At 0700 we were once again ushered upstairs to the mezzanine and set about ordering coffee and toasted egg sandwiches. I've never liked eggs and it seemed fitting that I should continue to dislike them under the circumstances! We hunkered down for a morning of more TV, card games, and rumor spreading. Maurice went from table to table trying to get routing and flight plan information from other rally members for the next round of flying -- whenever that was going to happen. He needed to plan his next moves once set free. Fabian, Johannes, and Brett smoked like chimneys, enjoyed the mud thick coffee and telling jokes. Our Egyptian comrades stayed very quiet and kept low profiles through this whole thing.
'Felix' arrived and with his aides met with Sam again in hallways. By now I noticed some major swelling in my ankles. I decided to find a spot at the edge of the mezzanine to stretch out on the floor and put my feet up on a chair. It was quite warm. Julia was also on the floor near me and had her swollen feet up on a chair. Beatrice inquired how I was doing and seemed concerned. What took place next was what I have since accepted as a calculated move to get negotiations going at a different pace. Julia and I became the center of attention as Beatrice alerted the terminal staff that we weren't doing so well and needed to be tended to. That meant being taken to a cooler area of the second floor -- down a hall to some administrative offices. Here, the air conditioning units were working and it was believed that a cooler environment would reduce our "swelling". Nick and Martyn came too and a couple of guys from 'Felix's' entourage. Beatrice did most of the talking and highlighted the conditions we had been under and how Julia and I were undergoing some physical distress. In my mind, this "distress" was no more than anybody else was enduring, but Julia and I were the only two female "senior citizens" in this crowd and the matter turned into an opportunity to put some pressure on 'Felix' to consider ending this detention.
I sat there fanning myself with a magazine and tried to appear "distressed" without overdoing it. A man from the airport entered and in a very abrupt and somewhat forceful manner asked me if I needed to go to a hospital and be seen by a doctor. I stared at him and said I was not leaving to go to a hospital. Our husbands stood by looking solicitous and concerned. The man left and came back a few minutes later with a woman who appeared to be part of the security staff. She also happened to be a nurse. He told her to ask me questions and see how I was; Julia too. She checked my pulse and asked about my health, was I dizzy, was I on any medication etc. I told her about my chronic low blood pressure and occasional bouts of breathlessness. I had to pull out the stops. Now what I said was true, but I knew full well that matters of 'blood pressure' and 'breathlessness' ramp up the concern-o-meter. She said she didn't have a blood pressure cuff to check my blood pressure. The man again wanted to know if I needed to go to a hospital. I said, "No". There was no way I was going to leave my group to go to a Gambela Hospital where the conditions and red tape could be more of a nightmare than our present situation.
The nurse told the man that I should have my "vitals evaluated" and that a doctor should be summoned. I was beginning to feel this was all getting out of hand, but when I looked at Beatrice she let me know by the movement of her brow and a very subtle smile that I should not try to rein in the drama. So, I continued fanning, asking for water, having Nick rub my ankles, requesting a damp compress for my forehead, and making sure my eyes conveyed a certain droopy malaise. A doctor looking no older than Colin arrived wearing a white lab coat over a shirt and jeans with a stethoscope around his neck. He was very soft spoken and pleasant. He asked me and Julia various medical questions, listened to my heart, had me breathe in and out, then put on the blood pressure cuff. It kept slipping off and the tubing had a tendency to detach itself from the cuff. Eventually, he got the reading and it read high. "High!?", I protested. "That can't be! I have low blood pressure." This was getting good. He took it again and said it read 'high'. He then explained that being under stress and being dehydrated can affect blood pressure. He said I should be drinking electrolyte water and must be kept in a cool environment and rest. By now, 'Felix' had been in the room to see what was going on. More people filed in and Julia and I sensed that our compadres out in the snack bar area must be curious and concerned about what was happening to us. As it turned out, they were told to go downstairs. When the doctor left, Julia and I, Nick and Martyn were led out of the room and went downstairs to join the others.
By late afternoon we got the word that we were to gather for a meeting with 'Felix'. He took his place at the head of our gathering place and announced that he was releasing us. But we had to first have it explained to us why we were detained and just how grievous our incursion into Ethiopia was and exactly what it means to enter a country illegally. He smiled and announced we would now get our belongings back. A bus was sent for and we were to be taken to our hotel in Gambela -- The Grand Hotel. It was too late in the day to fly to our next destination, so another night in Ethiopia was in order.
With our electronics back we were all busy taking photos of our place of detention and of each other -- smiling and happy to be free.
'Oscar' and ''Felix also looked relieved to have this unfortunate episode over. I could only guess what sort of wrist slapping or worse would go on between the agencies involved in what had turned into a minor international incident that drew unpleasant attention to their country. Whose job was at stake? Oscar's? Felix's? I gave this thought all of one second of my time.
The bus ride into the city of Gambela took about 35 minutes. What we saw looked run down yet bustling. Donkeys, goats, children playing in the dirt, motorcycles weaving through congested pile-ups of worn, high mileage cars, and sidewalk shop keepers tending to tables of fruits, pots and pans, baskets, and clothing. The Grand Hotel stood in the center of the city and looked to be modern and inviting to a gaggle of rally aviators longing for showers and real beds. It's a 5 story building with the hotel rooms all on the outside perimeter and an open solarium-type central shaft from lobby level to the top floor. Estelle handed back our passports and Nathalie steered us towards the reception desk to get our room assignments. A few yards from reception was a beverage bar, and it had the most amazing allure as almost everybody side stepped towards it to get cold beers before picking up room keys.
The elevator was small and so I decided to take the stairs up to the 4th floor. I then realized something about Ethiopian commercial building codes -- there aren't any. The stairs do the usual climb to a mid-level landing, do a 180 degree turn to climb to the next floor. The stairwell had square aluminum tubing for handrails. On some of the landings, the handrails were either dangling or missing all together living an open space of about three and a half feet where a person could fall to the ground floor. Arriving at our floor, we headed for our room and came upon another room that had water pouring out under the door onto the walkway. I banged on the door thinking someone inside might have fallen asleep with the tub water running. The water didn't seem foul like from a toilet. We had our own things to carry so after getting no answer from the knock, went on to our room. At first glance, we saw a bed. Wow! Nice! While Nick went back downstairs to tell someone about the water down the walkway, I threw my bags on the bed and went into the bathroom for a much anticipated shower. The shower consisted of a pipe coming out of a hole in the wall and on the same wall about a foot below and slightly to the right of that pipe was a 220volt electric outlet. There was no shower curtain, there was no lip or edging on the floor to retain the water, and the drain for the shower was in the corner. Surely, the floor must be planed to encourage the water to flow to that corner. Alas, I way overestimated "surely". The shower water flooded the bathroom, flowed into the room and headed for the door. Mystery solved. There was no "sleeping" guest in that other room. As the air conditioner didn't work in our room, we ended up asking for another room. The next one had an air conditioner, a similar shower set-up, but a toilet that was not hooked up. Finally the third room we were shown- in an adjacent building at ground level - had, in spite of the same shower configuration, the essentials we needed. It also had a unique wake-up system - spiders the size of silver dollars clung spread eagle on the walls of the bathroom and in one corner of the main room. I really feared I would not sleep a wink that night. Nick tried to calm me by going after the ones in the bedroom but they disappeared quickly into cracks in the wall where I knew they would regroup and strategize their next moves. He closed the door to the bathroom in hopes that out of sight, out of mind might work with me. If spiders can disappear into cracks in the wall, how might a space of half an inch under a door keep them out? It was a rough night.
Nick's iPhone alarm went off at 0600 and then I realized I had actually slept a few hours. It was wonderful to greet a new day -- one in which we would leave Ethiopia with an incredible story to tell. I felt a little sad for this country as it clearly is knee deep in problems. We had such a small sampling of Ethiopia and we all agreed that there was probably a lot about the country and its people that we would have enjoyed getting to know. Ethiopia has an amazing history, and history as we are recently reminded is made quickly by the decisions of people who hold the reins of power.
The large hangar where our aircraft nested safely out of the first night's thunderstorm. The Cessna Grand Caravan arrived the second day and remained parked on the ramp.
Soon after we were reunited with our electronics, Pedro took some photos. Olivier checked his messages, and Keith went for the candy in his backpack. The room behind Keith is where all of our electronics and bags were locked up.
This shows the main entrance into the airport terminal and the floor many of us slept on with no blankets or pillows, though many were resourceful with rolled up t-shirts, small tote bags and the like.
This view shows the upper mezzanine level where we were directed to stay during the hours the airport was open.
The snake bar area up on the mezzanine.
The snack bar with windows that looked out over the ramp. A table next to the bar had a TV on it while we were detained here. The bathrooms were at the far end next to a hallway that went to administrative offices.
Two World Food Program aircraft out on ramp after loading. They are Russian made IL-76 military transport planes.
this was a fairly decent airport terminal. Once they realized that TP is a good thing, the bathrooms weren't half bad.
It was nice to be able to finally sit outside where we waited for the bus to arrive. Beatrice messaging on the iPhone she managed to keep hidden from our "captors". Where exactly is a secret. Our guards from the military side of things had become more personable once they put their guns away and got to talking a bit with gregarious Johannes and Fabian who shared cigarettes with them.
Pixie on the phone with her mother in Botswana letting her know all was well. Happy Ingo, his phone in hand. One of our airport personnel guards is to the right.
Mark and Maurice on the bus for Gambela. Maurice is wearing one of his many hats that the locals found amusing.
Commerce of Gambela.
Arrival at the Grand Hotel. Everyone is happy to be here and also quite weary.
"Belly up to the bar, boys!"
First things first, after all. JB to Nick's left is smiling once again. Brett - whom I liked to refer to as "Papa" because of his Hemingway resemblance -- also very happy. Helicopter pilot, Boris, Stearman pilot, John, and helicopter pilot, Paddy all waiting for those cold beers. Oh, did I not mention Nick?
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