Travel Weekly editor-at-large Arnie Weissmann had a wild time
when he toured Ethiopia. Following is the first in an eight-part
series telling the tales of his travels and travails:
I expected the Hyena Man to have
an insane look in his eyes. In my imagination, he would be a cross
between shaman and showman, with bushy hair and wearing animal
skins, howling at the hills to call wild animals to join him for a
late-evening feast.
The Hyena Man lives and works in
Harar, Ethiopia. There aren't many hotter places on earth than
Harar. It's the last significant population center before desert
sands create an unfriendly gap stretching east all the way to the
Somali and Djibouti borders.
The Hyena Man actually is one of Harar's lesser claims to fame.
This walled city of narrow alleys and smuggler's markets, mosques
and white-washed homes is best known for its shipments of
energy-enhancing substances. Most Ethiopian coffee is roasted
there, and it's also regarded as producing the best qat (pronounced
cat, chat or djat), a mild stimulant whose leaves are chewed widely
in the horn of Africa, Arabia and Kenya.
Though I had sampled both local wares, what really quickened my
pulse was the prospect of watching the Hyena Man at work. The Hyena
Man, I had read, summons wild spotted hyenas from the desert hills
and feeds them every night.
Like other daredevils -- the flying Wallendas and the Knievels
père et fils come to mind -- his was a family trade,
passed down from generation to generation. The Hyena Men work for
tips.
I arranged to meet him outside the city walls just after
dusk.
Contrary to my expectation, the Hyena
Man was mild-mannered and calm (upon reflection, much more suitable
qualities for someone who makes his living feeding wild
carnivores). Watching him set up for work in the light of my car's
headlights, I was reminded of a grandmother preparing for a stroll
in the park to toss peanuts to pigeons and squirrels.
When he was ready, he opened a folding chair and set a large
bucket of meat scraps and bones next to it, and sat down. I stood
about 10 feet behind him
He began to whistle and called out the names he had given to
various hyenas. The first sign that hyenas were approaching were
eyes reflecting in the dark about 50 yards out. First two pair,
then six, then suddenly a dozen.
He tossed a bone with some meat on it into the darkness just
beyond where the headlights shone. There was a fast rustling, and a
crunching of bone. Hyenas, I remembered, eat the bones as well as
the meat.
He started tossing the meat a little closer in, whistling and
calling in low, reassuring tones. Two hyenas darted out from the
darkness, snatched the meat, then retreated back beyond the
headlight's reach. Slowly, they became bolder, and soon five or six
were standing in the light, and they no longer bothered to retreat
with their catch.
I, too, felt a bit bolder, especially when
I noticed the Hyena Man's cat rubbing up against his leg without
apparent concern. The hyenas were still skittish, but despite their
obvious physical advantages, seemed more nervous than either the
cat or the Hyena Man.
When two or three hyenas approached within six feet of him, he
draped some meat at the end of a foot-long stick and held it out to
them. First one, then another, came up and took the meat from the
end of the stick.
Then -- and this is where I realized he truly was insane,
despite his mild manner -- he put meat on one end of the stick and
put the other end between his teeth. A hyena approached, lifted his
head and opened his huge jaws. I was quite relieved when, peeking
through my fingers, I watched as it took the meat but left his
facial features intact.
The Hyena Man turned to me and offered me the
stick. I hesitated, then accepted it. He draped a scrap of meat on
the end. Rather than puff the piece-of-meat pipe, I held out my
arm, and the largest of the hyenas walked over, eyeing me
cautiously. He grabbed the meat off quickly and stood back a few
feet to eat it. I fed about 10 of them that way, and, not wishing
to press my luck, handed the stick back.
Some of the hyenas that had gathered in the dark never made it
close enough to take meat directly from the stick, and the Hyena
Man would toss them some of the offal. There'd be an occasional
scuffle for a bone, punctuated by the high "laughing" sound hyenas
make.
I wondered what would happen when we ran out of food, especially
if the beasts weren't yet satisfied. But when the bucket was bare,
he simply stood up, folded up his chair and smiled. He wiped off
his hand and extended it to me, palm up.
I noticed the hyenas were watching. I tipped him handsomely.
" " "
Be sure to check back Thursday, July 12, where in his next
installment, Arnie will visit the Monastery in the Lake.
For the complete archive of Arnie's Adventures in Ethiopia,
click here.