Edition 44: Autumn 2008

Taking time out to drive through Africa in your own 4WD may sound an impossible dream, but in her regular column on self-drive Mary Askew describes how to achieve it. In this edition she offers helpful advice on making repairs on the road.

“And this dish,” our new friend said with a triumphant flourish, is kitfo special – raw minced goat.”

We’d met Yimar as our Land Rover limped to a stop in the Ethiopian town of Woldia. He’d stuck his hand through our open window and said, “Good afternoon, please may I ask your motive for travel?”  He taught English at the local school and listened to the BBC World Service everyday to improve his language skills. Yimar found a garage to fix our broken brakes and translated as we told the mechanics about the problem. As thanks, we were taking him out for a meal.

It was the end of a long day that had started before dawn in Lalibela, a town famous for its ancient sunken churches that were hewn out of rock almost a thousand years ago. We were woken by the eerie sound of a traditional horn being blown, calling people to worship. By moonlight, we picked our way down a steep dirt road to Beta Giorgis, the most famous of the rock-hewn churches. A solitary priest was stoking a fire in the wall to bake bread, and he used some of the coals to light an incense burner which he then wafted around the oven. The smoke curled up through the sunken chamber, its dry sweet scent eventually reaching us where we sat above him. Gradually, more people arrived, always on their own, with their clothes covered in white wraps. They knelt and alternatively kissed and touched their foreheads on the ground. They then sat silently for ten minutes or so before getting up and leaving. An hour later, as the first rays of sunlight caught the top of the church, bells started ringing and inside the church we could hear the priests’ rhythmic chanting.

We left Lalibela without a care in the world, but that feeling didn’t last long. Just a few miles down the road I slammed on the brakes to avoid a pothole – and nothing happened. We smacked into the deep rut and kept on going. Fortunately the road was reasonably flat as we were on the top of a plateau, so I let our Land Rover come to a halt outside a tiny roadside settlement. A recently-replaced brake pipe had sheered off and brake fluid was pouring out. Under the watchful eye of the villagers we got out our hammer and bashed the end of the copper pipe closed. This sealed the brake system and, theoretically, gave us working brakes for all but one wheel. It wasn’t the first time we’d made such a temporary repair. A priest repeatedly brought a simple wooden cross out from a pocket in his white robes as if to bless us. The simple cross looked embarrassingly modest in comparison to the stunning gold and silver versions we had seen in Lalibela, but the meaning was no less important and we were very grateful – we needed all the help we could get. About two miles down the road we were due to descend from the plateau on a stomach-churning series of hairpin bends. 

The repair held until we arrived in Woldiya about two hours later and now, with the pipe welded back in place, Yimar felt he could unleash his long list of questions about the English language. “Why do you wish someone a ‘Merry Christmas’ but not a ‘Merry Birthday’?” “Why is the word ‘worked’ pronounced as if it has a ‘t’ on the end?” Without answers, we focused on the kitfo special, which was surprisingly good.

Later, over a long coffee ceremony, we told Yimar how we’d been captivated by Lalibela. He was unmoved by our account of the town. He was more concerned with Ethiopia having proper sanitation, better housing and improved schools. What attracted us to Lalibela was that it was a community that had remained unchanged for hundreds of years. One that was rich in history and culture. He saw the same thing, but one that was desperately poor economically.  He said: “The problem is that modern eyes want to see traditional beauty.”

We were able to answer one of Yimar’s questions that day. “What is your motive for travel?” To meet people like him, people who open our eyes in ways the guidebooks never can.  

Trip Tips: Breakdowns

“Right, let’s not panic,” my husband always used to say whenever we broke down. But how could I not panic just a little? Neither of us had any great mechanical skills, and invariably we broke down at the most inconvenient moment in the remotest of spots.

Some of our memorable vehicle failures included: our engine overheating at dusk right next to the sacrificial voodoo mound in a Benin village, where I must say that the residents were delightfully helpful; our gearbox jamming in remote Kaokoland in Northern Namibia, and again on the so-called ‘bandit road’ between Ethiopia and Kenya, where stopping is ill-advised; our tyres falling victim to punctures in Mali during the midday heat, and in the Serengeti moments after spying a solitary male lion on the prowl.

But – if you can manage it – there is a lot to be said for staying calm and not making any hasty decisions. Where we could, we got our chairs out, brewed a cuppa and waited for inspiration to strike. Many breakdowns can be planned for. A well-selected tool and spares box together with a simple manual will get you out of a lot of scrapes and to the nearest garage. Africans are masters at ‘making do’. A mashed up red pepper or some porridge oats dropped in your radiator will temporarily stop any leaks. Gaffer tape can seal a leaking fuel line, and zip ties can hold together all manner of parts that are in danger of sheering off into a ditch. Self-drive folklore has it that, if the worst comes to the worst, a bad puncture can even be repaired by filling the tyre with sand. Good job there’s no MOT in Africa.

Before you start your journey, take an evening course in mechanics. It will teach you the basics and give you more confidence on the road. It should also show you how to do regular, if not daily, checks on your vehicle: looking underneath the 4WD for leaks, tightening loose wheel nuts and watching the levels of engine oil, brake fluid and radiator water. Bradt’s Africa Overland guidebook has a good section on regular maintenance.

It also pays dividends to stay with your car and watch mechanics at work whenever it is being serviced or repaired. Often the same fault repeats itself time and again – as with our brake pipe – and, gradually, you will become an expert on the weaknesses of your individual vehicle.

From the road

Ethiopia was the 30th African country on Peter Strong’s overland trip. In his online diary he describes it as “worlds apart from the rest of sub-Saharan Africa.”

“I decided to make a direct line north along a great tarmac road, breaking the journey at Awasa, a pretty town on one of the southern lakes. It’s a beautiful drive through varied countryside – at times you could almost be driving through England. At one point, the closely-cropped green grass on either side of the road looked like a perfect garden lawn, and standing on this lawn were white termite mounds looking for all the world like marble statues – all very surreal.”

Peter is now back home, but his website (www.camelworld.com) is a fantastic resource for anyone planning a trip of their own.