The Timbuktu of east Africa
Timbuktu in Mali had the reputation of incredible wealth and at the same time inaccessibility. But when René Caillié first resurfaced from there alive in 1828 his report was disappointing. Nobody believed his story that the dream did not come true. Caillié died at the age of 38, poor and disappointed. Similarly the town of Harar in Ethiopia was a rich centre of commerce and a stronghold of Islam in the middle of a desert. Only in 1854 it was first seen by European eyes.
The city walls of Harar and the Bedro Gate
In 1880 the French poet Arthur Rimbaud (1856-1891) arrived in Aden, Yemen, as an employee of a trading company. He soon took over the firm’s affairs in Harar, Ethiopia, Only 26 years old, Rimbaud already had led an adventurous and wild life. Aged 16 he had left home in Charleville and started an affair with fellow poet Verlaine in Paris. To avoid criticism of their scandalous life and to get away from Verlaine’s wife and child they soon left Paris to continue their wild, starving and vagabond-like existence enriched by absinthe, opium, and hashish in London. Eventually Verlaine was sentenced to two years of prison for shooting Rimbaud in Brussels.
“As I was floating down unconcerned Rivers
I no longer felt myself steered by the haulers:
Gaudy Redskins had taken them for targets
Nailing them naked to coloured stakes.” (Arthur Rimbaud, le bateau ivre)
The signs of Islam are everywhere in the streets
After another affair in London with the poet Nouveau Rimbaud had returned home, studied languages and began travelling in Europe. In 1876 he arrived in Java after enlisting in the Dutch army, but soon deserted and disappeared in the jungle. Secretly he returned to France. His next destination was Cyprus, where he found work at a construction company but had to leave for home after contracting typhoid fever. Aden and Harar were his next destinations.
“And from that time on I bathed in the Poem
Of the Sea, star-infused and churned into milk,
Devouring the green azures; where, entranced in pallid flotsam,
A dreaming drowned man sometimes goes down” (Rimbaud, Le bateau ivre)
The main means of transport are donkeys....
... and the old taxis
When Rimbaud arrived in Ethiopia his short passion for poetry and revolt had long passed. After only five years as a poet, he committed, what Albert Camus called "spiritual suicide" and became a "bourgeois trafficker". His life had became dedicated to materialism and gaining profits. In 1884 he became a merchant on his own account in Harar. Later testimonies describe him as a quiet and intelligent man, sarcastic, secretive about his prior life and living with simplicity, who took care of his business with accuracy, honesty and firmness.
Harar was an arabic trading post on the trade routes between Ethiopia, the Horn of Africa and the Arabian Peninsula and one of the most important centres of Islam. Foreigners and Christians were not welcome. Rimbaud was only the third European to visit the town and the first to do business there. In 1854 the adventurer and explorer and probably British spy Richard Burton (1821-1890) had reached Harar on an expedition from the town of Zayla (at the border of Somaliland to Djibouti, now abandoned and in ruins) to Bergera (Somaliland). Burton was the born explorer. He is reported to have spoken 29 languages. After serving in India and briefly in the Crimean War he was engaged by the Royal Geographical Society to explore the east coast of Africa. In disguise he was the first to enter Mecca and later he led an expedition to Lake Tanganyika. After his explorations in Africa he served as British consul in Equatorial Guinea, Brazil, Damascus, and, finally, in Trieste. Some of his life is portrayed in Ilja Trojanows brilliant novel “Der Weltensammler”.
“They (the inhabitants of Harar) are extremely bigoted, especially against Christians, …., and are fond of "Jihading" with the Gallas, over whom they boast many a victory. I have seen a letter addressed by the late Amir to the Hajj Sharmarkay, in which he boasts of having slain a thousand infidels, and, by way of bathos, begs for a few pounds of English gunpowder.” (Richard Burton)
The old walled city, Harar Jugol, was listed as a World Heritage Site in 2006 by UNESCO since it is "considered 'the fourth holiest city' of Islam" with 82 mosques, three of which date from the 10th century, and 102 shrines. The government of Ethiopia has made it a criminal offence to change historical sites in the city like stone homes, museums and items discarded from war.
In 1854 Richard Burton described the old walled city (Jugal), and much of his description still applies today:
“The present city of Harar is about one mile long by half that breadth. An irregular wall, lately repaired, but ignorant of cannon, is pierced with five large gates, and supported by oval towers of artless construction. The material of the houses and defences are rough stones, the granites and sandstones of the hills, cemented, like the ancient Galla cities, with clay. The only large building is the Jami or Cathedral, a long barn of poverty-stricken appearance, with broken-down gates, and two white-washed minarets of truncated conoid shape. …. one of them lately fell, and has been replaced by an inferior effort of Harari art. There are a few trees in the city, but it contains none of those gardens which give to Eastern settlements that pleasant view of town and country combined. The streets are narrow lanes, up hill and down dale, strewed with gigantic rubbish-heaps, upon which repose packs of mangy or one-eyed dogs, and even the best are encumbered with rocks and stones. The habitations are mostly long, flat-roofed sheds, double storied, with doors composed of a single plank, and holes for windows pierced high above the ground, and decorated with miserable wood-work: the principal houses have separate apartments for the women, and stand at the bottom of large court-yards closed by gates of Holcus stalks. ... The city abounds in mosques, plain buildings without minarets, and in graveyards stuffed with tombs, oblong troughs formed by long slabs planted edgeways in the ground. I need scarcely say that Harar is proud of her learning, sanctity, and holy dead. The principal saint buried in the city is Shaykh Umar Abadir El Bakri, … he lies under a little dome in the southern quarter of the city.”
Islam came to Harar already in the 7th century. However, the city's Golden Age was in the 16th century. A local culture flourished, and many poets lived and wrote there.
“There are no establishments for learning, no endowments, as generally in the East, and apparently no encouragement to students: books also are rare and costly. None but the religious sciences are cultivated.“ (Richard Burton)
After I arrived in Harar I spent the first night in a rather modern and anonymous hotel in the new part outside the historic city gates. While wandering around in the narrow alleys of the old town I met again with an elderly couple, Hugh and Annie, from Brighton. They had found a lovely room in one of the traditional houses in the old town centre. At the time there were very few of these places, probably because the families did not want to loose their privacy. For the next days I staid there. I get a suite of traditional living room and bedroom. Bed and seats are hard brickwork covered with carpets and cushions. The walls are decorated with plates and photographs. Kitchenware fills the many niches and shelves. Breakfast is served in the courtyard.
The breakfast space in the courtyard and my living room in Harar
“The furniture of a house at Harar is simple, - a few skins, and in rare cases a Persian rug, stools, coarse mats, and Somali pillows, wooden spoons, and porringers shaped with a hatchet, finished with a knife, stained red, and brightly polished. The gourd is a conspicuous article; smoked inside and fitted with a cover of the same material, it serves as cup, bottle, pipe, and water-skin ….” (Richard Burton)
Couple in their living room
At the time of Burton the city gates were carefully guarded and locked at night. The keys were taken to the Amir, no one was allowed to leave the city till dawn. Still today the narrow alleys of the old town are far too narrow for a vehicle to pass. The pavement is a recent addition. The remaining water fountains are left unused. There is already water and toilets in the houses. In many places the pavement is torn open again, probably to repair the piping. Most of the houses are hidden behind walls plastered in white, green, red or blue. The women of Harar are draped in colourful scarves which give the alleys a vivid touch. The women are not veiled and not shy at all. They like to be photographed and some even ask to take their picture.
“Amongst the men, I did not see a handsome face: their features are coarse and debauched; many of them squint, others have lost an eye by small-pox, and they are disfigured by scrofula and other diseases: the bad expression of their countenances justifies the proverb, "Hard as the heart of Harar.
The women, who, owing probably to the number of female slaves, are much the more numerous, appear beautiful by contrast with their lords.” (Richard Burton)
The alleys are quiet because life goes on in the courtyards behind the walls. Sometimes an open port gives a view of the life in these courtyards. In the hope to get access to the inside of some of the houses or the mosques I take a guide. We are still not able to enter the holy places, but we are invited into some houses. In the courtyard of a Sheikh we are introduced to a woman who is said to be 107 years old. Her face is a landscape of wrinkles, but she proudly wears her jewellery and a dress in bright red.
“The fair sex is occupied at home spinning cotton thread for weaving Tobes, sashes, and turbans; carrying their progeny perched upon their backs, they bring water from the wells in large gourds borne on the head; work in the gardens, and the men considering, like the Abyssinians, such work a disgrace, sit and sell in the long street which here represents the Eastern bazar. Chewing tobacco enables them to pass much of their time, and the rich diligently anoint themselves with ghee, whilst the poorer classes use remnants of fat from the lamps.”(Richard Burton)
Taylor in the street
Street kitchen
A big part of the market is in the streets. Women carry their products or purchases gracefully on their heads. Tailors work on their sewing machines in the shadow of their houses. Women sell Quat leaves from big linen sacks. Others prepare food. On the ground in front of his shop a butcher treats the severed head of a buffalo with an axe. The use of donkeys is common to transport goods, firewood, water and garbage. The garbage is dumped right in front of one of the gates from where it is further distributed into the desert by the wind. The shit of the donkeys blends with the one from the goats, which try to find some remainders of food in the garbage discarded in the streets.
Wandering around in the streets of Harar would be a pleasure if there would not be the children. As soon as I am discovered the cry “faranji” (foreigner) follows me and soon a crowd of kids assembles around me. They are friendly, but it is impossible to get a picture without them. One is particularly obnoxious. He carries a herders stick and the tick tick of the stick follows me around during my wanderings. From time to time he shouts one of the words used for foreigners. When I want to take a picture he tries to jump in front of my lens. I try to send him away, shout at him, grab his arm, to no avail. He keeps following me.
Eventually my patience is gone. I grab his stick and put it into a hole in a wall high up above my head. He doesn’t seem to care, although this stick probably is his only possession. Maybe he has used it to drive a herd of cattle into town. I carry on, and after turning a couple of corners he stays behind. But not for long. Suddenly he stands in front of me again. I run in his direction and this time it helps, he disappears. Then I feel sorry and alone. I have lost a true companion.
“But now I, a boat lost under the hair of coves,
Hurled by the hurricane into the birdless ether,
I, whose wreck, dead-drunk and sodden with water,
neither Monitor nor Hanse ships would have fished up” (Arthur Rimbaud, Le bateau ivre)
The alleys of Harar are studded with men in rugs sleeping along the high walls. Homeless, poor or stranded farmers from the countryside? At first sight they look like drunkards collapsed from an overdose. But alcohol in one of the most important towns of Islam? Probably they collapsed from being stoned from chewing Quat. The leaves contain a light drug and are chewed widely in Ethiopia to make height sickness and heat tolerable.
In 1854 Richard Burton observed:
“Both sexes are celebrated for laxity of morals. High and low indulge freely in intoxicating drinks, beer, and mead. The Amir has established strict patrols, who unmercifully bastinado those caught in the streets after a certain hour.
Their freedom of manners renders a public flogging occasionally indispensable. Before the operation begins, a few gourds full of cold water are poured over their heads and shoulders, after which a single thonged whip is applied with vigour.” (Richard Burton)
A bar selling Harar beer
After the heat and all the wanderings of the day everybody longs for a drink. Lawrence Osborne has written a whole book about how to find drinks in the world of Islam. Outside Duke Gate I discover a restaurant with a balcony on the first floor overlooking life in the street in front of the gate. An ideal spot to relax, protected from the crowd and the kids. I order a coke. Then I notice two men next to me with glasses full of what looks like beer. One is dark as oil. They inform me that it is the special brew “Hakim stout” of Harar brewery. I order one. It is delicious. In my view this brewery in a remote corner of the world brews one of the planet’s best beers. It is very tempting to have more and then retire to the stone bed for a nap. The bar outside the gate will become my end of the day retreat during my stay in Harar.
“Perhaps every drinker dreams of his own prohibition, and every Muslim or Christian teetotaller dreams of a drink at the end of the rainbow.“ (Lawrence Osborne)
The balcony of the bar outside the gate
Harar became known for coffee, weaving, basketry and bookbinding. Rimbaud was the first European to oversee the export of the famous coffee. At the same time he began exploring the area and struck up a close friendship with the Governor, Ras Mekonnen Wolde Mikael Wolde Melekot, father of future emperor Haile Selassie.
The covered market
Family camped outside one of the mosques
“The coffee of Harar is too well known in the markets of Europe to require description …. It is said that the Amir withholds this valuable article, fearing to glut the Berberah market: he has also forbidden the Harash, or coffee cultivators, to travel lest the art of tending the tree be lost. When I visited Harar, the price per parcel of twenty-seven pounds was a quarter of a dollar, and the hire of a camel carrying twelve parcels to Berberah was five dollars: the profit did not repay labour and risk. …. The tobacco of Harar is of a light yellow color, with good flavour” (Richard Burton)
Woman with water pipe
But Rimbaud did not restrict himself to coffee. Italy was eager to enlarge its colony in Africa and an invasion of Ethiopia from Eritrea was imminent. Together with two companions Rimbaud bought old rifles and tried to sell them to the emperor, Menelik II. By the time the rifles were available his two companions had died and Menelik had scored a devastating victory against the Italians. Rimbaud had to get rid of the rifles at a much lower price and the whole transaction was a disaster.
Camel market
Harar traded with the port town of Berbera, 419 km away in Somaliland, now in the stable and safe independent northwestern part of Somalia.
“Three caravans leave Harar every year for the Berberah market. The first starts early in January, laden with coffee, Tobes, Wars, ghee, gums, and other articles to be bartered for cottons, silks, shawls, and Surat tobacco. The second sets out in February. The principal caravan, conveying
slaves, mules, and other valuable articles, enters Berberah a few days before the close of the season: it numbers about 3000 souls, and is commanded by one of the Amir's principal officers” (Richard Burton)
Although the caravans are long gone, camels are still a priced possession in the ethiopean border lands to Somalia. 30 km outside of Harar the little town of Babile houses a weekly camel market. Again, it seems to be unchanged from the times when Burton or Rimbaud used camel caravans for their businesses. The merchants look like a wild bunch. A hundred years ago you could have imagined them raiding a caravan full of merchandise on its way between Harar and Berbera. At least these people are not involved in the constant civil war in Somalia since Berbera is in safe Somaliland.
Gourd for water
Farmers, who want to make a profit, have little interest in tourists. Nobody takes any notice of a photographer. But I am approached by a tout who wants to sell Quat. When I tell him that I do not support drugs he complains that he is hungry. I tell him that I have to stay here and pay attention since I want to buy camels. The price of a camel is between 5000 and 50000 Birr (100-1000 US$). Many of the camels are sold for meat. My own story begins to fascinate me. I introduce myself as Igor, the Russian, from Alma Ata. At home we have only two-humped camels. We want to cross our camels with Somalian one-humped dromedaries to see what happens.
3 men in uniform armed with Kalashnikows guard the market. Everything is peaceful. The farmers are friendly and some walk up to me saying hello and pressing my hands. Maybe my story has spread around?
On the way back on the minibus I am surrounded by young and pretty girls with headscarves, most of them carrying a bundled baby. The music on the bus is great and they are amused when I swing with the rhythm. Soon we all swing together.
“I have come to know the skies splitting with lightnings, and the waterspouts
and the breakers and currents; I know the evening,
And Dawn rising up like a flock of doves,
And sometimes I have seen what men have imagined they saw!” (Arthur Rimbaud, Le bateau ivre)
Feeding the Hyenas
One of the attractions of Harar is the Hyena man. Every night he feeds the Hyenas outside Argob gate. Tourists watch the spectacle in the headlight beams of the Tuk Tuks. The man calls the Hyenas, each by their proper name. Soon the first of the big ugly animals appear. They are hand-fed stripes of meat from a woven basket. He asks visitors to join in feeding the beasts. Some take a stick with the meat in their mouth and the Hyena picks it from the stick. One trying the experiment is a beautiful young ethiopian woman in light dress. It wouldn’t take a Hyena to bite her….
The cantine of Harar brewery
On the last day I decide to have a look at the brewery. Outside the gate the tuk tuk drivers know where to go and after driving along a long stone wall drop me at the entrance gate. They are glad to have a visitor. I am allowed in under the condition that I leave my camera behind. When I enter the profession of “chemist” in the registration form a man in a white chemist’s coat walks up to me. He is glad to show around a colleague. We visit the whole plant and end up in the cool hall of the settlement tanks. My colleague gets a half liter glass and fills it with a sample of their pale lager. It would be impolite to refuse and I have to empty it. While downing the lager, I tell him how I enjoyed their Hakim stout. By mere coincidence there is another tank full of stout ready to be tasted. Hakim also brews a non-alcoholic beverage designed for the Muslim market. I am not asked to taste that.
Labels of ethiopean beer bottles and the glas of Harar beer I stole from the pub
In 2012 Ethiopia had three breweries. Harar Brewery was donated to former communist dictator Haile Mariam Mengistu by the communist democratic republic of Czechoslovakia. Everybody knows that the Czechs know how to brew and consume beer. Why they had to built the gift right next to the fourth holiest city of Islam I do not know. In 2012 the company was sold to Heineken and I am afraid that this did not contribute to the quality and taste of their products. However, it is the new owner’s intention to increase the consumption amongst the population ….
“a muslim alcoholic gives me hope that the human race can be saved” (Lawrence Osborne)
A bottle of Hakim Stout
I left the brewery slightly intoxicated to pick up my luggage and take one of the old Peugeot collective taxis down to the heat of Dire Dawa. Next to me in the worn out seat a beautiful lady with dark eyes under a colourful headscarf. I woke up with my head on her lovely shoulder with the fragrance of 1001 nights in my nose.
“Sweeter than the flesh of sour apples to children,
The green water penetrated my pinewood hull
And washed me clean of the bluish wine-stains and the splashes of vomit,
Carrying away both rudder and anchor.” (Rimbaud, Le bateau ivre)
In February 1891 Rimbaud had returned to Aden. Since he developed strong pain in his right knee which failed to respond to treatment he decided to return to France. It took until 7th of May to settle his affairs. Then he caught the steamer L'Amazone for the 13-day trip back to France. On arrival in Marseille he was admitted to the Hôpital de la Conception where his right leg was amputated a week later. The diagnosis was bone cancer. He died on 10th of November 1891 at the age of 37.
Graveyard for British colonial soldiers outside Harar
“I who trembled, to feel at fifty leagues' distance
The groans of Behemoth's rutting, and of the dense Maelstroms
Eternal spinner of blue immobilities
I long for Europe with it's aged old parapets!” (Arthur Rimbaud, Le bateau ivre)
Sources
Richard F. Burton, First Footsteps in East Africa, or, an Exploration of Harar,
Lawrence Osborne, The wet and the dry, Harvell Secker 2013
link to previous post
Ethiopian money on the map of Harar
