Aunt Anna ends up on Mars - second part about Djibouti

To FREEDOMtravel

Advertisement

Guest writer: Anna Nilsson Spets

Morning coffee in a new dusty hole, nothing like the coffee in the Horn of Africa, the tongue curls with the flavours. The road is paved and soon I find myself at the lowest point in Africa, 155 metres below sea level. 

Tweet

Share

Share

Pin

Share

Share

Lac Assal is a salt and crater lake, the third saltiest in the world (the two saltiest are in Antarctica and Ethiopia). The lake is located in a part of the Danakil desert that spreads over three countries: Djibouti, Ethiopia and Eritrea. However, Lake Assal is quite small, 19 kilometres long and 7 kilometres wide. 

The lake is shrinking all the time as the water level drops, the salinity is around 40 per cent and you can actually take a dip here. My driver does that, he says it's good for your health.  

Salt is naturally extracted here, both industrially and by hand. The nomadic Afar people have an important source of income here. Along the road you can see camel caravans loaded with bags of salt. 

 The Afar people are nomads, the word Afar means 'the first'. They move around according to where there is grazing for their animals and day labour. Life is tough as the climate does not allow for cultivation and there is not much schooling either. 

I bargain the price for a bag of salt and some beautiful salt crystals.  

The Great Rift valley is where you can clearly see the movement of the tectonic plates as a wide crack between the rocks. Two cm per year is the displacement. The view of Tadjourah Bay is breathtaking, in the centre is Devil island with its active volcano. 

Devil island is a mythical place where few fishermen go. Once upon a time, Jacques Cousteau apparently discovered a nondescript monster-like animal at the bottom. He lowered a cage containing a dead camel, when the cage was retrieved the cage was in pieces and the carcass was gone... Unfortunately there is no photographic evidence of this event, perhaps it is myth, perhaps truth. Diving in this part of Tadjourahviken should otherwise be world class. 

The trekkers, yes so incredibly sad to see all the refugees coming from Ethiopia, over the mountains. They walk all the way to the coast, boat to Yemen or Saudi Arabia. Then on the death boats to Lampedusa in Italy. In Obock (near Tadjourah) there is a large refugee camp. 

We stop for lunch, the driver eats and disappears behind the house for his prayer time.  

Next stop at an Afar village where relatives of the driver are waiting for the bundle of khat he bought. They show me how they live but definitely do not want to be photographed. 

I finally arrive in Tadjourah, Djibouti's oldest town, which was a base for the export of ivory and slaves in the 19th century. I'm supposed to relax here for 6 days, but it's not at all what I expected. 

Check in at Corto Maltese, simple room, certainly with a sea view but a rubbishy beach. I eat fish and rice and lie down in the bed which is so hard that I might as well be lying on the floor. 

This is followed by days of severe stomach flu, not your average tourist diarrhoea, and I take a tuk tuk to the hospital. The hospital consists of four military tents in the middle of nowhere. In nowhere there is nothing. Laboratories, equipment and computers, nope. I get a drip and watch the nurse sweep up used needles and dressings. Here they mostly treat malaria, dengue fever and malnutrition. Mothers with limp babies and feverishly shaking old people come in a steady stream. 

I change to the neighbouring hotel, the family-run Le Golfe, a little worn but extremely nice and soft bed. 

Get even sicker and go back to the tents and get another antibiotic, my school French is tested again. My insurance company demands a full medical report with tests etc, tries to explain that this is not possible. My tent doctor writes a certificate by hand on semi-dirty paper, this is not accepted. The pharmacy shelves are empty and I get almost identical medicines to the ones I should have had? Phew. 

 Sleeping, eating white bread and drinking coca cola. Watching the sea. Talking to the feathered inhabitants. 

It's last night with the girls at Le Golfe, a young girl is getting married in the village the next day. I'm invited and manage to sit through an hour of dancing and singing and beautifully decorated girls and female relatives. 

The day of the return ferry to the capital, it turns out that the ferry is cancelled, Moussa gets a car and 4 hours later I am back at the City hotel. Somewhat better and starting to be able to move further than 50 cm from the nearest toilet. 

The market in Djibouti is, well, extremely messy with rubbish everywhere. It stinks, smokes and is 35 degrees hot. A self-appointed guide who is going to show me all the family's shops gets me hooked straight away. I buy a dress mostly to get rid of the guide. 

There must have been some kind of system on the market, a tangle of alleys and easy to get lost. 

Rubbish collection had probably taken place last year. 

The last evening, I spend with Moussa, my super-duper tour guide. We go to the Decan animal rescue centre which is a project run by volunteers. Here they take care of animals that are either at risk of extinction or confiscated animals such as the cheetah that anxiously roams back and forth.  

There are porcupines, tortoises and the greenish Somali monkeys. Admission goes to the project. 

Djibouti delivered, Africa is and remains my place in the world. 

Follow Anna here:

• Web
• Facebook

Anna Nilsson Spets

60+ year old lady with a lifelong love for Africa. Emigrated to Flanders in Belgium and works with plants on a daily basis. Writes, takes photos and tries to inspire others to budget travel on their own. Blogs on "Anna's mix" about travelling, work, plants, writing and much more.

You might also like:

Djibouti - or Aunt Anna travelling to the moon Facts about Egypt - 30 things you (might) not have known 22 Egyptian gods that tickle the imagination Armenia - a new destination for wine lovers All about beer in Armenia - from flavour trays to peach beer