Chapter 24 The sixth wilderness-2

A KLM Airbus flew Ed Meirner and me to Khartoum.We disembarked into the wet embrace of an African night.We did not have a visa, only the reference code given to us by the TPLF in London, but the local immigration officer who received us was obviously familiar with this code, but when we went to pick up our luggage, he left our passports. Ed has a lovely wife and two beautiful children.When I got married, he was my male guest.He is one of my oldest friends.He was not tall but very muscular, with dark hair and an angular face.He is a very dedicated and professional TV person, who undertakes all the work of the film crew alone, including producer, director, cameraman and sound engineer.These particular skills, quite different from his Channel 4 signing, made him the perfect man to go with me because I had to provide news stories for TPLF, but I still didn't want to show up with a huge film crew. In Axum because I didn't want to complicate my expedition there.

Ed's full name was John Edward Douglas Melner.So when we arrived in the lobby of Khartoum Airport and heard the name over the loudspeaker, our ears pricked up: "John Edward, John Edward. Please, Mr. John Edward, report to the immigration office immediately. "Ed heard it, and immediately did so, disappearing into the crowd.Half an hour later, I had packed all our bags and had our passports stamped by immigration.Another half hour passed, then another hour passed, another hour and a half passed. Just after midnight, when all the other passengers had passed through customs and no one else was in the airport lobby, my colleague finally showed up.The expression on his face, though awkward, was nonetheless cheerful.He explained: "For some reason, the name John Edward is on the police's most wanted list. I've been trying to convince them I'm John Edward Melner, but they don't seem to get me .They seized my passport. I have to come back tomorrow morning to get it back."

TPLF sent a car to pick us up at the airport.The driver, who spoke no English, drove us through the deserted streets of Khartoum.Every few minutes, the car was stopped for a stop inspection by a barricade erected by rough soldiers with heavy weapons, scrutinizing the pass our driver was carrying. I have been to Sudan before.In 1981 and 1986, I routinely visited Sudan several times.Yet what I realize right now is that things have changed dramatically in Sudan since then.First, judging by the barricades, there was clearly a strict curfew in place, something unheard of in days gone by.Also, although I don't know why, I felt a strange atmosphere.The darkness of the buildings along the road, the smell of garbage in the alleys, and the packs of homeless dogs roaming around all made people feel uneasy.Khartoum is always messy, but tonight it strikes me as extra ugly, extra messy, different from what it used to be.

When we came to the city center, we turned right into the street "Sara El Neil".The high street is just north of the grand Victorian palace. In 1885, General Charles Gordon (1833-1885, a British general who suppressed the Taiping Rebellion in my country and was later killed by Mahdi rebels in Khartoum, Sudan—Translator’s Note) was killed there by Mahdi monks. People kill. "Shara El-Nil" means "Nile Avenue" or "Nile Road," and we are indeed driving along the Nile right now.Above our heads are awnings set up by trees, with stars shining through the branches and leaves.To our right, behind the thick trunks and drooping branches of oak trees, I could see the Nile flowing quietly toward distant Egypt.

To our left, the empty balconies of the grand hotel—an elegant conference center that had once been an elegant conference center—fell past us, now looking shabby and decaying.Moments later, we hit a final checkpoint at a bend in the street, and the driver had to produce his pass again.Then, we drove to the cliff corner where the Blue Nile and the White Nile meet, where the Hilton Hotel in Khartoum is located.From the moment we walked into the bright courtyard in front of the restaurant, I wanted two double vodkas, soda and a cone of ice.However, when I later ordered these items to be delivered to my room, I suddenly remembered an important fact that I had forgotten: since Sudan adopted Islamic law in the mid-80s, alcoholic beverages have been banned in Sudan.

The next day is Tuesday, January 10th.In the morning Ed and I took a taxi to the Tigray Rescue Society (REST for short), as the TPLF in London wanted us to report there to make final arrangements for our travel. We noticed that our names had been chalked on a blackboard in one of the rooms upstairs.However, no one in the room seemed to know anything else about us.We also couldn't immediately meet Haile Kiros, the head of the TPLF mission in Khartoum.The city's phone system has always been unreliable, and that morning the network seemed to have collapsed. "Can we drive directly to TPLF's office?" I asked one of the REST members.

"No. You'd better stay here. We'll get you Haile Kiros." Until more than 10 o'clock in the morning, there was still no news.We decided that I would stay and wait for Haile Kiros while Ed would have to take a taxi to the airport to get his passport back.He went, but hadn't returned two hours later. TPLF officials are still nowhere to be seen.Or rather, no one there showed the slightest interest in my plans to go to Axum. I think there is a ray of hope in this disappointment: their indifference made me feel that my lingering fantasy was superfluous, because I always thought that I might be killed in Tigray Province. kill.In fact, I could already see a more realistic prospect gradually looming before me: that everyone involved was lethargic and sluggish, so they couldn't be expected to take me to Tigray.

I looked at my watch and realized it was past 1pm.It occurred to me: In less than an hour, all the offices in Khartoum will be closed, perhaps including the offices of REST and TPLF.Tomorrow is Friday, the Islamic Sabbath.So it's clear: nothing too important will happen before Saturday, January 12. But where is Ed?Maybe he went straight back to the hotel.I called the hotel, but of course I couldn't get through.Growing annoyed, I left a note for Helkieros with the number of my hotel room asking him to contact me.I handed the note to one of the friendly young men in the REST office and went out onto the street to hail a cab.

I went back to the Hilton first, but Ed wasn't there.Later, I thought he might have gone back to the REST office, and returned there, but he was still not there.Finally, I asked the driver to take me to the airport.After very patient questioning at the airport, I finally learned that my colleague was denied entry and was being "talked" by the police. "May I go in and see him?" "no." "May I know the details?" "no." "When will I see him?" "Today, tomorrow, maybe Saturday," explained a well-meaning English-speaking businessman who helped me, "no one knows. No one can tell. He was arrested by the State Security Police, they are so bad There's nothing you can do about it."

I am really anxious now, I ran out of the airport and came to the information desk.It was surprising that it was on.There I had no trouble finding the phone number for the British embassy.Then I found another phone that actually worked; not only did I get through, but it was free.But unfortunately, the embassy's phone was not answered. Two minutes later, I was back in the taxi.The driver didn't know where the British embassy was (though he said he did), but after an unusual amount of searching, he finally found it.This took probably a little over an hour.I spent the rest of the afternoon at the airport with two British diplomats.I found the two diplomats in the embassy club, where they were drinking illegal drinks.The two officers tried to figure out why Ed was being detained, but their efforts were no more successful than mine.

Not only that, but their efforts were further complicated by the fact that Yasser Arafat, the head of the Palestine Liberation Organization, had just arrived in Khartoum on a Lebanese plane, and Sudanese military dictator Omar A Bashir discusses the Gulf crisis.Lines of soldiers armed with automatic rifles patrol the airport, unleashing anti-Western patriotism and making everyone unhappy with life. My two diplomats were not in a good mood either.One of them reminded me: "We have warned all British citizens to leave this bloody country." His tone was somewhat accusatory. "Now you know why?" I didn't get back to the Hilton Hotel for dinner until around 9 o'clock that night, and Ed still wasn't rescued.Then, just after 10 o'clock, Ed suddenly appeared in the lobby of the hotel, and I finally felt relieved.He looked depressed and tired, but he was neatly dressed. He sat in front of my desk and raised his hands.There were marks of black ink all over his hands. "They left my fingerprints," he explained.Next, he asked for a large gin and soda, but couldn't get it.In the end, he drank only a glass of warm non-alcoholic beer, but he showed only the slightest displeasure about it. on the way I later learned that Ed was detained not by the dreaded State Security Police, but by the Sudanese branch of Interpol. The name "John Edward" is said to be one of a dozen aliases used by an internationally wanted drug trafficker.When investigators noticed that Ed's passport was stamped with a Colombian visa, Ed's fate was sealed, as Colombia is the cocaine capital of the world. He had been filming a news story for British television Channel 4 in Colombia, but the detectives simply didn't believe it.He looked nothing like the wanted man in the faxed photo obtained by Interpol, and that did nothing to keep him out of trouble.Fortunately, the fingerprint information of the wanted criminal was also faxed, but it was almost evening when the Interpol got it.Someone who was quite clever suggested comparing Ed's fingerprints with these.Ed was soon released. The next day, we shared our experience with TPLF representative Haile Kiros, who arrived in the Hilton lobby at 3 p.m.Our experiences, worrisome at the time, were hilarious in retrospect, and the three of us couldn't stop laughing about them.Then, we began to discuss the specific deployment of the trip to Axum.At this time, I have been watching Haile Kiros carefully.However, I didn't see any signs of trying to hurt me in his behavior.On the contrary, he was genial, easy-going, well-bred, and obviously devoted himself to the cause of overthrowing the current Ethiopian government, but otherwise he had no malicious intentions. During the conversation, I gradually realized how out of control things would have gotten if I had been in Sudan in the previous few months.In the face of the sincerity and friendliness of Haile Kiros, all my previous fears and apprehensions, because I had been worried that I would hand myself over to the anti-government elements, seemed completely unfounded.Likewise, all my previous negative imaginations about this journey seemed completely absurd now. On Saturday morning, January 12th, we met with a TPLF officer I had previously known only as "Hagos".He was tall and thin, with a small scar on his face from smallpox as a child.He said that the TPLF sent him to accompany us to Axum (where he was born) and come back with us when we finished our work.He is currently in Khartoum to process our exit passes and rent a car for us for the trip. At noon, we had completed all the formalities.At two o'clock in the afternoon, we made another deal with an Eritrean businessman living in Sudan.He agreed to provide us with a beefy "Toyota" off-road vehicle, plus a beefier driver named Tesfaye, and six five-gallon spares of fuel.Although I have to pay him $200 per day in rent, I think the deal is worth it because I know: Our journey will be a night trip on dangerous and rugged mountain roads, so as not to cause nasty Ethiopian government planes attention.At the time, government aircraft were still patrolling rebel-held Tigray province during the day. The next day was Sunday, January 13; we left Khartoum before dawn.In front of us is the Sudanese desert stretching for hundreds of kilometers, and our car is heading towards it at high speed.Our driver, Tesfaye, looked like a pirate, with curly hair, tobacco-tanned teeth, and twinkling eyes.He drives the off-road vehicle with confidence and clearly knows the roads well.Beside him sat his advisor, Hagos.Ed and I sat in the back seat and rarely spoke to each other.The hot sun gradually rose and greeted us. Our car drove to the border town of Kassala.From there, a convoy of trucks from the "Tigray Rescue Association" will head to the border that evening.We intend to join this convoy and follow it in the direction of Axum. "It's safer to go with a lot of cars," Hargoss explained, "to avoid trouble." The journey from Khartoum to Kassala made me realize just how dreary and hollow the Sudanese landscape really is.Surrounded by arid and barren plains stretching to the distant horizon, I saw for the first time the unforgiving wilderness. Around noon, piles of mummified animals began to appear outside our car, including sheep, goats, cows and, to my shock, camels.They are all the result of a great famine in which people will also starve to death before long.However, the Sudanese government currently does not even let the outside world know about this situation, let alone take disaster relief measures.I think that in itself reflects a deadly arrogance, the indifference and stupidity of a dictatorship in Africa that seeks only its own special status and power at the cost of countless human suffering. But I have supported such dictatorships in the past, haven't I?Even now, I can hardly say that I have severed all ties with them.So who am I?What qualifications do you have to judge?who am I?What right do you have to feel remorse?What right do I have now to sympathize with the displaced, the needy? town of cassala We crossed the muddy Atbara River just after two o'clock that afternoon, near its confluence with the Tekeze.The distance between me and the city of Axum used to be so far away, but now it is shrinking rapidly.Thinking of this, I do feel a bit shocked.Only a month ago, that distance seemed impassable—a chasm both deep and wide, filled with unspeakable horrors.And it is nothing short of a miracle that I should be here now, and be allowed to see these rivers with my own eyes. I do feel that it was along these rivers that the Hebrew immigrants with the Ark of the Covenant entered Ethiopia.These are the rivers that wash the land under the shadow of the locust's wings, the rivers that pour down into the arid desert of Sudan, the rivers that meet the Nile, the rivers that flow through El Fatan and Luxor, Bidos and Cairo, the great river that finally empties into the Mediterranean. We arrived in the town of Kassala just after 3pm.Built on an oasis of ancient palms, its main feature is a granite boulder that juts out of the ground in an eerie shape, rising more than 2,500 feet above the surrounding plain.I knew that this wind-eroded red hill, isolated as it looked, was actually the first outcrop of Ethiopia's vast plateau. I learned that the border was close—just a few kilometers away—and, shuddering with excitement, looked around the tumultuous frontier town with fresh interest.Our car is going through town.Crowds of people were milling around, apparently from the heat, filling the dusty streets with bright colors and tumultuous voices.Here a group of swift and shrewd Highlanders from Abyssinia are exchanging mountain goods for desert goods, haggling with shopkeepers; (it snorts incessantly), looking out at the world with haughty eyes; here is a ragged Moslem saint, bowing his blessings to every one who offers him alms, and cursing those who do not A man who gives alms; there is a child over there, squealing with delight, pushing a toy hoop with a long pole...   Hagos showed the way to the driver, Tesfaye, and pulled us to a bungalow on the outskirts of town. "You have to stay here," he said, "until we can cross the border. At this moment you don't know what the Sudanese authorities are going to do, so you'd better hide and stay in your house. That's safe. " "Who lives here?" I asked as I got out of the car. "This is TPLF's house." Haggas said, leading us into a clean yard.There are several houses around the yard. "Rest. Sleep, if you can, you'd better. We've got a long night to go." cross the border At 5 o'clock that afternoon, we drove into a large, dusty clearing.The ground was littered with the remains of slaughtered four-legged animals.Swarms of blowflies buzzed and flew in all directions.On the ground between the rotting vegetables and the stinking animal shoulder blades were many small, smelly piles of human feces.To my right, the sun had set on the skyline between Kassala's isolated granite boulder and the town, like a grotesque oil painting in orange and teal.The jigsaw puzzle, I think, is like an existentialist vision of the end of all life. "Where the hell are we?" I asked Hargos. "Oh ... the trucks are going to gather here before they cross the border," the TPLF officer explained. "We might have to wait for half an hour, maybe an hour, and then we can go." Ed got out of the off-road vehicle immediately, and took a tripod and camera to find a vantage point in order to film the scene of the arrival of the truck.His film for Channel 4 was not only to cover religious issues, as I said to TPLF, but also to cover the famine that was spreading rapidly in Tigray province. While he was doing his preparations, I was thinking and walking around, chasing flies away, trying to find a place to sit and write my notes for the day.However, the morgue-like atmosphere here made it impossible for me to concentrate at all.Besides, the sun had dipped on the horizon, and the light was dimmed, so I couldn't write notes anymore. The air is full of coolness.After a hot afternoon, it was surprisingly cold.A gust of wind whistled between the abandoned buildings around the assembly area.People come and go, and the figures of men and women seem to disappear without a trace when they come and go.There were also groups of children in rags, playing together among the rubbish and bones, giggling shrillly, and mingling with the low whine of the cattle as they passed by. . Then I heard the roar of trucks approaching, accompanied by the sound of brakes.I looked back in the direction of the sound and saw the dim light of the truck's headlights, then the blinding beam.Finally, out of the darkness came the monstrous figures of Mercedes trucks, about 20 of them.The trucks rumbled past my eyes, and I saw that each truck was loaded with hundreds of bags of grain, which seemed extremely heavy, causing the suspension of the truck to sag and the chassis to creak. The trucks stopped in the middle of the empty field, lined up in rows of two or three.Their numbers have been exaggerated by some who escaped the town.Dust and smoke soon filled the night air, resounding through the roar of the engine as it accelerated.Then the convoy of trucks began to move as if they had received a signal (though there was none). I hurried back to the buggy, where Ed was scrambling to pack up his camera gear, and Haggis was helping him.Then we all jumped in the car and drove along behind the taillights of the truck.I saw the deep ruts on the road under our wheels; over the years, how many convoys have passed this road with food for the hungry.And it is their stupid and evil government that keeps people starving. Our SUV was going fast and soon passed the last truck ahead, and then about a dozen more.Tesfaye is clearly relishing the role of the rally driver.By this moment he had driven our car into the middle of the convoy.Now, all around us are dust and grit kicked up by the cars, forming a violent cloud that billows up and down, sometimes reducing visibility to just a few feet. I stared hard, looking at the night that was passing by quickly outside the car window, and experienced a heavy and solemn feeling, accompanied by a sense of surrender to fate.I am on this road, go wherever I want to go, and receive everything that fate has given me.I thought: this is where I want to be, this is what I want to do. Just before 7 o'clock, our car reached the border and stopped at a Sudanese army checkpoint.There are only a few mud huts, located in the wilderness full of ravines.A few men in military uniforms emerged from the darkness with lanterns and began to check our documents and identities.Then they waved the trucks ahead of us across the border one by one. When it was our turn, an officer ordered Hargos out of the car, questioned him carefully, and kept gesturing toward the back seat of our car, while Ed and I were doing our best not to look arouse suspicion. We handed over our passports, and the officer examined them carefully with a flashlight.All of a sudden, the officer seemed to lose interest in us all at once, and walked up to the next car, to trouble the driver. Hargoss got back into the SUV and slammed the door shut. "Is there a problem?" I asked nervously. "No, not at all," the TPLF officer replied.He turned to me with a smile and said, "Don't worry, they won't be arresting Ed again. It's all good. Let's go." He said something in Tigray to Tesfaye, who happily let go of his hand and started the engine.Later, we entered Ethiopia - but not yet in Tigray province.I knew that first we had to go through the territory controlled by the "Eritrean People's Liberation Front" (EPLF). The EPLF is also an anti-government guerrilla group, formed earlier than the TPLF, and has been fighting for Eritrea's independence for almost 30 years, and now (1991), they are closer than ever to achieving this goal.I sat in the car and asked Hagos what the relationship between the two anti-government groups was like. "We work closely together," he explained, "however, while the EPLF is fighting to create an independent state of Eritrea, we in the TPLF are not looking for secession from Ethiopia, but only the possibility of a democratically elected government in the country." "Do you have to overthrow Mengistu for this?" "Of course he and his Workers Party are the main obstacle to freedom in our country." Our car drove for about half an hour, during which time we didn't see the convoy behind us at all.The taillights of the truck in front of us suddenly came on, and we quickly stopped the car and stopped with the convoy in what looked like a wide valley surrounded by low hills. "Why did we stop?" I asked Hargos. "We are waiting for the convoy from behind to catch up. We also have to pick up a few soldiers from ThLF who will go with us and defend the convoy." Hagos got off the off-road vehicle without further explanation and disappeared into the darkness.Ed grabbed his camera and hand flash and got out of the car too. After a while, it occurred to me, too: I'd better get out of the car, stretch my legs, and look around. I got out of the car and the night air outside was velvety and cool.I stood very close to the car for a while, looking up at the night sky.I saw the stars shimmering in the sky densely covered with stars, and there was a crescent moon overhead.All I could see were the silhouettes of nearby trucks, their headlights now off.To my right was a large acacia grove, almost lost in the shadows of the night.There is a white rock on the top of the hill a little farther away, reflecting a faint white light. My eyes gradually adjusted to the dark night.At this moment, I can already see more and more what is happening around me.Crowds of people with fierce faces, fully armed, or standing around, or crouching on the ground talking in low voices.Although we didn't see them with guns in Sudan, they all seem to be carrying automatic weapons now. I kind of understand it.I made my way among the parked trucks and soon came across Hargos, who was talking to some TPLF soldiers in camouflage uniforms.I walked over and was startled to hear the metal clang of the trigger of an AK47.I thought to myself, I'm going to be shot, I'm going to be shot now. However, Hagos called me over and introduced me to several other people.I even misjudged the sound just now: it turned out that it was a gun who was skillfully dismantling a gun.The sound of soldiers wiping their guns.Once again, I am ashamed of the self-inflicted fears in my heart.This dread haunted me in the months leading up to my trip.I am determined to trust these rebels from now on—they were ordered to trust me after all. It was a while before we got back on the road: a truck behind us got a punctured tire crossing the border, and we thought it wise to keep the convoy intact, so there was some delay.But we eventually set off and drove on for about two hours. Later (I don't think it was past 11 o'clock at night) we stopped again.Although I can't say for sure, we seem to be on an open field.All the cars lined up with their headlights turned off. "We're not going any further tonight!" announced Haggas after a moment's silence. "Why not?" I asked. "There's a shelter nearby, and we'll have to stay there all day tomorrow. The next safe spot is too far away to make it before dawn." After speaking, the TPLF officer fell asleep holding an AK47 submachine gun. Breakfast in Tesserne I slept too, but very restlessly.I stretched my feet and shins out of the SUV's open side window.The dream kept haunting me, and I kept tossing and turning.I slept like this for hours, only to be awakened by the sound of the engine starting and the fumes of diesel. We didn't drive very far.After driving less than 1000 meters, we saw a forest with tall trees and dense leaves.The whole convoy drove into the woods and took cover.I watched with interest as people pulled out canvas tarps and draped them over every car, including ours."It's to block the reflections, and we're almost invisible from the sky unless there's some shiny metal that catches the attention of those MiGs," Hagos explained, adding that even the most careful camouflage won't Totally keeping us safe, "Sometimes pilots will blindly bomb and straf the woods like this, just in case there's a rescue truck hidden in the woods." While the convoy was hiding, the sun had already risen.In the gray light of the morning, I could see the blackened and burnt wreckage of three large Mercedes trucks, teaching us a salutary lesson."They were hit a few weeks ago. Just bad luck," Hagos said, snapping off a leafy branch and walking out onto the sandy plain behind us.There, Tesfaye and several other drivers were routinely clearing the tire tracks that criss-crossed the ground. Around 8:00 in the morning, all covert work was completed.Hagos proposed to us to go to the nearby Eritrean town of Tessene. "How far is it?" I asked. "Not far, about an hour's walk. We'll be safe. MiGs are only interested in high-value targets, like trucks. They don't usually straf small groups of people on open ground." "Did they air raid the town?" "Sometimes they see trucks in the town or large groups of people, and they launch air strikes on the town. The town of Tessene was bombed several times." We walked along a dirt road and had a great time.On both sides of the road are clumps of low bushes, and beautifully colored birds are flying happily among them.I looked around and saw that we were walking across rolling country fields, and I thought I saw the hazy outlines of distant mountains. The weathered granite hills surround the town of Tethone, and the town sits in a rock-strewn valley.Most of its streets are unpaved, and there are not a single car on the street, but people are everywhere: here are children playing; there is an old woman leading a donkey with a heavy load on its back; A very attractive masked girl who ran away laughing as we passed, and a large group of armed men who greeted us with smiles and cheerful waves. To be honest, this town is very chaotic.Most of the dilapidated flat-roofed houses bear the remnants of street fighting—bullet holes in the walls gaping, the fronts of the houses riddled with machine gun bullet craters, and the stone houses collapsed.Ahead of us to the right is a hospital that has been completely destroyed.There were countless shell casings all over our feet, forming a shiny and clanging carpet. I asked Hargos, "What's going on here?" "A few years ago, the government seemed to have won the war, and Tessene was one of the last strongholds of the EPLF. In fact, the Ethiopian government army captured the town several times, but the EPLF always managed to take it back. There have been many incidents here. There was a lot of fighting, very brutal, very bloody. But now that the front line is far away, it's peaceful—only sometimes it gets bombed." A few minutes later, Hargoss took us into a small hotel with about 20 rooms arranged around a square courtyard.Under a camouflaged canopy, groups of Eritreans are sitting at tables, drinking coffee and talking lightly.A waitress was walking back and forth, and the air was filled with the smell of food about to be cooked. I felt a relaxed, boulevard-like atmosphere about this small setting, in stark contrast to the dilapidation outside.It is evident that man has always been able to adapt to circumstances, and that no matter how harsh the circumstances may be, he can find ways to make life bearable. Hargos seemed to see what I was thinking.As we sat down at the table, he said to me: "They're not very rich, but at least they're free now. Things are getting better every day." It wasn't long before Haggas's words were confirmed: the waitress brought us breakfast, including fried eggs and six-packs of Dutch beer. "Where the hell did they get these?" I asked hastily, cracking open the first can of beer. "Beer has been available in Eritrea since the EPLF took back the Massawa port from the government last year," Hagos explained with a smile.He opened a can of beer for himself, drank it, and said, "Isn't that a great luxury after leaving Khartoum?" In this way, we spent most of the morning drinking beer and chatting with half the population of Tessene (who are currently gathering in restaurants to see us foreigners).At noon we turned on Ed's shortwave radio for increasingly worrying news from the Gulf.It is now Monday, January 14, and the United Nations deadline for Iraq to withdraw troops from Kuwait will expire at midnight on the 15th. We slept for a few hours afterwards and woke up at 4pm.Went outside and got back to the convoy just in time, because the convoy was due to leave at 6 o'clock as scheduled. magic and wonder The night's journey seemed endless, but in reality it only took 11 hours.It was quite dark when we left the town of Tessene.Tesfaye managed to get our car into his preferred position, in the middle of the convoy.然后，在我们已经熟悉的那种烟尘里，我们便开始了那段历史性的旅行，穿过埃塞俄比亚中央大断层西面的丘陵，然后开上前面的高原。 凌晨1点左右，我们停车给越野车加油。车上带的油桶散发着难闻的气味。车在路面的辙沟里一路颠簸，使我浑身僵直痉挛；我还被擦伤了几处。我下了车，一边等着加完油，一边看着我们后面的卡车一辆辆地从面前开过，它们都开着前灯，不断发出踩刹车的噬噬声。 最后一辆卡车开过去并消失了，我深吸了一口气，仰望夜空，心里感激自己还算不错的运气，因为它已经把我带到了这里。后来我们又回到了公路上，在坑洼不平、布满辙沟的路面上继续艰难地前进，追赶前面的车队。 不久我才第一次意识到：我们的车正沿着一条U字形弯道爬上一个陡坡，那弯道仿佛悬在半空，穿过荒凉险峻的高原，然后再向上爬。我感到已经走过了很长的距离，并且地貌也在不断变换。 我知道，在刚刚过去的几个小时当中的某一刻，我们已经从厄立特里亚进入了提格雷省。虽然我的身体被撞得很疼，且一时无法恢复，但我还是不知不觉地进入了一种睡梦般的状态。在这种状态下，我在过去两年中遇到的所有事情，我在探寻中经历的奇特曲折，那些死巷绝路，那些发现的瞬间，仿佛融合成了一串完整的画面，依次出现在我眼前。 我马上就无比清晰地看到了一点：如果我仅仅是出于贪婪和野心才从事这项使我如此长期迷恋的研究，那它就只能算是一次毫无意义的可怜冒险。上帝的约柜被放在它那座幽暗的礼拜堂里。可能闪烁着古代黄金的光芒，但它的真正价值却井不在此。约柜是一件无价的考古珍宝，但这也不是它的真正价值。实际上，约柜上一切可以度量、计算、品评和估价的东西，其意义都最为微末。我的眼睛如果盯在这些东西上（而我心里知道我曾经如此），那么，我所犯下的大错便接近亵渎神圣了——不是亵渎这件正被我寻找的圣物，而是亵渎寻觅者；不是亵渎神圣的约柜，而是亵渎我自己。 既然这件圣物的真正价值并不在物质世界里，那它又在哪里呢？约柜神秘莫测，当然也令人痴迷，它支配了众多漫长世纪以来不同国家人们的想象，这是为什么呢？魔法和奇迹，灵感与希望——这些才是不朽的。因此，最好是牢牢抓住这些东西，而不去看重那些转瞬即逝的价值。即使是因追求某种高尚而一无所获，也强似暂时获得成功却日后感到羞愧。 孤独之路 黎明之前，我们来到了一个小镇上，那里没有一丝灯光，更沓无人迹。我们从头到脚都蒙着一层来自路上的尘垢微粒。 哈戈斯毫不怜惜地拍打着一扇关闭的屋门，终于把它打开了。接着，我们从越野车上卸下爱德的摄像器材和其他一些白天可能有用的行李，然后进了屋子。泰斯法耶则把越野车开到一个隐蔽的地方去了。 我们发现自己来到了一个半遮蔽、半敞开的农舍里，里面的人正在简陋的床铺上睡觉。幸好其中一些床铺是空的，爱德、哈戈斯和我很快就占上了三个铺位。于是，我把自己裹在一条毯子里，闭上眼睛，立刻就睡着了。 几个小时以后我醒了，外面天已大亮。我的两个伙伴已经不见了，十几个提格雷人正围坐在我旁边，满怀兴趣地盯着我。我向他们问了好，尽量体面地起了床，到一个滴水的龙头前洗脸，那水龙头接在一个铁桶上。然后，我坐下来写笔记。 过了一会儿，爱德和哈戈斯回来了。方才车队给这里的人分发食品，他们去拍摄了这个场面。我问我们在什么地方。 "这儿是切雷罗，"哈戈斯回答说，"是提格雷省这部分地区的一个重镇。它也是车队的目的地。所有的卡车都在这里卸了车。" "这儿离阿克苏姆还有多远？" "还要开车走一夜。不过，我们如果独自走，可能不大安全。咱们最好在这里等着，等下一个车队到来。" 我看了看手表上的日历：今天是1月15日，星期二，离主显节开始只有三天了。 "你看咱们会等很久吗？"我问。 "大概要等上两三天吧。咱们要是走运，也许今晚就能动身。" "你为什么说咱们单独走不大安全呢？" "因为政府从他们的阿斯马拉要塞向提格雷省派来了破坏分子。他们派了破坏小组，炸毁公路上的汽车。像我们这样坐着几个人的越野车，是他们的理想目标。" "那么，车队呢？它们不也是袭击目标么？" "不。车队几乎从来没遭到过袭击。卡车太多，卫兵也太多了。" 白天过得很慢，既漫长炎热，又令人厌烦。将近傍晚的时候，已经出去了几个小时的哈戈斯回来了。他宣布当天夜里没有车队离开这个镇子。"我建议，"他说，"咱们至少要等到明天再说。" 听了他这番话，我们脸上马上露出了焦灼的神色。哈戈斯见了，便补充说：当然，这还是由你们决定。 " 爱德和我已经决心做出自己的决定了，因为我们已经在下午为此讨论了很长时间。因此，我们告诉这位TPLF军官：我们打算抓紧赶路——除非他认为我们这个决定愚蠢已极。 "不，就按你们的意见办好了。我知道你们想在主显节以前到达阿克苏姆。危险并不太大。不过，我要设法再找一个TPLF战士跟咱们一起去，以防万一。" 傍晚我们又出发了。哈戈斯坐在前座上，身边还有一个新找来的卫兵，是个十几岁的男孩，牙齿白得惊人，典型的非洲人，手持一把AK47冲锋枪，还有四个备用弹夹。他生性乐天，笑个不停。夜间行车时，他一直要我们把越野车立体声录音机播放的提格雷人战歌开到最大音量。但我还是不禁感到：如果有人决定开枪把我们打死，例如从那边的角落里、从那个树丛里、甚至从那块巨石后面朝我们射击，那么，这个年轻人的精力和勇气并不足以挡住子弹。 像我们现在这样单独夜行，没有护送，前后都没有轰隆作响的大卡车，其困难程度的确使我吃惊。以前，我们好像是在跟随着一支不可战胜的强大军队前进，勇猛无畏地冲破夜间的道道障碍，用车灯光束的弹幕驱散重重黑暗。现在，我们却变得易受攻击、势单力孤了。越野车在山坡上凋敝的树林里穿行时，我领略了这片荒凉的土地是何等广阔，它们的凄凉和毫不宽容的敌意又是何等巨大。 我们的汽车向上爬了几个小时，发动机吃力地运转着，车外的气温在不断下降。我们来到一条山顶小道上的时候，突然有几个武装分子截住了我们的去路。 我不禁骂了一句"见鬼"，可是哈戈斯却让我放心："没有什么值得担心的，这儿有个TPLF营地，他们是保卫这条路的，都是我们的人。"他打开车门，和叛军士兵交谈了几句，还和他们握手，后者正围着我们的越野车。接着，我们就被示意通过了一个临时路障，不久后便来到了一个暴露在风中的高原上，那里的一座座木屋之间闪烁着黄火。 我们在这个营地停留了大约半个小时，喝了咖啡，然后又上了路，在暗夜中继续独自前行。营地的灯光一个一个地在我们身后消失，被黑暗取代了。 time flies.我打了个盹，醒来以后发现我们的车正沿着一个巨大山谷的边缘行驶。我们左边是很近的石头山沿，右边是个可怕的深渊，而我们脚下这条崎岖小路就在深渊边上。后来，一个耀眼的光团突然从漆黑的谷底朝我们飞过来，好像一个由纯能量构成的东西，拖曳着一条鬼火般的荧光尾迹。几秒钟之内，这团发光的鬼火就飞到了我们的车前。它从我们前面的小路上划了过去，几乎击中汽车的前挡风玻璃，然后撞在山岩上熄灭了。 此刻，泰斯法耶立即刹住了车，关掉了车灯。与此同时，哈戈斯和我们从切雷罗镇带来的那个卫兵也跳出车外，端着AK47冲锋枪，冲到了崖边。 我看这两个人动作敏捷，咄咄逼人，像例行公事那样无所畏惧。他们的协同动作就像在完成一次演习，而他们对这种演习早已训练有素了。 "到底出了什么事？"爱德问道。他一直在沉睡，而车子的突然刹车刚把他惊醒。 "不清楚，"我回答说，"不过，我看是咱们刚刚遭到了射击。" 我正要说下车可能对我们有利，哈戈斯和他那个同伴便朝我们跑了过来。他们上车坐在前排座位上，用力关上身后的车门，命令泰斯法耶继续开车。 "我猜刚才我们看见的是曳光弹，"我过了一会儿才说。 "不错，"哈戈斯老实地说，"下面的山谷里有人朝咱们发射了好几发曳光弹。" "可是刚才只有一发。" "不，不对。虽然我们刚才只看见了一发，但肯定还有几发，只是很快就灭了。通常的做法是每个弹仓上装一发或者两发曳光弹，好让枪手校准目标。其余的都是普通子弹。" "这真有意思！"爱德说。 我们沉默地继续行驶了一会儿，然后我问哈戈斯："你看谁会向咱们开枪呢？" "肯定是政府的特务。我跟你们说过，他们经常把这些人派到提格雷省来制造麻烦。他们在夜里无法从空中轰炸我们，所以就用了这些破坏小队，企图搅乱公路交通。他们有时候能得逞……" 我又想到了一个问题："他们为什么不继续射击呢？我们刚才很容易被打中啊。" "这对他们太危险了。他们第一次没有打中我们，又离我们很近，所以他们要是继续射击，那会很不聪明。这个地区有很多TPLF战士。长时间交火会引起这些战士的注意。" "哦……我明白了。" 我感到很累，把头靠在了越野车的侧窗上，想着生命是多么容易被一颗无意的子弹夺走，我们每个人的威严与自负下面又是多么脆弱。 凌晨3点左右，我们的车在一段碎石路上加快了速度。车旁是个空场，上面有一辆废弃的坦克车，它的炮塔被打歪了，炮筒也无力地垂了下来。在我们左边，我看见一座古老建筑的庞大废墟出现在星光下。我立即被一阵强烈的刺痛压倒了，心中产生了一种已经看到了的感觉。我问："咱们在哪儿？" "咱们正在进入阿克苏姆，"哈戈斯回答说，"咱们刚刚路过的是示巴女王宫。" 几分钟以后，我们便开车进了这座小城，在狭窄的街道上左拐右拐，然后停在一道围墙前面，墙上垂着蔓延的藤蔓和热带的鲜花。其他人去敲围墙的大门，我悄悄绕过越野车身，跪在了地上，亲吻着这块土地。我虽然知道这是个夸张而多情的姿势，但不知为什么，我却感到应当如此。 Countermeasures 早晨，从窗外射进来的明亮阳光把我唤醒了。我住的房间没有拉窗帘。我们昨天深夜到达这里时，一切都漆黑一团，因为阿克苏姆没有电。但现在，当我走出房间的时候，我却看见了我们原来下榻在一个舒适的小宾馆里，它周围是一片碧绿的草坪。 我慢慢地走到了阳台上，那里摆着几把椅子。角落里的一只水壶里的水快要开了，水壶坐在一个用大油桶做成的炉子上。近旁有个厨房，里面有两个女人正在切莱，我猜她们是母女。 她们笑着和我打招呼，并且几乎马上就给我端来了一杯香喷喷的甜茶。我坐了下来，一边整理思绪，一边等其他人醒来。 今天是1991年1月16日，星期三。就在我刚刚度过的那个夜晚，联合国规定伊拉克从科威特撤军的最后期限已经过了。我相当抽象地猜想着会不会爆发第三次世界大战。同时，阿克苏姆的主显节庆典仪式即将在两天后准时举行。在此之前我必须想出一个对策来。 我发现自己很不愿意马上就去锡安山圣玛利教堂和那个礼拜堂。真奇怪，走过了这么漫长曲折的路，这最后几步路却似乎最难走。个中原因，一部分是我天性缺乏自信，另一部分是出于一种迷信的畏惧，还有一部分是因为我认为，过早去锡安山圣玛利教堂，这会使那里的神甫们警觉到我的出现，因而可能决定不在这次主显节游行中抬出真约柜。所以我有理由克制自己，保持低姿态，直到庆典开始。我知道届时众人将会有一场疯狂的舞蹈，因此我可能有机会接近约柜，从近处仔细观看它。 可是，这个对策也有个缺点。甚至早在我和法拉沙人的那位长者拉斐尔·哈达尼在耶路撒冷讨论时，我就意识到了一点：主显节仪式上永远不会使用真的约柜。届时将使用一个复制品，而真约柜依然平安地放在礼拜堂里。如果真是如此，那就很显然：我越是尽早去结识阿克苏姆的那些神甫就越好。我这样等下去将一无所获，而公开露面也毫无损失。其实恰恰相反，只有下很大工夫去和神甫们对话，我才可能有机会使他们相信：我对约柜并不是个威胁，我是诚心实意的，我值得让他们带我去看看真约柜。 出于这些理由，面对我必须立即做出的不可更改的决定，l月16日早晨我坐在那里喝咖啡的时候，的确感到进退两难。 过了一会儿，睡眼惺松的爱德从他的房间出来了，还把一个短波收音机紧贴在耳朵上。 "战争开始了吗？"我大声问。 "没有，还没有。还没开战。最后期限已经过了，可是没有任何关于战斗的报告。现在喝点茶怎么样？或者咖啡？喝咖啡就行。再来点儿早餐。这儿有早餐吗？" 爱德吃早餐的时候，哈戈斯来了，不过不是从他房间里来的。他显然已经去过城里了，因为他身后紧跟着一位令人尊敬的长者，留着长髯，法衣飘洒。 "这是我父亲，"这位TPLF军官说着，彬彬有礼地向所有在场的人做了介绍，"他是锡安山圣玛利教堂的神甫。我对他讲了你们对约柜的兴趣，他说想见见你们。"