Hartishek is still as filthy and destitute a few days later as it was the first time. But this time, no private ride into the city; my budget isn't really interested in doing it. I hopped on a minibus, and no one seemed to care.

"Hello! Good to see you!" A voice said, and it was the old man. Obviously no harm done by our previous exchanges. He shook my hand, and then disappeared again.
The minibus started out going the wrong way: into the endless tracts of round huts, picking up passengers and fuel and cargo. Another old man caught my eye. "The bus will go to Hargeysa soon," he said, "but first it needs money for fuel. Do you have fifty Birr?"





Fifty is pretty high, but again, I have little choice in the matter at this point. I do not have the time to bargain. I gave the conductor fifty birr. We crossed onto the road, and a young boy looked at my passport and the visa. "I wish you a good trip," he said. Everyone smiled. I breathed a sigh of relief. He either didn't see my entry stamp or didn't care about it.

The bus ride was infinitely slower, more arduous, and took a different route through to Hargeysa – a different set of dirt tracks. I think there was a string that separated Ethiopia from Somalia, but by the time we reached it, it was already late. Night set in. Rain began to fall. We were a lone minibus filled with women, Qat chewing men, and the lone silly white man who no one believes is a tourist sitting in the middle of all of it.

We hit the pavement late, and began the smoother journey into town. At a roadblock my luck was tested once again, by some Somaliland soldiers. They took my passport outside, and mulled over the visa. Then they handed it back to me, and we were on our way. No more jail for me, it would seem - Inshallah.

Arriving in Hargeysa is best experienced at night – it looks truly apocalyptic from a distance; set in a shallow valley, heading toward it all you see is a low blue glow. The fact of being in a capital city that is rarely mentioned on maps, the deep lights of the city radiating up into the desert sky, Hargeysa has had an impact on me. It was my goal, and perhaps that is one reason for it. But it is a town with otherworldly spritis and elements in it, and its character is unique.

It was infinitely busier this evening as we arrived. The driver dropped me off at a hotel. The sounds, the sandy roads, the painted signs, the starry sky above – there are some cities that you just like to be in, for one reason or another. For me, one of those cities is Hargeysa.



Getting Out

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