Telegraph travel article by Simon about unrecognised
countries:
By Simon Reeve
SOMALILAND’S government Minister for Tourism was
elated he finally had a rare foreign visitor he could
take to see his country’s national treasures.
“Don’t worry!” said the enthusiastic
Minister, as I reluctantly agreed to accompany him to
some rock etchings recently discovered at Laas Ga'al
outside Hargeisa, the capital of Somaliland. “The
drawings are beautiful, and it will just be a small
detour from the road!”
After bumping along potholed dirt tracks through the
parched African bush for long enough for my bones to
separate, I started to think my scepticism was
justified. But we crested a hill, dodged wiry bushes on
a wide plain, and scrambled over vast boulders to find
exquisite rock paintings dating back thousands of
years.
Even under the scorching sun, the paintings had strong,
vibrant colours and stark outlines, showing the ancient
inhabitants of the area worshipping cattle and
venerating a pregnant cow. In a low cave further up the
hill I found human figures dancing along the rock.
Laas Ga'al is probably the most significant Neolithic
rock painting site in the whole of Africa, and for a
brief moment I felt like an explorer finding hidden
treasures, at a time when the entire world seems easy
to reach on package holidays.
But there are still areas of the world off the beaten
track which can excite and amaze. Somaliland is not on
many tourist maps. In fact, it is not on any maps at
all. According to the international community,
Somaliland does not even exist.
Although there are almost 200 official countries in the
world there are also dozens more unrecognised states
like Somaliland which are determined to be separate and
independent. These countries are home to millions of
people, they have their own rulers, armies, police
forces, and issue passports and even postage stamps,
but they are not officially recognised as proper
countries by the rest of the world.
I wanted to highlight the risks of leaving unrecognised
countries isolated, and was visiting Somaliland as part
of a journey to and through a group of these unofficial
states for the five-part BBC2 series ‘Places That
Don’t Exist’, which starts on Wednesday.
It was a chance to visit some of the most obscure and
forgotten parts of the world. A series of trips took me
to Somaliland, Transniestria (between Moldova and
Ukraine), Nagorno-Karabakh in Azerbaijan, and three
regions of Georgia which broke away after the collapse
of the Soviet Union.
Lack of recognition is not limited to poor nations. No
major power recognises Taiwan as a proper country. It
has one of the largest economies in the world but no
seat at the UN.
Taiwan was welcoming, but visiting other unrecognised
nations was often tricky. Getting in was difficult, and
there were no foreign embassies to turn to in an
emergency. But the very fact most are isolated and
untouched by tourism made them intriguing places to
visit.
All of the unrecognised nations on my list declared
independence after bloody conflicts with a neighbouring
state, which I also wanted to visit. In the case of
Somaliland, that’s Somalia. So with a BBC
film-crew I began several months of travel by flying
into a dusty airstrip just outside Mogadishu, the
Somali capital, on a tiny UN flight from Nairobi.
Years of fighting have destroyed once-beautiful
Mogadishu, which is now the most dangerous city on the
planet for foreigners. The BBC crew and I had to pay a
dozen gunmen to keep us alive. Corpses lie in the
streets for days, and locals eke out a living in a
state of utter chaos. I went to the main market and
bought myself a Somali passport from a man called Mr
Big Beard.
Despite the chaos, and although Somalia has no real
government, the rest of the world recognises it as an
official country. By contrast Somaliland, in the north
of Somalia, has a government, police, democracy and
traffic lights, but no recognition, making it extremely
difficult for the country to attract aid, investment,
or visitors.
A UN cargo flight stopped briefly in Mogadishu to lift
us out of chaos and take us north. The chirpy Afrikaans
pilot casually warned the flight might be a bit rough.
As the plane was battered I closed my eyes and gripped
the armrests, while my producer Iain calmly cooked
himself a bean curry.
The flight was so bad I could have kissed the ground
after landing in Somaliland. A smartly-dressed
immigration official stamped our passports. His
presence and uniform were an immediate sign of order.
Britain is the former colonial power in Somaliland, an
overwhelmingly Muslim nation. Locals went to
Britain’s aid during the Second World War, and
Somalilanders still feel a strong attachment to
Britain. They struggle to understand why the UK has not
recognised their country and politely quiz visitors
about the reasons.
As we drove into the sweltering capital Hargeisa, Yusuf
Abdi Gabobe, my towering local guide, explained
Somaliland voluntarily joined with Somalia after
independence from Britain, but when the relationship
soured in the 1980s Somalilanders fought a war for
independence.
Visiting Somaliland is to receive a humbling lesson in
survival and self-determination. Hargeisa, where 50,000
died during the conflict, is being rebuilt with little
help from the outside world, and refugees are returning
from camps in Ethiopia. A Somali MiG jet which bombed
the city sits atop a poignant war memorial.
Outside Hargeisa there are ancient rock paintings and
stunning journeys into the mountains and up to the port
of Berbera, home to a runway once hired by NASA as an
emergency space shuttle landing strip. Tracks run along
the coast west from Berbera towards Djibouti, and
mangroves, gorgeous islands and coral reef.
But Somaliland’s main attraction is its
determined and inspirational people. Without aid or
loans and largely ignored by the world, they are
building a state from scratch and seemed determined to
keep their independence.
I was sad to leave, but we headed back to the edge of
Europe, to Transniestria, a nation of 700,000 people
which split from Moldova to become an extraordinary
Soviet-era theme park. The hammer and sickle of the
Soviet Union still adorns many buildings, while Lenin
looms over the streets and stands proud outside the
House of Soviets in the capital Tiraspol.
Our route to Transniestria took us through Moldova, the
poorest country in Europe. Ruritanian-style villages
were empty of all but children and the elderly.
Everyone else had fled abroad in search of work. I met
a villager who sold a kidney to buy a cow, and the
hospitable President kindly taught me to fish, got me
drunk, and claimed Transniestria is a black-hole for
arms-smuggling and crime.
Moldovans had warned me hungry armed men roam the
streets of Transniestria, but although the border is
tense, the leafy lanes of Tiraspol were full of cafes
and restaurants. Fighting talk was limited to thoughts
on political strife in neighbouring Ukraine and the
impact on the price of salo, pig fat, a major Ukrainian
export. Transniestrians eat it covered with chocolate,
which is as unappetising as it sounds.
Transniestrians celebrated their National Independence
Day while we visited, an event which bore a striking
resemblance to old Soviet May Day parades. The army
goose-stepped past a platform of officers awarded
medals by the kilo. Having always wanted to visit Red
Russia, I watched goggle-eyed. They still have the KGB
in Transniestria, a fact we discovered when they
detained us for spying. It was tense in their cells,
but after a while the KGB agents softened, gave us KGB
cap-badges as souvenirs, and allowed us to leave.
The collapse of the Soviet Union was the cue for a
number of smaller regions to declare independence. In
the Caucuses, never the most stable part of the world,
I visited Nagorno-Karabakh and three breakaway regions
of Georgia: Ajaria, South Ossetia and Abkhazia.
Karabakh sits high in snowy mountains, which locals
believe gives them the highest rate of longevity in the
world. The scenery and churches were impressive, but it
is difficult to visit without asking awkward questions.
Before Karabakh declared independence from Azerbaijan
its population was evenly split between Azeris and
Armenians. After a bloody war only a handful of Azeris
remain.
To the north, Georgia gave the world a Golden Fleece
and Stalin, who they commemorate with a museum. When
guides vanished I sat on Stalin’s personal toilet
and struck my own small blow against the veneration of
a murdering madman.
Georgia rarely failed to impress. There were ancient
monasteries to explore, old sulphur baths, trendy new
bars in the capital Tbilisi, and a population which
delights in drinking more toasts than eating mouthfuls.
We headed towards South Ossetia, and crossed yet
another tense border to be told the government would
only allow us to linger for a few hours. It was time
enough to learn the people are Ossetes, who speak a
different language to Georgians, share birthday toasts
with young Ossetian soldiers, and realise the locals
are prepared to fight and die for their independence.
But it was an uncomfortable visit, and we were shadowed
everywhere by the secret police.
Heading west across Georgia an overnight train took us
to Ajaria, a summer paradise with beaches that
attracted tourists from across the former Soviet Union.
Ajaria was formerly a breakaway region headed by a
strongman whose son closed roads to race a Lambourghini
along the seafront. Strangely this did not go down well
with locals (average monthly wage £20). They kicked-out
the strongman and were welcomed back into Georgia.
Further north, the government of Abkhazia reneged on an
offer of entry, so we left the Caucuses and headed east
to Taiwan. When Mao’s Communists defeated Chinese
Nationalists they fled to Taiwan and took over. China
says it wants Taiwan back, and will use force if
necessary.
For decades Nationalists in Taiwan claimed they were
the rightful rulers of China and wallowed in heritage,
protecting buildings the Chinese destroyed during their
economic boom. There are ancient temples and chic
hotels nestling beside mountain lakes. In the capital
Taipei visitors can trek to the top of Taipei 101, the
tallest building in the world, to watch as planes fly
beneath them.
But of all the unofficial and official countries I was
lucky enough to visit while filming Places That
Don’t Exist Somaliland had the greatest impact.
War between Somalia and Somaliland could erupt again,
but there is also a much more optimistic future for the
country. Perhaps one day Somaliland will have its own
seat at the United Nations, and tourists will flock to
its stunning beaches to swim at the mouth of the Red
Sea. It is nothing less than Somalilanders deserve.
Simon Reeve 2005
Simon Reeve is the author of the New York Times
bestseller, The New Jackals: Ramzi Yousef, Osama bin
Laden and the future of terrorism, and the writer and
presenter of the five-part series Places That
Don’t Exist, which starts on BBC2 on Wednesday
May 4th at 7.30pm with a journey to and through
Somaliland. More information is at
www.shootandscribble.com
Fact
Box:
Flights
to Somaliland are available from Dallo airlines
(www.daallo.com) via Djibouti. Several airlines fly to
Chisinau, the capital of Moldova, from where buses and
taxis will happily take visitors to Transniestria, or
at least the border, where more taxis wait on the other
side.
Major airlines also fly to Tiblisi in Georgia, from
where visitors can take a train to Ajaria (tickets are
around £5). Entry to Abkhazia and South Ossetia is more
difficult, but is best attempted via Russia. BA flies
to Yerevan in Armenia, from where you can take the long
road south-east to Nagorno-Karabakh inside Azerbaijan.
Check the Internet before travel, and make sure
relevant permissions are obtained. Remember the Foreign
Office advises against travelling to many unrecognised
nations, so most personal travel insurance policies
will be invalid.
Hotels:
Although Taiwan has plenty of good-quality hotels,
tourist facilities in most unrecognised nations are not
of conventional Western standards. Hargeisa, the
capital of Somaliland, has a couple of surprisingly
good hotels, including the Ambassador
(www.ambassadorhotelhargeisa.com), which has
comfortable rooms and friendly staff. Outside Hargeisa
locals are so pleased anyone is visiting Somaliland
they make up for poor facilities with a warm welcome.
When to go:
Climates vary widely. Taiwan is good from spring to
summer. Nagorno-Karabkh and the breakaway areas of
Georgia are shockingly cold in winter. Transniestria
has a warmer climate than the UK. Somaliland is warm in
winter and among the hottest parts of the world in
summer. Check guidebooks.
Food:
Taiwan can boast excellent food, but beware amphetamine
betel nuts sold by the side of the road by
scantily-clad women. In Transniestria it helps to have
a local speaking guide who knows the restaurants and
can book your meal several hours before you arrive. I
repeatedly waited literally hours for food to arrive at
restaurants in the Transniestrian capital, by which
time my stomach had started consuming my internal
organs. Good hearty organic produce is plentiful in
Nagorno-Karabkh, otherwise why does everyone there live
so long?
Reading:
Lonely
Planet produces an excellent Taiwan guidebook (£12.99),
and guides to several of the countries from which
breakaway states have split (Romania & Moldova
£10.99; Georgia, Armenia & Azerbaijan £14.99),
although they only mention the breakaway countries I
visited in passing. The Stone Garden Guide to Armenia
& Karabagh [sic] is a celebratory tome produced by
Armenian-Americans and sold for $24.95. The otherwise
excellent Lonely Planet guide Africa on a Shoestring
(£19.99) has just a brief mention of Somalia, basically
telling people not to go there, and just a few
paragraphs on Somaliland.
Security
update:
Unless
war breaks-out with China, Taiwan is and will be safe.
I cannot encourage anyone to visit Mogadishu in
Somalia, but by contrast Somaliland is relatively safe,
although visitors must always remember they are a long
way from a Western embassy. Likewise Transniestria,
South Ossetia, Abkhazia and Nagorno-Karabakh also fall
into a diplomatic no-mans land: Western governments
don’t recognise the existence of these breakaway
nations, so it will be harder for them to help if you
get into trouble.
Details of Simon's books:
The New Jackals: Ramzi Yousef, Osama bin Laden and the future of terrorism
and also here
One Day in September: the full story of the 1972 Munich Olympics massacre and Israeli revenge operation 'Wrath of God'
Details of Simon's TV Travels:
Equator - a long journey around the warm waistband of the planet
Places That Don't Exist - a series of adventures in countries that aren't officially countries
Meet the Stans - Simon's long journey around Central Asia
For those interested, here's a biography of Simon
And some photos
See the award-winning photography of James Reeve, Simon's brother - here