A group of kids, Ethiopia / Photo Dave Bouskill
Meeting children on the road is one of the joys of travel… unless they have an unusually painful way of showing their affection.
“You, You, You, give me money, give me money.”
After cycling through the East African Nation of Ethiopia, these phrases will forever be ingrained in my brain.
Brought to the Worlds attention through Live Aid in the 1980’s, Ethiopia is largely remembered in the West for its drought and famine.
There is no way to prepare for the thousands of children that will use you for target practice as you make your way down the country.
Today it is a lush and vibrant country filled with lakes, jungles and mountainous vistas cutting through the Rift Valley. The Nile runs south to its source at Lake Tana and it houses the incredibly beautiful Blue Nile Gorge.
It is exactly these features that make it one of the most difficult countries in Africa to cycle through.
The roads are rocky and sometimes non-existent, the mountain climbs are treacherous and the extreme heat and altitude can take its toll on anyone. It is a serious challenge, but with enough training and preparation, one can handle the elements.
There is no way however, to prepare for the thousands of children that will use you for target practice as you make your way down the country.
Terms of Endearment
Biking hard, avoiding rocks / Photo Dave Bouskill
Throughout my 23 days in Ethiopia, I was whipped with a bullwhip, slashed at with a machete, had gravel thrown in my face, and rocks of various sizes hurled at me from all directions.
Maybe it was a term of endearment. Maybe it was their way of saying I like you… the way a little boy pulls a girl’s hair to show he has a crush on her.
Whatever it was, there was no escaping their wrath, no reasoning with the little boys who were up to no good – and no way of knowing when the next pack was going to strike.
But how can you blame them – they must have thought we were nuts. In Ethiopia, bikes are ridden for necessity and work. It gets them from point A to point B.
“Why are these crazy foreigners torturing themselves riding through unbearable heat and climbing insane mountains dressed in their silly spandex and bike helmets?”
I had to admire the kids’ talent and perfect aim. They could make a rock zip through the air with great distance and precision. Forget going to the Dominican Republic or Japan. Major League Baseball scouts need to go to Ethiopia for their next draft season.
There is a star pitcher in every village we passed through.
Craving Relief
Ethiopia’s mountains can reach over 4000 meters in altitude. For hours on end, I struggled at a mere 6km per hour up steep inclines.
The dreaded staff / Photo Dave Bouskill
Children would run beside me, never seeming to tire. I was frustrated, but even more embarrassed. Here I was on a high tech machine and these kids could run backwards faster than I could turn my pedals.
I craved silence to wallow alone in my misery, but instead the group of children yelled their infamous chant. “You, you, you, give me money, give me money.” They grabbed at my pack, pulled on my wheel and tried to hop on for a ride.
They slapped my butt numerous times before I realized it was their way of figuring out the material of my cycling shorts.
Even finishing a climb couldn’t bring relief.
In Ethiopia, the descents are more punishing than the climb itself. The rough roads would shake my body like a jackhammer… and always, I had to be on guard for more children.
It seemed that every child carried a staff to control their herds of cattle. They didn’t hesitate to try to stick their weapon of choice through the spokes of my tires.
Little girls would jump out in front of me as I careened in at top speed, forcing me to swerve wildly to avoid a collision. They didn’t understand the danger that they were putting themselves in. They would just laugh and run away.
Friendship In Many Forms
With great relief I made it to the Kenyan border in one piece. I can’t say that I will miss cycling in Ethiopia, but I would like to go back and travel it by local transport and stay in the villages.
I would stop and take the time to get to know the people better. Racing through on a bicycle didn’t give me a chance to really connect with anyone. I was too busy trying to make it to camp before the sun went down.
I never did figure out why the children would throw rocks at us.
Maybe they wanted us to stop and say hello…or maybe they were just bored. Maybe they wanted to be a part of what we were doing.
I just wish their friendship wasn’t so painful.
Have you had painful, or unsusual, experiences with local children? Share your stories in the comments!
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17 Comments... join the discussion!
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On the one hand, I want to hear more about the psychology of the children, how their actions are the result of their environment, hardships, poverty, etc…
but on the other hand, maybe it’s all just face value. Maybe the kids just like chucking rocks at foreigners on bikes
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Damn…I cycled for 3 months across SE Asia and encountered some pretty strange reactions, but yours seem to have been about x10!
I also remember local kids that left me and my Trek 520 in the dust of their 100-year-old rusted one-speeds.
Cycling East Africa sounds like a trip–might have to give it a try one day. Thanks for the report!
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Haha, I also remember kids cycling on their old bikes leaving us in the dust. They were fast and they loved racing with us. Big smiles on their faces as they left us behind and everyone on the side of the road laughed and laughed. Crazy.
Definitely give Africa a try, if you can survive cycling Asia, you can survive East Africa.↵ -
Just out of curiousity, did anyone else get the title reference to Van Morrison? I thought it was pretty clever…
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Yup, great song.
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This reminds me of a night spent in the border town of Tunduma, Tanzania. We were waiting for the bus to leave the next day, sitting with a man who had found us a hotel* the night before, and these curious kids starting walking up to us. I had an eyebrow ring at the time, and they started pointing and chuckling at it. Finally, a brave child reached his hand out and touched it gingerly, and I smiled. So then he started pulling on it. Then all the kids tried to have a go and started screaming stuff. In his broken English, the man told us to get our asses on the bus as fast as we could. Needless to say, we complied.
And yes, Ian, that song has been in my head all damn day now…
*brothel
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Those situations can get scary. A nice innocent moment gone bad. Been there before, good thing a bus was coming.
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While it in no way excuses their behaviour, it might be able to be explained. As you wheel through, these people see a bike that costs more than their family will see in a year. Rightly or wrongly they assume you can afford to buy them lunch. They see themselves as working a toll road of sorts, and if you want to pass…well a few Birr (Ethiopian currency) please. Rightly or better said, wrongly, if you don’t cough up…well, a less than gentle reminder.
A diplomat working in Ethiopia bluntly tried to explain the country to me once. Before the 80’s…the country had a population of around 20 million. This would fluctuate with the unreliability of the monsoons. Along comes the terrible drought in the 80’s that is accompanied by BBC cameras and the world gets the horrific images that turned into Live Aid.
The country was then flooded with food, money and medicine…but little training and even less infrastructure.
What do you get?
A population boom.
Now you have a population of 75 million living in a land that could support 20 at the best of times. Combine that with a negative cycle where traditional displays of wealth, cows, also multiply and eat those mountains bare, leaving nothing to hold onto the top soil which washes towards the sea when the rains do decide to show. Add to that a completely unnecessary war with Eritrea (common sight in Ethiopia, F-15 buzzing overhead as papyrus boats ply lakes) and you get a marvelous recipe for disaster, a handout state.
And those handouts came in the form of tolls on your trip.
Not very PC I’m afraid, but a possible explanation.
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Well said Troy. I didn’t realize that their was such a population boom. A growth of 55 million people in a couple of decades is insane. I couldn’t understand why I didn’t have the same experiences in other struggling countries like Malawi and Sudan. Now reading your post…all of your points combined together explain a lot.
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Take those figures with more than a health pinch of salt. They were said over several jugs of Tej (honey wine) and then ‘remembered’ the day after. That said, I do clearly remember the diplomat getting the 3rd degree from a few other travelers that were there…didn’t like his frankness I suppose.
The point being that it has become a handout nation, whether of its own doing or not.
I have had similar rock throwing incidents happen to me in villages just across the water in Yemen, but that was generally in ‘tourist’ villages that were angered if you just walked through their village, took your photos and didn’t leave anything behind.
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Thanks for all the comments and sharing your experiences. Cheers!
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An awesome story and interesting follow-on comments.
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I’m glad I didn’t bike when I went to Ethiopia. But the fact that you stood out and they feel that anyone that can afford to visit can afford to give them money is a sad state of affairs. Beautiful country and so much more than I expected.
Just glad I missed the stoning part…
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I would like to go back and travel through it. We never made it to Lalibela, so we have an excuse to go back. I think it has something to do with being on a bicycle because on rest days we didn’t have a problem at all.
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The runner will always overtake the cyclist on the uphill. Sorry the runners had to be throwing stones in this case, though.
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Ooh, I feel better about that. Thanks
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