Hagaz

Why did you wake up so early, Hansu asks. She thinks I should rest when having my holidays. I guess Hansu is used to the early morning conversation of the animals around her house, but I am not. Even before 5:00 dogs are barking, the cock is crying that the sun is rising, and sometimes one of the stupid beasts confuses the lights of a passing car for the rising sun in the middle of the night. So at 6:00 I usually wake up for the third or fourth time.
Hansu makes coffee and we eat some bread. She will go to her work, I will accompany her to the bus station for a short trip to Hagaz. A Toyota Van for twelve passengers, or more, if they are willing to carry their children on their lap, brings us to Hagaz, a small village between Keren and Agordat. The village is attractive with many traditional houses, a mosque, a very small Orthodox church a covered market and two hotels. Hagaz also has an agro-technical school and some agro-industrial activity.
I leave the main road to wonder in the direction of the hills on the north. Clusters of small houses are separated by wide open areas. There are no clearly defined streets, the area between the houses is used by herds of goats, cows, trucks, donkeys and camels. People sell fuel wood, fruits or vegetables. The village breaths coziness, but there is nothing that makes it really special, except of course the warmth of the ever-smiling people, always asking if everything is okay.
Children are following me and want to be on the pictures, jumping in front of me. "Sorana, sorana", they yell, which is Tigre for picture us. Just to please them I make a few pictures. They are happy andwant to shake hands.
The southern part of Hagaz is more compact. Small alleys, and a lot of trees. Open spaces are used to display all kinds of merchandize. No hamburgers, French fries, or hotdogs available in the fast food restaurants. Some cups of tea in one of the small tea shops, an egg burger and some fruit is my lunch.
After a few hours, I think I have seen it all and I find myself a mini bus to return to Keren. At the Keren checkpoint the military police recognizes me, so formalities can be reduced to "Hello, I am back from Hagaz, you will find my name and passport data in your log of this morning".
The rest of the afternoon I walk through the center of Keren. Owners of the many tailor shops ask me me come in and drink tea with them. They want to know where I have been, and what I think of Eritrea. And, if I have been to any other African country. I guess the are referring to Ethiopia.