Im Frühtau zu Berge…
Samstag haben wir Addis um 4 Uhr morgens verlassen. Wir wollten weiter, endlich wieder auf die Straße und endlich wieder Rad fahren. Aber irgendwie wollten wir auch nicht Rad fahren, nicht in Äthiopien. Trotz unserer guten Erfahrungen hatten wir noch Angst unseren positiven Eindruck von Äthiopien dadurch zu ruinieren, dass wir Fahrrad fahren.
Zugegeben: So früh an diesem Tag loszufahren war keine glorreiche Idee. Oder vielleicht war die Idee selbst sogar gar nicht so schlecht, wir wollten den Frühmorgen Verkehr umgehen, der die Highways um Addis Stunden lang verstopft. Der erste Fehler in der Umsetzung war dann, dass Addis von der Piazza aus nur noch 5km nach Norden geht (gegenüber gut 30km nach Süden/Osten einschl. Suburbs) und von daher der innerstädtische Stau quasi vernachlässigbar wäre. Der zweite Fehler war bei Regen loszufahren. Der dritte war so mit einer wiederkehrenden Magenentzündung loszufahren, die seit dem Vortag am kommen war. Die Antibiotika hatten nicht sofort richtig angeschlagen und so sind wir dann von Regen, Dunkelheit, Kälte und in meinem Fall Durchfall, geplagt aus Addis raus gefahren. Berg auf, versteht sich.

Entgegen unserem guten Plan den Morgenverkehr zu entgehen sind die einzigen lebenden Wesen (wenn man Autos als lebende Wesen bezeichnet) , die uns begegnet sind, Läufer gewesen. Überall, alle paar hundert Meter, hat man Läufer gesehen die ihren frühmorgendlichen Marathon aus Addis raus laufen. Je weiter man von Addis weg kam, desto weniger wurden es aber die letzten haben wir erst 25km hinter Addis gesehen und die meisten sind uns entgegen gekommen, die Strecke also quasi zwei mal gelaufen. Ein Hotel nach 21 Kilometern hieß „½ Marathon“. Einige von den Läufern waren so schnell, dass sie uns selbst auf ebener Strecke noch davon gelaufen sind.
Das zweite was uns augefallen ist waren Schüße. In einem Tal wurde in unregelmäßigen Abständen aus nicht automatischen Waffen geschossen.
Zumindest dachten wir das. Wir dachten das genau so lange, bis uns das erste Kind mit Peitsche begegnet ist. Die Kinder hüten hier die Rinder, Schafe, Esel, Ziegen und was sonst noch so rumkrabbelt und dafür haben sie eine Peitsche und mit dieser Peitsche können sie so laut schnalzen, dass es sich anhört wie ein Schuß.
Ein Kind mit einer Peitsche am Straßenrand das Geld fordert ist übrigens keine besonders angenehme Begegnung. Ehrlich gesagt hab ich höllisch Angst vor denen und warte nur drauf, dass mir irgendwann mal eins mit so einer verdammten Peitsche übergebraten wird. Die Kinder waren bis jetzt aber alle friedlich und haben nur gelegentlich mit Steinen geworfen.
Später dazu aber mehr. Ich habe jetzt angefangen die Berichte semisynchron zu den Erlebnissen zu schreiben, von daher kann es sein, dass sich einige Meinungen und Einstellungen über den Verlauf der Zeit bzw. des Textes ändern.
Ansonsten war der Tag einfach zu anstrengend. Die kurze Nacht, der extreme Anstieg am morgen, Durchfall und die drei wöchige Radpause haben ihren Tribut gefordert. Ich war nach 60km schon am Ende, Fabian ging es nicht ganz so schlecht. Ich wollte nur noch in Fiche, unserem Tagesziel, ankommen und ins Bett fallen und die Welt ausblenden. Die Energie hat nicht mal für einen paar Kilometer Umweg gereicht um sich das berühmte Kloster auf der Klippe Debre Libanos anzuschauen.
Etwa fünf Kilometer vor Fiche kam dann die Überraschung des Tages.
Ein Tuktuk hat uns überholt, sowieso gehupt, und ist dann etwa hundert Meter vor uns stehen geblieben. Dann ist ein Faranji (das äthiopische Äquivalent zu Mzungu was ich ab jetzt wegen dem angenehmeren Klang verwende) ausgestiegen und auf uns zu gekommen.
Nein. Wir haben uns nicht gefreut. Wir mögen keine Faranjis, vor allem dann nicht wenn sie uns am Berg anhalten wollen um die üblichen Fragen zu stellen. Selbst dann nicht, wenn es eine hübsche Frau ist. Selbst dann nicht, wenn.. oh wait. Wir kannten die Faranji.
Dank Kurzsichtigkeit haben wir Jenny, eine der zwei Engländerinnen, die wir an der äthiopischen Botschaft in Nairobi und dann noch zwei mal getroffen hatten, nicht sofort erkannt. Dann haben wir sie erkannt, aber erst unseren Augen nicht getraut (ich wusste nicht, dass das tatsächlich geht. Aber ich meine das mit den Augen trauen wörtlich).
Wir hatten Emma und Jenny in Äthiopien ein mal in Addis getroffen und danach drei Mal dank Versagen in handyfreier Kommunikation verpasst und nicht damit gerechnet sie jemals wiederzusehen. Anscheinend hatte sie sich Debre Libanos angeschaut und war danach auch auf dem Weg nach Fiche um dort ein günstiges Hotel zu finden.
An „sofort ins Bett fallen“ war dann leider nicht mehr zu denken, aber die Alternative dann einen weiteren coolen Abend über dem Friedensbrot Injera zu verbringen war sowieso viel besser.
Es regnet, es regnet, Äthiopien wird nass
Am nächsten Morgen sind wir dann zwar früh aufgestanden, aber nicht früh losgefahren. Es hat mal wieder (ein Hoch auf die Regenzeit) in strömen geregnet. Wir saßen dann bis halb Zehn in einem Restaurant und haben einen Kaffee nach dem anderen getrunken, bis es dann endlich aufgehört hat zu regnen. Dann haben wir uns nach kurzem Zögern entschieden weiter zu fahren. Die Regenzeit wird auch morgen noch nicht aufhören und wir stehen mittlerweile etwas unter Zeitdruck noch rechtzeitig nach Ägypten zu kommen, damit wir genügend Zeit haben durch die Weiße und Schwarze Sahara zu fahren, anstatt durch das Niltal.
Die Alternative wäre gewesen mit Jenny und Emma, die an dem Tag nachgekommen ist, in einem TukTuk rumzufahren und sich Klöster, Affen und Wasserfälle anzuschauen.
Wir haben es noch verdammt bereut gefahren zu sein. Ziemlich genau zehn Kilometer später haben wir es bereut, als es wieder angefangen hat zu regnen. Auf 3000m ist es selbst in Afrika kalt, der Wind kam von vorne und wir waren in wenigen Minuten völlig durchnässt. Die gefühlte Temperatur lag um die 0°C, wenn nicht sogar tiefer. Der Wind hat gebissen wie sonst nur beim boarden, dann allerdings ohne Regen.
Ja, wir haben es bitter bereut nicht in einem trockenem warmen Matatu zu sitzen. Aber dann ist uns aufgefallen, dass es genau die Tage sind an denen man einfach „miserable“ (wenn jemand eine passende Übersetzung des Wortes ins Deutsche kennt bitte kommentieren) ist, an die man sich später erinnert und für die man sich auf die Schulter klopft. Eine Heldentat ohne Leid ist keine Heldentat.
Der ganze Tag hat mich ziemlich an die Tour auf dem West Highland Way in Schottland vor einem Jahr mit Michel erinnert. Da war es genauso kalt, nass und eklig und am Ende war es einfach nur ein verdammt cooles und gutes Erlebnis. Und wir haben ja den Tag überlebt.
Irgendwann kam sogar die Sonne raus, hat mich in den letzten zwei Stunden des Tages noch verbrannt und am Ende sind wir in einem Hotel rausgekommen, dass sogar heiße Duschen angeboten hat. Es gab auch ein Internet Café in dem Ort, wie sich rausgestellt hat ein Café das „Internet“ hieß.

Auf jeden Fall haben wir hier auf der Abfahrt das höchste Gigabyte pro Kilometer Verhältnis gehabt. Auf 12 Kilometern sind sicher gut 20gb Daten entstanden. Fotos und Videoaufnahmen, versteht sich. Aber am besten beschreiben das Ganze vielleicht die Bilder, von denen sicher zahllose hochgeladen werden. Wenn ihr euch den Effekt des Bildes anschaut, verzehnfacht und dann nochmal verfünffacht weil man mit dem Fahrrad unterwegs ist, dann kommt man etwa bei der Beeindruckung raus, die wir empfunden haben.

Und dann war man unten.
Und dann hat man den Nil überquert.
Und dann begann der Aufstieg…


Out of Finfinne
We were afraid to leave Addis. Still the prejudices against Ethiopia had a certain place in our minds and since it had been cyclists who were complaining we didn’t want to risk ruining our experience by cycling through Ethiopia. You are quite safe from stoning and Faranji Frenzy if you’re in a bus.
Of course we got back on the way on Saturday the 23rd at 4a.m. The day before my Gastritis had started to return but although I bought antibiotics right away this time it didn’t seem to work so well and so we left Addis in the dark in pouring rain and for my part carrying Amoeba with me. Bad start.
We started so early to avoid the morning traffic we had seen on the bus but didn’t know that apparently nobody wants to go to Gonder anyway and that the sprawls of Addis to the north only continue for five kilometers from Piazza. The only living beings we encounters where runners but dozens of them. They were running from Addis up the hill and back again and we saw the last one some 25kms from Addis.
But not only the distance (nothing less than half marathon) impressed us but most of all the speed. We couldn’t catch up with most of the runners on flats where we normally can, especially if you consider an extent of exhaustion they should have had. Go walk up the hill from Addis early in the morning and you will know immediately why Ethiopian runners are so famous.
At some point we heard what we thought were gun shots. There must be quite heavy shooting somewhere. Later we discovered that the cracking sounds were children cracking with their whips.
There are children everywhere and most of them have whips. To be honest: I’m scared as hell of them. A kid with a whip in the hand demanding money from you is an awful sight. And most of the time it’s several kids with whips, cracking them menacingly as you pass by.
That day was tough on us. For one it was longer than it should have been, then we had started way too early, we hadn’t been cycling for three weeks then and I was suffering from the darn diarrhea.
No fun.
We past the famous Debre Libanos with me lacking the energy to take the detour to go and have a glimpse at it and just rode straight down the road and up on the other side again. And then the most impossible coincidence happened. One of the TukTuks stopped a hundred meters ahead of us and a Faranji (equal this to our use of Mzungu. It just sounds nicer and is the Ethiopian equivalent) woman approached us. We didn’t pay too much attention at first in the attitude of “*sigh* … we’re exhausted. What does that Faranji now want from us?”.
It turned out that we actually knew that particular Faranji. It was Jenny whom we had met in Nairobi for the first time, once again in Addis and then missed four times because we failed at communication with cell phones. She had been visiting Debre Libanos that day and seen us from the TukTuk. The world is small and full of coincidences – or Ethiopia for that matter.
We had some great Injera compared with a nice evening (although Injera alone tends to be a guarantee of great evenings) and the next morning we sat in the café for two hours waiting for Emma or the pouring rain to stop.
Here comes the rain
We made a mistake in deciding to proceed once the rain had stopped and sadly not meeting Emma again. If we had stayed we could have been sitting a TukTuk driving from sight to waterfall and enjoying ourselves. But we chose to leave with the first sunrays peeking through the thick clouds.
The sun tricked us there. Ten Kilometers after we had left Fiche we got caught in pouring rain again, headwind, winter temperatures. It was just awful and miserable. The felt temperature was around 0°C and we were soaking wet. Awful! And heroic too It’s those things you later look back on and are proud of, the suffering for the sake of the cause (i.e. getting to Sudan) and not hiding from the rage of the elements. The whole day remembered me pretty much of my tour on the West Highland Way, Scotland with Michel a year ago. It had the same temperatures and rain as in Scotland and the landscape looked similar too.
And talking about landscape: It’s amazing here. The altitude is between 2500m and 3000m and it’s constantly cold and rainy but the landscape is stunning. We were riding down a mountain ridge to the Nile (above which we are now, that I write these first few paragraphs) and East and West you have those deep deep canyons. Ethiopia was for some time called Abyssinia and that with right. There are 1000m high cliffs to either side of the ridge.
At first the ridge was very wide and we kept changing sides, going along the cliffs to the West or to the East. But then on the second day it became more narrow and from some point on you could constantly see the world’s end to both sides. The clouds were hanging in the canyons in the evening and you would only see half of them. The views are plain impressive.
At one instance we saw eight “carnivorous birds” (forgot the term) sailing on the up winds. I first thought they were eagles because they were huge but then you wouldn’t see so many eagles on one spot, would you? For the ornithologists following this blog: Since I’m short sighted the only details I can add to the description is I think at least one had a lighter head, the wings looked pretty “unique” but to be honest I can’t describe them adequately. I guess that is as good as no information… but in case somebody knows the predators sailing the abysses in Ethiopia you might make a few suggestions.

Into the Deep
On a side note: I’ve started to write the articles semi-simultaneously so it’s not unlikely that attitudes and opinions change within the text as time and experiences fly by.
Abyssinia indeed. The town where we spent the night was the last town on top of the cliff above the Abyei Gorge (Abyei being the Amharic name for the river Nile). The altitude drops from 2500m to somewhere around 700m over 12 kilometers and the views are stunning.
No they are not stunning. The views, the wind, the clouds, the cliffs and boulders, the way the road winds through the cliffs, the bridges, they’re indescribable in the sense of the word. As in the German text too I simply don’t find myself capable of describing this wonder of nature adequately. The photos which will probably be uploaded en masse might help in imagining the impression if you follow a small equation. Take the impression the picture makes on you x10 to compensate the loss from eye to camera then take it x5 to add the bicycle bonus and then you might be close to feeling what we felt. A speechlessness again. Speechless in the face of nature.

As for the next day: Not worth mentioning.
As for the next day: Sadly worth mentioning. That day had been tough with a lot of altitude, head wind and changing weather and temperatures. In the early afternoon we had reached a town called Bure, some 80km from where we had started. We were already feeling slightly exhausted and still had at least 20km to go so we could reach Bahir Dar the next day.
Upon leaving Bure a crowd of children gathered, as usual, to follow us. This time though the crowd was much bigger and more aggressive than the last times. I noticed one kid for its weird running patterns. Normally they would run out of sight next to or behind the bicycles and keep yelling “Money” or “You” or varying combinations of the two. This particular kid was zigzagging between the backs of our two bicycles always trying to be out of both our views at the same time.
A few meters later it sprinted up to Fabian’s back and snatched the Ethiopia flag from his bike. I had been expecting something like this all the time (if not the flag being the target) and jumped from my bike the moment the kid sped up to Fabians. It was so shocked it dropped the flag and dashed away. The flag was lying on the dirty ground. Fabian picked it back up again and reattached it to his rear carrier.
The rest of the kids kept following us for several hundred meters, all the time crying hysterically, demanding money and you and generally being so loud it started hurting the ears. Eventually they gave up on molesting us and switched to throwing stones after us.
I didn’t spend much time here on describing the amount of frustration I had in before but I was exhausted and pissed already and the kids made everything worse. We were climbing that extremely long and steep hill, head wind slowing us down even further and all the while the kids were walking next to and behind us and annoying us as hell.
Worse: Once we had left the one group behind the next one started assembling ahead of us already. You will be annoyed and stoned. Again. And again. And again and again and again.
Frustration levels in me rose constantly and after some five kilometers or so I just couldn’t bear it anymore. I clenched my fists, I bit my tongue and lip, I yelled and I hit my bicycle. I was totally frustrated and worse of all I didn’t know how to handle the situation.
At one point I sadly lost control and spat in front of one annoying kid’s feet. It worked sadly, silenced the kid and brought me a certain triumph. A short lasting triumph though and afterwards I just felt bad for loosing control like that to a child.
One of the problems is that you are absolutely helpless. There is simply no useful or effective way to cope with the situation. You can’t possibly fight back, it is impossible to ignore and fleeing is no option either. The only thing you can do is try to bear it and that is everything else than easy.
At some point during those last 20km a point was reached in which for the moment I wished the whole of humanity was swiped away by some terrible disaster and left me in peace. I just wanted people around me to ignore me and “shut the fuck up”.
Of course it’s not more likely for people here to leave you in peace than to have them all just vanish and so we rolled into the nameless village at the junction to the Nile springs road, shouts and whistles from left and right and everything and I thought my head was going to explode.
I rolled directly in to the safe courtyard of the first hotel I found and hid from the world. Gladly Fabian didn’t object and so we stayed there.

The sad thing was that I would have wanted to continue, would have had the energy, but mentally I couldn’t bear a single meter more than we had come. That day it was just too much.
I guess it’s hard to imagine the extent of intention you get while cycling in Africa the amount of harassment you get while cycling in Ethiopia and then most of all: How in your perception even friendliness turns into harassment. It’s sad but I can’t help it.
On me the psychological demands and challenges of this tour are much greater than the physical ones. It seems to be the other way around for Fabian, he doesn’t seem to be so much affected by all the people around and can bring up the energy to joke or reply when I have long given up and honestly? I envy him for that.
That was pretty much it for that day. I hadn’t experienced anything like that since I left Burundi and even then it was much different. In Burundi it was culture shock and there were no stones involved. Here it’s not culture shock but mere frustration and exhaustion compared with constant harassment and stones.
I had waited with this conclusion in the hope it would turn out for the better but it only got worse: Cycling in Ethiopia sucks. Please note this only applies to cycling. We made a valuable experience here with spending half the time backpacking, half cycling. Ethiopia is an amazing place for backpacking and everything I wrote before is still valid. But it is an awful place for cycling.
I had hoped to find the prejudices and stories invalid but sadly they seem to be all true. Children on the country side are simply a pain in the ass. Most of them are “neutral” (i.e. “only” begging and verbally harassing) then there are a few throwing stones which are evil and then there are very few who are as cute and friendly as the ones I had described in the last article.
You’ll get everything on the countryside but sadly the bad part is the vast majority.
Ethiopia is thus the first country of which I would say I enjoyed the towns more than the country side. There is simply no reason why you want to be in rural Ethiopia. I still love urban and cultural Ethiopia.
The next day was better again. Sleeping and hiding helps in these cases and we set off very early on the 130something km to Bahir Dar. The leg was mainly downhill and we made extremely fast progress. By 3 p.m. we had reached Bahir Dar and started a fruit Spris and food orgy.
I told you towns were best. Fruit juice, cake, better food in greater variety, everything is better here.
That said: Bahir Dar itself is rather unimpressive. It’s been very well described by LP as “the Riviera of Ethiopia”. It’s exactly that.
Tomorrow we are going back on the road to Gonder where we will spend a day. After that we’re off to Sudan which we expect to enter on August 3rd. We’ve got fourteen days in Sudan until we have to leave via Wadi Halfa so we will probably cycle to Khartoum and see how far we’ll get before our Visa expires and we have to take a truck to Wadi Halfa. Sudan is also our first (and last) rogue state .
Cheers
