Dire Dawa, Ethiopia’s fourth most populous city, lies near the eastern edge of the country. Surrounded by low hills and dusty plains, the city typically appears on the traveller’s itinerary as a gateway to the ancient citadel of Harar – the ultimate destination, also, of my stopover.
Dire Dawa International Airport sees five flights a day – four one-hour shuttles from the capital, Addis Ababa, and one single international flight from Djibouti forty-five minutes away. A Chinese-funded railway had also just begun operations a few months before I arrived, replacing the historic Ethio-Djibouti rail system built by the French in 1894. The original had fallen gradually into disrepair – old rolling stock lay slowly decaying in the Ethiopian sun at the Chemin de Fer Museum. Driving past the sleepy ochre building, my driver dutifully rolled down the window. (“Picture! Take a picture! You want to come out for a picture?”)
I was travelling to Harar for its hyenas – legendary urban creatures who emerged at nightfall to prowl the city walls. According to Google, nightfall would be here in two hours – but Google Maps’ seventy-minute estimate would not take into account potholes, donkey cart traffic, and overturned cars. The driver rolled down the window again to point one out – a pick-up truck dangled off the roof of a low cement building, nose grazing the front yard, defying all laws of automobile handling. (Did the truck crash off the roof? How did it get onto the roof to begin with?)
“You see? Too much khat. This happens when a man chews too much khat.” My driver chuckled, waving a hand dismissively.
I snapped a couple of pictures before we took off again with a jolt. Khat is a plant endemic to the Horn of Africa, a herbal stimulant classified as a controlled substance (or downright outlawed) in most of Europe and USA. Students use it to help with studying, although studies strongly suggest a negative correlation with academic performance. Truckers chew it to stay awake on the road – but like alcohol, it increases driver confidence and vehicle speed. Too much khat, and hallucinations kick in – drivers swerve to avoid imagined obstacles on the road, and end up as tourist photo stops.
Here in Eastern Ethiopia, khat is more prevalent than it is in Addis, and half an hour later we arrive at the market town of Awaday. This is the global capital of the khat trade – in the approaching twilight, men and women hunched under massive bundles of leaves ducked in and out of the sidewalk crowds. Trucks piled high with fresh green leaves were being loaded and unloaded; each one had its assigned destination – Addis, Djibouti, Somalia, London, Shanghai. Up to a billion dollars’ worth of product is traded every day – regardless of drought, famine, and conflict, but the trucks always find a way through. In a region where very little infrastructure functions, the khat industry is a pretty remarkable (though controversial) industry.
As the last vestiges of sunlight retracted into the horizon, we pulled up at Hotel Winta in the centre of New Harar. Since its founding in 1007, the population of Harar has multiplied in size and significantly overgrown its 16th Century fortifications – now the modern extension of the city ensconces the UNESCO-listed old town with a jumble of hastily-constructed houses and shopfronts. It is dubbed the “living museum” and “City of Peace” – originally a part of the Coptic Christian Kingdom of Axum, it is believed that the city converted to Islam in the 7th Century when Prophet Muhammad started to spread his teachings. Today, 82 mosques dot the citadel, while the central mosque still stands a mere few steps away from an Orthodox Christian church and another Catholic church. Harar is a city of contrasts: known to be the fourth-holiest city in Islam (after Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem), it is also a stronghold of Islam in a country of largely Christians – a country, in turn, that is an island of Christianity in a sea of Islam. A five-minute drive away from the old town, Harar Brewery stands as an anomaly – a Heineken-owned producer of alcohol in the middle of a Muslim population.
Old Harar today is a well-preserved, colourful maze of narrow streets and low-slung stone houses. The ground is littered with peanut shells – absent-minded debris of the goods hawked at each street corner, piled into mini mountains atop tarpaulin sheets. Every bend in the path opens up on a different view – along “sewing machine street”, tailors hunched over their craft click away on bright swathes of cloth. In another corner of the city, the alluring scent of coffee beans wafts from the doors of Nure Roastery – even in a country whose coffee is coveted the whole world over, Harar is known for some of the most aromatic, swoon-inducing beans. A few minutes away, the Rimbaud Museum looks like an exotic interpretation of a Swiss fairytale chalet, complete with multiple gables and simple stained glass. (French poet Arthur Rimbaud spent his last years in Harar, happily slipping into anonymity in possibly the most foreign of lands in his time.) Close by, the Harar Museum occupies the mansion where Haile Selasse spent his honeymoon – and now houses old Harari coins, holy books, traditional clothing, and a dusty collection of odds and ends. (“Here is a very old Qu’ran,” rattled off the museum guide, “Any questions?” I shuffled dutifully to the next tired exhibit. “Okay. And this one, much older. Any questions?”)
I had trawled the web for a tour guide before I arrived in Harar, but was surprised by a stout, moustached gentleman when I checked into Winta. Given August was low season, tourists were the ones in high demand – Lishan Ketema, “quoted in New York Times” (true) and “recommended in Bradt Guides” (not yet verified), ushered me into a Jeep and we were soon weaving through the backstreets of the citadel.
Spotted hyenas have been associated with the city for several centuries, scavenging through the streets at night and cleaning the city of any organic refuse. Starting in the 1960s, a local farmer started to feed them scraps of meat to keep them away from his livestock. His title of Hyena Man has now been passed on to his son, who arrives at the same open field every night with a basket of camel entrails and a crowd of eager tourists. The hyenas are identified by name and mannerisms, but there is no guarantee when or if each one would turn up. When we pulled into the feeding grounds, a small crowd had already formed around the perimeter of the field. Everyone was identifiably a tourist, furnished with cameras, children in tow, and tour guides with personal Jeeps. Lishan, a big brother figure amongst the local tour guides, went around the circle exchanging pleasantries and clapping each one on his back.
The Hyena Man sat on a small stool in the middle of the field, calling out the hyenas by name and flicking scraps of meat towards the tall grass ringing us in. It was about two hours after nightfall by now, and the animals had just begun to stir. Next to the Hyena Man stood an empty stool, and when the first hyena emerged from the shadows the first tourist tiptoed towards it. His girlfriend excitedly whipped out her iPhone to record the scene.
“You never know wild animals. Sometimes two or three come close, sometimes there are twenty.” Lishan coughed and scuttled back to the Jeep. “Wait. We need illumination.”
The Hyena Man handed over a stick pierced with a chunk of meat at the end. As the man held it out tentatively, car headlights flooded the field. My NYT-quoted guide, it turns out, was the ultimate professional. “Better for photos, no?” Lishan jumped out of the car and surveyed his stage lighting.
A hyena lumbered towards the seated tourist, picking the meat delicately off the stick. The crowd erupted into animation – with proof that this wasn’t as deadly as they had imagined, the tourists began to nudge each other to go next. Our first subject scrambled up from the stool. Phones were exchanged. Whispered directions were given to optimally film the spectacle.
Lishan hissed at me and pushed me forwards. “Go, go.” He took my phone of my hands just as I unlocked the screen to my camera. “If they scavenged this morning they may not be hungry for long.”
Hyenas are typically the scrawny, leering scavengers of the African plains – supporting characters of NatGeo documentaries, prowling behind a pride of much more photogenic lions. It’s easy to forget on screen how large lions are, however. Anything smaller than a lion can still be a very big animal – a fact not often registered until you are sitting face to face with a spotted hyena. Before embarking on this trip, I had fretted over not having gotten a rabies shot. Now, sitting on that stool, I realised the futility of rabies avoidance if one crunch of these jaws could rip off your face.
The first hyena closed in. As it stretched open its mouth, I was hit by the warm, pungent odor of raw meat. Not rotten carcasses – this was the smell of bloody, freshly-torn flesh. Taking a second skewer, I decided to balance the stick in my mouth this time. Another hyena immediately lunged and swiped it off.
Lishan gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and I stood up shakily and retreated to the relative safety of the crowd. Hyenas flitted in and out of the shadows as the next tourists lined up for their turn. The millennial in me couldn’t wait to upload the video – imagining the reactions of everyone back home – but for now, it was enough to know that all my limbs were intact.
In the distant background, veins of lightning flickered through the skies. Sonorous thunder echoed into the velvety darkness. Nobody back home knew where I was right now; nobody was waiting on me to come home. Fewer than two dozen humans, unarmed, God knows how many hyenas. This was magic – standing in the middle of the Ethiopian plains, surrounded by shifty unseen creatures, an electric storm roiling the night. This was complete, anarchic freedom.
Getting to Harar
- The most popular option is flying into Dire Dawa from Addis with Ethiopian Airlines. If you are staying at a hotel in Harar or Dire Dawa, contact the hotel to arrange a driver to take you to the Old Town. The distance between the two cities is between 1-2 hours, and you’ll pass through the khat market of Awaday.
- For a more care-free option, plenty of group tours include Harar in their grand Ethiopia vacations.
- For a more intrepid (and much longer) route, there are buses – both government-owned and fancier Chinese-funded – that take between ten and fifteen hours.
- For an intrepid but relatively comfortable option, the new Chinese railway connects Addis to Djibouti and passes through Dire Dawa – all the details you could possibly need are available at www.seat61.com. Mark Smith, the founder, is a legend in the world of train travel.
Where to Stay
- Two popular spots are Winta Hotel and Rowda Waber Guesthouse, situated within the walled city. Rowda Waber is a traditional Harari-style house with a beautiful sitting area covered with colourful woven baskets and ceramics. (Even if you don’t stay here, Rowda Waber is open to visitors during the day for a small fee.) Because you are within the citadel, though, it is unlikely you will be unwinding with a cold beer at the end of the day.
- If you don’t mind taking a tuk tuk or guided tour into Old Town, I strongly recommend Winta Hotel. My room was spotless and modern, and the lobby restaurant is a complete gem. (Rather surprising given that it’s a nondescript hotel restaurant with two things on the menu – vegetarian or non-vegetarian.) I had my favourite meal in Ethiopia here, sitting by myself in a corner of the dining room polishing off a bowl of fragrant beef tibs and a small mountain of injera.
A Note on Guided Tours
- IMPORTANT: Especially in the shoulder/low seasons, tour guides are always hunting down customers. Not all are legit or charge reasonable rates – DO go through the forums on TripAdvisor for recommended guides and their WhatsApp contacts. My own guide Lishan was arranged through Winta, and is one of the most seasoned tourism professionals in the city – also highly recommend. Other than his encyclopaedic knowledge of the city, he’s disarmingly good at iPhone photography (and lighting).
