Independence Day in Quhaito

My most memorable Fourth of July was spent without fireworks, or celebration, or crowds. I spent this particular Independence Day thousands of miles from the United States, with a few friends and aquqaintances, in circumstances so unlike, and yet so similar to, those of our forefathers that it remains vivid more than three decades later.

It was 1969, the second of five years I spent in Asmara, capital of what then was the northernmost province of Ethiopia, and now is Africa's newest independent country, Eritrea, and my home was Kagnew Station. This was also the first of several seasons I spent excavating with the Ethiopian Institute of Archaeology in several major ancient city sites.

A wonderful opportunity presented itself thanks to Ted Sullinger, a friend who was teaching a course on the history of Ethiopia at the University of Maryland extension on the base. He was leading a Fourth of July weekend 'triangle tour' of some of the more important archaeological sites in Eritrea and Tigray Provinces, including some where I had participated in digging only weeks before. I eagerly accepted his invitation to join the group for the tour, looking forward to seeing places that I had previously known only from my studies, and revisiting others to learn more about them and share what I had learned with the others. Most of the people on the trip were members of Ted's class, both military and civilian, government employees and dependents.

The sub-Saharan drought which soon was destined to become an unforgettable disaster was still at an early stage. The freedom struggle which eventually won Eritrea's independence from Ethiopia was active, but made little impact on the American community, many of whom disdainfully dismissed the liberation forces as the Eritrean equivalent of an urban legend, calling them shifta, the Tigrinya word for bandit or highwayman.

While some places were 'off-limits' for Kagnew Station personnel to visit or travel through, there were as yet no significant travel restrictions, and the requisite travel request was considered a formality except for travel off the main roads.

At this same time, half-way around the world, Apollo 11 was being prepared for its historic journey to Tranquility Base.

We were to set out on Friday morning, the fourth of July, heading south on the main Asmara to Addis Abeba highway. After visiting the two important sites along this road, we would drive into Tigray, turn west at Adigrat and head toward the capital of the ancient Aksumite empire which eventually became Ethiopia, stopping at several historic sites along the way there. Finally, we would turn back north on the third leg of the triangle, reentering Eritrea and returning to Asmara, arriving back at Kagnew Station sometime Sunday evening. We travelled in a convoy of private and military vehicles, including my jeep Jamila.

Our first stop, apart from a couple of breakdowns, was Quhaito, a major link in the chain of cities strung along the trade route between Aksum, capital of the ancient empire, and Adulis, its now extinct Red Sea port. Reached by a rugged track, Quhaito sits well east of the highway, perched on the edge of an escarpment that drops precipitously toward the lowlands and the Red Sea coast. It is now a desolate ruin in a sparsely populated section of Akkele Guzai, the southeastern region of the Eritrean highlands, but two millennia ago it was a great city. The site is best-known for a magnificent stone dam which irrigated the city in its heyday. Being so far away from the main road or any towns, Quhaito was not a frequent destination, and Ted was required to file specific notice of intent to visit the site with the Provost Marshall's office.

We spent some time exploring and photographing the ruins. There had been no significant excavation at Quhaito, but several structures were exposed, wholly or in part. The dam, still largely intact, continued to provide water for the local villagers' cattle. Remains of several impressive palaces, churches and other buildings were there, massive foundation walls delimiting the extent of the structures, the occasional rugged stone pillar standing plumb bob straight, others leaning precariously or lying fallen and shattered beside them among the rubble from the collapsed upper floors of the buildings.

At the edge of the escarpment we marveled at the spectacular view. From this rugged, deeply scarred precipice, a sheer drop of several hundred feet ended in rubble-covered slopes sliced by steep, twisted canyons leading toward the coast, fading from view in dense haze which rose from the parched lowlands. Stones dropped from the edge fell so far that we couldn't hear their eventual collision with the ground below.

We broke out our refreshments from coolers in the vehicles and had a leisurely lunch near the edge of the escarpment. Next we were to head for Matara, near the southern end of Akkele Guzai, our last stop before reaching the Tigray border. While we were preparing to pack up and head out, our interpreter, a young Eritrean student who was traveling with us, came and told us that he had seen some suspicious people approaching, probably ELF. It didn't take long to determine that we were in fact surrounded by what appeared to be a platoon of well-armed Eritrean Liberation Front soldiers, closing on our position. Ted quietly notified everyone of this situation, strongly urging them to keep cool and not do anything rash. However, fearing the mythical shifta, some ran to their vehicles and desperately hid money and jewelry in their luggage.

Quickly the soldiers reached us, most carrying antique rifles of various kinds, while a few had much more modern automatic weapons. It didn't look as though they were paying us a social call.

They rounded us up and moved us near the parked vehicles. Through our young interpreter, they told us to sit down in a well-shaded bit of ground under the only large tree that stood anywhere nearby. Satisfied that we were all protected from the strong midday sun, their captain spoke to us through a lieutenant and our interpreter. He spoke in TigrČ, a Semitic language spoken by some lowland Eritrean peoples; his lieutenant translated the message to Tigrinya, the related language spoken by most inhabitants of the highlands, which our interpreter converted to English.

The captain introduced himself and his men as members of the ELF, showed us their flag and insignia, and asked if any of us had heard of them, and what we knew about them. We all feigned ignorance, most feeling it unwise to suggest any possible connection with shifta or volunteer any information that might put us in further trouble. He then asked if any of us spoke Tigrinya. No one acknowledged that they did. I had just begun learning the language, and wasn't prepared to announce myself as a speaker. Next he said that he understood that a number of Kagnew personnel knew Arabic, and asked if any of us did.

I looked around at the group. A few were Arabic linguists, although I knew that some of them weren't very fluent, at least in terms of speaking. I was reasonably fluent, although the local dialect was very different from what we had learned at Monterey. I had no idea why he wanted to identify Arabic speakers among us. I knew that the ELF were not shifta, and that they were fierce enemies of the Imperial Ethiopian forces. Since we Americans were allies with Ethiopia, and in the country at the invitation of the Imperial government, we might be considered enemies, and those of us who were linguists perhaps might be seen as spies, or worse. However, with youthful optimism and unsinkable curiosity, and sensing no hostility, I raised my hand. Surprisingly, after a brief pause, Rudy Hanzsek, another member of the group, did so as well. He told me later that his reasoning was that, whatever happened, he couldn't bear to see me face it alone.

Having made note of me and Rudy, the other acknowledged Arabic linguist, the captain continued the briefing for some time, explaining the struggle these warriors were fighting for independence from Ethiopia, and what they expected to gain from winning that struggle. They emphasized that they considered us as friends, and had detained us only to introduce themselves to us and make sure that we knew their side of the story. Time passed, and the shaded area shifted beneath the tree, exposing some of us to the sun. Then the captain would stop the discussion and have us move our positions so that everyone was again in the shade. This happened a couple of times while the briefing continued.

Once finished, the men were kept sitting under the tree, but the captain moved the women to one of the vehicles, where he thought they would be more comfortable. Then he asked Ted, Rudy and me to join him apart from the others. He asked if we had any weapons, which we didn't, and then said that we should tell the people in charge of our vehicles, one at a time, to supervise a search of our luggage and other belongings.

For the next hour or so, we moved from car to truck to jeep. At each vehicle, the owner was instructed to take out all bags, coolers, and other materials, lay them on the ground, and open them for inspection. The ELF soldiers did not touch anything, but closely examined all that was revealed in the bags as we unpacked them, often asking what unfamiliar items were and what they were used for, occasionally taking notes about particular items that they found, and laughing uproariously when someone's money and jewelry would fall out from among the underwear and shorts; they snorted contemptuously that they weren't shifta. Then, leaving that driver to repack, we would move on and repeat the process.

When the inspection was completed, the captain and his lieutenant asked me, Ted and Rudy to move with him to a more private place on the far side of some scrub. There he told us that among the belongings in the cars they had noted two pairs of binoculars. He asked if we would give them one pair as a contribution to their cause. One was military issue, obviously non-negotiable. We found the owners of the other pair, who quickly agreed to part with them. The lieutenant then wrote out a short receipt in Tigrinya on a notebook page that had been stamped with the official seal of the ELF, which employed the same symbol as their flag. The receipt stated: Our dear brothers: on this day, having come to Quhaito, you provided us with help. To the greatest extent we give you thanks, and signed it: from the Eritrean Liberation Front (Tegadlo Harnet Eritra). The captain asked Ted to write an acknowledgement beneath this text, and not wanting to risk inciting any potential international incidents by poorly chosen words, he made the innocuous reply: We thank you for letting us go freely.

This official business over, we all went back to join the rest of our group, and were told that we were free to go. With an apology for any discomfort or inconvenience, the ELF platoon then moved off some distance from us and waited while we quickly finished putting our things back in the vehicles, with no effort to properly repack, and headed out toward the main road. We drove on to Senafe, and stopped there for the night at the one hotel that had a generator in this largely electricity-free town. However, by the time we got settled, the generator was shut off, adding inexorable darkness to our list of unexpected results.

That dark night we spent in quiet reflection, grateful that we had gotten off so easily. All we had really lost was some time in our tour schedule, and one pair of binoculars. On the other hand, we realized that we had spent this remarkable Independence Day in the company of patriots who were fighting for the right to declare an Independence Day of their own, although no one could know that it would take nearly 30 years, and countless lives lost or devastated, before that day would finally come.

And who could have known that, 31 years later and seven years to the day after acheiving independence from Ethiopia, Eritrea would have been under pressure to yield to Ethiopia's military might in the latest climax of a brutal new war? After so much struggle and so much hope, it was more than discouraging to see that hope challenged yet again.

Now the United Nations has established a permanent border between the two countries which is in the process of demarcation on the ground, although there are indications that some people, especially on the Ethiopian side of the border, are prepared to resist the decision of the Border Commission. In any case, it appears that the hopes of those freedom fighters that I met 34 years ago today, as well as those of millions of other Eritreans around the world, are again on the road to fruition.

Quhaito 35 Years Later

On the day when I first posted this essay, on 4 July 2003, it had been 34 years since the events recorded in this essay took place. On 1 July 2004, as I posted this revised and expanded website, just short of 35 years had passed. It's hard to believe that so much time has elapsed, yet there is no doubt that a great deal of change has taken place during these years. It can be hoped that archaeological survey and excavation will take place in Quhaito, allowing expansion of our understanding of this important Aksumite city and its pre-Aksumite antecedents.

More information about Quhaito and its relation to other related sites is found in the sections titled Archaeological Evidence and Historical View. Some of the references and weblinks can also provide further information.

All photos, graphics and text copyright © 1969-2006, Skip Dahlgren, unless otherwise credited.
Special thanks to Rudy Hanzsek for the photo of the breakdown on the road, and to Mike Metras for the road map and the old Italian map which so clearly show the Triangle Tour and the location of many historical sites. Very special acknowledgement to the late Ted Sullinger, who gave me the copy of the receipt from the ELF.

Updated 16 February 2006.