Whatshot
Adventures with Kingsley Holgate - Afrika Outside Edge 11
Adventures with Kingsley Holgate - Afrika Outside Edge 11
Author: Kingsley Holgate
Date: 2017-06-30
Date: 2017-06-30
The Danakil is behind us and it's all over with the bang of a passport stamp, a salute and the raising of a red and white striped boom. We cross a wide-open plain of no-mans-land to Djibouti.
Djibouti was the last French colony on the African mainland to gain its independence in 1977. Whilst it consists of little more than the port of Djibouti and an enclave of semi desert hinterland, for the expedition reaching this tine 23,000 sq kms country is a major stepping-stone.
A length of tatty rope between two poles is dropped. The blue and green Djibouti flag with a white triangle and a red star flutters from a pole at a military outpost. There's a line of stones that marks the border. Some Afar huts and some shot up military equipment. To the right are the jagged mountains of Ethiopia and on the left the continuing outside edge of Africa where the Red Sea narrows through the Straights of Bab el Mandab and into the Gulf of Aden. The coastline is beautiful and with Eritrea now behind us we're feeling upbeat.
Then comes Ross voice over the radio: "Shit, did you hear that " There's a roar of sound, I instantly look at my temperature gauge thinking that we've blown a motor. "Jeez, we're under attack!" I duck my head as two French fighter jets roar over the Landies, turn out to sea, have another close look at us and then head back towards Djibouti city - gave us the fright of our lives, especially this close to the Ethiopian Eritrean conflict. The French have a protection agreement with Djibouti - let's hope that this was just a routine patrol. On through the dust and the heat through the narrow streets and white washed buildings of the frontier town of Obock. "My friends, here in Djibouti you are safe," says the immigration chief quite proudly.
We camp on a spit of volcanic sand. Ross and Anna put up their rooftent, Mashozi peels some dry looking wrinkled carrots and potatoes for the goat stew pot. It takes Bruce and I a lot of huffing and puffing to drag over a long heavy piece of twisted driftwood. Tonight it will provide our light and a cooking fire. With the help of a raised enamel mug or two it will promote good cheer, laughter and discussion - in the morning its smoldering coals will be raked with a stick and blown into life for the early morning coffee. Life, if you allow it, can be really simple.
