Making Friends with the Danakil

By a Watchtower Society missionary in Ethiopia

HAVE you ever tried to imagine what it would feel like to have to make a forced landing in the heart of savage territory in dark Africa? Well, that is just what happened to three of us, a pilot, another passenger and myself on February 2, 1954. We were flying back to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, from Asmara, Eritrea, when bad weather forced us over northeastern Ethiopia, a section inhabited by the Danakil, a tribe having a long record of murders. According to their custom, to show he is qualified to marry, a young man kills another, cuts off his genitals and presents them to the people of his village.

Getting lost while flying over this country, the plane ran out of gas and so we had no alternative but to make a forced landing. Picking a place that looked fairly clear the pilot landed the plane and we got out and began to fill the gas tanks with the reserve gas we had taken along in cans. For a minute or two no one was in sight and then we saw two bushy-headed natives coming toward us with long spears and hooked knives. Soon natives were coming from all directions.

What to do? We agreed that we would try to make friends with them and that we would stick together as closely as possible. After we tried a half-dozen different languages some of the natives responded to our greeting and in reply to our inquiry we received the answer that confirmed our worst fears. Yes, these were the uncivilized Danakil! Little by little the natives surrounded the plane and watched with great curiosity as we poured the gasoline into the plane’s tanks.

Finally one young Dankali approached and gave a greeting in Amharic, “Tinaye-steling!” How welcome that sounded! Yes, all three of us could speak Amharic. We told him where we were going and that we had run out of gas. He seemed friendly enough, but we just did not know what to expect from this band of curious, expressionless people. After filling the tanks the three of us jumped into the plane and the engine was started, at which the natives ran in all directions. However, we soon found that we could not gain enough speed in that rough country to get off the ground.

We had to face it, it was a case of going by foot to civilization, coming back with a crew to clear a runway for the plane—provided we were fortunate enough to get out alive. Again the Danakil surrounded us. We got out and told them about our need to get to the road, asked in what direction it was and if any of them would accompany us. They discussed it among themselves, in their own language, and then told us they would take us to their village.

Although we had explained it was necessary for us to get out to the road they took us to their village instead. On the way there, a thirty-minute walk, we tried to make friends with them by fascinating them with the ticking of our wrist watches and by flashing our flashlight on and off.

Entering the village, which had a fence of brambles and thorns around it to keep out the wild beasts, we saw the Danakil about a fire. The houses were no more than three feet high and were made of mud and brambles, not being made to live in but just to sleep in at night. They brought us some water in dirty gourds, and although it was muddy it tasted good, for we were thirsty.

The three of us then busied ourselves trying to make friends with the Danakil. I watched one woman milk a goat as though I had never seen it done before and she seemed highly amused at my curiosity. She even let me try to milk the goat, but I did not do so very well. I showed her how my flashlight worked and with it furnished her light while she milked. When she had finished she handed me some milk in a dirty gourd. I took a drink and then handed the gourd to my two companions, who also drank some.

While we sat there we did our best to entertain the children, and although we seemed to be making friends with the Danakil we kept wondering all the time what the next minute would bring. Then our young Danakil friend who spoke Amharic informed us that they would take us to the road that night if we wanted to go now or we could stay in their village until morning and then they would take us to the road. We thanked them and assured them that we would like to go right then. So off we started through the wild Dankali country at night with two natives as guides, both of whom were armed with a spear and a knife, one of them also having a rifle.

We walked and walked and walked. One hour, two hours, three hours, and then we reached a dry river bed. Another such river bed, we were told, and then we would reach the road. After walking another hour we arrived at the second river bed. While the younger of the two guides ran up the way to get us some water, we stretched out to rest, and as we noted the big Dankali in our midst, with spear and knife and rifle strapped across his back, the thought of these fellows’ harming us was becoming more and more remote. In a few minutes the lad was back with some muddy water and then we were on our way again. At last we came to the road. How good it looked!

Our young guide told us that there was a hotel down the road where they would take us in. A hotel? What good news! By this time one of us, Bruno, was so tired he could hardly stand up and so our big Dankali friend gave me his spear and rifle, and, putting his arm around tired Bruno, held him up and assisted him on the road. A far cry, that gesture of friendliness, from the reputation generally accorded the Danakil!

As we slowly hobbled along the Dankali lad ran ahead with a message for the folks at the hotel, and before long we could see the lights of the hotel. A hotel? Well, you would have to stretch your imagination a bit to call it a hotel, as it was but a small hut of one room, built with sticks and branches. A lantern furnished the light and from the inside we could look out through the branches that constituted the walls of this “hotel.” Surrounding this hut was a fence of brambles to keep out the leopards, this section being full of them.

Though only a hut that could keep out neither the wind nor the rain it was truly a hotel for us, for it was run by two Amharas, people whose language and customs we understood. Their business consisted chiefly of serving beer, soda and other refreshments to the truck drivers that passed by. These Amharas killed and cooked a chicken for us, all the while stressing the fact that it was nothing short of a miracle that we had gotten out of the Dankali country alive. We ate and then stretched out on the tables for a nap.

In the wee hours of the morning we heard a truck winding its way up the mountain road toward us, whose driver we signaled with our flashlight. After hearing our story he likewise wondered how we got out alive. He had tire trouble along the way, but rather than take a chance with the Danakil, by stopping to change or mend them, he drove on with flat tires. He gave us a ride to the next village, which was quite some miles away. We were put up in a small tin hut, where we slept until daybreak, at which time another truck came along and took us up near Dessie, where the Americans had a road camp with jeeps and road-building equipment.

It was now almost noon. We obtained permission to take a jeep and a truck and a crew of coolies equipped with picks and shovels back with us to help prepare a take-off strip for the plane. That meant going back to the Danakil again. We loaded up and started out, but at the very next village the police stopped us and said that the governor had ordered that we be provided with police protection. However, we did not want to take them, as we knew that the police would be helpless against the Danakil should they decide to make trouble, and that our best protection was friendship. After much argument we settled for one policeman to go along with us in our jeep.

When we arrived at the spot along the road where we were to turn in to the interior, we found eight Danakil waiting to show us the way back to the plane. We still had some twelve miles to go, and after about three hours of winding in and out, through bushes, over hills, across river beds, time and again the coolies being required to make the way passable with their picks and shovels. The terrain got so rough that we had to leave the truck behind, the coolies walking while the three of us and the policeman rode in the jeep. At last we came to the plane.

I was under the plane trying to fix a few things that had been knocked loose by the impromptu landing when Bruno and the other companion decided to take the jeep and look for a good clear place to serve as the landing, or rather, the taking-off strip. This left me alone with the Danakil and the policeman, who was trembling with fear. I joined the Danakil and encouraged them to show me how to throw a spear and they put on a show for me, proud of their skill of being able to throw a spear a long distance and hit the target in the middle. They certainly were good shots. They were amused at my efforts, not being able to throw a spear even near the target, let alone hitting a bull’s eye with it.

Then everything grew silent as we sat down in a little group and one of the old Danakil, most likely the chief, began to talk to the policeman in Dankali, he having some knowledge of the language. The old fellow began gesturing as though he were cutting up something and I began to grow panicky wondering if he meant me. I asked the policeman what it was all about and really felt relieved to learn that they wanted him to go with them to get a goat, which they would then cut up and roast, so that we could all have something to eat. I thanked him for his kind offer but suggested that he wait until the others arrived. In just a few minutes the other two did return with the jeep, and shortly thereafter the coolies with their Dankali guides. Although the sun had already set we got busy with the work at hand. Having found a good place for the taking-off strip the coolies were put to work clearing it while we pulled the plane over to this place with the help of the jeep. But work soon had to stop, as it became too dark to do anything. What now? Return to the road and come back in the morning? No; so as to be able to start work again at daybreak we decided to stay and to sleep with the Danakil. While the coolies and the policeman were grumbling about its not being safe, our fears were now passing. Had we not shown the Danakil friendliness and were they not showing themselves friendly? They certainly were.

Being dead tired and wanting to get some sleep myself, I decided to make my berth right in the midst of the Danakil. After all, if they wanted to harm me they could do so regardless of where I slept. This gesture of trust aroused some of them and caused them to make comments to one another, one even handing me a leopard skin and motioning for me to lie down on it, which I gladly did. Noticing one of the Danakil looking in an empty gourd for water, I got up, filled the gourd with the water we had brought along in the pig skins, and handed it to him. He smiled and drank and then passed it on to others. Soon all of us were snoozing away. But after a few hours my traveling companions awoke me to let me know that they had a place for me to sleep in the plane, and so all of us slept in it for the remaining hours of the night. At five we rose and set the coolies to work on the take-off strip.

Because of fear they had not gone to sleep at all and so were only too glad to busy themselves with their picks and shovels. By about eleven o’clock the runway was ready, and, after unloading all the baggage, the plane started out with just one man aboard, it having been decided to have the plane as light as possible for the take-off, the two of us going back in the jeep with the baggage. The plane got in the air before reaching the end of the take-off strip and, after circling a few times, it rose and soon faded out of sight beyond the distant hills.

We went over to the Danakil—there were forty-five of them on hand now—and shook hands. Each one kissed my hand after I had shaken his and then put his hand up to my mouth for me to kiss, which I did. After loading picks, shovels and baggage in the jeep we started back. Upon reaching the place where we had to leave the truck we waited for the coolies, who came followed by some of the Danakil. As we got ready to leave, the Danakil came over to say good-by again and invited me to return sometime.

You may wonder what I did about preaching to the Danakil. I did try to tell them about God’s kingdom, Armageddon and the new world. They showed no expression nor did they have any questions. To what extent my remarks had any effect I cannot say, world conditions meaning nothing to them, but at least some of the Danakil heard about God’s kingdom and Armageddon.

I certainly am grateful to Jehovah that I came out of the Dankali country unharmed and so still able to serve him.

In Behalf of Religious Liberty

● A United Press dispatch for May 22, 1954, reported the following: “The Unitarian Ministers Association has gone on record against a proposal to include the words ‘under God’ in the pledge of allegiance. The association—at its 129th annual meeting in Boston—also protested against a proposed constitutional amendment which would say the United States ‘recognizes the authority and law of Jesus Christ.’ The association says the ‘under God’ phrase in the pledge of allegiance violates religious liberty . . . while the constitutional amendment would ‘imply a theological test for citizenship.’”