Obock. Local crepes for breakfast with honey and chai tea.
A high stake of crepes so, we roll them up for later. Exploration of Obock. A small
town by the sea. I like when we are asked books in english rather than just
money. So much garbage and plastic bottles everywhere on the floor and plastic
bags in the trees.
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| Obock, Ibrahim is musician |
Portrait photos. That’s a hot topic. Markets are the best
place. Here we are in Obock strolling, dying to take all those shots we
envision. But no.
The best photos are the spontaneous ones when they are
not aware yet of the camera but, you may be in trouble so you ask and, all your
photos look same. Same pose. Sometimes they come to you for a photo. Sometimes
you come to them. Soon or later a guy with an authoritarian voice will come out
of the blue and ask you if you are a journalist, if you have the autorisation
of the prefecture, of the tourism agency or whatever office that comes to his
mind. After a more or less diplomatic discussion, we leave the place or the guy
wants its picture too.
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| Obock, portrait |
Children. The small ones ask for a picture and when you
are about to shot them they run away or hide their face in their hands, laughing
out loud. Women don’t want to be photographed so they are usually hiding in
their colorful veil when we got the permission of the people around to take a
picture. Sometimes after a little conversation they will allow you to shot their
hands in action : that crepe on the fire for breakfast. The Arabs serve them
with honey while the others serve them with fish. Sometimes teenage girls will ask
for selfies. You are dusty, you are sweaty, your hairs are in a dusty mess.
Fair game. You smile and take the pose.
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| Obock, market |
That morning, probably like every morning they are
waiting for the khat to arrive in town. It is 11 am. I decide to wait with
them. When a white Jeep arrives and everybody get out of his lethargy. I understand
the khat is in town. The car is full of small white bags made of fabric. The
bags are quickly unloaded into a small house. The delivery is not completed but
yet sales are taking place and the bags of green leaves with various qualities
leave the building through the window. The women will sale the khat to half of
the men of the country. That legal drug represents about 4% of the GDP, 15% of
the tax revenue of the country and maybe 40% of the budget of a family. The
show is over, men are going home with their precious treasure.
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| Obock, portrait |
Time to get going. We stop at the shop of the friendly
Yemeni guy for fresh bottles of water. A bit of off road to reach Obock’s
lighthouse. Not far we spot a beautiful beach. Beautiful.
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| To Obock's lighthouse |
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| Obock's bautiful beach |
Now it is really time to get going. When leaving Obock,
we give a lift to a few of Yemeni, back to their camp. Markazi is a
refugee camp that opened in 2016. We are told they are about 300 refugees right
now. When we drop them off, an unarmed Djiboutian soldier asks for a lift back
to his base further on the road. Done. Now we can look for an isolated place to
picnic : Tuna and tomato verrine. Out of the blue an old man pops up to
say hi. Hi ! And, he disappeared.
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| On the way to Dittilou |
Today’s final destination is the camp of Dittilou in the
Day Forest National Park. Refuel at Tadjoura. We know already where is the gas
station. RN14 and the RN11. They say, you will see a sign to turn left. We
missed it. Turn back. They say it is straight on the track. They always say
that but, when you are not from the neighborhood… which track ? My share of
the driving stops after the camel when the road turns into a bad dirt road. We
are off road again.
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| On the way to Dittilou |
Eventually we arrive at Dougoum village. A young guy informs
us we did the worse part. We continue. The sun slowly goes down. We give a lift
to a young girl and her mother. Another village. They insist on escorting us. I
am so happy they are escorting us. It is dark night now. No more track visible.
We are driving in what seem to be the bed of a dry river with rocks everywhere.
The pick up would be larger, we wouldn’t be able to pass. No way. This time we
really need to use the 4 x 4 option to climb that hill.
When we finally arrive, we are asked if we have a
reservation like if we just had arrived to a hotel in town. Seriously ? It
is off season, the camp is empty. We will sleep in a hut nicely ventilated by a
cool breeze that passes through the walls made of wooden sticks.
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