Land Cruising

After three wonderful days in Kemba, we departed in the afternoon for Arba Minch, some 90 kilometers away, and the closest point for catching public transportation for our return journey north to Addis.

Our visit to Kemba occurred during a “green-drought.” This southwestern region of Ethiopia continually battles nature: the ground is arid and dry, and the eucalyptus trees that are planted for their sturdy wood and rapid growth serve to leech water from the earth in selfish quantities. The rain is unpredictable, even in the rainy season. Ethiopians hurriedly plant crops when the first rains come, but have no assurances that the plants will bear produce before the rains cease and the land dries up again. It’s a cycle of ongoing hard work with occasional gain. During our visit, the land was lush and verdant and the people of Kemba were well-fed.
The morning of our departure was foggy and drizzly, with occasional torrents of water cascading from the sky. The ochre paths winding around the Action Aid compound were slippery and sloppy. All along and among and around the paths are planted gardens: maize and sugarcane and apple trees. With the strong rain, they seemed to grow inches overnight. I made Indian chai for breakfast, rich tea blended with raw cow’s milk and a hefty spoonful of sugar in each cup.

It was cozy, sitting with the Action Aid group and listening to the rain pattering upon the metal roof and sipping sweet tea. It reminded me of home: that wet and lush Willamette Valley. Cambric tea and a woodstove. It seems that the rain will never end, that the sky will never clear, that the moisture will last forever.

But, as in Oregon, the rain did cease. For a moment. Midday, we went to visit the Kemba women’s co-op group. A total of 60 women have joined together to form a lending-program and the leaders invited us to their weekly meeting. Action Aid assisted with the organization of the group, bylaws, technical assistance, and the initial capital for lending. Each woman pays monthly dues, which helps to increase the total lending principle available for use. The ventures are very different: one woman used the loan to purchase two calves which she is raising to sell when they are grown. Another woman used the loan to build a strong barn for her animals so that they can be healthier and thus, garner more profit. The ten leaders of the project consider proposals based on outcome, goals, and level of need. Each woman is allowed to borrow no more than 10 times the amount of her savings: $10 will allow for $100 in loan. The project seems to be working very well. The women shared some of their feelings and thoughts with us, many centered upon their feelings of accomplishment and achievement. They are grateful to Action Aid for these opportunities and are committed to helping other women have the same experience that they have. They spoke about their increased levels of power and control in the homes. They are proud and involved. It was an absolutely inspiring meeting.

Quick dash back to the compound for lunch and packing, and then left for Arba Minch by 3:30PM. The rain had momentarily ceased, but the land was still very wet. The road to Kemba isn’t exactly smooth. Buses cannot travel there; most people walk and a few ride horses. The terrain is rocky and steep and the road climbs through and over and around beautiful hills. The hard work that is put into building and grading roads is foiled every year by heavy rainfall. However, Ethiopia is a very rocky country, so even when the soil washes away, there is enough rock remaining for the Landcruiser to lumber up the steep inclines and grab purchase on the descents.

We bounced through the afternoon, slipping in some places, sliding in others, but always remaining on the road. The Action Aid driver was magic and amazingly adept at his job. The pace increased as the sun sank lower. Ethiopians do not drive at night. Ever. The country roads are dangerous enough during the day; the population is terrified of being out on the road after sunset.

Just as the sun was setting, still 30km from Arba Minch (but on a mostly paved road and easy road which might be plausible to traverse at night) we reached a river. Now, we had already crossed a few rivers, but none higher than the hubcaps. This one was bigger. And powerful. And surging over large boulders that had washed down the hillside. We all got out of the car and slipped over to the muddy scene. We surveyed the water and talked about the possible depth. We threw in rocks. N waded in a little ways and really freaked everyone out. Darkness set in and we remained indecisive.

Suddenly, the darkness was lit with flashing lights: an ambulance skidded to a halt next to our vehicle. Although I don’t speak or understand Ahmaric, the guys in the ambulance said that they were crossing the river and that we could follow them. We (westerners) are inclined to trust in emergency vehicles and I was delighted by their enthusiasm and assurances. They charged right into the water, full speed ahead. Halfway through, their Landcruiser lurched to a stop, lodged upon a boulder. They tried reverse, they tried gunning it, and the truck only slipped deeper into the water. In the dim gleam of taillights and headlights, I could see exhaust fumes bubbling up from beneath the murky water. Soon a few Ethiopians, stripped down to undies, waded into the water to try to move the stones that prohibited a smooth crossing.

N remarked that at least if someone was hurt in this crossing, there were plenty of paramedics on hand. Mr. B looked at us strangely. “You know, because they are ambulance drivers?” He laughed. “They are working on an election campaign, they aren’t ambulance drivers. They use anything they want when an election comes up.”

Thanks to our fantastic driver, we had remained on land, instead of following them directly across (or to the middle as it was). With a puny rope doubled up and tied between the vehicles, we pulled them back out. After a few moments of assessing motor sounds, tires suddenly squealed and they surged across the river, petal to the metal. They made it across and disappeared up the dark road. We stayed behind, choosing to wait until first light, when our understanding of the crossing would literally be illuminated.

We circled back to a spot on the road where we had passed some heavy machinery, grader and tractor, knowing that the security guard assuredly on duty would give us a bit of extra protection on the lonely empty road. N and I pulled out our trusty sleeping bags and nested down in the back of the Landcruiser. We each ate our dinner: an apple from the Action Aid yard. The headlamp was in action as I pulled out my book. The Landcruiser floor was ridged and pocked with exposed staples. The night was long and uncomfortable. But as the sky lightened, we set off down the road, to see whether the water level had changed in the night. It appeared to be the same, but a safe crossing was easier to see in the daylight.

Mr. B hopped to an island in the middle to assess the depth. He gave the signal. The Landcruiser bumped across without a hitch. Mr. B got a piggyback ride across on the back of a kind shepherd.

We arrived in Arba Minch an hour later, very ready for breakfast.