Backlog 1: After three days in Pagak, off to Ethiopia

We were lucky. We needed to cross the border to Ethiopia and when I woke up in the morning, it looked like rain. We have a Land Cruiser sitting at the Police station in the Ethiopian town of Kuegan, about 25 km from Pagak. If it had rained the night before, we were to put on the Wellingtons and slog our way to Corgan on foot.

Our luck held and the dark morning clouds never transformed themselves into the torrential downpour that usually turns the loose clay dirt into a mud bath. Two days earlier, an attempt to leave the compound by Land Cruiser was aborted 20 meters past the gate when it got stuck in the mud, as did the truck sent to wench it out. With the ground muddy yet passable, we loaded the two ATV’s with our luggage and crammed ourselves onto whatever space was left on the bike. Two guys ferried four other of us to Kuergan, only to turn around and make the trip again with the remaining staff.

Although the area around Pagak is sparsely populated with little vegetation, we found ourselves increasingly deeper in the bush. The trees grew larger and more densely packed together. Tall wild grasses grew to the sides of the narrow road and occasionally would slap us in the face as we maneuvered around muddy ditches. We passed a lot of tiny villages with friendly Nuer who smiled and waved at us as we passed by. 

There were also hundreds of Sudanese walking the same path to Kuergan—a walk that takes about six hours. Strong tall women balanced baskets of supplies, or gourds full of water on their heads as they were returning to Pagak county after purchasing needed goods across the border.

At one point we crossed the border—a concrete slab that spanned a narrow stream. Jimmy had to gingerly navigate the ATV down a small concrete ramp that was just a few inches too narrow for it. On either side a couple of bored looking soldier sat in a chairs watching people go past. No ID checks, no questions, just cross the bridge and you are in Ethiopia. Should you need to avoid any entanglements with the authorities, it would have been a simple matter to just hike around the “bridge” and cross somewhere else.

Although it hadn’t rained the night before, the dirt path (road?) was still incredibly muddy. Bits of mud and cow crap would get flung up from the ATV’s tires and pelt passengers and passerby alike. At one point I had let go of my bag and it slid around my shoulder and hung off to the side of the vehicle. By the time I had pulled it back into my lap a second later it was already coated in mud.

After about an hour, we reached town. Compared to Pagak it was a sprawling metropolis but, in reality, it probably only has about ten thousand residents. We waited to get cleared at the police stationed and, after about a minute, they opened up the corrugated metal gates and let us in. A squad of heavily armed policeman gathered were gathered just sitting and hanging out to the side of one of the buildings with their Kalashnikovs in their laps, laid against a tree, or on their backs. Not far away, next to a few guys hanging out around a couple of dirt bikes, was our Land Cruiser. And not far away enough was a bit of a sausage party, as some of the policemen were taking a bucket bath and keenly watching the new arrivals.

The ATV’s and their drivers turned around to pick up the rest of the staff and we quickly tied our luggage to the roof of the Land Cruiser and checked to make sure it would still start. We had about three hours of waiting time, so we went to the local “hotel” and ordered a liquid lunch—two warm but delicious St. George Ethiopian beers. We then hit a small shop where we had a bit of tea and then it was back to the Land Cruiser for a short nap.

After the rest of us made it to the police station, we took the Land Cruiser on a bumpy hour’s ride through the green lush Ethiopian countryside to Gambella, the city where we were to stay the night and fly out of the next morning to Addis Ababa. Along the way, there were a bunch of crazy birds, a baboon, silly pheasants, and even a Gennet cat. After a series of detours, wondering which dirt path to take, and past several “Crushing Stations”, we pulled into Gambella just as night fell. We checked into the hotel and I began trying to wash off layers of caked mud in shower that looked like somebody had just died in it. After dinner, I hopped back under my mosquito net, and penned this entry. A pack of dogs had just started a fight outside my room and I contemplated where I had placed my E-ticket from the day before.