Caves, Ports and Golden Beaches, Berbera

[Jacaylbaro]

As the taxi made it's way through the busy market outside the Oriental Hotel, a buselling place with makeshift stalls selling fruit and vegetables, clothes and shoes and pots and pans among many other items. Large stacks ofSomaliland Shillings lay at the side of the road in neat piles. The sellers asleep in the early morning heat. No one attempting to steel it.

 

Mahamed, my driver for the day a large man with a strong sculpted jawline, who reminded me of Jaws from the James Bond films, was taking me from the confines ofHargeisa to a place known as Las Geel, about 50km north east of the city. The closer we neared the edge of Hargeisa the more rundown and sorry the place looked. Crumbling buildings, the rubble now used as a child's play area, with small children in theed bear clothes (some with none on at all) playing among the fallen stone and masonry.

 

The drive to Las Geel was wonderful. The landscape flat with occasional hills pushing up through the scorched ground like mole hills. Hardy trees and bushes scattered across theredded dirt and sand with delicate small leaves and spindly branches. Dry riverbeds meandered through rocky gully's and large sandstone boulders, sculpted by the elements, lay in great piles, as if they'd been placed there by the gods.

 

We hit our first roadblock about 3km outside of Hargiesa. The soldier asked us to step out of the vehicle. "Where is your bodyguard?" the young man asked. I handed him the piece of paper I'd received from the head of police the previous day. He scrutinized the letter for some time.

 

I'd been on a mini mission the day before, trying to find the police headquarters, but unfortunately it was going to be one of those days that I listened to a local for advice rather than using me common sense and trusting my instincts. I'd been on the Lonely Planet forum,Thorntree , that morning and had found someone who'd posted detailed instructions on how to find the police headquarters. I'd asked an old gentleman which way the tourism office was, so I know I was walking down Independence Avenue the correct way. The old man struck up a conversation, asking me where I was from and then reminisced about the time the British had protectorate overSomaliland . A time he told me "was a good one". After our brief chat he pointed in the direction of the tourism office. Another man, who I noticed had stopped to listen in on our conversation, offered to direct me.

 

"Come, come I show you. it's very easy." I obliged to the offer.

 

We headed to the main police station in the centre of Hargiesa. "No, No" I said "I want to go to the police headquarters in the Talis Boolis district. This is just the main police station. They will not be able to help me."

 

"No, no" the man replied "This is where you need to go."

 

Twenty minutes later, and talking with four different people, we were told by the head of the police station, who's meeting we'd interrupted, that this was not where we should be and that we needed to go to the police headquarters at Talis Boolis.

 

"It's lucky I'm with you" Motima exclaimed as we left the police station heading for the bus stop "without me you would never have known where to go."

 

I didn't bother to reply.

 

We jumped on a bus to Talis Boolis district of Hargiesa, which I paid for. We jumped off at the special police division office. "No, we need the police headquarters. This is not the correct building" I once again tried to explain with little impact.

 

"No, no this is where you need. I know best."

Again after spending 30 minutes talking with five different sets of people and being told I must go to the tourism office first to obtain a letter, which I explained I didn't need, having been advised that I should avoid the tourism office at all costs because of there bureaucracy, we were once again told that we needed the police headquarters down the road.

 

"You see without me you would have been lost again" Motima explained.

 

I said nothing but wanted to rape a baseball bat around his head if he said it one more time.

 

In large writing, on a metal arch above a set of cabin like buildings said the words 'Somaliland Police Headquarters'. We had finally reached the correct place. Motima spoke to the guard for some time. I expected it most have been about why I was here, so I left them to talk.

 

Drifting into thought of what I would say to the police chief once I met him.

 

"OK, explain what you want" Motima said to me after his 15 minute chat.

 

"Have you not already explained?" I asked.

 

"No, no, you tell him. I'm not really sure why you're here."

 

I explained to the guard, who then asked me to explain again to an old man in a tatty uniform. With that we were escorted to the police chiefs office and made to wait outside.

 

"OK, you may enter now" the male receptionist explained after some time.

 

We entered the room. A large dark wooden desk sat in the middle. A bold man with glasses and a crisp, clean police uniform, with tassels on the shoulders was sitting behind the desk. I imagined he must have been the head of police forSomaliland . Another man sat at this side of the desk, but got up as we entered ushering me to the seat he had been in. I shock both their hands.

 

"OK what can I do for you" the police chief asked in a harsh voice.

 

"I'd like to obtain a letter from you, allowing me permission to travel to Berera, please." I asked.

 

"And why is this? What is you business in Berera?" he asked in reply.

 

"I'm a tourist and I'd like to visit the beaches." I went onto explain.

 

"I see" he said in one of those voices that suggests he doesn't see at all. I felt him scrutinise me with his eyes. "Are you a journalist?" he eventually asked.

 

"No, no. As I said, I'm just a tourist."

 

"Then why do you want to go to Berera. What do you plan to do there?" He asked in the same tone.

 

"I've heard the beaches are amazing and I just want to visit them. Nothing else."

 

"How long will you be there?"

 

"Three, maybe four days" I said.

 

"Ah, well OK then" the tone of this voice changed, more accepting now, as if he had finally believed what I'd told him. We will get a letter for you straight away. "How are you findingSomaliland?"

 

"It's beautiful" I said "very peaceful." I'd quickly learnt that this was the reply people were looking for when they asked this question. It was important to them that they were not tarnished with the same brush as Somalia, I came to the conclusion.

 

"Yes, yes, we are very peaceful indeed" he replied.

 

With my letter in hand, typed in Somali so I wasn't able to read it's exact meaning, but know it gave me permission to travel between Hargiesa and Berera without a bodyguard, we headed back into town. Motima followed me into the hotel and as soon as we sat. he asked "So where's my money then?"

 

"I'm sorry. What money?"

 

"The money I need for qat, as I helped you today"

 

"Sorry for one thing you didn't really help me and secondly I thought you was helping because you were being nice, not because you wanted money. Presides I don't have any on me."

 

"Yes, yes I was being nice but I need money for food. I'm very hungry from all that walking"

 

"I thought you said you needed it for qat?"

 

"All you British are the same" he went onto say, ignoring my question "The Americans are very generous but you English are very tight with your money. InSomaliland what monies in your pocket is mine too"

 

"So whats in your pocket then? I asked in a contentious tone.

 

"You British are all the same. Tight" enthaising the word tight as if it where stuck on the end of his tongue and he was trying to free it.

 

"You insult me and expect money. You're not getting any and that's the end of it. Conversation closed." I got up and walked to my room. When I returned shortly afterMotima was gone.

 

Back on the road to Las Geel the soldier handed me back the letter and waved us on.

 

Mohamed made a left turn off the road, about 50km from Hargiesa and drove the aging white Mazda along a sandy track, as we bumped over sandstone rocks rubbed smooth over the generations by the sand and wind, I could see larger hills forming in the distance, already making out there rocky outcrops like warts on an old mans face.

 

Las Geel, a series of small caves in the side of a large sandstone hill. The stone layered in varying shades of yellows and reds. it was believed nomadic herdsmen lived in the caves. Evidence of which is scattered across the cave walls. Elaborate drawings of cows, humans and weapons adorn the ceilings and sides of each cave. The drawings childlike in appearance have maintained there colour exceptionally well considering they're estimated to be over 5000 years old. Weapons and other artifacts have been discovered by french archeologist's and taken back to Paris for analysis. TheSomaliland government was asked for the items to be returned but the french refuse too. Adli, the manager of Oriental wants them to stay in France where he knows they'll not be sold off.

 

The two hour shared taxi ride to the Berera, Somalilands port town and a key trading post for landlocked Ethiopia, took me along much of the same potted road Mohamed had taken me on the previous day to view the caves. Along with thearbitery police check points, again scrutinising my permission letter, but eventually waving us through. On arrival to the Berera , with it's crumbling old colonial buildings, mud huts and rusting hulks of metal ships in the old dock yard, I quickly noticed how intense the heat and humidity was. I was sweating just doing nothing. I checked into AlMadiina Hotel, in the center of town, a small well run place with clean showers and toilets. A rarity in Africa.

 

The following morning I headed for the beaches, a walk of about 4km from the hotel. At 9am the sun was already intense and I as we neared the golden sands, I suddenly remembered I'd forgotten to apply any suntan lotion and had left the bottle in my room. A mistake a would regret for the next week. I was accompanied by Nichole, also staying at AlMadiina , and from America. Although her Asian features confused the locals no end, who kept on referring to her as 'China, China' to the annoyance of Nichole.

 

The untouched beaches of of Somaliland are quite extraordinary. Unlike anywhere else I have traveled, these beaches haven't been turned over to tourism. As a result, only one hotel exists, set back from the beach and rather clinical in appearance. We walked for about 5km stopping frequently to take in our surroundings. The golden rippled sand molded perfectly by the wind and sea stretched in-front and behind us as far as the eye could see. There was occasional fisherman or locals swimming, but apart from this we were completely alone. The beach our paradise for as long as we choose to stay. Stretches of beach contained volcanic soft black sand. Where the gold and black sands met in rippled waves.

 

Only our footprints braking the pattern. Shells washed up on the beach were quickly taken by hermit crabs, who would scurry with beautifully ornate shells on there backs. The sea although particularly salty was warm and very inviting and crystal clear. We ended up spending the entire day on the beach.

 

For the next 4 days I was in excruciating pain with sever sunburn over my entire body. I also fell ill again with food poisoning from badly prepared fish. I eventually returned toHargiesa for the night before heading back to Ethiopia.