The State of the Dallas

To my loyal readers:

The last month or so has been action-packed with epic battles of will. To those of you who have been kind enough to inquire about my well-being, I’m please to report that it is back, after something of a rough patch. Once in Lalibela, I acquired what I think may have been dengue fever but was just as likely a monstrous case of the flu. As my last entry indicates, I recuperated in Gondar just long enough to get myself nearly stoned to death. From there I made my way to the Simien Mountains where I again encountered adventures in stone throwing, was mauled by a mule and plagued by a case of what may best be called heinous anus with supplementary vomit.

I alighted in Aksum after a sweltering day in the cab of an Isuzu and enjoyed my time there as much as I could in the circumstances, which were darkened by an unforeseen visa deadline owing to the ineptitude of a petty clerk. Once the airline servers were back on-line, I sullenly flew back to Addis to renew my visa. Whilst there, I began to get my bearings back a bit and feel the faint stirrings of confidence. I moved back in with Hassan, my macchiato brother, only to find him in the middle of a religious revival. The hut had been converted into a Muslim prayer center. I tried to keep the beer bottles from clinking during the homage to Allah and finally quit drinking altogether.

Together we made a pilgrimage to the Wolkite area of Gurage-land, the land of his birth. It was a revelatory and inspiring experience that I hope to address in a later entry. My wholesale eating and drinking of questionable fare continue, and by the time we returned to Addis, I felt a bit rearranged. The next morning I was awoken by a thunderous burst of intestinal purée and absconded to a hotel. I spent three days there dodging the advances of enterprising hookers, reading the Qu’ran and The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and attending to the ministrations of my dyspeptic bowels. As the bell continued to toll, I finally made it to a clinic where the jolly doctor informed me that I was hosting a gala of dysentery, Guardia and hookworm. The hookworm came as a surprise and something of an insight. I’d spent a number of hours laundering everything amenable to soap, thinking that the scabrous welts on my legs were evidence of fleas. This was not the case; they were the staging-grounds of a hookworm fleet burrowing its way to my innards.

I’ve finished my course of antibiotics and also received my laptop, a maddening process worthy of Kafka novel. I intend to get to work straight away. The dreary and excruciatingly slow Internet cafes need not delay me anymore. My camera, however, is in a state of disrepair, so mere words will have to suffice for a month or so.

I’m leaving Addis and lumbering south in a couple days. My visa is again a cause of worry, so I’ll have to see Ethiopia’s nether-regions on my way back. For now I’m focusing on the desert regions of Northern Kenya. I hope to make it from the montane oasis of Marsabit to the jade seas of Lake Turkana. This is in the Northern Frontier District, a name that suggests a paucity of web access. Whatever happens, we’ll meet again in the foothills of Mount Kenya. I’ll continue forging ahead on my laptop and updating the blog haphazardly for now. Wish me luck.

Peace!