White backpacker's experience travelling thorugh Somaliland

[MenaceToSociety]

Published: February 1st 2013Africa » Somalia » Somaliland » Hargeisa
February 1st 2013


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Jijiga
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Pretty Boring, but a great place to catch up on reading.
Reflecting that I only left Harar 3 days ago is a bit baffling because a lot has changed.

I had to deal with my usual bus station obstacle course, though it was nothing compared to Gonder, and again got the front seat in a minibus heading towards Jijiga, the capital of Ogaden, the Somali area of Ethiopia.

The first thing that I noticed was that bribes were quite evident at every checkpoint, either something I hadn't noticed before or something that is more common in that area.

Next the geography changed completely. About 45 minutes outside of Harar we went through what is translated as "The Valley of Marvels", a rocky valley which is made up of some kind of rock that erodes in a number of interesting shapes. There was a lot of what appeared to be boulders magically balancing on pillars.

We finally made it through the million check points and the Somali villages, which were mostly made up of huts surrounded by brush to keep the hyenas out, past the camels and camel milk sellers to find our way to the sprawling city of Jijiga. It was a lot bigger than I had expected.

Me Counting Some of My Shillings
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The rest are still in my backpack. No other pictures...yet.


There was nothing to do in the city except drink coffee, eat some injera and read a bit before planning the logistics of my next moves. The most interesting adventure included a guy with gold and diamond inlaid teeth that claimed to be from Ottawa (and later Cleveland, Cairo and then multiple jails in the USA) who tried to accompany me on one of my walks while charming me with stories of deportation for crack cocaine dealing. I think he was trying to scare me because when I said goodbye, he held my hand firmly and asked for money and wouldn't let go. I was kind of sighing as I hate these kinds of confrontations, I had to listen to him call me "cheap" and to "help a brother out" and to not be "stingy". I ignored him, he said farewell with a "fuck you" and I was on my way again.

Also, at the place I stayed there was an adorable little girl who insisted on practicing her English. She was maybe 8 years old, and was constantly asking, "what would you like sir?" It was definitely a bright spot.

The next morning I lazily made my way to the bus station, was crammed onto a bus with almost only women, fully covered at that, and we made the fairly smooth ride to Waajale, the boarder town which seperates Ethiopia and Somaliland.

Checking out of Ethiopia was fairly easy, they reminded me I needed a new VISA to get back in, and then the real adventures began.

My initial reaction to entering Somaliland was, "there is a lot of garbage here," as the entire area around the boarder control was completely covered in plastic bottles, plastic bags, tin cans, tires, oil cans and basically anything else you can name. Fortunately for me, things changed quickly.

I met easily the most friendly, hilarious and interesting boarder guard of my life. The conversation went something like this:

"HELLO AND WELCOME TO SOMALILAND!" He literally screamed.

"Oh, thank you."

"Where are you from, America, Britain, Australia?"

"No, Canada."

"Yes, yes, yes! I am winning!"

"Uh, ok."

He opens a drawer and pulls out a pad of paper which I notice has an apparent list scrawled in Somali writing. He put a big checkmark by something on the list.

"Finally, a Canadian, now I am beating him. You know any Swiss people?"

"No." I am definitely confused at this point.

"I am first of the boarder guards now, I am winning. Thank you for coming from Canada."

"Oh, no problem."

From what I gathered their appeared to be some kind of bet between the Somaliland boarder guards and it also appeared to revolve around collecting tourists. The normal passport control followed this before he looked at me seriously and said, "Are you CIA?"

"No, definitely not." I kind of laughed.

"GOOD. We don't like them, they are not welcome."

After this, similar conversation followed as he pointed me to the money changers and shared taxis. He bid me farewell and goodluck with one parting sentence, "law reigns supreme here, have no worries, and eat the green grass!"

I later found out that "the green grass" was chat. And I now assume he was quite high on it while dealing with me.

The money changing was also hilarious. I changed about $200 worth of Ethiopian birr into Somaliland shilling. As the largest bill is worth less than a dollar, and the normal bill is worth about 8 cents, I walked away with a full bookbag of cash. It kind of felt cool.

The shared taxi sucked and reminded me far too much of West Africa. Four people in the back seats, two people in the front seat, 5 people in the trunk. The car broke down so many times that I began to get annoyed. Especially since, as the only young male in the car, it was me who had to push the car from behind to get it going only to chase it down to slide back into my 1/2 a seat.

We made it to the capital Hargeisa after a lot of checkpoints (1 every 20km or so) where I had my passport analyized, discussion about whether or not I should have to get a haircut as it was against Sharia to have long hair (which I have never heard before) and most importantly loads of bribes purely in the form of chat for the policemen.

The capital is really large, must be at least a million people. Lots of really new cars, stacks and stacks of money everywhere, as are camels, completely covered women, camels (and camel milk) and even more really stoned looking people lounging in the shade.

I was stopped everywhere by what seemed like everyone, where I was welcomed and wished well before being reminded, "it is really safe here, you see the piles of money on the street, and no one steals it!" It seemed like 1 in 3 people I talked to was a recent returnee from Australia, Britain, Canada, USA, etc. who were investing in their country as it could now be called safe. Unlike Mogadishu, which they almost always mentioned with disdain.

I found my best deal of a hotel so far on the trip. $15 got me hot water, a washroom, wifi, free breakfast, a television with cable and a central downtown location.

My first day here was a friday, which is the Islamic holy day, which means nothing was open really. I drank a lot of juice, ate a lot of camel and just watched things pass by. Tomorrow's plan is to see about exiting the country and planning to see a few things before I leave. Exciting, but in a very relaxed way.

I have been able to spend a lot of time recently dealing with the bureacracy, and lack of mutual understanding between different departments of the government here.

The Ministry of Tourism tells me I have to go to the police to be given permission to leave the city, the police tell me that I need to get permission from immigration, immigration tells me that they only do things related to immigration (that makes sense) and that maybe I should talk to the Ministry of Tourism. So I went back to the Ministry of Tourism and suddenly they give me the documents to prove I have been given permission to leave the city. That only took me three days (though one day was my fault, I went a bit crazy with my siesta time).

I had spent most of time relaxing when not dealing with confusion and have found it quite pleasant. Drinking fruit juice and tea (and even attempting to show a few cafes how to make coffee, they really really don't want to make good coffee even though they have good machines and good coffee beans!). I have been reading and watching movies and just talking with people

Camel Market - 3-Month old Camel
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Drew a lot of attention, had to be sold with his mom, starting price was $1200
in the street.

I spent a morning at the camel and goat market in Hargeisa. It was really a lot of fun. Lots of money changed hands (a camel started at about $800) and was quite the event to see. Nothing like wandering around a field with camels everywhere towering over you, grunting while people are walking by with thousands of dollars in cash in their hands haggling over rices. The camels were especially concerning when I was warned to be careful because they might mistake my hair for hay and decide to have a taste (how many hair problems am I going to have here?).

The big change came yesterday when I left Hargeisa for the day to see Las Geel. Las Geel was recently noticed (won't use the word discovery, as the locals surely knew about it) by a French archaeologist, and has become a major find in early human history (dating from approximately 6000BC). The drive there was mostly on newish ashphalt for the first 50km and then on painfully bumpy dessert roads for the last 6 or 7km. Finally we arrived, woke up the guard, and went to the caves.

This is easily

The Goats Always Had a Guard
the most impressive archeaological site I have ever seen. Truly an open air art gallery. There were no other tourists to be seen and lots of opportunities to take picture after picture. Because there was no flash photography, I had to play with my camera settings, and since I barely know what I am doing the colours came out a bit strange from the darker caves. They looked really good on my cameras screen though!

I was able to spend an hour and half just wandering the seven different caves and losing myself in the hundreds of paintings. Most of the paintings were of cows, but there also humans, dogs, bows and arrows, and some undistinguishable animals as well.

I spent a lot of time reflecting on what exactly would have been the process to make these paintings: were they religiously oriented? socially? just doodles? And the reality is we don't really know. I also spent a lot of time reflecting on how hard it must be to be a Neolithic Historian? Almost no evidence to use and a whole lot of guessing. Really makes my research on the Aztecs seem founded on a lot of hard data!

Me and Some Cave Art


After Las Geel, we traveled to Berbera (as I was sharing a car to split costs with a German guy who was flying to Addis Ababa that afternoon). Berbera use to be a big Italian and then Somali port before the war ("the war" here is the civil war from the 1990s). You can see it everywhere. We had lunch on an abandoned beach before dropping the German off and heading back to Hargeisa. I went in and out of sleep through the drive and spent time just peering out at the desolate desert landscape. The most interesting thing that happened on the road was the villagers dumping and shoveling sand on the asphalt so that cars would have to stop and pay them to remove it! Crazy form of making money to me, but maybe shows some of the desperation that people who live in the desert have to live with everyday. I also saw a hyena who had been killed by a car. Not nearly as cute as the ones I fed in Harar.

I made it back to Hargeisa after about 17 hours and was very happy to crash in my bed after eating some

Security Guard Explaining the Art
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Cow, Cow, Cow, Dog, Arrow, Dog, Cow, Man...
delicious lamb curry.

All said and done, a great day. Tomorrow I leave Hargeisa and will be spending the next few nights a bit more inland. I don't know if there will be internet or not, so you might have to wait for a couple days for the next update!

For some great picture, check this out: http://www.flickr.com/photos/picturejourneys the guy I traveled with for the day to Las Geel and Berbera

I set off from Hargeisa in mid-morning for the small mountain town of Sheikh, as suggested by the Director of Tourism.

The ride was in a cramped shared taxi that was reminiscent of West Africa. We stopped for food and tea in a number of places before we finally climbed into the mountains that surrounded Sheikh.

When I finally uncramped myself, I realized that I was in a beautiful natural environment with mountains ringing the town. I stayed in a small boarding house with students who were taking their international examinations in the town (apparently the number one secondary school in the country was there as well as the best vetrinary school in the Horn of Africa). The biggest problem was that it was really cold! As low as 6 degrees at night!

I spent my first night just wandering around talking to local people, all of whom thought I was a journalist, until I finally went to bed. I accidentaly fell asleep for 14 hours and awoke at 11am! I ended up finding a small restaurant with a Syrian cook who begged me to ask him to make something other than Somali food. He made me some

View of Sheikh
delicious breakfast, lunch and dinners for the rest of my stay. He even gave me a knife and fork to eat it with!

After sometime wandering around and debating politics and seeing the schools and a fresh water spring, I again went to sleep and prepared to move on again.

I caught a transport truck that was heading to Burao, the second largest city in the country. I sat in the open top back and really became the celebrity of the trip, I was offered a sister in marriage (unfortunately I said "No thank you"), and made everyone who got on the truck part way through the trip blink a few times and ask what I was doing there.

Arriving in Burao was uneventful as my first hotel ended up being an amazing deal at $10 a night. I ate some goat and fell asleep early.

The next morning, after realizing there was nothing to do in the town, I decided to settle in and chew some chat with the locals. This was exciting at first because apparently no one in Burao has ever seen a white person chew chat. Unfortunately this also meant that the

More Views of Sheikh
police heard of a white man traveling alone and chewing chat. They arrived, asked for my documentation, didn't believe my story or doumentation, and I was detained. I was immediately taken to the main police station to sort things out.

Fortunately for me, the governor of the province just happened to be meeting with the police commissioner and after questioning me, came to my defence and invited me to his house. At his house we discussed politics (Somaliland's recognition and travel concerns as well as how I arrived in Burao). He told me that the police and himself had never heard of a white person traveling alone by public transport in this area before. He seemed to think it was quite cool. I liked him quite a lot.

Eventually I was whisked back to my hotel with the Governor's telephone number incase I ever needed his help to sort anything out. Later in the evening I was again detained by the police for the exact same reason, and when I pulled out my connections trump card it mostly worked. I was believed kind of, but because it was after dark, I had to immediately head back to my

Again...
hotel room. The police are now firmly of the belief that I am in the CIA (not joking). There is a police unit in front of my hotel (who caught me trying to sneak out again) as well as an officer at the hotel reception. If this keeps up (and they don't let me out tomorrow) I will be calling the Governor again.

Basically I am annoyed because now the whole city thinks I am in the CIA (rumours travel fast, right?), which means if I wasn't a target for terrorists and kidnappers, I am now. Great job protecting me police! Also, it means I am heading out of here tomorrow to a part of the more usual tourist track

So, I unfortunately need to start this blog post with the story about how I wasn't assumed to be part of the CIA:

After my eventful night, where I complained about the dangers of labeling me as the CIA to the police when they were trying to protect me, I was informed by the lovely Police Comissioner, "Hahaha, you think we think you are CIA? You are bad CIA then." Which was, of course, my opinion as well. It turns out that they thought it was a good joke to call me the CIA because they were 'protecting me' as if I was from the CIA, not just some random-white-tourist-guy. But since I was random-white-tourist-guy, as was apparent, they had a bit of fun refering to be me as 'CIA man'. I would have prefered to find this out before I ranted about it for everyone to hear (or read). So that is an unfortunate change to my otherwise (in retrospect) exciting story.

I had some nice breakfast in the morning after saying goodbye to my police officers (who were only protecting me for the night because they were worried that some super-stoned guys with "mental problems" would attack

More Old Buildings
me with a knife), I made my way to the bus station to find a way to the port town of Berbera.

After what seemed a mild African bus station experience, the police at the station scared off all the touts with a baton, I got into a van that promised to whisk me to my destination in about 2 hours. Of course the two hours didn't start until we drove around town for another two hours looking for anyone else to fill the van with. We did eventually find enough people to fill the van.

The cool part about the trip was that two of the people ended up being foreigners as well (not by look, but by birth), one from New Zealand, and one from England. It made for some nice English discussions during the ride. We drove back down through the mountains and onto the scorching hot plains. I had my police friends quiz me again and again, with my document getting us through all the checkpoints, until we finally arrived in Berbera. I had been to Berbera before, though only briefly, but this time I was going to stick around for two nights.


My Beach

Compared to the hotels I stayed in in Hargeisa and Burao, the place was a dump for the $8 a night, but it was a good bed and included a fan. The high temperatures and humidity really made you feel you were in beach territory.

The first day I wandered through town and took pictures of all the old bombed out or falling apart buildings. The city use to be a major port before the Somalian Civil War, and is only just beginning to find its feet again.

The second day, today, ended up being the real treat. I walked through the trash heap that seperated the city from the beach area (there was a nice confrontation with a really big fat camel, it backed off eventually) and found myself pretty much alone on a beach that went as far as the eye could see (eventually a guy in a jeep came and swam about 800m away from me). I swam, sunned myself and genuinely felt like I had discovered a place no one else had. It was a beach like you would only find in story books. Perfect water. Beautiful sand. And no one (except the previously

Berbera Round About
mentioned guy) to compete with space for.

While making my way back through the garbage heap (it was about a 4km walk), my peace and tranquility was invaded by a family of Somalis who did something I hadn't experienced since Ethiopia. I heard them coming from far away. They were screaming "MONEY MONEY MONEY." One woman and about 6 children were bounding through the garbage while I continued at a speedy walk to get back into the city. About 800m away from the city the first children caught up to me, they had learned all the charming English one could ever hope for, including "give me money" "give me $5" "hey mister, give me..." and then when those were met with a stern "no", they continued to impress, "fuck you mister" and then picked up rocks and threatened to throw them at me. They never did get around to throwing the rocks at me, but it was still enough to make me remember the effects of tourism, and the decisions of tourists, on the local people and their culture.

As I neared the town, some local men scared them off, apologized to me and wanted to assure me

City Hall, or so I Was Told
that it wouldn't happen again. I know it will happen to the next white person they catch sight of, but it was nice to get an apology, even if it wasn't from the people who caused the problem.

As I was walking through town back to my hotel a 4x4 stopped beside me and a man in perfect English asked, "Hey man, where you from?" When I said Canada, he said, "jump in, me too." We drove off and talked a bit, I knew he was a good man when he said, "I wish I could offer you a cold beer, but all I can really offer you is to chew some chat." And since it was my last day in Somaliland I decided, why not?

It ended up being a great and fancy experience. We chewed chat in a bit traditional hut with fancy tea cups and silver tea jugs. All the local elite were there to chat with, and more importantly, even though I received some special attention, I was just another person. I was able to relax, write a bit and then get back to my hotel and prepare for my plane tomorrow morning. And

Streets of Berbera
I have almost no Somaliland Shillings left, too perfect

So the Juba Airlines (or Airways) flight I took from Berbera ended up being the most questionable flight of my life. Security at the airport was extremely tight (though you were then charged $10 for it), and everything else was a standard experience. I was glad I could get rid of the last of my Somaliland Shillings, because there was no where to exchange them, as it helped kill the time (you had to arrive two hours early for no apparent reason).

The airplane was really old, ended up combining 4 flights (Djibouti, Bossasso, Mogadishu and Nairobi), and felt light it was going to fall apart before it left the ground. Good thing Berbera has Africa's longest runway!

When we were coming in for our landing I saw Djibouti City, and my first reaction was, "WOW, look at all those paved roads and all that development!" Customs was a bit of a hastle, but eventually I received my 1 month VISA on arrival (70 euros) and slipped out of the airport with no problems. The first thing I noticed was the foreign military everywhere! American, British, Italian and French. The next thing I noticed was the French language! "Bonjour!"

First Time Diving


I ended up meeting a couchsurfer at the airport who worked in the French military. We went to her house where I got my free French military base day pass and I found myself on a semi-private beach within my first hour in Djibouti! After a few hours she returned with her husband and we went out for some food downtown. We had super delicious fatira and, with more amazement than I could ever expect, ICE CREAM! My tastebuds had been so apparently dulled in Somaliland that I was overwhelmed with deliciousness! I couldn't help non-stop thanking them.

The next day I woke up early and headed to the beach again (3 days in a row!). In the afternoon I met back up with the couple and they took me out diving! The first time I have ever been diving. Even though I was treated like a giant baby by the diving staff, I really enjoyed my 20 minutes under the sea. I saw millions of fish, a turtle, some eels and loads and loads of neat coral. It made me want to do it again! It also completely ruined snorkling. It will forever seem boring in comparision.

Beach on the Island Near Where we Dived


We had dinner at a fairly fancy restaurant where, again, my tastebuds were overwhelmed with delciousness (foie grais, fish, wine and bread) as well as some nice chats about hockey, American culture, and growing up

[original dervish]

[quote]Fortunately for me, the governor of the province just happened to be meeting with the police commissioner and after questioning me, came to my defence and invited me to his house. At his house we discussed politics ([u]Somaliland's recognition[/u] and travel concerns as well as how I arrived in Burao). He told me that the police and himself had never heard of a white person traveling alone by public transport in this area before. He seemed to think it was quite cool. I liked him quite a lot.
[u][/u] [/quote]

Asking some random white boy for recognition

[Somalistan]

I felt as though the blogger exaggerat in some of his encounters with the locals. A nice read nevertheless.It does point to us that we have much to do still in making our country easily accessible by non natives. It seems every foreigner that tries to travel to these ends meets challenging obstacles, specifically when dealing with customs and transportation, areas in need of great improvement.

[MenaceToSociety]

I felt as though the blogger exaggerat in some of his encounters with the locals. A nice read nevertheless.It does point to us that we have much to do still in making our country easily accessible by non natives. It seems every foreigner that tries to travel to these ends meets challenging obstacles, specifically when dealing with customs and transportation, areas in need of great improvement.

Actually he was fond of the customs guys...These visitors actually talk nice about Somaliland because usually they come in from Ethiopia and they are suprised to find a place where a lot of people speaking English and there are no beggars.

[Enlightened~Sista]

That was an interesting read. I don't like how government officials invited him into their homes to talk to him about 'recognition', I mean he's just a 'random white guy' not a member of parliament or something. It was quite painful to read about the deported Somali guy from America begging this white guy..nin dhan begging so unashamedly.

[InoCabdi]

I am umaware of this thing called "Somaliland"

[Thuganomics]

That was an interesting read. I don't like how government officials invited him into their homes to talk to him about 'recognition', I mean he's just a 'random white guy' not a member of parliament or something. That was embarrassing, just shows how low we've sunk. It was also quite painful to read about the deported Somali guy from America begging this white guy..nin dhan begging so unashamedly.

Stop spinning it like that dhoocil OD.He said:" we discussed politics and travel concerns as well as how I arrived in Burao". If they discussed POLITICS then of course the issue of recognition is going to come up

[Enlightened~Sista]

Okay I edited that part out. Just shows the friendliness, approachability and humility of even the highest echelons of the local government. I wish I could be invited into some governor or president's house if I went travelling to other countries too.

[Advo]

Nice read, I always wanted to travel and blog about my experience.

[MenaceToSociety]

http://www.travelblog.org/Photos/7377348

^ dude even chews qat, what an explorer

[MenaceToSociety]

Okay I edited that part out. Just shows the friendliness, approachability and humility of even the highest echelons of the local government. I wish I could be invited into some governor or president's house if I went travelling to other countries too.

Its called "white-worshipping" so therefore you wont be invited

[GIJaamac]

I sat in the open top back and really became the celebrity of the trip, I was offered a sister in marriage (unfortunately I said "No thank you"), and made everyone who got on the truck part way through the trip blink a few times and ask what I was doing there.

Fortunately for me, the governor of the province just happened to be meeting with the police commissioner and after questioning me, came to my defence and invited me to his house. At his house we discussed politics (Somaliland's recognition and travel concerns as well as how I arrived in Burao).

War Somaliland waa iska joke illeen !

[Tanker]

Okay I edited that part out. Just shows the friendliness, approachability and humility of even the highest echelons of the local government. I wish I could be invited into some governor or president's house if I went travelling to other countries too.

[MenaceToSociety]

I sat in the open top back and really became the celebrity of the trip, I was offered a sister in marriage (unfortunately I said "No thank you"), and made everyone who got on the truck part way through the trip blink a few times and ask what I was doing there.

Fortunately for me, the governor of the province just happened to be meeting with the police commissioner and after questioning me, came to my defence and invited me to his house. At his house we discussed politics (Somaliland's recognition and travel concerns as well as how I arrived in Burao).

War Somaliland waa iska joke illeen !

Peoople r desperate bro, they even offer sisters nd daughters for marriege..when I was there this summer a distanced cousin pplatantly offered me his sister nd I was disgusted it felt like he was pimping her..they just wana attach themselves to u bc of the foreign passport

[GIJaamac]

I sat in the open top back and really became the celebrity of the trip, I was offered a sister in marriage (unfortunately I said "No thank you"), and made everyone who got on the truck part way through the trip blink a few times and ask what I was doing there.

Fortunately for me, the governor of the province just happened to be meeting with the police commissioner and after questioning me, came to my defence and invited me to his house. At his house we discussed politics (Somaliland's recognition and travel concerns as well as how I arrived in Burao).

War Somaliland waa iska joke illeen !

Peoople r desperate bro, they even offer sisters nd daughters for marriege..when I was there this summer a distanced cousin pplatantly offered me his sister nd I was disgusted it felt like he was pimping her..they just wana attach themselves to u bc of the foreign passport

Yeah, waan gartey but that doesnt mean you have to offer your sister ama daughter to a gaal aan xaarka iyo kaadida iska dhaqeynin eventhough you are poor and hungry. Waa diin ka bax waxaasi.