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The most memorable flight was to the north coast along the Gulf of Aden and all the way to the very horn of Africa, Cape Guardafui, where the gulf mets the Indian Ocean. We went to visit a tuna canning factory manned by Italians and incidently to carry their mail. The Italians lived there for six months of the year and seldom had any visitors.

Figuring out why wasn’t difficult. No roads led there. The nearest airport was hundreds of miles away.

But our little plane simply landed on the beach. Fortunately, the tide was out.

Approaching the Tuna Canning Factory

The four Americans on the plane stayed for three days as guests of the Italians running the cannery. The group consisted of the deputy director of the AID Mission, one of the mission’s advisors, myself, and the pilot.

The Italians were welcoming and fed us well. Tuna for breakfast. Tuna for lunch. Tuna for dinner. While they varied their presentation, after three days we had had enough tuna. Imagine having nothing but tuna for six months as they did! Talk about a low-carb diet!

During our visit I walked down the coast for six miles to the nearest village. The Somalis there could not have been more hospitable.

“You, American?” one young man greeted me in English.

When I admitted the truth, he invited me to his hut. And showed me how with-it he was by offering me a can of Coca-Cola that a dhow had smuggled in from Aden.

He also commiserated with me. It was only a few days after President Kennedy had been assassinated, and the sad news had penetrated to one of the most isolated places on the planet.

Unloading Tuna