The trip to Berbera via Laas Geel was probably filled with as much entertainment as we would get in Somaliland. From our car windows we spotted an old piece of warfare (read: a tank), baboons, warthogs, camels (OK, dromedaries) and even a funky tortoise! “From that bush to this one – one day!!”, our driver was eager to explain the old shell's movements as he seemingly stopped the car on the same spot every day to show the tortoise to tourists on their way to Laas Geel. There were also some small mole-like creatures running around and across the road, but due to communicational difficulties between us and the driver and guard we never found out what they actually were. I could give the Somali word for those as indication here if I even remembered that anymore.
"Say 'cheeeeese'!!"
When we arrived at Laas Geel I was happy enough after seeing my first warthogs and baboons in the wild and probably would not have cared all that much even if the rock paintings would have been just barely visible or otherwise lame. But they weren't. They were pretty damn impressive in fact, both in how well they have preserved and in how skilled in graphic precision the painters have been for their time. Estimates of the age of the paintings vary between 4 000 and 10 000 years which makes them the oldest discovered to date, and I have to repeat what has been said about them – had they been found anywhere else they would be on the list of Unesco World Heritage Sites by now. The guestbook at the site nonetheless tells the story of how many people are aware of the place and make the trip here – and to Somaliland for that matter as most people coming here also very likely visit the site – each year, with some four Finns beating me to it as well!! Dammit.
M playing Indy.
Hail to the cow!
In between wildlife spotting we also tried our best to learn some Somali from the guys taking us to Berbera, but it seems our brains have less and less capacity left for any new languages already at this point. The fact that Somali words seem to be nearly as long as Finnish ones doesn't help in this respect. We have been pretty much full up after our first phrase: 'Wadmaahat santahai' means thank you. For the ride to Berbera we managed to repeat what we were told at least and smiled our way through all the checkpoints in fluent Somali sharing the love about where we were coming from and where heading to.
In Berbera we set camp in the Dahabshiil Hotel (not owned or sponsored in any way by the money transfer company bearing the same name) after driving around a bit and finding all other places full. Full? Bizarre that the place should have such an influx of visitors... who knows, maybe the place is truly starting to bloom in the way that the Somalilanders hope for it to. During our stay in the “country” we have heard and sensed the sincere wish of its people to be recognized as a nation on the international playground. We have mostly been taken for aid workers at first sight and then been welcomed even more heartily once identified as tourists. Having said that, it was in Berbera that we were thrown a stone at by some kid for the first and, granted, only time so far.
Feelin' wrecked? Come and chill at Berbera!
Berbera is another example of a town that is loyal to the coastal concept: nice, sunny and warm yet chilled in atmosphere. We spent our first day wandering around town in the post-khat tranquil of the afternoon, stopping for some beverages by the seaside and having a late lunch a bit further along the same seaside in a restaurant recommended to us by our man Abdi Abdi from the Oriental Hotel in Hargeisa in case we'd need any assistance while in Berbera. Indeed, we found Abdi's trusted man Ali at the place and he agreed to help us with our plans to get to the mountain town of Sheekh, in the direction of Burcao. We had been told this would be cool to visit still even if Burcao had recently been marked as off limits to tourists, as temporarily happens with things and places here. To compensate for his friendly advice and help, and to watch the show put on by the resident cats and crows, we ended up having most of our meals at Ali's restaurant.
A case of the pan (edit: the pot) calling the kettle black, surely?
Welcome to the 'Eat all you can point at' buffet.
The next day we wandered northeast to the clean beaches a few kilometers out of town. We crossed paths with some locals on our way there and rode the rest of the way in their car. For about the third time on this trip, and all of them in Somaliland, we met someone with links to Finland as one of the guys' sister had just moved over to the north a few months ago. T also got to revive his skills at beach footy with the gang while I was investigating the lifeforms of the gulf of Aden and squirming as a result of an overdose of salt on my skin while wading by the shoreline. Later we crawled to the resort-style hotel by the beach for some afternoon refreshments as T's ankle gave its notice for early retirement. The place was nice enough for us to stick around until dinner time as well, especially as we were promised a free ride back into town after nightfall.
Setting up the goal posts.
Someone didn't pay attention and is not only off-side but slightly off-pitch...
Sunset #738 - Berbera beach.
Sorry... we just love these colours too much.
Upon our supposed departure to Sheekh the next morning, Ali took us first to the taxi station to sort out a shared taxi and, once that was done, to the police station where we would get our escort. Here we found out that an armed guard alone was not enough to pass through the checkpoint out of town. Chief of staff at the station insisted that we would be required to travel in a private taxi instead of a shared one. This was obviously disappointing, as we knew that a couple of Danish guys we had met in Hargeisa earlier had just made the trip a few days ago without a problem. It was only later that Ali told us that they had actually gone without getting an escort even if one of them actually told me that we should make sure we have an armed escort. This would suggest they had got some comments about their way of doing things as the strings had now been tightened right in front of us for the second time in the name of security. This also meant that Berbera would remain the furthest east in Africa we managed to go - it would be all west from now on.
We made a point of not having enough liquidity for such a trip in a private taxi and announced our plans to head back to Hargeisa in this case. The police paved way for this plan in as much that we didn't need to get an armed guard for the return trip, but instead the checkpoints would be informed about us passing through on the chief's permission. We then went and politely asked the hotel to hand us back the money we had already paid in advance for them to keep our room for when we would have returned from Sheekh, and headed to Ali's restaurant to wait for the shared taxi to Hargeisa which we sorted out on the flow.
The ride back to Hargeisa was nearly as interesting as the ride to Berbera had been, mostly because all the 10 of us in the car seemed to have our bets on when the driver would fall asleep at the wheel. He had apparently been awake the whole previous night chewing khat and the number of yawns he performed during the trip echoed this presumption. The ladies in the car even supplied him with a lollipop and bubble gum purchased from a stopping point, and I had my eyes on his through the rear mirror for most of the way. I was sat right behind the gearstick (local conception of the third front seat!) between him and T with no chance of sleep for myself in any case so I might as well live up to my duties as deputy driver. As you can read, we got there in the end.
Introducing the windscreen. Seems like the driver has a good track record...
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