybe that explains it.]

This embossed carving is of an apostle and was in a room that was off-limits to women, apparently because there were no female disciples. Wendy sat outside while I visited.



[Wendy notes: being able to take photographs on the "men-only" side does seem to lessen its top-secret impact. But I'm glad I got a chance to see!]

Here's some photos from the outside of the church:



That's our guide lounging there. Look close, there are no bricks in those walls. All of the churches were carved from stone by master craftsmen. We could still see the chisel marks in the walls.

This one was carved so the walls would look like wood:



Our guide was once a deacon in the above church and in training to be a priest. Due one of the many conflicts in Ethiopia's recent history, he was forced into separation with his wife and their relationship ended in divorce, ruining his future religious career. A sad story. But he made a great tour-guide for churches, as he knew all the details of all the religious stories and practices.



Still no bricks . . . just one solid piece of rock . . .



That's a short tunnel connecting two churches. We went through one that was over twenty metres long, lit only by the tiny flashlight of our guide. The tunnel was even longer, but it is still being restored, so we only did the first twenty metres, which is plenty long enough.

Our last day in Lalibela we went on a very long, very bumpy trip through the countryside to see another church, this one built into a huge natural cave. The pictures of that one aren't ready yet. But here's a village we passed by on our way there, with tiny circular houses with thatched roofs:



And a close-up of typical rural home in Ethiopia's north:



Ethiopia's population is about 70 million, and most of the northern residents seem to live in tiny huts like this one, which are spread all over the countryside on tiny subsistence farms.

The population figure really came to life for us as we drove around rural areas outside larger communities like Gondar and Lalibela. We'd be driving around in what seemed to be a completely empty area -- not a person in sight.

Then we'd pull over to have lunch or stretch our legs or whatnot, and suddenly a couple dozen children would appear, seemingly out of nowhere, to gape at the "farenje" and their guides. Then you'd look a little closer at the hillsides and see all these little huts and farms blending into the surrounding landscape. Amazing.

EA IV: Christmas in the Simien Mountains

We posted a picture from our Christmas Eve camping trip to the Simien Mountains in an earlier post, but here are a few more. I'll start with my favourite -- my best from the mountains, I think, and maybe one of the best photos I've ever taken:



I don't think I've ever properly used the term "awesome" before we visited these mountains. It was truly awe-inspiring.

The morning of Christmas Eve, our regular guide, Seyoum, handed us off to another group for the trip. We had a driver, a guide, and a couple of extra guys in the back; we weren't sure of their roles. The van was fully loaded with gear or people in and under every seat and tied to the roof rack.

We drove from Gondar along a very twisty bumpy gravel road for a couple of hours until we arrived at Debark, a tiny town near the entrance to the Simien Mountains National Park. There we stopped for lunch and made arrangements in the park for a an armed scout to accompany us (a park regulation requires it) as well as an "official" park guide. Altogether we were a group of eight.


We all piled back into the van and continued on a smaller, rougher and twistier road into the park. After about another hour, the van pulled over and Jason and I got out of the van with our guide, the park guide and the scout. The van would carry on to the campsite with our gear, and we would hike the rest of the way.

And what a hike! Holy dinah! The path was a bit frightening (for me, Wendy) in that we strolled along some fairly precipitous cliffs, but oh so beautiful.



Although the terrain we hiked was not particularly difficult, we did find it rather rough going in the altitude after living at sea level for the past five months. I kind of pooh-poohed the idea of altitude problems, thinking that we're strong healthy kids, but uphill climbs were particularly hard -- after any exertion it felt impossible to catch your breath and we had to rest every few minutes when climbing. The guide were understanding, if mildly amused.

The scout had been carrying a traditional Ethiopian lunchbox (kind of a woven circular container with a strap) and we were surprised with what our guide said was a travelling lunch of sambusa (delicious!), bananas, boiled potatoes and eggs. It was so nice to sit amongst the trees, admiring the view, eating sambusa. Best. Lunch. Ever.

Here's some video footage of the scenery, which was too large to fit into a single camera frame:



Our scout, Desalega Admasu, was armed with a kalashnikov, which he'd had, he told us, since the war with Eritrea. The park's list of "wild animals we might see" didn't include anything that sounded overly carniverous, so it was a bit unclear as to why he had it (fend off angry baboons?).

Desalega didn't speak any English, but through our guide's translation, he said something vague about hyenas, not that we saw any. But he was an interesting guy to have around. He later showed us his war wounds -- a bullet scar in his chest, and more scars, possibly from shrapnel, in his leg. He seemed pleased when Jason told him he must be very brave.

The scout

When we arrived at our camp, we discovered the true luxury of travelling on a tour. Our tent was already set up, with blankets in it and our gear right outside. AND, it turned out two of those extra guys in the van were the cook and his assistant!

Seriously! We went camping with a chef!

So when we clambered over the last ridge into the camp area, the group had set up a folding camp table with to folding canvas stools, and hot Ethiopian coffee and tea were waiting for us. What a way to finish a day's hike!

Here's the view from the camp:



And here's the outhouse. Talk about a loo with a view! But it DID make a girl rather nervous to use after dark!



That evening, the chef and his assistant worked over a campstove for hours and made us a special Christmas dinner, with fancy fish and rice and even a big cake-sized bread that had "Merry Xmas Wendy and Jason" written on the top in ropes of dough.

I know! Camping with a chef! Now THAT's the way to camp, if you ask me.

We sat around the fire with a handful of other campers, sang a few Christmas carols (the Ethiopians sang some, too, although the Orthodox Christmas wasn't until Jan. 7, so they weren't celebrating.)

And it was cooooold! Well, cold by the standards that we're used to: it was close to freezing. But since we don't have any proper winter clothing, it seemed especially cold. Our tour guide lent Jason and I jackets, but all we had were our sandals, and the weather was rather brisk for sandals, even with socks!

In the morning, we woke just after sunrise to find hot coffee waiting for us and the chef just waiting for us to throw the eggs in the frypan. Really roughing it, ha ha.

We took a short hike in the morning while the rest of the crew packed up the van, and then we headed back down the bumpy road to Gondar.

Here's our group:



Back row: Jason, chef assistant chef Eyayaw Bayu, driver Fikadu Mulugeta, chef Abebe Teshale, park guide Amare Shiferaw. Front row: scout Desalega Admasu, tour guide Nurhussen Agazhe, Wendy.

It was definitely a Christmas Eve we'll never forget. In all the excitement and exertion, we barely had time to remember how sad we were to have missed the holidays with our family and friends. Like how we missed this:



(sob!)

A brief interlude on Ghana

There's much more to say about Ethiopia, but I just wanted to interrupt myself with two quick items from Ghana.

First of all, excerpts from a story in Saturday's edition of The Mirror newspaper:

Headline: Severe harmattan usual in the South

The severe harmattan currently being experienced over the country is a natural phenomenon in the south but unusual in the north, the Ghana Meteorological Agency (GMA) has said.

The Deputy Meteorological Officer in charge of the Kotoka International Airport, Mr. Amos Narh, told the Mirror that the harmattan attained severity in January every year and that there was nothing strange about the dry winds and harsh cold being experienced in the southern part of the country.

[Mr. Narh] urged members of the public to protect themselves with warm clothes, since exposure to the cold could lead to ailments. He placed emphasis on the need to protect children in particular from the cold.

The "harmattan" is a dusty wind that blows south from the Sahara during the dry season. A short one seems to trap the heat, but a sustained one -- like we've been experiencing since we got back -- blocks out the sun and creates cooler and much less humid weather conditions.

Indeed, we have noticed that it's very hazy over Accra. And the weather is certainly much cooler than we're used to here.

But when I say "much cooler," I should say I mean it's about 28 degrees, instead of the usual 34! And the humidity is about 75 percent, instead of 90. I find it's a much more comfortable heat, where you don't have to mop the sweat off your face 35 times an hour and fight for space in front of a fan.

Jason and I both laughed looooong and haaaard at the idea of "protecting oneself with warm clothing." Previously the idea of putting on, say, long pants or socks was inconceivable! Now it's not even that they're remotely necessary, just bearable.

I guess we haven't gotten TOO used to the heat here -- we're still Winnipeggers at heart!

Oh, and one more thing. I've been trying to record my favourite public service announcement on my cellphone and post it on YouTube, but the quality was horrible. But just the other day I noticed someone else must love it as much as I do, and they've done the work for me!

The ad urges Ghanaians to sign up for a new national identity card. Here it is:



(Can't see the video in our blog? Try seeing it online here.)

In case you're having trouble making out what they're doing, there's a choir of Ghanaians in traditional dress, standing in front of a map of Ghana, musically extolling the virtues of the identity-card system with this rousing chorus:

Our nation calls for duty now,
All for one and one for all!
The time is now or never, friends!
We are called to get involved!

Tell me that's not quality television.

EA III: Blue Nile Falls + Gondar

The next day we woke up before dawn and headed back to the previous day's hotel restaurant to have breakfast and watch the sunrise over the lake. (The hotel is on a peninsula so you can enjoy both the sunrise and the sunset!)

On the lake a man in a papyrus boat, likely a fisher, had attracted a crowd of pelicans. Very scenic:



After breakfast we travelled what I at that time considered the world's bumpiest road for about half an hour to see Blue Nile Falls, which flow out of Lake Tana and form the beginning of the Blue Nile, which joins the White Nile at Khartoum in Sudan and flows north into Egypt as the Nile. (See map)

We're told the falls are locally known as Tis Issat, "the water that smokes." You can see why:



From a tourist brochure: "Four hundred meters wide in flood, the Blue Nile plunges forty-five meters down a sheer chasm to throw up a continuous mist that drenches the countryside up to a kilometer away. In turn, this gentle deluge produces rainbows that shimmer across the gorge under the changing arc of the sun - and a perennial rainforest."

We missed "the flood" after the rainy seaon by a few months, but we thought the falls were pretty damn impressive, even if they're not at their MOST impressive. From our vantage point high up across the river, the view was spectacular.



To get to and from the car-park area to the falls, we had to hike about 30 minutes along a path still used by local people in their daily life of hauling water, wood and goods on their backs and with mules.



Lots of people use mules and donkeys in Ethiopia, for carrying stuff, or for riding, or for pulling carts. That's in contrast to Ghana, where we've never seen a mule or a donkey. Another difference in carrying: in West Africa, everyone carries things on their heads -- trays of food, or bolts of fabric, pails of water and even heavier loads like cooking-gas canisters. But we didn't see anyone carry anything on their heads in Ethiopia.

After we sat by the falls for an hour or so, enjoying the view, we got back into the van and started off on the road trip to Gondar, several hours to the north, more in the mountainous area of Ethiopia.

Along the way we stopped in a small town, where we were totally mobbed by people everywhere we went. We went for an Ethiopian lunch at a tiny diner (more on the food later!) where Jason ordered a Coca-Cola.

It seems it's pronounced the same in Amharic, but . . .



GONDAR

Gondar. It was totally amazing; one of the highlights of the trip for Wendy.

The city was once an imperial capital of Ethiopia, founded by the Emperor Fasilides in the 1600s. He built a palace and seven churches there, and several emperors who followed him also built their palaces in the town, all mostly in the same area.

We're told during the 1600s, the city was the second-largest in the world. It lost its status as capital in the mid-1800s, and then later the city was attacked during several wars -- notably, our guide said, it was bombed by the British during the Second World War, when the Italians occupied the city and used some of the palace buildings as their military headquarters.

Numerous buildings and some ruins remain, most found in a walled compound in the city's centre. It was SO remarkable and unexpected to see these castles in the middle of Ethiopia. I spent most of the time wandering around speechless, so I think the pictures will speak for themselves better than I could:





We arrived just as the sun was beginning to set, and the light was gorgeous:



One of the best things about travelling with a guide was the constant availability of someone to take photos of us. We have more photos of us together from our two weeks in Ethiopia than we have from the previous five months in Ghana!



Wow! What a day! My eyes were practically sore from an overload of stunning sights.

Little did I know that more was to come! Stay tuned!