It’s Wednesday night and town had looked so quiet as we took the rickshaw back. I head to bed and hope Ying is on-line. There is an increasing commotion going on outside and a crowd seem be gathering. Horns are being tooted and it sounds like a successful night for the local football team – league Champions perhaps? There are sounds of breaking glass and a few shrieks too. A siren adds to the cacophony and i finally bother to get out of bed to check what’s going on – it’s really busy now, and at about 11pm on a Wednesday? Too weird. They’re all staring towards the market and the nearby gas station – a parade perhaps? But i can’t see that direction.
There is a hurried knock on my door. It’s the hotel night porter who asks me to pack up my belongings. I step into the corridor and it’s glowing and flickering orange. Out of the window, some 40 metres is one hell of a fire blazing less than half a block away. The flames ar as high as my three story hotel. A few other guests are watching onwards and the window pane is hot to the touch. This is bad and i head back to my room to pack up my stuff. With classic timing the electricity fuses. I locate my crappy Tanzanian torch on my bed and begin to retrieve my belongings. I hear Josh down the corridor telling me to hurry up, but i am not overly concerned as yet, the fire has to cross a road to reach the hotel, although there is a gas station between the fire and the hotel.
There is more commotion outside now and someone suggests that the police are firing to disperse the crowds, but not sure whether they are firing bullets or tear gas. Josh hears that this was an arson protest – Harar suffers severe water shortages.
The Night Porter is insistent that we stay in the hotel and then evacuate all together if necessary. His suggestion to watch from the roof-top is not really appreciated. Josh is now determined he is not going to die in an hotel inferno or be caught out in a stampede, and he is insistent we leave immediately. I double check the room and accompany him out. I am keen to get another hotel room up the road, but Josh wants to head out to the hills as quickly as possible. There are army with guns and police with enormous riot shields everywhere. We head for some 15 minutes where no hotels are located; this is nuts! I can’t persuade Josh to return from whence we came, so i insist we head around towards the main gate.
We are now stumbling about the labyrinth of alleyways (there are 368 in its 1km square Old City)in pitch blackness – the whole city’s electricity supply is down. Two Ethiopian guys insist on escorting us at break-neck speed to a “hotel” which turns out to be the police station. Surprisingly, they don;t ask for any money for their “services”.The police are quite sweet also, bringing us out chairs to rest upon.
I take a much needed ciggie break, before persuading Josh that we head to the main gate – a little closer to the fire without it being too much of a risk. He is babbling, but it is time to take the bull by the horns. I tell him i will lead the way and if it gets dodgy we’ll turn back round.
The ploy works perfectly and we stumble up the road to the Harar Das hotel in the central part of town. It’s 1.30 by now, but there is a group of foreign photojournalists writing up “The Story” and capturing some cool photographs on professional D2 Nikons. Josh finds himself interviewed by some German journalist who can’t get enough of our “hair-raising experience” at the epicentre o the Great Fire of Harar.
Josh is somewhat embarrassed by his panic-ridden behaviour and apologises profusely. He has become more wary now of my blogging.
Post Script: i try to return to the hotel the following morning, but police and army have set up road blocks as the fire is still smouldering. Both the hotel and the gas station are intact, but a huge part of the “new” market has been totally gutted, By 3pm the roads are open again and by Friday, the market is almost back to full swing again.
Editor's Addition: A much better photo can be found by clicking here.
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