[h1]Ethiopia[/h1]
[h2]Northern Oromia[/h2]

When the roads became unpaved, the dangers of the summer rains came full bear. On the unprotected highways the dirt and gravel of the sandy clay-packed roads lifted and turned to mud, washing alongside the car as it cut through the storms that rolled across the Ethiopian highlands. Hills washed into farm-filled valleys and where shallow holes had lay unattended to there now lay in wait ponds the size of lakes that broke the travel.

If it could be taken, they would drive around. The single-speed whipper blades of the ancient vehicle desperately washing away the solid walls of water through the constant heavy rains that pounded the high-country in summer. It slowed travel, and to make matters worse the truck could only travel a steady pace of forty miles an hour in good conditions. And the back-country, and the highland summer monsoons only worsened it. At times, Sen Zhou would pull the car over and let the rain fall, waiting for it to break and give them visibility and time for the water and mud to drain away so she can claim a few last hours of driving.

The room in the cab was tight. Zhou, Yu, and Jong sat uncomfortably tight with the young Ethiopian student. It had been a battle among them, even starting out to determine who would be where and was the cause of much suffering and shuffling until they had got it almost right.

Zhou, having had enough driving the newly purchased and slap-dashed maintained truck had no intention at first to drive it to Lake Tana. She had sat packed in just behind the gear lever, and by position shifted the truck through it three gears as they climbed the hills. The mechanics in the airfield had managed to tighten it, and it no longer needed a mile of space to do its job.

But Yu – who was driving – turned out to be a sloppy driver and nearly caused an accident with a mule cart on the way out of town. Shuffling him to Zhou's position very nearly gave the small crew a lesson in the effects of motion-sickness and it was hardly a block out of the capital they again changed positions, putting him at the passenger window.

The Ethiopian student soon came to occupy his seat, and soon himself needed to move. Unrelaxed and tense – or so he claimed – his hands had a tendency to wander and Zhou had on more than one occasion force him to move his hands from her leg. He obliged sheepishly, but as soon as they hit a pothole they would be back, and the story continued. He switched with Jong, who though being such a wide young man forced Zhou nearly against the driver's side window. But it was the closest they came to perfection, given the cards they were offered.

The cabin was sweaty and hot, a stifling humidity hung in the air even despite the heavy rains. Cracking the windows helped only a little by circulating the air but did nothing to keep heavy rains from not coming into the car. Matters were made worse when Yu went to lit up for a cigarette, and the dry, ashen bitterness soon filled the cabin. Rain or not, Zhou ordered him to put it out or step outside before everyone was asphyxiated by the cheap tobacco.

In the back a green tarpaulin covered the truck bed and fluttered in the wet wind, sending whirling whips of water when it rained behind them and flicking off residual water when it wasn't. Under, strapped secure to the bed were the basic supplies they imagined they needed where they were going. Guns, ammunition, food, and fuel. Dufflebags full of the soldier's personal gear also rode in the same mass of equipment. And underneath it in a locked steel boxes environmental suits packed in anticipation of the possibility of Spanish chemical use as they traveled close to the front of the war.

Before the party crossed over into the Amhara state, they stopped for lunch.

The gravel of the road cracked and popped as the tires rolled slow over the road and off to the side. The red-brown clay still glistened softly from persistent summer rains but was otherwise dry, and for the choice of time and place to stop the skies were blue and clear of clouds. The road as it were was empty and quiet as the four riders stepped out and groaning uncomfortably stretched their sore aching limbs as they looked about.

The highlands here dipped sharply into a deep wide gorge, flush with green from the rich summer-rains. Over the horizon the mountains and cliffs of the high plateaus of central Ethiopia sheered the Earth and rose into the blue sky, creating walls that ran infinitely into the rolling mountain labyrinths of the country-side. In the middle, an even deeper chasm was carved into the stone and the sounds of rushing water poured out from the rough serpentine course of the Blue Nile as it drew the provincial borders of inner Ethiopia.

As Yu and Jong began digging into the supplies for their cache of rice, Zhou walked up to the edge of the steep rounded drop to the river below.

Unlike its name, the Blue Nile did not run blue. It was full and brown of sand and sediment laden water that rolled over itself as it ran through its swollen banks. The summer rain had impregnated the river, and I t ran high enough to swallow and drown the misshapen bushes that had grown too close to the edge as it made its swift and violent course west and south.

A bridge crossed the gap, a spindly-framed wooden bridge supported by rough stone and concrete pylons whose advanced weathering looked ready to break the architecture. The bridge was not grand, nor was it modern. The wood was old and worn, clear tire-tracks run shallow groves across the boards from years of traffic and it looked ready to sway and dance in the wind. Further, it was narrow, maybe just big enough to except a large truck. Zhou's stomach ached and twisted in terrible horror as she looked at it, and she immediately worried about having to cross to the other side.

“As soon as we cross, we've only three-quarters of the journey ahead of us!” the student they had brought as a  guide to collect his family exclaimed in excitement.

Zhou turned sharply, catching up as he walked up to her. His wrapped tightly around his chest as he smiled nervously. He looked up at her, and then down at the ground. Raising his gaze to look across the river gorge, where mesa cliffs loomed over the crossing and where the road continued its meandering highland crawl between the banks of a tributary stream and a rocky cliff face.

The countryside was rich with trees and grasses, thick shrubs lined the river and the banks as much as they did the road. The air was rich with the whine of insects and the calls of birds. Somewhere in the distance Zhou thought she could hear the cackles of hyenas but dismissed it as a fantastical trick of the mind.

“Why are you in Addis Ababa and not with your kin?” asked Zhou, trying to broach friendly conversation. It didn't feel right with her and she regretted the decision outright. But she was too slow to retract the question as he answered anyways.

“To get an education!” he exclaimed with excitement, “There is nothing for me at home but to herd goats, and there is no better way to support my people.” he said this with a wide proud smile, “I am to become an engineer, if all things work out.”

There was a lost sense of hope in his tone of voice. One that wanted the future he desired for himself, but one that also admitted with regret that things were now complicated, to put it in the lesser of terms. Even Zhou was unsure if China would allow him to continue his  training in Chinese universities should he end up as a long term refugee if things went sour fast, and for a long time.

“But, what about you. Why are you so far away from your kin?” he asked.

Zhou didn't answer him. She wrapped he hands in front of her and continued to gaze down at the rain-swollen rapids below her. She couldn't claim to know much about Africa and its rivers. She knew hazily the Blue Nile would drain into the Nile somewhere, but didn't know where. She wasn't sure either if they would cross the Nile as they would the Blue Nile. It seemed to her to be something to expect. But she didn't want to answer his question. She responded with her own.

“What's ahead of us?” she asked flatly.

“Oh...” the deflated student responded, sheepishly. “More highlands.” he said, almost regret. He was deflated with his answer. “We'll come on the small town of Dejen soon after the bridge. If we keep up the pace we will be there by nightfall, this is all-to-slow going.”

“I can't help it.” Zhou said, “We can't help it.”

“I-I understand.” the student responded, worried. “There... There are Muslims who live in Dejen. Have you ever dealt with Muslims?” he asked this concerned, almost a little afraid. At asking the question he looked to almost want to hide.

“I have, a little.” Zhou answered. She recalled her tour through the Philippines and the Muslim villages on Mindanao's south-western coast, as well as trying to give them aid after what had been forced upon them when they arrived. Even then though, their relationship with them was tenuous. And while China had the Hui, she could not recall ever really interacting with them. She supposed in the end there would be nothing to worry about.

The student nodded cautiously.

From behind them the voice of Yu called out, “found the tea!”

“And the rice?” Zhou called back, turning on her heels.

“Still looking.” he shouted back.

“Perhaps I'll help.”  the young man said nervously, turning back to the truck.

Zhou acknowledged him with a impatient nod and turned back to the river. Being a little more alone now, she could begin to appreciate the awe and extremes of this country. She wondered just how the Spanish could seek to subjugate Ethiopia and began to doubt their mission plan.