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I will go to Mekele, try to join a salt caravan and with them I want to go to the Danakil Depression.

One Year Africa: Maybe the Hot Season

Maarten de Boeck
2006-05-01 17:15:05

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pieces were placed in a row, with at the end of each row a labourer with an axe to cut the rough pieces in equal rectangles of 40 by 30 centimetres, how these bars were piled up and loaded onto the camels' backs, twelve to eighteen per animal. Hard work in a tough environment for which the miners earn a wage of 28 dollar per week, plus a daily walk to and from Hamed Ela over presumably the hottest place on earth.

We stayed till midday. Even the same day we walked all the way back to Assobolo, passed Hamed Ela, were we had rested for a few hours. It had already become dark when we arrived in Assobolo. I had seen the sun disappear, slowly, against these rugged mountains in the west. It had been a long journey. That day we had walked 32 km.

The sun had come through shortly after we had left the salt harvest and accompanied us back to Assobolo. The temperature raised, but not exceedingly. The sun added to the beauty of the landscape, enlightened these beautifully shaped mountains in the distance. I don't know whether it was because of her presence, but I got in a better frame of mind. I enjoyed it, more than before. While walking I had led my own camel. I was daydreaming about Mongolia. What would it be like to walk through the Gobi and the Altai?

In Assobolo we arrived at the small hut where we had been before. The sisal math was taken out. Together with my companions I lay down on it. I gazed at the stars, while Assna was preparing coffee. I felt tired but happy. It was one of these moments when I experienced these subtle emotions, so difficult to describe, a mingle of happiness, nostalgia, regret ...

A day later I arrived in Bera Ale. It was the end of my journey to the Danakil Depression. The next day I would return to Mekele.

In the morning, I said goodbye to Abdella. 'Mister Abdella!', like I had sometimes called him, like he called me often 'Mister Martin!'. While I drove away I promised myself I would return one day, to repeat this journey, but maybe in another time of the year...maybe the hot season.

Thanks...
To Kebreab and Solomon.
For their generosity and hospitality. For their help and for the dozen of glasses of sugared Ethiopian tea they offered me. I barely had the possibility to offer something back.
To Senay...
For his invaluable work as a translator... and his help in general. It was a pleasure to meet you.
To Abdella.
For taking care of me in the desert...
To Assna...
For the coffee...

* derived from television documentary National Geographic, climatic extremes: hot.