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update
Okay, after the recent two short posts it is time to let you know the full story about stuff disappearing and reappearing in Gondar.
As many travellers know, touring Africa can be a risky business. We were very lucky so far, more than most people spending so much time on this continent. Up to now the theft of my ugly old mobile phone in Rwanda was the peak of negative experiences in Africa for me. This time in Gondar though it was much more serious.
When I arrived here Friday night I just pitched my tent, put all my stuff in there and was very hungry for dinner. Same as last time in Gondar I camped at the Tarera Hotel. It is relatively cheap but has a fenced compound and security guards. Sofia and Jordi, two overlanders we keep meeting along the way were here and keen for dinner too. Martin would arrive the next morning by bus from Addis Ababa with the parcel from Germany.
Quickly I got out of my dirty rotten motorbike pants, grabbed all the money out of them and put on my (rather) clean pants. And the three of us went for dinner.
Coming back an hour later I found my tent open and pretty messy inside. My two bike panniers stood next to the tent outside. Easy to realise that someone has been messing around in the tent. Oh sh...t, now it has finally happened! I guess the thief was in a hurry, all they grabbed was my motorbike pants and my little green daypack. The big motorcycle panniers remained unopened, just pushed aside to make room. They are definitely too heavy to run away with.
Problem was that inside my motorbike pants was my passport with the Ethiopia and Sudan visa, my driver licence, my motorbike keys and my credit card. Inside my backpack was the spare keys for my little Suzuki, my camera, my head torch, my Swiss army knife, my toilet paper and most importantly my banana bisquits. Banana bisquits are hard to find and they are awesome.
However, we quickly rounded up the hotel manager and the security guards and discussed the situation. They did not seem to be much surprised and asked why I don't keep my stuff at reception. But why? What do I pay for? What are the security guards doing here? However, too late now.
So a big group of us including Sofia and a hotel manager went straight to Police. On a Friday night you can't expect much from Police. But at least they wrote down my details and a list of what's been stolen. The list of stolen things in much less detail than the list about me. Strange questions. Why was it important which religion I am? Or what will the do with the name of my grandfather? Which grandfather anyway? Or does it help to know at which grade I left school? But only cooperation brings you further and I calmly answered all the questions. 'The next morning' they said I would meet someone from the Tourist Police. Case finished for Friday night.
And surely the next morning at 8am two guys waited at the Tarera Hotel for me. One from Tourist Police and one from Tourist Information. And both were really helpful. And appeared to take the whole thing very serious, particularly my stolen passport. They promised to do whatever they can and said it was likely I will get my things back.
In Gondar there are a lot of dodgy people, particularly around dirty cheap hotels like Tarera. They keep whispering to you that they can change money for you on the black market. Or can help to find a bike mechanic. Or can help you in whatever else.
A stolen passport is a serious thing. I had only one week left to enter Sudan otherwise my Sudan visa would expire. No chance to make it back to Addis Ababa in time and get a new passport from my embassy. And from here a new Sudan visa would be much more difficult to obtain than in Nairobi. My lost passport would be a certain split up between Martin and me for the long term of this journey. No good. So I decided to not just leave it to Police but also talked to two of the dodgy people, hoping they know more dodgy people who know dodgy people and finally can find my stuff with someone. They promised to use their dodgy connections to help and disappeared. As dodgy people do.
Less than two hours later hotel staff found a strange plastic bag next to the dry swimming pool. Containing my passport, my driver licence, my motorbike key and spare key and my credit card. But no banana bisquits.
How did that happen? Of course no one knows for sure. I called my two dodgy helpers and the helpful guy from the Tourist Police to let them know. They all seemed to be very pleased. The Police man came straight to the hotel to inspect the findings and was all smiles. So was I. He told me that after we met this morning he sent out a message through some sort of forum for bad guys (not the HUBB!!!) that the thief please may return all the documents important for me but useless for them. No idea if it was this message or the stirring action of my other two helpers. But as friendly as Ethiopian thieves are they brought me back my most important things.
All being in a good mood I also asked the Police man if he could send out another message through the same dodgy forum. That the tourist would be keen to get his camera back also and would pay some good dollars for it. He liked the idea and promised to do so. And my two other helpers started now focussing on the black markets spreading the same message. That was Saturday morning.
The rest of Saturday we spent installing all the spare parts from Martin's parcel from Germany. And my new Mitas E07 rear tyre. Martin's Africa Twin is back in perfect shape now. Installing my new rear tyre proved very stressfull though. I thought I get it done in a tyre shop. Bad idea.
I should have run away when they asked me if I had tools.
A shop to repair tyres??? BYO tools? However, I gave them the tools and immediately 10 people were around my poor little Suzuki trying violently with my tools and their big hammer to get the wheel out. Once it was out the same violence was used to get the tyre off the rim. 10 people at the same time manhandling their sharp edged metal bars to be abused as tyre levers.
When it comes to my little Suzuki I can get aggressive very quickly. Can't remember how often I had to call stop and push people away from the wheel. And to remind them to use our rim protection. And take care with the tube. And to not throw everything in the dirt. And to keep the brake disc on the top, not on the bottom. And to not step onto the brake disc. To notice the rotation direction of the new tyre. Etc. When they started to reinstall the rear axle with a huge hammer they finally crossed the line. I told them to back off and I finished off myself. Usually I'm not like that. But sorry, it was just too much to bear. After all it's about my beautiful little Suzuki! The whole thing took 2 hours. I grew older by two years during those.
Sure enough I found my little Suzuki the next morning with a flat rear tyre...
Sunday one of my 'dodgy' helpers and me, we chombed the black market spots for my camera. Incredible how many Ipods and mobile phones change hands here. We also discretely searched foto studios, they would be the most likely buyers of my camera. But no trace. There is also an association of people who take scenic photos for and with tourists. These guys claim they usually are approached first when a good camera looks for a new owner. Because they can actually use it. But no trace.
My helper and me, we continued investigating and spreading the message on Monday. It's kind of cool to be part of this and have a look into the dodgy side of Ethiopia. I think I like the idea to become a Police investigator, it's kind of thrilling. But all to no avail. So I guess the camera is lost. If I was the smart thief I would wait too before letting the camera resurface.
Tourist Police promised to keep investigating. My two dodgy helpers promised to keep their eyes and ears open and to contact me if they find a trace. The tourist photographers too. And also the people in the photo studios. How serious they are in their promises, I don't know. The reward I offered might increase their seriousness. But I guess for me the camera is lost. And somewhere some bad guy will take good photos while chewing on awesome banana bisquits.
Fortunately I backed up my pics just before. So not many photos are lost. Most importantly, I have my passport and can continue to Sudan with Martin. Which I shall do tomorrow, on Tuesday. Using my spare small pocket camera with the broken display from now on.
The rest of today I spent with one of my dodgy but friendly helpers, chewing some Tchat to relax and drinking some tea. To forget about the frustrating last few days. And to enjoy Africa once more. It worked.
I also bought some Strawberry bisquits. 'Banana bisquits finished' the shopkeeper said.
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no risk - no fun
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