Ethiopia/Kenya - Food, Dubious Food

Sampling the local cuisine is an integral part of travelling. It's also a necessity when travelling by bike as it's hard to carry enough supplies for a single day let alone three months. But with the local 'delicacies' come side effects. We've all had GI issues on this trip (that's Gastro-Intestinal issues to anyone who hasn't spent the last couple of months with doctors, or tummy trouble to everyone else). Since leaving Turkey our bowels have developed a bipolar disorder flipping between a dammed state and one of uncontrollable flooding. Anyone who has ever accidentally taken four immodium will know that the dammed state is uncomfortable, but manageable. It's when the dam bursts that you run in to trouble. In that situation it's not uncommon for one of us to yell 'campo' at the others - our code word for telling the other two to carry on ahead while business is taken care of in the nearest bush.

Of the three of us, I've probably got the weakest stomach. No doubt caused by my unadventurous diet back home. I'm a typical Englishman and I like my food bland. Those who know me well know that it's quite normal for me to have the same meal day-in day-out for a week or more. But tuna sandwiches, cornflakes and my mum's roast dinner are thin on the ground out here, so I've had to make do. Thankfully the dambusting days have been relatively few and have usually come when we're held up in hotels. But that's not always been the case. Sometimes they occur at the worst possible time.

On the ride out of Addis Ababa, I was feeling a bit peaky. That condition wasn't helped by the choking traffic. In Ethiopia, petrol is scarce so diesel is the fuel of choice. Not normal diesel though. Ethiopian diesel is laced with a special mixture of toxins which cause even the newest cars to spew out thick black smoke. Sitting behind slow moving trucks is particularly noxious and encourages you to overtake. But overtaking in Ethiopia can be very dangerous - as Tyson found out.

Tyson was pulling past a particularly slow moving diesel tanker on the outskirts of Addis when a dog rushed out. With his view obscured by the tanker, Tyson only saw the dog at the last minute. He had no time to react and hit it head on. The impact sent Rosa's front wheel high up in the air and the dog twisting awkwardly underneath. Rosa came down hard on her right hand side, pinning Tyson's leg against the ground. Looking back towards us with his face grimaced in pain, Tyson and his bike ground to a halt just a few feet from some railway tracks. By the time I'd pulled over and got to Tyson, the dog was gone. Presumably crawled off to die in a ditch.

Seeing Tyson sitting up and Rosa on her side with the engine still roaring, I rushed over, hit the kill switch and dragged the bike to the side of the road. Jerry was checking Tyson over. He was standing, clutching his arm and hip. He had some nasty road rash but he'd live. That was all the information I needed. With precious seconds before the dambusters rolled in, I dashed off into the scrubland, yelling 'campo' over my shoulder.


With business taken care of, I returned to find Tyson in a distant state. This wasn't our first crash in Ethiopia. Far from it. I'd come off my bike barely half an hour earlier by crashing in to a sewage pipe laying in the middle of the road. But this one was different. This one was unavoidable. You could argue that we shouldn't have been overtaking. But on any other road in any other country that manoeuvre would have been completely standard. It's only in Ethiopia that such standard moves result in accidents.

Of all the countries I've ridden my bike through, Ethiopia has the most dangerous roads by far. And that's not because the road quality is particularly poor either. For the most part, the roads are actually quite good - smooth tarmac, recently paved and paid for by the Japanese finance ministry. (That explains the prevalence of Japanese cars anyway - in Ethiopia the car in front is always a Toyota). The real danger comes from the traffic, be it: human, donkey, goat, dog, horse, cow, cart, truck, or badly ridden bicycle. Regardless of who or what is on the road, none are traffic savvy and all can jump out in front of you.

We were only in Ethiopia for ten days, yet in that brief time I saw a child and a dog run over. And that was just the accidents I witnessed firsthand. There were signs of countless other incidents on the road. Donkeys, dogs, cows, even horses lying dead with their legs in the air struck stiff by rigor mortis. The animal traffic is heavy in Ethiopia but it's not unique. You encounter similar conditions in other countries - Mexico, Romania, Syria to name a few. What makes the roads particularly hazardous is the people. I cant tell you the number of times I had to slam on my brakes to avoid someone who didn't look before crossing the road. Looking both ways seems so natural to us. The highway code is drilled in to us when we're children. But that education - like so many things in Ethiopia - is lacking. I shudder to think of the number of traffic fatalities in the country every year.

With resources spread so thinly there is precious little for people to do. The kids are particularly bored. Many of them amuse themselves by waving at passers by. Those are the sweethearts. Others - the beggars - rush to the side of the road to yell 'money, money, money, money, money' in the vain hope that people will slam on their brakes and heap riches on them. Then there are the buggers. They entertain themselves by pelting passers-by with rocks. We managed to avoid being stoned in Ethiopia by waving at all the kids. A simple wave was enough to confuse the rock throwers just long enough for us to escape. But other travellers weren't so lucky. One German cyclist - Adrian - was heavily pelted as he rode his bicycle up the steep mountain roads. Rather than get angry he got even. His response was to calmly pick up a goat and cycle with it for 10km. A goat is worth a lot of money in Ethiopia. So after 10km of running after a bicycle you can bet that kid wont be throwing stones any time soon. You might think such a response is uncalled for. After all the kids don't know any better so why punish them? Maybe so. But you've clearly never had a rock thrown at you for no reason. Never experienced the blood curdling rage that overcomes you. Adrian's response was witty and measured. I cant say I would have been so level headed.

With one eye always on the road and the other watching the erratic children, we had precious little time to take in the scenery. When we did steal a glance, we saw the true beauty of Ethiopia. The undulating mountains covered in lush vegetation. Peaks shrouded in cloud. It reminded me of the Scottish highlands.



Could this rich fertile land really be the same country that experiences mass famine? So much potential for agriculture yet no sign of industry. Only subsistence farming. Maybe it was because we visited during the wet season when the country was at its most verdant. But maybe not. When we asked the locals for an explanation of the backward state of the country, they pinned the blame on two things - 'bad government' and 'lazy people'. No-one mentioned the weather.

I cant say whether the people are lazy or not. The back breaking hours spent farming the fields and herding animals certainly didn't strike of laziness. But I cant say I was particularly endeared by the Ethiopian people either. There were exceptions of course. Friendly people, like David who welcomed us in at the Ethiopian border in Metema. He gave us an excellent meal and handed us our first beers since Egypt. But more often than not the locals were an irritation. Interfering with our bikes when we tried to repair them, or trying to scam us whenever we bought something. It got quite tiresome after a while, so by the time we reached the border we were all looking forward to a new country.

Kenya has been the change we were looking for. The locals are still curious about our journey, and some still try to charge us farangi (foreign) prices. But it's a different world. The British colonial influence is strong. Cars drive on the left, tea is universally available, football dominates conversation and the logos of Man United and Arsenal are emblazened everywhere - even on the walls of corrugated shacks in remote tribal villages. British road signs, road names, land rovers, pubs, electrical sockets, supermarkets, post offices, Cadbury's chocolate, cornflakes and Ribena. Kenya is like a home from home right in the wild heart of Africa.

This spectacular country has some of the most thrilling roads I've ridden. Not because they're beautifully paved. Quite the opposite in fact. The stretch from Moyale (at the Ethiopian border) to Isiolo is 350 miles of rocky, sandy, dusty terrain that tests your metal and your bike. On this road the Long Way Down boys busted two shock absorbers. Our shocks remained intact, but by the time we rattled and bounced our way to Nairobi, Tyson's bike would only start if we pushed it, my fork oil had leaked, all our bikes had electrical problems and we were in desperate need of a welder. But bush camping in the middle of the rocky desert, amongst the scorpions, spiders and stars was truly blissful. The taste of adventure we all love. The trip we'd all hoped for.



Now in Nairobi, the milestones are passing by fast. We're over two months in to our trip, we've crossed the equator, and we've covered 15,000 kilometres. Also, thanks to the availability of western food, some semblance of normaly has returned to our bowels. Thank you Kenya.