Day 37 Tuesday 16th November. 2010

Before sun up I had been rolling around like a fish out of water with the pain in my right shoulder and elbow and hip! Sure I was in a sorry state, long way from home, hurting and sore. But so was Diane who was packing the home away, not complaining..

Us three big boys headed to a  six meter shipping container that was the customs/immigration office. Inside, Rob handed over his genuine letter from the UK government for scrutiny. After five long minutes of reading it was deemed good. Robin went next with his forgery, a slow glance and he was through. I handed over ours and it was placed on the pile without a glance, we were into another new county!!

Sore, hurting from yesterdays carlessness and tired we rode away from the border post. the road was linded with small stalls and eating places, all looked interesting, and they were interested in us, and our money no doubt, but all we wanted to do was get away from that place which held much pain and discomfort for us both. It was a shame, there could have been as much pleasentness there as in Abri in Eygpt. we were in no mood for it and headed out with blinkerd eyes.

But we both left with a new understanding of wearing the riding clothes ALL of the time, no matter how hot it is. We had been let off lightly, and we knew it. Ethiopia is apparentlty the most germ infested country on the planet, according to my health care nurse in the UK…..

Clearing Ethiopian customs we headed out of town to a camp site called Tim and Kim’s. The road and scenery were breathtaking. Green fields and lots of trees. A real contrast to the deserts of Sudan. We rolled our way down and mostly up to a peak height of two thousand two hundred metres. Stopping for food under trees for shade as it was sill as warm as a desert we listened to distant children, closer goat bells and passing trucks instead of buzzards and pounding silence in your ears. I thought the camp ground was about one hundred and twenty km away, but I had missed out a leg of the road so it was about two hundred away. The last fifty two km was on semi loose gravel so speed was down to thirty or forty clicks at most. This took a brain numbing two hours. Not helped at first by taking the wrong path down a bumpy grassy field, through a brook to a cul de sac at a bewildered looking family, thinking what the feck is that coming down the drive. As I had promptly stalled the bike on our shaky arrival the twenty or so children came out to look. After diane pushing we turned the bike around and I fired it up!! surprising how quick children can move when they are scared witless. We bounced off again and through the brook. Arriving at camp after one km of very rough ground we thankfully arrived and fell into a beer or two with Rob and Sarah.

Day 38 Wednesday 17th November

Had a great day tinkering with the bike and generally mooching around in temperatures twenty degrees lower than of late.

The camp site is a project I guess you would call it, run by a young Dutch couple. They have built (with the paid help of the nearby villagers of Gorgora), a small semi traditional Ethiopian village with bar cum dining room, sunken central sitting area, (mostly occupied by dogs). Tool shed cum workshop and a solar shower arrangement. Great to be showering when the only thing on your skin is water, soap, sunshine and the eyes of a not too distant, an arse scratching of baboons, if that is the correct collective of those things… You can camp under trees or for a little more donations, under a cane and leaf sunshade, really nice pleasant place. And its right on the northern tip of lake Tana, fantastic. Even though the water is muddy due to the recent end of the wet.

Day 39 Thursday 18th November.

Walked back into village after a great breakfast of local bread and our toms and onion. The bread is fairy soft, twenty five mill thick and comes as a round cut into six, so you can buy as much or little as you need. We had the idea of a walk up to a near by highish hill and walking the tops back to the lake. Mistake. As when we got near the top we found that the stubble grass was over a metre high an possibly snake territory. After getting a bit lost we headed down to village a walked the tracks for a couple of hours. Played chess and had another beer as the novelty a has not yet worn off from our Sudanese dry spell.

Day 40 Friday 19th November

Tore ourselves out of paradise and rattled our way back down the track and headed to Gonder.

We arrived at the only hotel that lets you camp at one pm and discovered that the site is out the back and your not allowed to ride through the lobby, odd for this part of the world.. After much negotiations we were camped up in the flower beds in the side garden, as you do. Diane was bushed and crashed out in the tent while I wondered into town for food. I hate to be complacent but the market was just as fantastic as I expected. The roads were different in that not only being earth but very stony also. The area must specialize in chillies as there are hundred kilo sacks of them everywhere. An hour of ambling bought enough supplies for the next few days. I walked into town on one side of the castle and back on the other passed an enormous fig tree. So taken by its sheer size I neglected to take its photograph.

Day 41 Saturday 20th November

Heading out this morning to the Simian Mountains for a few days walking. Two clicks out of town the road went to pot, and after the ride to and from Tims I threw my dummy out of the pram and stopped by the roadside and did not want to go the one hundred and forty km to Debark. Its also a return trip as the road out, onto Axum is worse. I really did not want to give up but I felt that the poor bike was shaken up enough the days before, and being water cooled the fan was on all of the rough roads with the temperature only one segment of overheating warning. We spoke to William who was his way out and told him that we were heading south to Blue Nile Falls and we would probably see him in a few days. The ride was glorious, again, through high mountains covered with trees and dark green vegetation, sweeping valleys and lots of hair clip bends. Their rains had not long finished and as a result often water would pour out of the rocks and across the road.

Thirty two clicks from the Falls the road went back to stone track, bugger. We arrived at four thirty and at a steady twenty km per hour it took a while…

We asked at the tourist office where we could camp only to be told there is no room at the Inn. Sat in the baking sun with sweat running down my back and stink wafting from most if not all places of my person we managed to be let into the garden of the tourist info and camped up in the garden, again, getting used to this. We had all fairly mod cons, water and a loo to use. The Nile pan from Hell, well its very stinky anyway. Alfresco for me!!

We were be-friended by the head of the office, a young man called Bela’. He was a diamond guy and could not do enough for us. After dinner he returned and took us to the Hydroelectric power plant social club for a subsidized beer. Perfect end to a nice day.

Day 42 Sunday 21st November

A good nights sleep was disturbed at a very agreeable six thirty by bird song of a million different types of flapper.

Bela’ came for us at eight thirty and took us on a two and a half hour walk of the Falls and gorges. The walking was a mixture of flat and steep climbs. Every turn opened up another breathtaking expansive panoramic view of patchwork fields, very similar to Hereford, but backed by mountain ranges spiked with old volcano’s. Fantastic to be stood fifty metres from the base of the fall getting cool spray on a warm face. The walk turned back over the top of the falls, so we were standing in a field of grass that Injura is made from and the river was flowing gently through this with hardly a ripple before going lemming like over the edge into the void. Crossing the river back in an over loaded motor boat we then walked to the back of the village through a field littered with cow parts. Kid you not, there was hooves with leg bones sticking out of them, ribs and skulls with horns on them. Nuff to put you off your burger.

Day 43 Monday 22nd November

Back at garden base, Diane had a kip and I named and downloaded photos. While I was doing this Bela’ came over and asked if I would put my photos of the Portuguese bridge on a flash stick for his boss who was visiting from Addis Ababa. When he saw them on the net book he asked to see the ones of the falls. He said that he had never seen so much water coming over it. This was due to the power station being shut for maintenance so all the water was going over the top. He explained that they were making a promotional poster for the area and could he have these pictures as well. Never know they may be all over Bahir Dar next spring. (had a comment posted on this blog from Bele on October thirteenth, two thousand and eleven. the banners promoting the ‘falls are now up, but in Gondor!!!!) After he left I caught up with my Diary. Nice chilled afternoon.

We headed out from the falls at first light as to try and avoid the days heat to give the poor bike an easier life. It took just over two hours to get to the falls but this early the road was was not strewn with mules, cows and dogs that looked as though they may give chase. Bit of a bugger when you dare not to go any faster than a hound can run. Back in town we found a bank to change money, only to have Diane detained there for forty minutes to be told they could not due it with English money, her crisp new dollar bills were fed into the machine and she was told the notes were ”no good”..

I sat outside on the bike surrounded by the towns youth who cross-examined me about England and football, oh dear. Rescued from learning more than I wanted to know about Manchester United we visited internet café, filled all our fuel vessels and headed north. North?? yep north back up to Lalibella to see the rock hewn churches. The road on the map was fairly straight but in reality it snaked up and down the mountain, but always gaining height. We topped out at three thousand meters. The roadside was lined with eucalyptus trees and firs that smelt fantastic with the clean mountain air. We had the G.P.S. Co-ordinates for a ”hotel” that had camping facilities. We gave up trying to drive the tent pegs into the hard standing that was our bed for the night and tied the guy ropes to some small trees that doubled as washing lines and the pannier racks on the bike. The place was a bit of a dive but they left us alone, next night, oh how I would appreciate that.

Day 44 Tuesday 23rd November

The Lalibella turn was thirty clicks along the road where we turned north immediately onto another dirt road. This one was to last for sixty or so km. The ride up was fairly enjoyable if a bit hard work, but unexpectedly the last twenty two of it was a sealed surface, bonus.

We checked that fuel was available then found our pad for a night or three, as we wanted to do a little bike stuff and catch up on the clothes washing in the luxury of hotel surroundings. After bouncing my way down a very stony earth track, through a small market, around a cow that refused to move, up and over the two hundred and fifty millimetre thresh hold into the yard I had arrived in a cloud of dust scattering small children in my wake.

The room was OK and ”clean” if a little tatty, the shower was great, being the first for about five days, warm water and lots of soap. We walked the cobbles into town and restocked food, then headed to tourist info to enquire about the churches. With tickets bought and a very nice guide, whom we could ”carry over” to tomorrow, so to speak, with no more cost we headed off. There are twelve churches in all, dedicated to various saints and virgins (find me a virgin and I dedicate a church to it as well). They were dug from the roof down into the rock, so the top of the roof is at ground level. This was done to enable one to get in touch with ones spirits, apparently. It is hell of a feat of man power and planning as the columns and windows and the like are all of one rock, no joints. As for the man power it is said that king Lalibela dug them himself, in twenty seven years, with him on day shift and the angels on nights…. Probably stumbled upon them more like (Pharaohs and pyramids style) after being told to sod off and live elsewhere by his siblings because their mum favoured him. Something to do with white honey bees, you’ll have to google it, sorry. Anyhow these building are set in three groups and the groups are connected by trenches to carry the rain water away, which means that if the went to all that trouble, Ethiopia was a lot wetter a thousand years ago. The average height of the structures is eleven metres. We were shown around the three first churches, by four pm, and all my scepticism aside they are really awe inspiring. Back to the room for a quiet evening turned into a lot of pestering from the hotels young staff, wanting me to ride the bike to ”a more safe place”, up a flight of steps on a bendy plank, into a small room. If I had even got the bike in there, there was no way I would get it out without a lot help. These young boys were definitely up to no good! Sponsoring their football team of four and wanting more money for the room as his dad had arrived and we reckon he’s pissed off because Diane beat his son down on price!! I’m off to bed..

Day 45 Wednesday 24th November

We decided to find another pad and packed up and was stowing the gear on the bike by seven o’clock. Diane stayed in the room munching on a breakfast banana, looking after our gear as we both felt unwelcome. I noticed that one of my stickers had been ripped and the Egypt one was broke and mostly missing. On my return to the room Diane was telling the owner the reasons for us leaving, when she showed him the damage he did not seam to surprised or bothered. An hour later we were drinking coffee in other hotel but the cost of one hundred and fifty EP was a kick in the balls.

Still, we met our guide and had a nice tour round the remaining churches. Diane would have liked to have taken more photos but her camera batteries were not up to it. Why she did not put in some new ones baffled me as this site was something she has been looking foreword to for probably twelve months or more.

Diane asked our man if it was possible to see some traditional dancing in Lalibela, he said he would be back later with some info. When he returned she thought that he had got the wrong end of a stick and wad arranging a private affair for us. After us doing a little bike maintenance together she seamed to loose interest and went to bed and slept. I carried on with the bike for two or so hours and got some money off it. At the room Diane was writing her diary so I went to the bank, and told our guide lies about how she felt ill, which I hated doing. We showered, cooked. Diane went back to sleep at seven thirty.

Day 46 Thursday 25th November

Rode to Lake Hake through mountain scenery which was fantastic. Riding through firs and eucalyptus trees again, the smell of them and the clean air was invigorating. The mountain road was unusually quite so we were not breathing the smoke and soot from trucks all morning. I thought of the possibility of the Omo Valley being an unnecessary diversion. The appeal of a seven hundred mile round trip to see a tribe sadly does not have a lot of interest for me.

Our, (expensive, one hundred and fourteen Birr) camp site was at the bottom of a damp steep hill and I thought that it would not be much fun riding up it in the morning. As it was late we cooked in the dark and hit the sack. As we dozed off the rain started and Diane said how she liked the sound of it on the tent roof, I replied it just made me grumpy, thinking of the possibility of a wet day tomorrow, and the slurry I would have to ride up the next day.

Day 47 Friday 26th November

I struggled to get the bike up the hill but with Diane and three locals pushing we got it to the summit OK.

We left for Addis Ababa at seven O’ clock and arrived at five in the evening. The distance was only four hundred and fifty km, but the amount of animals on the road made it hard work. The cows move slow but usually don’t change direction, the goats are completely bonkers and run about at random, the younger people are too cool to move out of the way, and the older ones don’t seem to understand that they have to look up and down the road before attempting suicide.

At the top of one mountain pass we waited at a tunnel entrance for oncoming traffic, listening to strange sloshing noises coming from the black hole. We rode into it and the road was made of large stones covered with three inches of wet slurry. The one km was Hell to ride and I was grateful to the truck behind for keeping his distance and having better lights than mine. At the exit I was very relieved to be out and thought it could not get much worse when around the corner was thick cloud cover!!!

We caught up with Robin and Helen and rode with them for a while. He was looking overtake a truck and started to move to his left as I watched with amazement as his rear tyre deflated before my eyes. So we sat with them for forty minutes with a few cow hands. Repair made we set off ahead of them, but they soon were out of sight as I passed a smoky old van and they did not.

At Wim’s camp sight we hit the bar as they could not find the key to the compound. When the gate was unlocked, it was a great camping site, with water, grass and a gate to keep out the children. Sad but true. The other two arrived at half six, having had another puncture. A good night was had by all with too much beer.

Day 48 Saturday 27th November

We slept in till the sun made the tent too hot, really needed the sleep I reckon.

My morning was spent getting the chain oiler working as I now had used all the spray we bought with us. It took ages to get it to work, I checked all my connections for the vacuum and that the feed pipe was not trapped of kinked anywhere. In desperation I took the metering head apart and after much head scratching discovered the spring that holds the needle off its seat was fitted above and not below. With it moved it now works wonderfully, which is a load off my mind as the chain was starting to look a little neglected. We wondered into town and bought food and came to the conclusion that my cooking stove now is in need of a new part. It has finally given up the ghost after failing all those days ago in Venice.

Day 49 Sunday 28th November

We spent the day with Vincent and Corrine, whom are from Holland and are very easy company, walking through Addis to the natural history museum via auto repair town en route to stove city. Sad really as it was Sunday and all of Vincent’s tyre repair shops were shut and we missed by one street, stove land. The museums were good and we saw Lucy’s double, missed herself as she is in London on tour, bugger. (Lucy is the skeleton of the oldest person yet found)

Day 50 Monday 29th November

Spent the day with Dave and Donna who are from Ireland and great company, applying for Kenya visa’s and wandering around town posting back home unnecessary cloths, buying vehicle insurance for the rest of the trip and internet stuff. Managed to buy two litres of synthetic oil so the first part of Tuesday is an oil change that will take longer than I reckon.

Day 51 Tuesday 30th November

The day was taken up by the oil change and washing off the slurry that came out of the tunnel of doom. Was good to change the oil as it had been in for over ten thousand clicks, and although it looked clean on the stick, when it was in Dave’s washing up bowl it was too dark for my liking. Could not believe that an oil change could take all day….. Donna and Dave came back from the Kenya embassy and said that they would not give them our passports so we need to get them this afternoon so we can move from Wim’s lovely camp site. Dave offered to take me there in his truck as the bike is still in bits. So we accepted and bought them some beers in return. Had a great evening but a headache will be on the cards in the morning. William arrived at four pm, was good to see him again.

Day 52 Wednesday 1st December.

Good grief its December!! Spoke to my folks the other day, and they said how cold it is in the U.K. now, with a frost on the ground all the day. Strange to imagine that we have got acclimatized to the warm. It’s still twenty degrees at night….

I reckon that all of us at Wim’s Holland House have got cabin fever, Vincent and Corrin left yesterday, and the rest of us are packing to go today. Its been a great place to stop at and get various jobs done, but its time to go. Felt a little sorry for William as he just arrived and we are all leaving. He wants to get some welding done on his truck, but after meeting the man who slated his vehicle I think we will see him sooner rather than later. I said I could do it for him a Jungle Junction at Christmas if they have a MIG welder there.

We sat on the outside bar of Ras Hotel and had breakfast, was nice but the hassle off some of the street vendors trying to get me to buy a wall map of the world, a woolly hat or ”teach yourself Arabic” does tend to get you down a little. With blog updated and money changed we went  back to the bike to find a small but significant oil patch on the ground under the oil filter, yep the disturbed and not changed ‘O’ ring was weeping. Went buy another litre of oil and failed as they had sold the remaining dozen that morning. To my amazement the second garage has a huge supply of synthetic oil. Had to buy a four litre can though. On the road out of town and feeling pleased about moving on, the day was warm with a cooling blow through my jacket. Two km out of town we hit traffic, mostly trucks blowing vast black clouds of hot diesel smoke over us. We crawled along for an hour before finally coming past the truck and trailer lying on its side which had caused the queue. The rest of the ride to lake Awassa was really enjoyable for me but Diane felt dehydrated and really rough.

One of the highlights was as we crested a long slow climb and spread out below us was a vast plain of pale red earth with what I would call typically African trees. Around three to four metres high, flattish canopy and very dark foliage. These were in contrast to the red barked ones we had ridden through earlier that day.

We stopped for a few times but thankfully after two litres of water later Diane felt much better.

We arrived at the camp site which was not really a camp site but they let people set up a tent in the garden of the chalet type complex. I’m developing a liking for sleeping in gardens so look out on our return… Dave and Donna were already set up and invited us to eat with them, that was a real kind invite as it was an hour to dark and I had to try to reseal the oil filter cover. Not a lot of oil had leaked but it was enough to see it on the rear tyre side wall and make a mess of the sump guard and the coil of rope I have stashed in there too. Repair effected but not tested we ate a listened to Donna telling her tail of the hippo that came out of the water as she was having a look at the lake earlier. There are also monkeys sat about in the trees watching us. I was nervous of leaving tools lying around as one of them had made off with a half pack of Donna’s smokes.

They talked of their plans to head into the Omo Valley, and I wondered if our intention of heading to the border was the right one. Now we have made a move from Addis should we see more of this country or will we be ”wildlife’d out” in Kenya.

Day 53 Thursday 2nd December

We slept later than the others and as a result missed the monkeys climbing over my bike, little darlings.

We still had not decided which road to take as we left the hippo-less garden. Out of town we found the road north back to Shashemene so headed toward the Arba Minch road. We rode up and down the main street several times before abandoning the alleged more scenic route and headed south again to Yabello which was our goal for the day. It seemed to take ages to arrive in Dilla, probably because I would like to fill my tanks and not worry about fuel. Every gas station we rode into had the same story, ”sorry no benzine”, as we left town the low fuel light came on… Wa asked at the last gas station why no fuel. The guy explaned that the power was off in town, and they could not pump the fuel out of the ground!!

For next ninety km we rode our reserve ten litres which would have run out forty clicks  down the road. The scenery was fantastic, the earth had turned to a deeper red in contrast to the lush green vegetation that stretched as far as the eye could see. At Gerba another station was visited. This had fuel  and power so three cans and both tanks were brimming. I said to Diane as we rode out, that if they had no fuel we would have been stuck there till some arrived. Not a nice thought, being held against your will, by powers out of your control….. At around four pm and just passed Hagere Mariyam when the back end of the bike started to wander about. Bugger flat rear tyre, again. We still had two can’s of fix it fast tyre stuff. The first got us 5km where we fixed the puncture with a patch, despite not leave there till eight pm or so were chuffed we had fixed it in the ”field”. I rode the bike off the road and down  onto a track. The repair took probably two hours, I say probably because we had no clock on the bike today. As we thought, within ten minutes we had an audience of around fifteen locals. These varied between older wise elders, toddlers and their mothers and the usual children. As our work progressed the crowd got a little larger and the elders gave way to adolescents. They were no problem but I never like to work with an audience. Every now and again a ripple of laughter went around, we did not know what caused the outbursts but had the general feeling that we were the butt of the joke….. The wheel fitted in with more speed than I would have hoped as it was now dark and we used a torchlight and a head torch. I rode into the shallow ditch and up the bank to the road with more confidence than I felt. With sixty clicks left we headed off at a steady thirty kph.

Riding through the dark, and breaking the number one rule in the Africa overland book, ”Don’t ride at night”, I could smell a whole bunch of new smells from the night flowers that were absent in the day time. Riding under the sky full of all the stars you can’t see with so much light pollution that I am used to in the civilized world. The villages that are so full of life and hazards were now only inhabited by  a bunch of donkeys smoking and chatting about the days beatings that they had suffered. The only signs of human life were the fires that burned in huts and blew smoke across the road to catch my attention. Twenty or so km from the hotel at Yabello, we were blowing the tyre back up again with the last can of quick crap. This held till the first hotel on our side of town. I rolled up to the gate with that soft rolling feeling you only get with a flat tyre, Diane went it to sort a camp spot or at a push, a room. The room was the only option, but as it was now ten pm we did not feel like tent erection drill. While parking on a tiled patio area outside our room, I felt a pang of guilt as the centre stand ground its way through the glaze as we heaved three hundred and twenty kilos of bike up and rearwards.

Day 54 Friday 3rd December

With no food to be had from the hotel we breakfasted on peanuts and biscuits. Diane caught up with her diary and went out to check the tyre in the cool of early morning. To my surprise the tyre was still inflated to forty p.s.i.  Common sence said take out the inner tyre and find out what had happened. I really did not want to, but here was a perfect hassle free place to work. As I set to the African audience arrived, this time four middle-aged men whom did not ripple with laughter, but grunted with what I imagined was approval…. My attempt at patching had failed as it was flapping about like a broken door in the wind. Bugger. Once more common sense kicked in, (unusual for me) and I fitted the spare inner tyre bought in Egypt with the plan of having the repair effected by a local tyre smith.

We rolled out of the gate in midday heat en route to said tyre welder. As he spread the ”rubber solution” onto the damaged area I caught a familiar whiff of Evostick!!! I watched with amazement as instead of smoothing the patch outward as I had been taught, he beat it with a rubber mallet without mercy till he was satisfied  it was defeated. I reckon he did that because its a ‘contact adhesive’. After backtracking to another hotel we second breakfasted on scrambled eggs, bread, chips, tomato sauce, coffee and fresh squeezed mango. Well we only had an onion and tomato roll the day before.

Feeling ill I rode ever south to the border and Moyale. The scenery alternated between termite or anthills made from the dark red earth into phallic obelisks, and scrub tress with a dash of camels thrown in. north of Mega we did not take a diversion to that old Spaniard ”El Sod” but pushed on. As we past through Mega (in name and NOTHING else), I felt sorry for the young people of the surrounding villages as this ”Mega” village may be where they go to on a Saturday to shop and hang out… bugger. Make you appreciate what you had at home before abandoning it and rushing off into hardship and uncertainty on a motorbike you can’t touch the ground on.

We rolled in town and put eight litres of fuel in to ease my nerves, the lad told me that the pump price (which was lower than normal)  was incorrect, as an innocent abroad I paid him the two extra Birr per litre..

Close to the bridge over the dry river bed that was the dividing line between Ethiopia and Kenya I spied the immigration building on the left. Inside the man said ” no problem, I can stamp you out today, but if you need to stay a day or two that’s fine”!!

Diane and my bike had been ”taken hostage” by two men on my return. One older and maybe more wise and a stooge-like side kick from a Gary Larson carton. Negations began on the possible cost of a truck to Isiolo. ( think I should clarify at this point the necessity for some overlanders to hire space on a truck or a 4×4 to carry themselves and their iron mule. The road from Moyale to Isiolo is alleged to be fairly horrendous to ride, varying from OK gravel to largish pointy tyre popping rocks, and a washboard like surface that could rattle the filling from a tooth or prize the top from a Marmite jar, according one who passes through a week or so ago. The Chinese are now making a sealed road from the south, but we don’t have two years to wait). Chewing the phat at bar room tables it was rumoured two hundred USD would get you a ride, flash the green backs and the Moyalions will jump into the pilot seat and speed you south. The old stooge reckoned a truck space was worth six hundred, a knackered ”private hire” land-rover, eight hundred and a Land Cruiser around a grand. Bugger. Diane beat him down to four hundred for truck, (poor him) it seemed that was the going price.  The immigration man called through the fence and said ”now or tomorrow”, kind of him to tell us. Stamped  out we are to clear customs in the morning. This left us at the mercy of the wild imagination of Gary Larson’s mind creation, in a cap and a swagger that made you smile or cringe because it was not put on for effect. As we past by well lit fruit and veg sellers in the darkness he kindly pointed them out to us. We shared a bag of wind inducing lentil samosas that were so delicious you can’t help yourself but to have one more. He said he had no woman so I guess the wind won’t trouble him. We ”camped up” in a dusty yard at the back of a bar cum café and failed to get much sleep, or wash, or use the loo as there was no water in Moyale. Thankfully we had enough to brush our teeth with.