All Hollow

It’s Halloween in Djibouti, and there’re a few costumes of note. Plenty of folks dressed as sailors and army men and marines, and quite a few dressed as the overseas deployment of some Japanese Defense Force. Of course, there’s the last minute a toga or two, an inspired six foot tall whoopee cushion and, being so close to Somalia, there’re a few pirate costumes. I came as a consultant – t-shirt, cargo pants, and combat boots – my usual desert attire.

I haven’t been in Africa for decades. [Egypt really doesn’t count – just ask any Egyptian.] The place hasn’t changed. Djibouti City is classically Third World, still using up what’s left of the colonial infrastructure while hundreds of thousands live in poverty. Although it looked like some money was spent on the airport after the declaration of the GWOT, the improvements have not been maintained. The reception hall is too small for a 220 person passenger complement, stiflingly hot, with little moving air, exposed electrical reconnections, and scores of missing ceiling tiles and doors that just won’t close.


As expected, what also remains from the French occupation is a bureaucratic entry system, with stacks of ledgers and (count ‘em) *five* individual rubber stamps and one of the adhesive types associated with my sixty dollar entry visa. Bags in hand, I had to work on keeping my bags in hand, as a half dozen “porters” attempted to grab it away from me and haul it the fifty meters to the camp shuttle. Others weren’t so lucky in the shakedown, although the lesson itself had some value. Other, still, were shook down on the bus itself, as a couple of the porters entered the bus and worked over the already seated passengers.

It’s poor here. The main city streets from airfield to camp are barely above dirt, and mostly empty shops compete for the limited pedestrian traffic. Turning off the main road closer to the camp, we drove down a rutted, once asphalt road lined for a time with the hardscrabble zinc and scrap lumber construction that defines this type of economy. A little further, and the verges were paved with discarded plastic bottles and lada bags.

It’s poor here, and I’m hoping that there’s some semblance of an economy somewhere else in town. It’s large, and we haven’t seen much yet. We will, as our work here, among other tasks, is to try and coordinate future projects at the camp with the local, traditional architecture in the area. That probably doesn’t mean that we’ll build the next AfriCom HQ out of pallets and plastic sheeting, but perhaps it will be more reflective of how the rich people live here.

Anyway, it’s Halloween, and at the all persons club, (Eleven Degrees North (which is about our latitude (I think))) was hosting a few games and social events. They also had beer, which was nice.

And the DFAC has bacon at every meal, which is also nice.