Harar Trip #2: The Black Kites

Jessie feeding the black kites:

I think one of those universal truths of humanity is that everyone likes to feed the birds.  I’ve seen people doing in in parks in Venice, on the beaches of South Korea and everywhere in between.  It’s just something that we all do.  However, the people of Harar have a slightly different take on it.  Instead of feeding the pigeons or the sparrows, they like to feed the kites (hawks).

If you ever find yourself in Harar, ask someone to take you to the meat market.  There you can buy yourself some camel meat, which tastes amazing raw (and is the subject of a later post).  Above the unrefrigerated butcher’s shop, there are inevitably dozens of black kites perched, waiting to be fed either unintentionally by a local who is just trying to buy their lunch or on purpose by the tourists and travelers who flock to the market for the express purpose of hand feeding these birds of prey.

It’s unnerving.  There you stand in the middle of the square, surrounded on all sides by large, sharp taloned hawks who all have their equally sharp sighted eyes trained on you, just waiting for this oddly pale creature to make a move.  In your tightly clenched fist you hold a wad of sticky, raw, slightly warm camel meat.  The dry and heated desert air wafts over you, carrying with it the scents of the sand and the market and the metallic, animal smell of the butcher’s shop.  It should be easy.  Just hold your hand up and keep your palm flat.  It’s the same theory as feeding a horse a sugar cube.  Just try not to give it anything that it could accidentally try to rip off, like an outstretched thumb, for example.  It just wants the meat, not your hand. 

One deep breath, and up shoots your hand.  Eyes shut because you are ever the coward, you hear the sound of birds on the wing, the swooping sound and their ruffling feathers as they dive bomb you from their rooftop perch.  In an instant, the meat is gone.  There’s no blood as you look at your palm.  The kite was precise.  You smile, elated.  Never has feeding the birds been such a rush! 

Afterword: Funnily enough, after returning from Harar, I found out that this is something that happens in my town (Fiche) as well, though it’s far from intentional and certainly not billed as a tourist attraction.  On a few occasions, we have been sitting outside at the Anbessa/Abdi hotel on the outskirts of town when someone else sitting on the patio has decided to order tibs (fried meat).  Well, there are always some kites hanging around in the trees out back, and some of them have gotten into the habit of terrorizing the waitresses by swooping down and stealing hunks of meat off of the trays.  Unfortunately this is such a random and fast occurrence that we have yet to get photographic proof of it.

            ~Jessie