I woke up the next day, fresh and happy. At that time, I was sure that the decision to hit the road was the right one. If I had stayed in Addis, I would just hang around the places I usually went to. Lot of comfort, no risk but also no excitement. Now I had the whole new road, 487km, in front of me to explore.

I had neither a map nor a guide book at that time. From Mergia, I knew that I would have to get to Dilla, then Haggae Mariam, then Yabelo and then Moyale. Negat Children’s Home is very close to the main road down South. Mergia walked me there, then we bit goodbye.

- See you around! – Yeah, around the world.

The first car that picked me up dropped me at the bus station. He never understood the meaning of hitchhiking. I hopped on like 3 different cars: a car, a pickup truck and a truck; each took me around 20km further. The road was winding and deceiving. After 4 hours, I thought that I must have traveled at least 150km. But the truck driver who dropped me at Dilla warned me:

- Are you sure you want to do that? Still 400km to go.

- What? How far is it from Awassa here?

- 90km.

Oh I hate it! With this speed, it’d take me at least 2 more days to reach Moyale.

The further south I went, the less traffic there was. Only a car every 10 minutes. Most of them traveled very short distance. I had to walk for a long time, and attracted a lot of unsolicited attention. Normally I would try to walk out of town to get rid of it, but at that time I was too tired to care. I put my backpacks down. Two dozens of people, both young and old, gathered around, stared at me. I took out my phone and played Ray Charles’ music loud. Soon I got carried away by the music. I closed my eyes, started whistling and dancing. Some whistled back. Some sang along. Some laughed. When I opened my eyes, the audience had grown to at least 50 people. I burst into laughing. And they all laughed. It was quite a scene. I must have been the first street entertainer they had ever seen in their entire lives in this boring village.

I got on another truck and immediately fell asleep. I woke up just to realize that the truck had come to stop. The engine broke down and the drivers were trying to fix it. There was absolutely no traffic on the road. I fell back into sleep and woke up again. The truck was still stalling and there was still no hope of fixing it anytime soon. So I just sat in the middle of the road patiently waiting for a car to run me over and end all my miseries. Finally a pick-up truck emerged from dust. It was transporting furniture with metal legs shooting up like giant teeth. I crouched trying to avoid being thrust through by one of them.

The truck dropped me outside of a small town 27km away from Haggae Mariam. It was around 4pm. I planned to hitchhike to Haggae Mariam, but as I was walking through that small town, few dozens of people surrounded me. They forcefully put me on a bus. I had no idea what they told the bus conductor that he refused to accept my payment.

I arrived in Haggae Mariam at dust and had no other choice but to stay here for the night. I walked in the only stayable-looking hotel in town, Haggae Mariam Hotel. It was way over my budget. I explained my situation to Tina – the beautiful receptionist. She was at the same age as me, and was completely shocked to hear my story.

- Stay here, pay as much as you could, and we’ll chip in the rest.  – spoke she on behalf of the staff at the hotel.

But I couldn’t let them do that. I knew they got paid next to nothing, and I’d kill myself if I took their money. Luckily, a gentleman who was staying at the hotel overheard the story and offered to pay for the rest.

After having my accommodation fixed, I began another mission impossible. I would have to buy Kenyan visa at the border in dollars, but all I had was Ethiopian birr. Something strange about Ethiopia, you can never buy dollars anywhere outside Addis Ababa. The banks only buy dollars. They don’t sell. A man there told me that he would take me to a place where I could buy dollars. I agreed to go with him after dinner time. But as soon as I walked by the reception, Tina grabbed me:

- Did that man do anything do you?

- No, he told me he’d take me to a place where I could get dollars.

- Don’t go with him. He’s not a good man. We live here, we know. – The girls around nodded in approval.

- He seems to be nice to me so far.

- He told everybody that he kissed you.

I also didn’t have a good feeling about him, so I thanked the girls and decided to drop that mission. Bored, I gave the waitresses there a hand, then went to bed early. If you ever come to Haggae Mariam, please drop by to say Hi to Tina for me.

Tags: Border Crossing, Chip, Chipro, Ethiopia, Haggae Mariam, Hitch-hiking, Isiolo, Kenya, Moyale, People, travel, Travel and Write, Travel Diary, Yabello

Broke like a church mouse (as usually), I knew that the first thing I had to do in Tanzania was to find a job. A travel agent promised me 5000 Tsh/day ($1 ~ 1700 Tsh)  to do something on computers, but he required me to do a “night interview” so that he could “get to know me better”. $3/day with a creepy boss? I’d rather enslave myself to a rich bald white yacht owner so that at least I could travel around with him.

All the decent places asked me for a work permit, and the rest just gave me a salary that would barely keep me alive, let alone giving me some saving to go to the next country. I was wandering around when I saw the big flashy billboard advertising the biggest casino in Tanzania. Like a moth to a flame, I followed the signs and found myself in front of a casino. Before the security guy could stop me, I walked towards him and asked to meet the manager.

- Which manager?

- The biggest one.

- You have an appointment?

- No.

I thought that he would have probably thrown me out by now, but he talked to somebody on his walkie-talkie and told me to me to wait. Soon, I was led in to meet a tall blond lady with a Russian accent. I told her that I wanted a job. She looked at me from tip to toe:

- Well, we are actually looking for a microphone girl. You saw all the girls in the casino now? She has to be prettier.

- …

- I think you could be pretty. But now you look like a hobo. Come back tomorrow, all dressed up so that I could see and judge.

I came back the next day. I proudly told the security guy that this time I had an appointment. He called the general manager. Judging from the conversation, it seemed like she had totally forgotten me. But he told me to wait anyway. “For how long?”. He shrugged. So I bitterly waited. Finally she appeared with a microphone and told me to say something to everybody there.

- What should I say?

- Like welcoming everybody and introducing yourself.

So here I was, in a casino, having no idea what was going on but forced to speak on a microphone while everyone around was staring at me. But well, if you have to do it, do it fast. I had no idea what I was rumbling. It must be pretty awful, ‘cos the GM laughed.

- Well, at least you are not microphone shy. Wait, I need to figure something out before I can offer you anything.

15 mins later, she called me into her room.

- We need you here 3 days a week, 3 hours a day from 9 to 12. It doesn’t pay much, but we don’t ask for much from you either. Are you sure you want to work with that amount of money?

She must have felt really sorry for me. Anyone who has been to Dar in the last year will understand how ridiculously expensive things here have become. To have a comfortable life here, you need at least $1500/month.

- For me at the moment, working is not all about making money, but rather about collecting stories. And I think a casino is where I can find some interesting stories. (Damn, what the hell was going on in my head at that time!!!? I should have bargained for more eh).

She smiled and handed me a brown envelope.

- Good. Here are few hundreds bucks. Go and buy yourself some nice dresses and makeup so that you could look like a girl. Remember, your job is to become the most beautiful girl in the casino.

That’s how my job at the casino started. Actually, “job” is too fancy a word for what I’m doing there. Other than being the MC for about 10 minutes every day, the rest of my job is basically just walking around and looking pretty. It’s such a no-brainer that I’m pretty sure if chimpanzees look good, I’d probably lose my job to one of them.

Something that rather put me off on my first day at work, but I’ve gotten used to is that 90% people there think that I’m a prostitute. My job involves a lot of talking with all the big players, and as a consequence, I’m having few millionaires, and even billionaires, offering me “friendship” with a lot of financial benefits. I never give my number to anybody there, but the managers there do.

- Sorry Chip. They are the biggest players. We have to give them whatever they ask for.

So when they call, I just plainly tell them that I’m not selling my body.

After being rejected several times, a billionaire told me:

- What’s wrong with you, Chip? Girls can kill to be in your position. When opportunities arrive, you have to put your principles away.

- Nothing’s wrong with me, Sir. If I were desperate and that were my only way out, I’d probably take it. But now I’m happy with what I have, why should I force myself to do things that I don’t like?

(to be continued)

Tags: Cash in Hand Jobs, Casino, Casino Girl, Chip, Chipro, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, travel, Travel and Write, Travel Diary

I planned to leave Addis Ababa right after New Year’s (which was on Monday). But when I woke up on Tuesday, I suddenly realized that I had no idea what it was on the other side of Moyale, how to get there, or where to go from there. All I knew was that Moyale is the border. So I decided to spend one more day in Addis at a wi-fi place to do some research. What I found was rather disheartening. Everyone who has traveled overland from Ethiopia to Kenya before strongly recommended against doing it. And they all said that it would not be safe to do it alone. I was discouraged. In the meantime, Lien tried to convince me to stay with her until the weekend for her company’s party. I was half convinced. With the prospective of leaving on an unknown road lying ahead, the comfort of Addis Ababa suddenly became so inviting. I told myself that I’d just wake up the next day and do what I feel like doing.

I woke up and felt like leaving.

I packed my stuff. I’ve got so used to it that it took me less than half an hour to pack everything into my 2 backpacks. I thought that I’d made up my mind. But when I met Lien to give her the keys, I realized that I didn’t want to leave her. For one second, I was totally convinced to stay back to write, and I almost took the keys to go back to the house. But I was already there with my 2 backpacks. I had carried them a long way here.

- No, I can’t stay for nothing. I’m a traveler, I have to hit the road.

- But do you know what road you have to hit?

- No, I don’t know exactly, but I know how to ask.

At that time, taking a bus was already out of question. I’m gonna hitchhike through Africa.

It’s about 750km from Addis Ababa to Moyale, passing by Bishoftu, Shashemene and Awassa. It’s always difficult to hitchhike from a big city. You have to know how to get out of the city, walk for a long time to get to the right highway. An annoying thing is that people don’t understand the concept of hitchhiking. When you ask for the way to one place, people always show you the way to the bus station. You end up carrying your heavy backpacks round and round.

I was lucky that time. I’d been hitchhiking in Ethiopia long enough to know the general direction. I wasn’t sure of the road, but I pretty much trusted my instinct. After half an hour, I found myself in Debre Zeit, the main highway to the South. There is a long bridge with heavy traffic and no shoulder for pedestrians. Nobody would pick me up from this side of the bridge. I’d have to cross it.

I was scared like hell. Imagine walking on a highway with all cars driven in Ethiopian style passing just right next to your shoulder. Suddenly a UN car pulled over. I hopped on. I hadn’t had time to thank him when he stopped. He took me for about 50m further. I was a bit upset, but at least I was on the other side of the bridge.

Still nobody picked me up. I decided to try my luck at the petrol station. You know, petrol station is where cars stopped to fill gas for long-haul drives. I saw a blue car there. I had a feeling that this car would travel a long distance. I hung around at the exit, waiting for the car to come out then stick out my thumb. There were two men in the car. The driver made a “Whatsoever” sign and stopped for me.

It was the weirdest ride ever.

From the moment that I got in, two of them either talked on the phone or shouted at each other. They didn’t even ask where I was going, and I had no time to ask them. But I knew that they were driving the road I wanted to go. They stopped at a square where people were wailing. They got out and joined them. Then they got in and another man followed. They shouted at each other for a while, then the new man suddenly burst into tears. I looked back, seeing that everyone got into a van that drove side by side with the car I was on. Every half an hour, all of them stopped, got out the vehicles and wailed again. My curiosity was at its height. I’d seen this kind of wailing before, on the same road, when a car hit a kid dead. My best guess was that they were paying tribute to a friend or relative of them who was killed in an accident. I dreaded to ask. They didn’t speak much English anyway.

The van finally disappeared, but they kept driving for a long time. They stopped at a small town, in front of a restaurant. I expected them to invite me for lunch, but they showed me the way to Shashemene. I was half way from Addis Ababa to Awassa.

Hungry, I bought myself a pack of biscuits with a train of kids following me as usual. I was quite happy, as the man gave me the normal price, not the faranji price. An NGO car pulled over:

- Where are you going? – asked the driver.

- Awassa. Where are you heading to?

- Awassa. But sorry, we can’t take you. It’s an organization car, we can only take you if you go like 40-50km from here, but we can’t take you all the way to Awassa without permission.

- Then take me just 40-50km ahead and drop me wherever you want.

The drive shook his head and dropped off. That was weird.

By the man, a local tout joined the train of kids to follow me. A car stopped for me, and this tout ran ahead to approach them. They drove off before the tout reached them. I was very angry, but stayed quiet. I walked a bit further and stick out my thumb, he stick out his thumb as well. He shouted at me:

- Don’t worry, sister. I get a car for you.

“Wth? Does he really think that he’s helping me?”

- No, thanks. Leave me alone PLEASE. – I raised my voice. He still didn’t give up, but I repeated the last sentence with a high-pitch angry voice without PLEASE. He finally got the message.

I got a ride with a man and his two sons. They were on their way to Langano lake where his whole family was for the holiday.

- We’ll turn left at Langano lake and leave you in the middle of nowhere. – The driver was reluctant to take me.

- It’s alright.

- It’s really the middle of nowhere. In the middle of the dessert. There is no car there to get a ride with. – His son tried to convince me.

- Nah, it’s not the middle of nowhere. I know this road.

I had a good talk with them. They really enjoyed the idea that I was hitchhiking around Africa. They invited me to join their family to relax at Langano lake. They’d drive to Awassa on Friday. I politely refused.

I quickly got a ride got a ride with a family to Shashemene. It was a young couple with 2 small sons: one about 2 years old and another about 8 years old. The kids were sitting on the back with no seatbelt on. When I got in, the wife took the small kid to the front seat and put him on her lap. I offered the bigger son biscuits. He quickly finished the whole pack, and got in a cheerful mood. He stood up and started stalking in Amheric to me. Suddenly, his Dad hit the break. He fell right in the gap between the front seats and the back seat. He probably didn’t get hurt much, but he was shocked. He started crying. His Dad put him in the spot between two front seats to console him. Man, people here have no slightest clue about safety.

It was getting dark. I still had 500km more to go. There was no way I could reach there before dark. The wife kept asking me if I wanted to stay with them in Shashemene for the night, but I wanted to get to Awassa. I was craving for Awassa’s fried fish. And I wanted to see Mergia and the kids at Negat Children’s Home again.

It’s only 25km from Shashemene to Awassa. A fancy car with 4 young boys stopped for me. They were just going around Shashemene. They took me to the bus station.

- Oh no, I’m not taking bus.

- Why?

- I don’t want to.

They talked among themselves. Then the driver declared:

- Alright, we are taking you to Awassa.

- You are going to Awassa?

- No, just for you. Then we can go party.

I tried to explain to them that I was not up for parties, and that I had to visit the orphanage but they couldn’t understand my English. When they finally understood, we were already in Awassa. They were rather disappointed, but they still took me to Negat Children’s Home. Poor kids!

I knocked on the door. To my amazement, the kids called my name and ran towards hugging me. Wow, they still remembered name! I love them! Mergia promised to take me out for Awassa’s reputed fried fish and legendary red avocado. Since the moment I met him, I ate like crazy: one tibbs, 2 fried fish, a huge jug of avocado juice, a coke. I hadn’t eaten anything for the whole day, and too much food all of a sudden almost made my stomach burst out of indigestion. But it’s good to be home.

Tags: Africa, Awassa, Border Crossing, Chip, Ethiopia, Hitch-hiking, Moyale, Negat Children’s Home, travel, Travel and Write, Travel Diary

On the bus to Yabello, it struck me how different the bus conductor looked from the rest of us. He looked comfortable. While everyone was trying to fit ourselves in, some held their bags tight, some looked around warily, some stirred restlessly in their seats; the bus conductor just sat there, leisurely looking out of the window. He knew the bus, he knew where it was going to, he knew what he was supposed to do and what to expect out of it. On his bus, he had nothing to be scared of.
Each of us is comfortable where we belong to.
A bus conductor is comfortable on the bus.
A sailor is comfortable on the boat.
A traveler is comfortable on the road.
I’m comfortable on the road.
I might not know where I am going to, but I know that I’m "going". Somewhere.
“If you don’t know where you want to go, any road will take you there.”

Tags: Backpacker, Chip, Hitch-hiking, On the road, travel, Travel and Write