In Ethiopia with a Mule
Re-reading Dervla Murphy’s marvellous In Ethiopia with a Mule after some time, it is striking how this early book (recently re-released by Eland Books) seems to set the tone for her future works. Read alongside her books on Baltistan, Peru, Cameroon, and Laos, which describe journeys through (rather than to) a country, driven primarily by pure interest rather than political inquisitiveness, it can be regarded as describing one of her ‘classic’ expeditions. Would Dervla herself categorise such trips as typifying her personal travelling style? We cannot know, but for the reader they certainly form an engrossing set.
For over three months in the late 1960s, Dervla undertook a trek through the country she describes on the first page of ‘In Ethiopia with a Mule’ as “….some improbable land of violence and piety, courtesy and treachery, barrenness and fertility” - a land which had held a fascination for her since childhood. Of particular fascination were famed, ancient Coptic churches, yet, characteristically, it was the ways and lives of the Ethiopian people which were to prove most interesting. A typical interlude of meeting, dining and resting with locals was described thus;
“Our arrival astonished everyone, but I was warmly welcomed and presented with two gourds of talla simultaneously – and after (that) climb I emptied them almost simultaneously. Then a laughing woman fed me with unfamiliar, delicious bread – wafer thin, toasted crisp and faintly seasoned with salt and spices….By now a golden half-moon had risen and was shining more brightly than a full moon at home; and it seemed to me that a day’s trek could have no happier ending than to sit in moonlight on a high mountain drinking with a friendly crowd and being serenaded by a wandering minstrel.” (P107)
True to form, Dervla sought to stay ‘off the beaten track’ during her Ethiopian adventure and delightedly described the Italian maps she had at her disposal as “…inaccurate enough to give me, at times, the gratifying illusion of being an explorer in trackless wastes – yet accurate enough to tell me that Addis Ababa is due south of Massawah.” (P7)
In her later book on Siberia, Dervla addresses the suggestion that she eschews tourist destinations so that she can feel ‘special’ in a place, surprisingly conceding that this is in fact true to some extent, in the sense that she likes “…being treated simply as a visitor, rather than unit in an economic asset” (Through Siberia by Accident P80). Cynical accusations of prima-donna behaviour are surely devalued by encounters such as the aforementioned where the much relished novelty of experience for both parties cannot be reasonably said to be equal to some kind of egotistical attention seeking on the part of the author.
A similar defence might be made of the way in which Dervla is often ‘adopted’ by persons of importance in the regions which she travels through. More often than not, presentation of chits from these people, or simply the mention of their names as acquaintances allows her to travel unimpeded through a region where foreign travellers (particularly those who wish to trek alone through remote regions) are so unknown as to cause confusion and great debate amongst locals. Such ‘name-dropping’, though seems only ever to be a last resort. Dervla Murphy may come across as fiercely determined to travel her way, and this occasionally necessitates ‘special’ treatment, but it would take quite a cynic to say that this is motivated by anything other than the integrity of a humanist explorer….
In Ethiopia, Dervla was well and truly taken under the wing of Her Highness Leilt Aida Desta (‘Leilt Aida’), eldest grandchild of Emperor Haile Selassie, with whom she became acquainted through consular friends. Providing friendship, practical support and advice, Leilt Aida became a great supporter of Dervla’s journey through her beloved country, and the pair’s friendship would also prove useful two decades later in the pubs of Handsworth, Birmingham, as Dervla sought to forge friendship and understanding with members of the city’s Rastafarian community, as detailed in her 1987 book Tales from Two Cities: Travels of Another Sort.
It was Leilt Aida who supervised the purchase of Jock, the mule who accompanied Dervla on her travels, and who became a trusted companion, much to even animal lover Dervla’s surprise: “…the most important – and surprising – thing is his endearing expression. It had never occurred to me that one could me on more than civil terms with a mule, yet I can foresee myself becoming fond of this creature.” (P21) Roping Jock’s load securely, and finding suitable, safe grazing spots for him overnight became, respectively, some of Dervla’s primary challenges and concerns along the way, and she recounts a horrifying day in which she was semi-invalided by a wrenched knee, and Jock suffered a heart stopping fall fifty feet down a precipitous escarpment, following which dramas Dervla lucklessly sought a resting place for the evening: “During the next four and a half torturing hours I saw not even one tukul (hut) in the distance – and I was afraid to camp out, lest a stiffening knee should leave me incapable of defending Jock from the possible attacks of hyenas or leopards.” (P179) No paranoid angst this, however, as Dervla crossed the path of several leopards during her travels (and had a near miss when one ‘sighting’ of a feline eye lurking in moonlight bushes turned out to be a distant Venus, hanging low in the vast skies!).
Mishaps aside, Jock proved a willing and faithful companion, and it was to be humans who turned out to be the cause of Dervla’s most dramatic experience in Ethiopia – one she would continue to recount decades later as one of the few times in her life she had genuinely feared for her safety. A robbery by Ethiopia’s notorious shifta bandits left Dervla bereft of many crucial bits of traveller’s kit, and despite her self-confessed lack of linguistic propensity, she recalls being disturbed at the time by an understanding of snatched fragments of a conversation between her attackers, in which they debated whether or not to let her live. Her rational and wry account of the episode (and of the ensuing police and court case) make staggering reading.
As her trek begins to draw to a close, Dervla makes an observation which gives the reader something of an insight not only into her experiences of Ethiopia, but into her whole approach to travelling. “There are two phases of enjoyment in journeying through an unknown country – the eager phase of wondering interest in every detail, and the relaxed phase when one feels no longer an observer of the exotic, but a participator in the rhythm of daily life.” How many people are fortunate enough to achieve that second phase? Almost certainly it is Dervla Murphy’s ability to do so which make her travels, and recollections thereof, so rich.
Sarah Ledger 2012
Originally published by John Murray in 1968, In Ethiopia with a Mule was re-published in 2012 by Eland Books.
For over three months in the late 1960s, Dervla undertook a trek through the country she describes on the first page of ‘In Ethiopia with a Mule’ as “….some improbable land of violence and piety, courtesy and treachery, barrenness and fertility” - a land which had held a fascination for her since childhood. Of particular fascination were famed, ancient Coptic churches, yet, characteristically, it was the ways and lives of the Ethiopian people which were to prove most interesting. A typical interlude of meeting, dining and resting with locals was described thus;
“Our arrival astonished everyone, but I was warmly welcomed and presented with two gourds of talla simultaneously – and after (that) climb I emptied them almost simultaneously. Then a laughing woman fed me with unfamiliar, delicious bread – wafer thin, toasted crisp and faintly seasoned with salt and spices….By now a golden half-moon had risen and was shining more brightly than a full moon at home; and it seemed to me that a day’s trek could have no happier ending than to sit in moonlight on a high mountain drinking with a friendly crowd and being serenaded by a wandering minstrel.” (P107)
True to form, Dervla sought to stay ‘off the beaten track’ during her Ethiopian adventure and delightedly described the Italian maps she had at her disposal as “…inaccurate enough to give me, at times, the gratifying illusion of being an explorer in trackless wastes – yet accurate enough to tell me that Addis Ababa is due south of Massawah.” (P7)
In her later book on Siberia, Dervla addresses the suggestion that she eschews tourist destinations so that she can feel ‘special’ in a place, surprisingly conceding that this is in fact true to some extent, in the sense that she likes “…being treated simply as a visitor, rather than unit in an economic asset” (Through Siberia by Accident P80). Cynical accusations of prima-donna behaviour are surely devalued by encounters such as the aforementioned where the much relished novelty of experience for both parties cannot be reasonably said to be equal to some kind of egotistical attention seeking on the part of the author.
A similar defence might be made of the way in which Dervla is often ‘adopted’ by persons of importance in the regions which she travels through. More often than not, presentation of chits from these people, or simply the mention of their names as acquaintances allows her to travel unimpeded through a region where foreign travellers (particularly those who wish to trek alone through remote regions) are so unknown as to cause confusion and great debate amongst locals. Such ‘name-dropping’, though seems only ever to be a last resort. Dervla Murphy may come across as fiercely determined to travel her way, and this occasionally necessitates ‘special’ treatment, but it would take quite a cynic to say that this is motivated by anything other than the integrity of a humanist explorer….
In Ethiopia, Dervla was well and truly taken under the wing of Her Highness Leilt Aida Desta (‘Leilt Aida’), eldest grandchild of Emperor Haile Selassie, with whom she became acquainted through consular friends. Providing friendship, practical support and advice, Leilt Aida became a great supporter of Dervla’s journey through her beloved country, and the pair’s friendship would also prove useful two decades later in the pubs of Handsworth, Birmingham, as Dervla sought to forge friendship and understanding with members of the city’s Rastafarian community, as detailed in her 1987 book Tales from Two Cities: Travels of Another Sort.
It was Leilt Aida who supervised the purchase of Jock, the mule who accompanied Dervla on her travels, and who became a trusted companion, much to even animal lover Dervla’s surprise: “…the most important – and surprising – thing is his endearing expression. It had never occurred to me that one could me on more than civil terms with a mule, yet I can foresee myself becoming fond of this creature.” (P21) Roping Jock’s load securely, and finding suitable, safe grazing spots for him overnight became, respectively, some of Dervla’s primary challenges and concerns along the way, and she recounts a horrifying day in which she was semi-invalided by a wrenched knee, and Jock suffered a heart stopping fall fifty feet down a precipitous escarpment, following which dramas Dervla lucklessly sought a resting place for the evening: “During the next four and a half torturing hours I saw not even one tukul (hut) in the distance – and I was afraid to camp out, lest a stiffening knee should leave me incapable of defending Jock from the possible attacks of hyenas or leopards.” (P179) No paranoid angst this, however, as Dervla crossed the path of several leopards during her travels (and had a near miss when one ‘sighting’ of a feline eye lurking in moonlight bushes turned out to be a distant Venus, hanging low in the vast skies!).
Mishaps aside, Jock proved a willing and faithful companion, and it was to be humans who turned out to be the cause of Dervla’s most dramatic experience in Ethiopia – one she would continue to recount decades later as one of the few times in her life she had genuinely feared for her safety. A robbery by Ethiopia’s notorious shifta bandits left Dervla bereft of many crucial bits of traveller’s kit, and despite her self-confessed lack of linguistic propensity, she recalls being disturbed at the time by an understanding of snatched fragments of a conversation between her attackers, in which they debated whether or not to let her live. Her rational and wry account of the episode (and of the ensuing police and court case) make staggering reading.
As her trek begins to draw to a close, Dervla makes an observation which gives the reader something of an insight not only into her experiences of Ethiopia, but into her whole approach to travelling. “There are two phases of enjoyment in journeying through an unknown country – the eager phase of wondering interest in every detail, and the relaxed phase when one feels no longer an observer of the exotic, but a participator in the rhythm of daily life.” How many people are fortunate enough to achieve that second phase? Almost certainly it is Dervla Murphy’s ability to do so which make her travels, and recollections thereof, so rich.
Sarah Ledger 2012
Originally published by John Murray in 1968, In Ethiopia with a Mule was re-published in 2012 by Eland Books.
Photo used under Creative Commons from Ninara31