Hadhramaut - the bus ride from hell..
Trip Start
Oct 13, 2005
1
6
22
Trip End
Dec 22, 2006
Hadhramaut,
Yemen
Friday, November 11, 2005
I've now recovered from a fun but exhausting 5-day trip to Hadhramaut, which is an extensive area kind of in the southern-middle of the country, and briefly Mukalla, which is a port city on the south coast tip of the Hadhramaut region. I was accompanied this time by Sabine and Veronica with whom you may recall I travelled to the north a couple of weeks back.
Things got off to a typically Yemeni start - i.e. the bus was an hour late, arriving at about 7pm rather than 6pm. I've learnt to accept these things as par for the course out here but not so my German companions who at 6.02pm were already bemoaning the poor level of Yemen efficiency: "shiser, veyer is dee bas, das is just not good."
Upon its arrival we were immediately disappointed by the standard of the bus having been promised a shiny new one when we purchased the tickets. It was a right old heap and we were filled with dread for the 9 hours ahead of us. Things took a turn for the worse when it became clear that the absence of any remaining seats was no obstacle to piling more and more bodies aboard. We'd taken 3 of the 5 seats on the back row and I had the centre seat, which was good for the legroom, but gave me an uncomfortable glimpse at the 20 or so unfortunate souls cramped on the floor along the aisle.
Merely 15 minutes into the 9-hour journey we got a flat tyre. Given the state of certain stretches of road out here, and given that much of the journey would be through the desert in the middle of nowhere, you would rightly assume they would have the foresight to pack a spare tyre. Well they didn't and we were left waiting for a further hour or more until a spare was delivered and fitted. So, 15 minutes into the scheduled journey and we'd already taken just shy of 3 hours.
Once we were settled on our path the driver put on this really god-awful Arabic pantomime movie thing on the TV. I understood almost nothing, but I knew instinctively that it was bad and I suspect it would have been even worse had I got the Arabic. At least an hour must have gone by before anything else went wrong when, without warning, the boy sat next to me started vomiting into a small and flimsy plastic bag. I can only speculate that the hideous pantomime film provided an untimely emetic. Once he was done, he took one look down the packed aisle and realised there was no hope of disposing of the bag. So, there I was sat next to this disgusting young boy who was sat there holding a bag of vomit in his hand. That's how things remained for maybe 2 or 3 hours with me glancing in horror as vomit-boy fell asleep, praying to Allah that he didn't drop the bag, and holding back my own waves of nausea brought about by the smell.
After what seemed an eternity we reached our first stop-point. I couldn't get off the bus too soon just to get the smell of sick out of my lungs. After a blissful 20 minutes or so of fresh air, I psyched myself up and took my seat on the bus once again. I can only assume that vomit-boy must have informed his father of his episode during our pit-stop, as when people took their seats once more I noticed with dismay that vomit-boy's father had taken the decision to sit next to me instead. Any relief at ridding myself of the child evaporated instantly as the corpulent and noisome figure of vomit-boy-senior approached and, with difficulty, squeezed into the seat next to me. As I sat uncomfortably in what remained of my seat I could only wonder which of my five senses was being most brutally violated, but as he turned to me and muttered inaudibly in Arabic, smell just edged sight as an unwitting victor.
Even though this was a night-time journey sleep was understandably not forthcoming. After what seemed an eternity of what can mildly be described as hell-on-earth, we finally arrived in Seyoun, a small town in Hadhramaut where we would base ourselves for the next few days. We arrived at about 6am on the Monday and the place was deserted. We walked around like zombies for a while until we finally found a hotel that was open. The room was really rather nice in comparison with the places we stayed on our previous trip north, having its own bathroom, A/C, TV and cable, and it was reasonably priced at about $5 each per night. We dumped our bags and caught a few hours sleep.
However, having arrived dazed and sleep-deprived following our bus ordeal we didn't seem to clock that it was directly next to the central mosque. It was not until the Tuesday morning that our minor oversight came home to roost, the 4am call-to-prayer catapulting us from our slumber like some atomic alarm clock. It was actually as if some crazed Arab had snuck into our room, put a megaphone to my ear and delivered to me personally the breaking news that Allah is akbar! Honestly, I think by the time I get back to England, I'm going to end up with withdrawal symptoms from not hearing "allahu akbar" over-and-over five times a day. Or perhaps I'll actually come to forget that God is Greatest in the absence of that handy reminder.
Anyway, I've gone on too long as usual and not even got to talking abou the actual trip, so I'll say goodbye for now but brace yourselves for more soon. Ma'a salaama,
Tom
