Reading up on the country we travel to has been a long-standing habit, as it makes our stay so much more enjoyable. Having lived in Indonesia before, we already had an extensive Indonesia library prior to our 2013 journey, and we keep on adding. I have rearranged the list (December 2013), so it makes more sense. Not all of the books on the list below I have read yet, but as soon as I do, I will underline the title (and likely expand on the description).

 

Because the list is quite long – everybody seems to have been writing about this country – I have listed my favourites first (but many other books are also very good, and note that I haven’t read everything yet…):

03-crazy little heaven

The best General non-fiction, in my view:

1. Touted by one reviewer as the best book on Indonesia he has ever read, he may in fact be close: “Crazy Little Heaven” (2013) by Mark Heyward uses the story of an early 1990s trip across Kalimantan to convey a range of side stories on not only the author’s longtime experience in Indonesia, but also his acute understanding of this complex country. Mr Heyward lives in Indonesia, is married to an Indonesian, and obviously loves his adopted country, but without  unconditionally accepting everything Indonesian. His is an insightful account, of a trip long ago, but far more than that, of a country in transition, with all the ambiguities that result from that: classical Javanese tradition increasingly loosing out against ever increasing Islamic awareness, or uncertainty in dealing with foreigners who are both a threat and an opportunity.  If you want to read only one book about Indonesia today, read this one.

04-Indonesia from Sabang to Marauke2. John Keay, one of my favourite traveler-historians, wrote “Indonesia, from Sabang to Marauke” (1995), his 1990s account of a trip he made from the westernmost point of Sumatra to the easternmost extend of the country, towards the border with Papua New Guinea. In fact, he traveled Sumatra and Java, which occupy the bulk of the book. Keay intersperses his travel experiences, light and witty, always observing and almost never judging, with a whole lot of historical information, both factual and in the form of anecdotes. A delight for travelers like me, although it must be said that the vast majority of Keay’s subjects and sources are limited by English language – the notes of Raffles, the books of Laurens van der Post, the American anthropologist Margaret Mead, Mata Hari, Surabaya Sue. Wouldn’t it be fabulous if someone with Keay’s erudite scholarship would dig into the Dutch colonial legacy, and perhaps early Portuguese works, too? But as it is, English language provides more than enough information, and not in the least about Indonesia’s independence struggle and early post-war history, with all its gory elements.
In the end, Keay hurries through Sulawesi, The Moluccas and Irian Jaya, even skipping his last station, Merauke, all together, perhaps because he was running out of time, or maybe the enormous diversity of the country overwhelmed even him – he admits so much in the last chapter: about Irian Jaya, he says that “the place was just too big and too unmanageable, too new and too vulnerable”. Here no written history which can be used to spice up the travelogue, and perhaps no energy left to discover.
I wonder how we will feel, after three months, and after crossing less than half of the country only.

10-Krakatao3. The account of the dramatic explosion of the volcano “Krakatao” (2003) in 1883, by Simon Winchester, a writer-geologist who has produced a number of highly readable books about a wide variety of subjects, is a must for anybody interested in volcanoes and their potentially devastating effect on societies, on the climate, on the world in general. Winchester tells the story entertainingly, with many diversions into more or less related subjects, which makes it a book about much more than just the Krakatoa.

 

27-Indonesia Peoples and HistoriesAnd the best Background reading, in my view
4. In “Indonesia: Peoples and Histories” (2003) Jean Gelman Taylor describes the history of the archipelago in a very accessible way, from the early local kingdoms and the introduction of Islam to the Dutch colonial era and subsequent independence. A must for just beginning to understand the complexity, and also the richness, of this country.

 

 

 

Other general non-fiction:

01-indonesian destinies5. For recent history one could do worse than reading “Indonesian Destinies” (2003), written by Theodore Friend. The book deals comprehensively with Indonesia’s post-independence history, the three blocks: the Sukarno years, the Suharto years, and the change to democracy after Suharto stepped down. Mr Friend obviously knows his subject, and knows and has met an incredible amount of people, which has resulted in a very detailed account, in which the story line is occasionally a little lost – perhaps the book would have benefitted from tighter editing, leaving out some of the more personal stories, and some of the specifically American public-oriented explanations, as well as cutting down on what to me looks like non-contributing detail. Having said that, some of the personal stories are entertaining, even if not necessarily adding to a better understanding. For those who want to understand the Indonesia of today, and have time and patience.

02-madness6. Richard Lloyd Parry, foreign correspondent for The Times, and thus perhaps to be taken relatively seriously, wrote “In the Time of Madness” (2005). He has three subjects, who are related by the timing of the events, all around the period of the regime change, from the final days of Suharto, to the chaos that came afterwards. They are also related by Mr. Parry’s need to go into gory detail, whether describing ethnic violence in Kalimantan, including the alleged severing of heads and canibalism, or the mayhem that preceded, and ultimately forced the resignation of Suharto (with helpful further gory details from the 1965 regime change, just to complete the picture). The third subject, East Timor, I will leave for another day; there is only so much gory detail I can digest at any one time. Not sure whether this book is necessary reading for someone who wants to understand Indonesia – but Mr Parry’s subjects are no doubt fascinating stuff.

05-The Drums of Tonkin7. A somewhat similar trip to John Keay’s is described in “The Drums of Tonkin: An Adventure in Indonesia” (1963) by Helen and Frank Schreider. They traveled, by amphibious Jeep (!!), from Jakarta all the way to Timor, crossing the string of islands of Nusa Tenggara, and the streets in between, and they did this in, or just before, 1963. The book is good on the trip itself, like the logistical nightmare of getting fuel, the difficulty of hopping on and off coral-surrounded islands (or getting stuck in the mud, and get 200 islanders to pull you out!), the challenges of the offshore currents, and the many negative, but also even more patently positive, encounters with officialdom in a newly independent country. It is somewhat shallower on the descriptions of places and people, and almost non-observant on the political situation in Indonesia, at the time, a far from united country with various rebel organistions as well as the perceived communist threat all vying for power, just before the overthrow of Sukarno. A pity, and a missed opportunity, especially since the authors were journalists. But the adventure is strong enough to carry the book – just get the background from John Keay. And the 1960’s photos! So 1960’s!

8. More recent is “The Islands in Between” (1989) by Annabel Sutton, who describes her travels in Kalimantan, Sulawesi, but mostly the Lower Sunda Islands. Definitively the more adventurous part of Indonesia, which we keep for the next trip.

07-An Empire of the East9. “An Empire of the East” (1995) – Norman Lewis. This is the guy who wrote the defining travel book on Vietnam, in the 60’s; I wonder how he did 30 years later, in Indonesia. To be read, still, as he covers Sumatra, East Timor and Irian Jaya (now West Papua).

08-Nigel Barley Toraja10. A new discovery for me is Nigel Barley, an anthropologist who wrote a very readable travelogue of his endeavors in Sulawesi when visiting Tana Toraja. “Toraja” (2013, originally published as “Not a Hazardous Sport”, 1988) follows Mr Barley from the UK via Moscow to Singapore and Jakarta, and then to Makassar into the land of the Toraja people, all the while recording the various things that go wrong, or are misunderstood. Very funny, most of the times, from a person who clearly enjoyed being in Indonesia, with Indonesians; although perhaps occasionally a little thin on contents. The story culminates in the building of a traditional rice barn in a London museum, by four Torajans.

09-Nigel Barley Raffles11. “In the Footsteps of Stamford Raffles” (1991), also by Nigel Barley, is partly the history of its subject, and partly a travel experiences of Mr Barley, who does bring a certain lightness and humour to his travels that make his books a joy to read. Will try this one soon.

 

11-Nathaniel’s Nutmeg12. Another book with a theme, and many entertaining diversions, is “Nathaniel’s Nutmeg” (1999), about the spice trade and the rivalry between colonial powers – although as a Dutchman I cannot but observe that the book has been written from a very British perspective, not necessarily always coinciding with what I learned in school about history (obviously, I am not scholarly enough to judge which history version is correct).

12-Spice The History of Temptation13. The spice trade and everything else related to spices is also the subject of “Spice: The History of Temptation” (2004), by Jack Turner.

13-The Spice Route14. And John Keay, already mentioned above, also wrote about spices, in “The Spice Route” (2005). This tells the story of the West’s obsession with obtaining spices like cloves, mace and nutmeg, as well as pepper, from an early age on. It follows the historical, and gradual, change from a mostly terrestrial transport system depending on crossing the Middle East to an increasingly maritime trade, following the great navigational discoveries, amongst them that the world wasn’t flat at all and that each landmass was surrounded by water. Keay quotes many a narrator of the world’s geography, often with a spice angle to it, from Ptolemy to Marco Polo and Ibn Batuta, and from early Arab, Portuguese, Dutch and British explorers, to create a 2000 year history of the spice route, including the growing realization of the origin of spices, as well as a brief epilogue explaining the demise of the Spice Route, with the growing importance of coffee, tea and sugar, amongst other commodities.

14-Batavia’s Graveyard15. “Batavia’s Graveyard” (2002), by Mike Dash (who also wrote the highly readable account of the first major overheating of Dutch financial markets due to madness over some flower bulbs, Tulipomania).

15-Odoric16. The oldest travel book about Indonesia (and China and Mongolia) I found is from Odoric of Friuli, an Italian Franciscan monk who dictated “Odoritus de Rebus Incognitus” around 1330  to a fellow monk after his 13-year journey. The book is translated in Dutch as “Mijn Reis naar het Verre Oosten” (2008) [transl.: My Journey to the Far East]. In less than 60 pages Oderic travels through the Middle East, India, Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Vietnam and further to China, but unfortunately, his most used phrase is that “there are many very strange things happening here, but this is not the place to tell about them”, or similar cut-offs. Where he does describe detail, it is often about religious matters. Aceh commands one page, a place where according to Odoric everybody walks naked and does it with everybody, and children are being sold to be eaten. Yet, Aceh commands more space than Java. Disappointing travel account, only of interest because it is almost 700 years old.

16-To the Spice Islands and Beyond Travels in Eastern Indonesia 17-Witness to Sumatra a Travellers’ Anthology17. A compilation of travel stories from the 16th Century onwards has been put together by George Miller in “To the Spice Islands and Beyond: Travels in Eastern Indonesia” (1996). As the title suggests, it deals specifically with travels to Sulawesi and Lombok and further east. There are several West Indonesia equivalents, like “The Best of Borneo Travel” of Victor King (ed.) and “Java: a Travellers’ Anthology”, by James Rush (ed.), which I haven’t acquired yet.

18. “Witness to Sumatra: a Travellers’ Anthology” (1995), by Antony Reid (ed.) is the westernmost equivalent in the above series,  a collection of stories from travelers to Sumatra and Aceh from the 12th Century onwards. (NB Mr. Reid comes back in the Background Reading section.)

18-The Malay Archipelago19. Alfred Wallace is one of the authors that feature in the above Eastern Indonesia compilation. His “The Malay Archipelago” (originally published 1869, my copy 1987) is on the shelf, not yet read, though.

19-Explorers of South East Asia six Lives20. “Explorers of South East Asia: six Lives” (1995), edited by Victor King, brings together brief biologies of some 19th Century travelers, three of whom, Robert Burns, Carl Bock and A.W.Nieuwenhuis, played a role in the early exploration of Borneo.

 

20-Headhunters of Borneo

21. The one travel account I have on the shelf, from above three characters, is Carl Bock’s “Headhunters of Borneo” ( 1880, my copy 1985). At the request of the Dutch colonial regime, which was eager to learn more about this up-to-then rather unknown part of its empire, Bock traveled through Borneo, from Samarinda up the Mahakam River and then across to the Barito River and down to Banjarmasin, in 1878-1879. His account of this journey, and his notes on Dayak culture, resulted in a very entertaining travel book with lots of observations that could equally well have been made today, although Mr Bock is somewhat dismissive of the locals.

21-De Voorouderlanden Reizen door Kalimantan22. A more recent book on Kalimantan is “De Voorouderlanden: Reizen door Kalimantan” (2007) [transl.: Ancestor Countries: Travels through Kalimantan], by Dutchman Kees Ruys. To be read in in the future.

22-Indonesie23. Another book by Kees Ruys, “Indonesia” (2003) is a compilation of two earlier books he wrote, “De Randgebieden” (1998) and “Onbetreden Paden” (2001). All in Dutch, I am afraid – and to be read at a later stage.

24. Bartele Santema, a Dutchman who settled in Indonesia, wrote “Bule Gila” (2005), about his experiences with his Amsterdam-style bar in Jakarta and its wide range of customers. Occasionally mildly entertaining, but don’t go out of your way to get hold of a copy.

24-Jihad met Sambal25. “Jihad met Sambal” (2011), in Dutch, and as far as I know not translated, is a book with lot of potential, by the female Dutch Al-Jazeera journalist Step Vaasen, but in the end is little more than a personal account of her life, including husband, child, colleagues and acquaintances, over a period of time, in which she happened to live in Indonesia. Those – like me – wanting to hear the specifically Indonesian anecdotes, the story behind the news story, the challenge of a woman journalist in the largest Muslim country (something Ms Vaasen reminds us of a lot), will be disappointed. The occasional link to Aceh after the tsunami, something I can relate to myself, having been there at the same time as Ms Vaasen, does not compensate for the domination of personal stories, perhaps an interesting subject in itself, but not what I had expected from the book.

25-Throwim Way Leg26. “Throwim Way Leg” (1998)  – Tim Flannery: about West Papua and Papuan New Guinea. I’ve got it, but I haven’t read it yet.

27. Another New Guinea-related epic travel story is “Naar de Eeuwige Sneeuw van Tropisch Nederland” (1937), by A.H.Colijn [trans.: To the Permanent Snow of Tropical Netherlands]. In Dutch, and most unlikely to have been translated, this is about an expedition to the Carstenz Mountains, the snow-capped peaks in what was, at the time, Dutch New Guinea (now West Papua). To read after I get back.

 

 

More Background reading
28-Last Post the End of Empire in the Far East

28.   One of my favourite historians is John Keay, already mentioned above. His “Last Post: the End of Empire in the Far East” (1997) is a superbly written history of the big powers in the Far East – mostly Vietnam, Dutch Indies, Malaysia, Singapore, Hong Kong and the Philippines -, and the demise of empire after the Second World War. An excellent account, full of detail, and full of interesting linkages that you would not necessarily understand if you read about one country’s history only. Very readable, and a massive achievement to deal with such a complex subject in less than 400 paperback pages, ideal for the casual tourist.
 
29-The Emergence of Southeast Asia29.   More ambitious, essentially covering the history of the Far East, is “The Emergence of Southeast Asia”, edited by Norman Owen, and published in 2005. Probably the defining book on the subject, over 500 large and densely covered pages, going well beyond the knowledge needed for the average traveler, but nevertheless extremely interesting, at least the parts I have read so far.

30-Verandah of Violence30. “Verandah of Violence – The Background to the Aceh Problem” (2006) is a series of papers from different authors, collected by Anthony Reid, an authority on South East Asian history in general and Indonesia and Aceh in particular. The various papers describe Aceh’s history from the 16th and 17th Century, when Islam was firmly establishes through treaties with various Arab polities, via the various conflicts, first with the Dutch colonial powers and then with what many Acehnese consider the Indonesian occupation, to the dramatic impact of the 2004 tsunami and the many aspects of the peace process. Only if you are really interested in Aceh.

31. An extension of the above book is “Exploring the Past, Searching for the Future” (2007), the lecture summaries of the First International Conference of Aceh and Indian Ocean Studies, held in Banda Aceh in February 2007. The conference dealt with many aspects of the specific Aceh history, the conflict, the peace process that was underway at the time, and the tsunami reconstruction efforts. I was lucky enough to be able to attend this conference, convened once again by Anthony Reid.

32-Indonesia’s Secret War32. Another local conflict is described by Robin Osborne in “Indonesia’s Secret War” (1985), an account of the Guerilla struggle in what was then called Irian Jaya (now West Papua). I cannot remember the book well, I have read it long ago when I was living in Papua New Guinea, the other half of the island, but I would assume that the book is somewhat dated, even though the struggle continues unabated.

33-Culture Shock Indonesia33. “Culture Shock Indonesia” – A Guide to Customs and Etiquette (1986/1990), written by Cathie Draine & Barbara Hall, is the Indonesia installment of the very useful Culture Shock series of books trying to prepare the Westerner for a stay in a foreign country. Aimed at expatriates the book is equally applicable to tourists, who want to get more out of their trip then just seeing the sights.

34-Instructions for American Servicemen in Dutch Indonesia during World War34. And a curious other book preparing one for the Dutch Indies, as it was called at the time, is “Instructions for American Servicemen in Dutch Indonesia during World War II“, a 2009 reprint of the originally called “Pocket Guide to Netherlands East Indies” (1944), issued by the US Army to prepare the soldiers for a different culture. Quite an interesting little book, which demonstrates that the Americans, at least in earlier times, did have some sense of how the rest of the world behaved – something I fear has sadly disappeared in recent times. There are a few more interesting observations about this book, not in the least the American assessment of Dutch heroism in the Dutch Indies before and after the Japanese invasion, in sharp contrast to the British perception (among others voiced by Laurens van der Post).
 
Dutch colonial history (all in Dutch, I am afraid…)

35-Batavia – een Koloniale Samenleving35. “Batavia – een Koloniale Samenleving in de 17de Eeuw” (2005), by the Dutch historian Hendrik Niemeijer, published in Dutch only, I believe, deals with the early establishment of the Dutch colonial city of Batavia, now Jakarta.

36-Afscheid van Indie – De Val van het Nederlandse Imperium in Azie

 

36. “Afscheid van Indie – De Val van het Nederlandse Imperium in Azie” (2000), by H.W. Van den Doel

37-De Nederlands-Indische Geschiedenis van de 19de en 20ste Eeuw

 

37. “De Nederlands-Indische Geschiedenis van de 19de en 20ste Eeuw” (2003), edited by Harm Stevens, is a compilation of stories and eyewitness accounts of 200 years of colonial and post-colonial history in Indonesia. In Dutch only.
Een gevarieerde selectie van brieven en rapporten gescherven tijdens de Nederlandse overheersing in Indie, voornamelijk door Nederlanders, en dat is meteen ook de beperking van het boek – of misschien wel juist de kracht: het illustreert de geweldige tunnel visie van het koloniale bewind en iedereen eromheen, zelden een woord van kritiek, en nooit enig twijfel over de juistheid van het beleid. De bijdragen worden enigszins overheerst door militaire wapenfeiten, vaak vrij bruut, maar er zijn ook stukjes over recepties en feesten in Batavia, over locale evenementen, en – mijn favorite – zelfs een bijzonder indrukwekkend verslag vanaf een schip nabij de Krakatou, toen die ontplofte.

38-Nog geen Krasje op een Rots38. “Nog geen Krasje op een Rots…” (2009) is the travel account of Marco Baars, who toured Java, Bali and Lombok in 2000 to see what was left of Dutch colonial influence in Indonesia. Very little, is the outcome, but his travelogue is entertaining enough. In Dutch only, I believe…

39-De Balenkraai39. “De Balenkraai” (originally published 1967, my copy 2004) is an eye witness account of the end of the Dutch colonial presence in New Guinea, as far as I know not translated, only available in Dutch. The author, Aad Nuis, is a Dutch publicist and ex-politician.

40. “Hier is Indie” (1939) is een nogal gedateerd boek van G.A.van Bovene, die een Nederlands Indie uiters geidealiseerd voorsteld, met de ogenschijnlijke bedoeling de tanende interesse in Nederland een halt toe te brengen en de trek naar de Indies te stimuleren. Een aardige beschrijving van het leven in de Indies in die tijd, maar waarschijnlijk niet erg realistisch. Ik heb het niet uitgelezen.

 
Fiction

41-The Year of Living Dangerously41. Perhaps the best-known novel about Indonesia is “The Year of Living Dangerously” (1978), Christopher Koch’s story about a group of journalists in highly unstable Indonesia in 1965. Mr Koch has since been criticized from various sides, but his book remains equally chilling and entertaining at the same time.

42-The Earth of this Mankind42. “This Earth of this Mankind” (1975) is the first of the Buru Quartet of historical novels written by Indonesian author Pramoedya Ananta Toer. The other three are “Child of all Nations”, “Footsteps”, and “House of Glass”. The books describe the Dutch colonial era end 19th/beginning 20th Century, from the perspective of various population groups, most notably the young Minke, a Dutch-educated Javanese. The stories were originally told to the fellow prisoners on Buru Island, where Pramoedya was incarcerated during the early years of the Suharto regime, deprived of writing materials. Later, with the help of the same prisoners, the stories were written down, and published, initially only outside Indonesia, where they were banned. This may have helped in turning them into perhaps the most important piece of Indonesian literature, well worth reading.

43. “De Stroom uit het Noorden” (1979, Dutch translation 1995) [orig. title: Arus Balik, Eng. trans. unknown] is another major novel by Pramoedya Ananta Toer, about the advance of the Portuguese in the 16th Century.

44-The Years of the Voiceless44. Okki Madasari is a young Indonesian writer. Her first book, “The Years of the Voiceless” (2010) [orig. title: Entrok], is the story of an illiterate, but successful mother and her educated daughter in 1970s to 1990s Java, where corrupt officials and soldiers rule with impunity at every level of society. It is also a story about conflicting religions, animist and Islam, and how the certainty of belief in each is slowly eroded. Well written, reasonably well translated, and well worth reading to gain a glimpse in the changing of a society and the tension between generations, against the backdrop of Suharto’s Indonesia.

46-Max Havelaar45. Quite a lot of other Dutch literature deals with Indonesia, from the books of Louis Couperus and Hella Haasse to some of those by F.Springer and Adriaan van Dis. An interesting compilation is “Insulinde – Verhalen uit de Gordel van Smaragd” (1987), edited by R-H.Zuidinga and containing 24 stories and/or fragments from Dutch literature linked to the Dutch Indies.

46. The “Max Havelaar” (1860), written in the 19th century by Eduard Douwes Dekker, warrants special mentioning, being the first public accusation against the Dutch colonial administration. Classical literature for Dutch schoolchildren, but also a great novel, perhaps not so much appreciated by those schoolchildren, but all the more by those interested in the Dutch Indies of that time.

and the Travel Guides

Lonely Planet Indonesia”, ours was originally the 2003 edition, but thanks to my nephew, now upgraded to 2010. A useful companion for the more mundane elements of our trip, although at times not as well researched as the book claims; it certainly looks as if the authors haven’t visited all and every place they write about, or at least not recently.

Rough Guide to Indonesia”, also 2003 edition, perhaps slightly better researched than LP, with better descriptions of worthwhile sights and potential activities. Also, more enthusiastically written, which makes you want to go to all these places.

On the list to be acquired:
–          Nationalism and Ethnic Conflict – Jacques Bertrand: about the background behind violence in Maluka and Kalimantan
–          Riots, Pogroms, Jihad – John Thyer Sidel: links between religion-related violence and terrorist bombings of 2002 and 2005

(If you have any other suggestions, I would appreciate if you could mention them in a comment)

the announcement of the exhibition, outside the Gasometer

the announcement of the exhibition, outside the Gasometer

A unique art project involving the largest self-supporting sculpture in the world.

Bulgarian-born Christo Javacheff certainly has established himself as an original artist. Together with his wife, Jeanne-Claude – who died in 2009 – he has created several remarkable works of art; not in the least remarkable because they were all temporary, never to last beyond their exhibition. A refreshing element of their art is that they do not claim to try to make a statement, they just create works of beauty that try to make people see a landscape with a different view. Perhaps most famous were the wrapping of the Pont Neuf – a bridge – in Paris in 1984, and of the Reichstag – the German parliament building – in Berlin in 1995. Their last project they did together was The Gates in 2005, in Central Park in New York, their home town for almost 40 years, where they installed some 7500 5-meter high gates covered in saffron-coloured cloth.

the structure inside the Gasometer

the structure inside the Gasometer

Now Christo has created The Big Air Package, for the first time without his wife. Inside the Gasometer in Oberhausen (Germany), a huge circular building that itself is a recognized industrial monument, a balloon-like sculpture of light cloth rises to 90 meters high, almost touching the walls of the cylinder. The form of the structure is controlled by ropes, and it is kept in the air by pressure generated from two ventilators; it has no frame. You can get inside the balloon, where thanks to the light cloth and the illumination from above through the glass roof of the Gasometer, a fabulous atmosphere of diffuse light is created.

inside the structure

inside the structure

seeing the special, diffuse light

seeing the special, diffuse light

 

and looking up

and looking up

the view from the top, inside

the view from the top, inside

The thing to do is to lie with your back on the floor, and look up (the second time I went, the organizers had gotten the message, and provided pillows…). And afterwards, take the lift up to get a view on top of the balloon, and if the weather permits, also a view of Oberhausen and the surrounding industries from the top of the Gasometer.

 

the view from the top, outside

the view from the top, outside

Gallery of a colonial building, Berbera

Gallery of a colonial building, Berbera

Run-down, but charming port city with a wonderful atmosphere, despite dusty streets and shot-up colonial buildings.

There is really no pressing reason to go to Berbera, other than that there is nothing else to do in Somaliland (except visiting the Las Geel caves, on the way to Berbera). The country side on the 170 km drive from Hargeisa doesn’t change much, although there are less and less animals, only camels and goats, grazing in between the shrubs. We circumvent the occasional mountains, still with very little vegetation. And Berbera itself, well, the entry is perhaps even more depressing than the one into Hargeisa. And yet, yet… there is something magic about the town, in all its run-down, dusty form.

One of the many war-affected colonial buildings in Berbera

One of the many war-affected colonial buildings in Berbera

The old town, with lots of old British colonial buildings, many apparently shot to pieces in the war with Somalia in 1988, at first seems mostly bolted up, a sort of a ghost town, but on closer inspection there are actually quite a lot of people living here, quite a lot of minimalist café terraces, and – I have no idea where they came from – quite a lot of school children who surrounded us within minutes of us getting out of the car. I suppose we are a rarity, here, not many tourists make it all the way to Berbera.

Ships that go nowhere anymore, offshore Berbera

Ships that go nowhere anymore, offshore Berbera

low tide in the fishing port

low tide in the fishing port

mending the nets

mending the nets

Berbera is on the coast, but somehow the coastal strip is empty; apparently, nobody wants to live near the water front, too hot, too humid. Yet, the main business is fishing, the town supports many fishing companies, and has a small fishing jetty – you cannot call this a harbor – where some men are mending nets. It also has a few restaurants, where we had excellent grilled fish. Of course, outside town is the real harbor, much bigger, and the international airport, with the – apparently – second largest airstrip of Africa. Built by the Americans in the time Somalia still mattered as a pawn in the Cold War.

a local shop in Berbera

a local shop in Berbera

fish shop, with lots of exotic products

fish shop, with lots of exotic products

A goat is the only inhabitant of some of the shot-up buildings, Berbera

A goat is the only inhabitant of some of the shot-up buildings, Berbera

Wooden window, one of many in Berbera

Wooden window, one of many in Berbera

Curious school girls enjoy the camera attention

Curious school girls enjoy the camera attention

Our driver, who is from Berbera, doesn’t understand why we are so interested in the old town, and wants to show us the new town. So we oblige, only to realize that we cannot actually distinguish between the two. Same dirt roads, same dust, same run-down houses, only difference is that the buildings are single story, as opposed to – collapsed – two story buildings in the old town. After an hour or so we have seen all there is to see, and we resume the return trip to Hargeisa, another three hours of desolate country side.

Woman in Berbera

Woman in Berbera

Stilistic human figure with dog, Las Geel

stylistic human figure with dog, Las Geel

All the adventurous, hardship travel to Somaliland has one major objective: visiting the rock art galleries of Las Geel, some 50 km outside Hargeisa.

There is something special in seeing rock paintings. Knowing that you can only see this here, in situ, you cannot transport them to any museum around the world; the magic and the mystery of the nameless makers, long-dead shamans who painted this possibly thousands of years ago, likely in some ritual to entice the gods to bless the hunt, or the harvest; and sitting there looking out over the plains below, like others must have done, too, that same thousands of years ago.

Getting to Las Geel involves hiring a car and a driver in Hargeisa, and an armed escort – whether this is for protection, or to provide an additional financial stimulant to the economy, I don’t know. As customary in Somaliland, we first needed to fuel, then put some more pressure on the tires – you could not possibly have anticipated that ahead of the departure, of course. Driving is a bit of a challenge: despite having been British, they drive on the right… but somehow, most cars have their steering wheel on the right, as well! I haven’t worked out why, other than that cars with the wheel on the right seem to be cheaper (?).

outskirts of the village near Las Geel

outskirts of the village near Las Geel

outside Las Geel, not much other business than charcoal

outside Las Geel, not much other business than charcoal

Our driver spent the first hour and a half mostly on his mobile telephone, except at the police check points, where he knew all the right people, and managed to get us through without once showing our special permit – another financial stimulant – or passport. Closer to the site, we turned onto a dirt track, which we followed for some 20 minutes, until we reach one more police check point. Surreal, this, absolutely in the middle of nowhere, a metal bar across a dirt road, and a police man who was not going to interrupt his conversation on his own mobile phone to let the one car he would see today through. So we waited five minutes – anyhow, our driver was also on the phone -, and then finally common sense was regained, permit inspected and one copy confiscated, and we could proceed. Another 10 minutes further we arrived at a small site building, where we woke up the care taker, who turned out also to be the guide. And who immediately got onto his mobile phone, too, and kept on talking well after we had reached the first few shelters. What is it with these people and mobile phones?

The granite hills containing the Las Geel caves, the biggest cave clearly visible

The granite hills containing the Las Geel caves, the biggest cave clearly visible

The Las Geel site has been “discovered” in 2003, as a pristine site, unaffected by human destruction in the form of graffiti, and unaffected since, because, well, the site is in Somaliland. Like in Zimbabwe, the caves are in weathered granite hills, something we had noticed already on the way, a change in landscape allowing the occasional granite hill to stick out of the otherwise flat desert-like surface. There are over 20 shelters, of different size and depth, of which mostly the roofs have been painted, predominantly in red and white, with occasional brown-yellow, and, very rarely, black pigments used, too. The subject matter is cows, and humans, and cows, more cows, and some more humans, and a few dogs. I also found one giraffe, and one gazelle, but obviously, this was a site inhabited by pastoral people, not hunters – which suggests that it is probably not very old. Carbon datings suggest life in the cave took place almost 5000 years ago.

a collection paintings inside a shelter

a collection paintings inside a shelter

Decorated cow and human figure, Las Geel

Decorated cow and human figure, Las Geel

stylistic cow

stylistic cow

We explored the various caves for well over an hour. Wonderful experience, warmly recommended (if not in Somaliland, then somewhere else, perhaps more accessible, but go and see rock paintings one day, it is well worth it).

next: to the port city of Berbera

The view from the Las Geel caves, across the dry wadis

The view from the Las Geel caves, across the dry wadis

 

For the real enthusiasts, a few more pictures of the paintings.

Camel seller at the cattle market of Hargeisa

Camel seller at the cattle market of Hargeisa

Unpretentious would-be capital of the country with the friendliest people ever.

There are few entries into a capital city – even would-be capital city – more depressive than the entry into Hargeisa. The approach is by way of a couple of hours in a shared taxi on a pot-holed road through desert country. The only thing that announces the city is the increasing amount of rubbish along the road: plastic bags, bottles, scraps of paper, everywhere on the ground, and thanks to the wind also in all the shrubs and every tree, however rare. In the distance some houses appear, initially mostly of the mud and corrugated iron type, and before we realized it, we were in the town centre, if that is the appropriate terminology for a couple of two-story buildings that makes up the business center of Hargeisa.

 

street view of Hargeisa

street view of Hargeisa

shopping centre Hargeisa-style

shopping centre Hargeisa-style

Colourfully painted shop front in Hargeisa

Colourfully painted shop front in Hargeisa

Shop in Hargeisa advertising its products

Shop in Hargeisa advertising its products

And yet, however depressive Hargeisa may look upon entry – and in fact, however depressive Hargeisa may look, full stop -, much is being compensated by the people here. Granted, our immediate comparison is Ethiopia, and we have not been wholeheartedly impressed by the Ethiopians in general, but even without this, Somalilanders must rank towards the top in the list of most friendly, genuine people.

We booked ourselves in the Oriental Hotel – not as flashy, perhaps, as its famous Bangkok namesake, but by all means a very comfortable place, with extremely nice and helpful staff. And it is not that they have tourists here every day. A stroll through downtown Hargeisa has scores of people, men and women, coming out to greet us, ask us how we are, where we are from (many know Holland, have family in Holland), and then welcome us into Somaliland. Genuinely welcome us, want us to feel at ease. There is nothing like the opportunistic approaches that we constantly experienced in Ethiopia. Nobody asks for money.

The camel market in Hargeisa

The camel market in Hargeisa

On the contrary, when I find a local bus to go to the camel and goat market, outside town, one of the passengers pays for my fare, and no protestations from my side can change that. By the time we reach the market – 20 minutes later, that is what it took to progress the 2 kms, and not because of the traffic, but because every 50 meters somebody needs to get out or get in, and nobody is really in a hurry – by the time we reach the market, one of the passengers comes with me to make sure I find the place, 200 meters down a side street.

The goal posts of the football pitch come in handy

The goal posts of the football pitch come in handy

Young woman in the chat business

Young woman in the chat business

The market ground is actually also the football pitch, but used in the mornings for trading camels and goats. Goal posts come in handy. It is not very busy, today, perhaps some 60-80 camels, with the name of their owner written on their hump, and a few hundred goats, in small groups. Sellers cramp under a parasol, awaiting potential buyers. Everything moves very slowly, nothing spectacular, but it is fun to absorb the atmosphere. And fun to talk to everybody who approaches me, once again out of curiosity, never with any opportunistic intention – or it must be that they want their picture taken, too.

not only camels are being traded, in the market

not only camels are being traded, in the market

the young take responsibility for the goats

the young take responsibility for the goats

oranges in the market

oranges in the market

any colour head scarf, really

any colour head scarf, really

Water melons in the market of Hargeisa

Water melons in the market of Hargeisa

In town, there is nothing really. Few of the streets are tarmac, some others are covered with irregular cobbles, most are just dirt roads, and in any case there is sand and dust everywhere. Many buildings still show traces of the 1991 war of independence from Somalia proper, some have been shot to pieces. The things to see are the mosque, not very special, and the war monument, a Russian MIG fighter aircraft. Also not very special, really. But it doesn’t stink in town, no pee smell, no human excrements in street corners. No smell of rotting fruit in the humble market (which in any case is dominated by non-food items, shoes and cloths, and mattresses, especially). The relatively few cars and buses nevertheless manage to produce a chaos, not helped by the people pushing wheel barrows – the preferred way of transporting goods, and sometimes the elderly. But the best is the complete traffic jam after lunch, in the street where chat is being sold. Every self-respecting Somali climbs in his four-wheel drive (or 20-year-old Toyota station wagon, or just walks) to get to chat-street and get his portion of fresh chat to get through the afternoon. In effect, this country only works half-days, in the morning. In the afternoon the nation resolves to chewing chat, a narcotic providing this pleasant stoned feeling that ensures that you don’t do anything anymore for the rest of the day.

Chat sellers in chat street

Chat sellers in chat street

Another feature of this town is the money people. Everywhere, on every corner, you’ll find a few, sometimes up to ten, money changers, with enormous stacks of bank notes in front of them, really, bales of 500 and 1000 shilling notes (8 and 16 $cents, respectively, the largest denomination notes in the country, I think). Some have flimsy metal cages in which they keep the money, many don’t and have the bales just in front of them, on the pavement. Nobody seems concerned about crooks trying to steal any of it. And that in a country that is obviously still pretty poor. Dignity trumps poverty, here. Hargeisa, and Somaliland, is a wonderful place.

next: the rock paintings of Las Geel

Money changers in the streets of Hargeisa (1)

Money changers in the streets of Hargeisa

despite being largely a desert country, Somaliland does have its colourful moments

despite being largely a desert country, Somaliland does have its colourful moments

The self-declared independent Republic of Somaliland, a very poor but well-organised country with extremely friendly people, is quite different from the Somalia that so often reaches the newspapers.

The Republic of Somaliland is one of the three parts that officially makes up Somalia, the others being Puntland, and the part that gets so often in the news, the southern part of Somalia (let me call this rump-Somalia). Puntland and rump-Somalia were both previously Italian colonies. Puntland is the pirate paradise, somehow semi-autonomous from the rump-Somalia, thanks to its healthy and ever-growing foreign exchange reserves, and rump-Somalia is now the prototype of a failed state. Somaliland, however, is the former British colony. It was lumped with the rest of Somalia after the Brits left, but then declared its independence from increasingly dysfunctional Somalia in 1991, after a nasty war – every war in this part of the world is nasty, of course. It has since had several apparently fair and honest elections, has its own government and police force, its own central bank, its own currency, and for all intents and purposes operates as an independent country – except that nobody has yet recognized it as such. To visit Somaliland, you need a Somaliland visa, which can be issued in Addis Ababa (and perhaps London and Washington, but that seems less reliable).

War monument in Hargeisa, a shot-down Mig

War monument in Hargeisa, a shot-down Mig

Money changers in the streets of Hargeisa (2)

Somalia has its own currency, which is freely traded in the streets

On the way to the Somaliland Embassy in Addis Abeba

On the way to the Somaliland Embassy in Addis Ababa

So one of the first things we did when we arrived in Addis Ababa was in fact ensuring our Somaliland visa. We managed to find the embassy cum chancellery cum official residence without much difficulty, thanks to good signposting. Inside the compound, the visa section actually operates out of the residency’s garage. The whole process went very smooth, except that the validity of the issued visa turned out to expire before we actually planned to enter the country. When I commented on this, the first response was to use some Tippex – for my younger readers, this is liquid paper used for corrections in the era of typewriters… what are typewriters? Well, ask your parents – Tippex, thus, over the original dates and then write the new dates in, on the Tippex. Right! When I carefully asked if this would not pose problems at the border, the visa assistant first said “I hope not…”, and then, luckily, agreed that it would perhaps be better to issue a new visa – which was issued just as speedily as the first one. And it worked.

a Somali man at the camel market of Hargeisa

a Somali man at the camel market of Hargeisa

Getting to Somaliland is another thing. According to the information from various travel guides and websites, getting into and out of Somaliland by plane isn’t that straightforward. Ethiopian Airways, the most reliable airline in the region, doesn’t fly to Hargeisa, so one has to settle for any of the other operators, invariably small airlines; adventurous would be the appropriate word, or perhaps wild-west is better.

There is Dallo Airlines, described as “wildly inconsistent”, and they fly between Hargeisa and Djibouti. However, they were shut down some time ago, and fly only 2 to 3 times a week if they fly at all. Another player is Jubbo Airlines, touted as the only one that accepts online bookings – with the proviso that they will only leave when they have sold enough tickets to make it worth their while to fly (but they only tell you this afterwards), so you may be waiting a week or longer, never mind that you have a paid and confirmed ticket for a particular day. Both airlines fly with Russian Ilyushin-18 aircraft of uncertain age. The star performer is African Express, a Kenyan airline, but they don’t go to Addis Ababa, only to places like Mogadishu, or further away Nairobi. Another challenge is that they fly not to Hargeisa, but to Berbera, three hours drive from Hargeisa.

Overland is another option. There is the Djibouti route, described as “a stenuous 20 hour journey on a gravel road” in a shared taxi, usually a four-wheel drive, which leaves at the end of the afternoon from Djibouti to drive at night, and so avoid the worst heat of the day. Not attractive. Or one can get in from Jijiga, the nearest Ethiopian town, with an airport served by Ethiopian Airways, and 2 hours drive from the bordertown of Wajaale, from where it is another 2.5 hours by shared taxi, very uncomfortable, to Hargeisa. We judged this the least bad option.

And so we got to Hargeisa, would-be capital of the Republic of Somaliland.

Somali herdsman, not entirely fitting in the Hargeisa street scene

Somali herdsman, not entirely fitting in the Hargeisa street scene

water cart in Somaliland

water cart in Somaliland

A most efficient border crossing halfway between Jijiga in Ethiopia and Hargeisa in Somaliland.

The small town of Wajaale is the border crossing between Ethiopia and Somaliland. A surprisingly easy crossing if you have all your documentation in order.

Our trip started quite well, in Jijiga. We got the last seats in the bus, or that is what I thought, and then they managed to fit another 8 people in, too. Jam-packed almost exclusively with women – I suppose they make the better smugglers, why else would anybody go to Wajaale? – we finally left Jijiga half an hour later. Fill a bus with men, and nobody talks. Fill a bus with women, and you have constant chatter, all the way from Jijiga to Wajaale. Good fun, though, never mind that we were all squeezed on top of each other.

The country side becomes more and more desolate, the only thing left outside is sand, some yellow grass, low shrubs and the occasional acacia tree. And small round huts, as far as I could see semi-permanently arranged in communities of 10-20 huts, surrounded by cactuses and thin aloe trees, the type that has very small branches and even smaller leaves – and thus provides no shade, whatsoever. I think this is the most impressive realization, driving through this region. There is simply no shade, yet, there is a lot of sun, and it is getting pretty hot, already early in the morning.

huts on the way to Wajaale

huts on the way to Wajaale

and more huts, with corrugated iron-walls

and more huts, with corrugated iron-walls

woman carrying straw

woman carrying straw

a hut just across the border, in Somaliland

a hut just across the border, in Somaliland

 

the border at Wajaale – a rope

the border at Wajaale – a rope

Just before Wajaale we encountered a road block, a rope across the street, no more. No uniforms, nothing to indicate that this was official, yet everybody got out, and a guy in a Barcelona football shirt searched the bus. Passports were checked, and everybody got back in – except that we now no longer fitted, so even more people were standing next to the door, which didn’t close anymore. With open door we drove into Wajaale, disembarked from the bus, employed one of the porters – there were lots of them, equipped with wheel barrows, very efficient on the dirt road – and made our way to customs. The shed on the Ethiopian side looked distinctly unpromising, yet inside there were computers, passport scanners, cameras and fingerprint machines, friendly customs officers who immediately distributed evaluation forms on how we thought they were doing, then switched on the AC to ensure the evaluation would turn out positive, in short, excellent. In Somaliland same story, except for the forms and the scanners, and five minutes later we were in the self-proclaimed independent state of Somaliland.

no-man’s land, used as rubbish dump

no-man’s land, used as rubbish dump

Next, we needed to find transport to Hargeisa, some 90 km further on. No busses, here, no minivans either. Shared taxis, in the form of 20 year old Toyota station-wagons, that is the only thing available. Two people in the passenger seat, four in the back seats, and at least two, plus any children, all the way to the back, in the luggage compartment – luggage itself goes on the top, needless to say. I don’t think we ever had a more uncomfortable way of transport than this one, and that for 2.5 hours. First, with the car finally full, stop at the fuel station, and fill up, thanks to my contribution to the journey. Then, stop to put some air in the tires, clearly a routine necessary before every trip. After all of this, 500 meters on, first road block, another rope.

the women in Wajaala, the only source of colour in town

the women in Wajaala, the only source of colour in town

The windows of our Toyota were opened and closed using a wrench; a screw driver in the ignition contact was used to start the engine – and switch off again -, a process that was frequently repeated because of the five more road blocks we encountered on the way to Hargeisa. At each of those we needed to show our passports again, and the later it got, the more time-consuming this process became: each time police officers, increasingly stoned from chewing chat, had more difficulty finding our visa in our passports, and once I even had to explain why we hadn’t received an exit stamp yet (really).

The first half hour outside Wajaale we drove through the fields and on a network of sandy tracks alongside the road; the road itself was obviously too bad to use. Then we hit the tarmac, and things got slightly better. Our driver was good at avoiding pot holes if he was not on his mobile phone; he was on his mobile phone a lot. All the way to Hargeisa.

All together, despite some discomfort on the Wajaale-Hargeisa section this is not an undoable journey, if you are in for some adventure. And hé, if it would have been any easier, everybody else would be going to Somaliland, too.

the main road to Hargeisa, or at least the part that is being used

the main road to Hargeisa, or at least the part that is being used

used by wandering camels, too

used by wandering camels, too

two women at a street corner

two women at a street corner

Dusty town without much attraction, except as springboard for a trip to Somaliland.

First the good news: the gravel road from Harar to Jijiga, mentioned in our various guide books, has been upgraded to brand new tarmac, which cuts the travel time in half. I had installed myself in the front seat, next to the driver, because the trip – according to those same guide books – promised to go through spectacular country side: the Valley of Marvels, no less, and the “well-wooded Karamara Mountains”. Right! I did see some weathered granite rocks on the way, presumably the valley, but I completely missed any well-wooded mountains. Lots of charcoal for sale, though.

the road to Jijiga, complete with granite hills

the road to Jijiga, complete with granite hills

In reality, the country side here is getting ever dryer, and less and less inhabited. The only signs of life are the small rounded huts of nomads, along the road and further afield; these are made of wood and mud, it seems, and reinforced with the occasional corrugated iron sheets for walls and a collection of rags, and sometimes tarpaulin, stretched over the roof. If we have seen any poverty so far, this beats all of it – and yet, there are also herds of cattle, and especially large flocks of sheep and goat, presumably representing some form of wealth. Perhaps the huts are just convenient, easily packed up and placed somewhere else, for a change of pasture – if it may have that name, the ground is really dry, and whatever grass grows, looks burned yellow. But these people have little else, that is for sure, no government-supplied amenities, schools, hospitals, and almost certainly no fall-back position if their livestock dies, not an unthinkable prospect in these circumstances.

however colourful, the bar was closed

however colourful, the bar was closed

another shop in Jijiga, all corrugated iron

another shop in Jijiga, all corrugated iron

market stuff for sale

market stuff for sale

man in the market

man in the market

market woman enjoying herself

market woman enjoying herself

Jijiga shop

Jijiga shop

But back to Jijiga. Jijiga is the capital of the ethnic-Somali Ogaden region in Eastern Ethiopia. And what capital it is! According to our guide book, the town “boasts an unexpectedly cosmopolitan feel, which is reflected in the high standard of hotels, restaurants and other facilities”. Right! Not sure how long this guide book author had been traveling when he wrote this, but Jijiga is most certainly not cosmopolitan! The top hotel in town, the one with good western food, only provided spaghetti with tomato sauce, which was served in the lobby, because the restaurant was closed – and from the looks had been for some time. So had been the hot water supply, and the toilet flushing system. We found one other restaurant that looked OK, and which distinguished itself with using newspaper pages for place-mats. We found no other facilities. Well, yeah, there is a market, of course, and probably quite some “special supplies” on account of its proximity to the border, but nothing to get too excited about. Dust is what we remember most, about Jijiga, dust. No need to come here, unless you travel on to Hargeisa in Somaliland overland.

market built up just outside the Shoa Gate

market built up just outside the Shoa Gate

The old, walled city of Harar is attractive by day, but scary at night.

The first Westerner to lay eyes on Harar was Richard Burton, he of Burton & Speke fame (from a later expedition to the heart of Africa to explore the source of the Nile). On early travels, in 1854, Burton reached Harar – which he compared to ‘ill-famed Timbuctoo’ as being equally ‘bigoted and barbarous’ (from hearsay, no doubt, as I don’t think he ever went to Timbuktu). He stayed for ten days, as guest, others say hostage, of the local sultan, before being allowed to leave again.

narrow street in old Harar

narrow street in old Harar

Paul Theroux also went to Harar, some 10 years ago. He describes the town in similar terms as Burton did, commenting on the narrow streets where two pedestrians can hardly pass each other, and on the open sewerage and the heaps of rubbish everywhere.

Theroux also witnessed the feeding of the hyenas, by what is called the ‘hyena man’, somebody who collects scraps of meat and bones during the day to feed to the hyenas at night, forcing the animals to take it from their hands, even from their mouth.  A rather disturbing way of feeding, I would say, but undoubtedly true.

I decided to have a look for myself one evening, and set out to the spot, outside town, where the feeding takes place. But unfortunately, too many able young men decided, at precisely the same moment, to go and have a look as well. The further away from the town centre I got, and the darker it became – feeding hyenas is an after-dark activity –, the more I had the feeling that I was surrounded by human hyenas. Not to tempt faith once more – I had been robbed in Ethiopia earlier – I turned around and went back to the hotel. You know, this type of experiences doesn’t do much for the general appreciation of Ethiopia.

another section of the Harar wall

another section of the Harar wall

window in the old town

window in the old town

colourful women passing a colourful shop

colourful women, colourful shop

one of the 84 mosques

one of the 84 mosques

the Muslim market in the center of town

the Muslim market in the center of town

another part of the market building

another part of the market building

But in daylight, Harar is a delight. A walled city with five gates – some more impressive than others, and some parts of the wall decidedly less impressive – inside is a labyrinth of narrow alleys and streets (as Theroux observed correctly), curving and climbing, up- and down-hill.  There are no less than 84 small mosques inside, in green and white, or blue and white. Many of the houses have been painted in similarly bright colours as we saw in Dire Dawa, pink, or orange. But even more colourful are the people, many of Somali ethnic origin, I think, with long dresses and wrapped in cloths. And did I mention markets before? There are no less than three, here, one at the eastern gate, apparently for the Oromo people, one Christian market just outside the walled city (and right below our hotel room), and one in the city centre, the Muslim market. The latter is the only one with a proper market building, in which the butchers have their shops; outside, the kites have congregated to pick up any scrap of meat that falls, or indeed any piece of meat that is not well covered when taken from the shop.

I didn’t see anything of the bigotry, anything barbarous, during daytime Harar. On the contrary, the Muslim dominance seems to make this a much more friendly place than many other obvious tourist sites in Ethiopia. But at night? I am not so sure.

old Muslim cemetery

old Muslim cemetery

grave stone at the cemetery

grave stone at the cemetery

Because there are so many nice photos to be taken in Harar, I have added an extra gallery.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

colourful house in Dire Dawa

colourful house in Dire Dawa

Big city with a pleasant small-town atmosphere, and the promise of rock paintings.

Dire Dawa street

Dire Dawa street

East of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia quickly becomes a desert affair, with few town of any size. The exception is Dire Dawa, the town built at the beginning of the 20th Century to accommodate a stop halfway the Addis Ababa – Djibouti railway. In those hundred years or so the town has grown to the second largest in Ethiopia, although you wouldn’t say. Dire Dawa has a very relaxed atmosphere, with tree-lined streets providing the necessary shade, with brightly painted adobe-type houses in the back streets, and with the ever-present market, the attractive Kafira market, sprawling on the left bank of a wadi that cuts the town in two halves. Pleasant enough for a little walk.

hole in the wall

hole in the wall

donkeys carrying fire wood, in the wadi cutting through Dire Dawa

donkeys carrying fire wood, in the wadi cutting through Dire Dawa

chillies drying in a Dire Dawa street

chillies drying in a Dire Dawa street

some yellow powder, in large quantities

some yellow powder, in large quantities

We had come to Dire Dawa to see rock paintings. Not very well advertised in guide books, there are in fact at least four caves in and around town that contain reputedly interesting rock paintings of humans, and domestic and wild animals. Determining the age of these is always problematic, but from artefacts found in the caves somebody has estimated that they could be perhaps up to 70,000 years old – which I find hard to believe, 5000 years is another estimate I read, and more reasonable.

Unfortunately you need a permit to visit these paintings. Unfortunately it was a public holiday, so government office was closed. In any case, because it was a public holiday, the tour operators were also not working. Well, we managed to contact several, but none could even arrange a car: the car rental agencies were also not working. By 2 pm we gave up, accepted our loss, admitted failure, and moved on to Harar.

wide variety of grains in the market

wide variety of grains in the market

different food stuffs for sale

different food stuffs for sale

stack of metal bowls, topped by plastic

stack of metal bowls, topped by plastic

 

one of the market women

one of the market women

NB: For those rock-painting enthusiast with more time, the best-known cave is Porc Epic, up a mountain slope overlooking a wadi, some 3 km south of town. Here, unusually, the subject matter appears to include wild animals like elephants, lions, hyenas and antelopes, in addition to the more common human figures and domestic animals. Apparently, all painting here are monochromatic, red. Laga-Oda, 35 km southwest of Dire Dawa, must contain some 600 paintings, mostly humans and cattle, domestic scenes, and some wild animals. Goda-Ejawe is 28 km South-east of town, and also contains domestic scenes, executed in red, black and white – these paintings are probably quite a bit like Las Geel in neighbouring Somaliland. There are also reports about the Enkuftu cave, in a place called Addis Katema in Dire Dawa itself, with apparently deep tunnels that hide colourful rock paintings. Perhaps.

I haven’t explored these sites, but would be interested to hear from anybody who did.