Dire Dawa and the Desert

July 14, 2011

I had to look up the date for this. We came back that Saturday and had an uneventful nice late lunch with Bekele’s family. Then I went to the house and died. Not really. Slept. I had three days in the office writing, editing, and planning. Then I went by plane to Dire Dawa and the surrounding areas. Early morning Thursday, flight to heat.

Dire Dawa is a desert town in the east on the way to Djibuti. A town influenced by the French. It has a very colonial feel. The architecture is much more developed. There are camels in the streets. There is an outdoor café atmosphere to almost everything. And it is hot.

Our flight, boring except for the landing which was turbulent. We were hit by the wave of heat. There was some funny stuff as we entered, as  I was pulled aside 3 times to make sure I was legal. I was the only white man. We gathered our bags and went to the hotel, checked in, and then on to the Catholic Secretariat to gather the others in our adventure.

Mussie from CRS had gone to Dire Dawa on Monday. He was waiting for us with Alamayo, an engineer whom I met last year and liked very much. It was nice to see him again. He chews chat. This gets him labeled as something less than perfect. Hard to understand exactly as he is definitely considered one of the best at setting up water schemes and projects.

We gathered in our Land Cruiser and headed south. This takes you up into low lying mountains on one of the crazier roads. Last year there was a truck over turned and on the side of the road for the week I was in the area. To no  one’s surprise there was another one in almost the same place. Each time the truck was on the side of the road going up, the alternative, a very large drop. Passing on curves and fast moving min-vans are the cause.

At the top of the first leg of this there is a fork, one leads to Harar which we went to later, the other, I am not sure. Along the second way was our destination, Goro Gutu. We went there last year to look at the ArborLoo in a specific area. This year we went to two neighboring villages. They sit ont op of either side of a valley. Village A (never understood what the name was) has the bore whole that supplies the entire valley with water, Village B needs the water and has pipes, points, and tanks for this. When the bore whole was dug an agreement was made with the two villages, the community leaders, and Woreda (regional government). This happened about a year ago. Now Village A had cut off the water to Village B.

After investigation it turns out that the Sheik in Village A has a plantation and was worried that he would lose water. So Bekele and a woman lawyer from the “Food for Peace” department went to speak with him. Alamayo and I went to look at Village B and assess their status.

Village B was very proud of the amount of ArborLoo’s they had. It seemed that all had one. However because of the lack of water they were drinking out of a catchment basin covered in algae. This disturbing scene gets repeated over and over throughout this country. In any case we continued up the side of this mountain village to view what turned out to be one of the most well constructed schools I have seen. Yet no water. Reading this you can probably sense that is getting harder for me to contain my frustration and anger.

Kids chased me during the entire walk. Every time I turned to look at them or take a picture they scattered in hilarity. That was fun. Some of the people had planted quite a lot on their ArborLoo sites, mangos and bananas were most popular.

While I haven’t written much, this took a few hours of hiking. We then stopped at one more village on the side of the road to discuss the business idea and see their use of the ArborLoo. This was very fruitful. The skies opened up for a moment while we were walking. We were invited inside a woman’s house where a large discussion ensued.

The people crowded in and around the doorway. We asked about what it was they bought from bigger towns. We spoke on what they sold and how they thought the ArborLoo was and or affected their lives. Suddenly I had a clearer idea of what a business model would look like. A caravan of sorts, like those of the wild west movies, a traveling general store.

We finished and returned to the hotel, showered, and walked to dinner. It was a hot night. There were many people out in the streets of Dire Dawa. This is not to imply a bustling vibrant place, but rather a quiet and calm almost whispering place. Very peaceful. Very sandy.

The next morning we woke and gathered ourselves for a long drive north east along the dirt highway that leads to Djibouti. We were headed into the real desert. It was hotter than the day before and 115 or more in the desert. I became a human damp rag. My clothes sticking to me, water running off my head.

When we arrived at the village, this is a funny word to describe the hut like tents and ramshackle housing. The Somalis that live here, it was not Somalia, were nomadic until water was established. They used to move their herds to different areas every season. They would rotate like this over four maybe more areas. This allowed for grass to grow. Now after the deforestation and the full take over of desert, there is very little grass or… Water therefore becomes an anchor.

The heat was intense to understate it. The idea of living there absurd. Yet there was water. CRS and its partners have provided these people with water. They have also taught them how to build latrines and practice sanitation. This is amazing. The people are very enthusiastic and thankful. They are all Muslim. No animosity towards Catholics or Christians, just thanks.

When we left the village we made one more stop on the return to visit a flood irrigation and catchment project. It was quite large. Although I have no idea how the full tank would last until the next flood, if and when it ever came.

Our final site visit came Saturday morning. We went only about 7 kilometers from Dire Dawa to a dry riverbed. Here they have created a sand damn. They dug 3 meters down to bedrock and poured cement. This catches all the ground water flowing in the riverbed. It then channels the water into an irrigation system. This is a significant amount of water. The irrigation runs through its channels to a large concrete structured fishpond. Although I was not able to see the fish I was told they were plentiful. The water then overflowed into a channel that irrigated the fruit plantation below. 

It was really something – the water seemingly coming from nowhere to supply multiple food sources. I was introduced to mandarin oranges, except these were green. Very sweet and good. They grew eggplants, mangos, bananas, and another unidentified in English fruit.

I have more to say, but I am still formulating what has left a huge abstract burn in my brain. We left and caught our plane, and then I slept all day Sunday.