Memoirs of a Worker

In the Heat of the Day

If it hadn’t of been for the Tom Hanks movie, “Captain Phillips,” most people in the world would never have known that there even is a country called Djibouti in east Africa.  In the movie, the ship had to make a stop in Djibouti to drop off some supplies and then head back out to sea, before being attacked by pirates from Somalia.

Djibouti is a harsh country; it has no farms, rivers or forests, but it does have lots of black lava rocks and deserts. The lowest point in the huge continent of Africa is Lake Assal in western Djibouti. It is the third lowest place in the world, at 509 feet or 155 meters feet below sea level and the water is ten times saltier than the ocean, it’s even saltier than the Dead Sea. Djibouti is hot, very, very hot! From May to September temperatures of 126° F or 52°C are common. Average winter temperatures hover around 93° F or 34° C from October to May.

The one thing that Djibouti has going for it, is its strategic location, its deep water port and railhead. Most of the goods and services that go into Ethiopia, first arrive into Djibouti by ship, and then are transported by train and truck to Ethiopia. The train is the life support for Ethiopia and possibly several other African landlocked countries.

I ended up in Djibouti with a crew of 7-8 American workers to do some remodeling work on the U.S. embassy. One of the duties assigned to us on the trip to Djibouti, was to reroof one of the buildings in the embassy compound.

On the day of the reroofing, we started work about 5am when the temperature had cooled down to 95-100° F. I worked in the blistering heat with the others for several hours. Suddenly, and for no logical reason that I could see, Raymond started yelling at me.

“Why is he screaming at me?” I wondered. “I’m the team leader here, not him!”

When I couldn’t take the verbal abuse any longer, I stomped over to confront Raymond for being so obnoxious. I tried to reason with him, but it was no use. He kept shouting words I couldn’t understand and started getting almost violent with his arms flailing about. Raymond was so persistent that he forcefully turned me around, gripped my shoulders and marched me towards the ladder.

“This is really bizarre,” I thought, but to avoid a scene and to help Raymond calm down, I descended down the ladder.

“How is he?” I heard Raymond ask.

“Who is he talking about?” I pondered, and then I realized my eyes were shut. “This is peculiar, I must be dreaming about the job,” I reasoned. I slowly opened my eyes and found I was lying on my back, in the shade of a tree, looking up into its leafy branches. A man I had never seen before was at my side bathing my face and head with cool water. My face was tender and felt puffy. I tried to sit up but this man sternly told me to lie still as he continued placing damp cloths on my head. “Where did you come from? Who are you anyway?” I meekly asked.

“I’m Carl, an army medic. I was on my way to Kenya but for some odd reason I decided to stop in at the embassy and see if anyone needed anything. I just stepped out of the building when I saw you face plant on the ground. That’s why your face hurts. Raymond helped me drag you over here out of the sun.”

“How long have I been out here?” I ask in a confused whisper.

“Just over three hours. You have a classic case of heat stroke.” 

“I’ve got to get up.”

“You stay put. You are in no condition to do anything,” Carl barked.

“You better listen to him, Lloyd, and don’t you try anything,” Raymond piped in.

“How did you know I was in trouble?” I slowly breathed out to Raymond.

“When you walked over to talk to me,” Raymond said.

“What do you mean?” I questioned.

“The second you opened your mouth and nothing coherent came out, that’s when I knew I had to get you off the roof.”

I thought I had drunk plenty of water that day, but the relentless sun just got the best of me. We had a thermometer on the roof and it read 145° F, 62.7° C! I was glad that none of the others experienced what had happened to me.

As the day wore on and I gained some strength, the realization came to my mind that Raymond and Carl were instrumental in saving my life. There was no medical help at the embassy, so Carl’s training took over. Floods of emotion filled my soul and I was truly grateful. At the hands of a concerned team mate, and a stranger, my life was preserved. I owe much to many people who have helped me through the journey of life.

A few weeks after being there, Mark, one of the crew members, and I decided to walk to the American Club for lunch since it had cooled to the mid 90’s. Trees lined the streets and offered us plenty of shade from the sun. As we walked along, we passed a vacant lot that was littered with garbage, and discarded tree branches.

“What is that awful smell?” Mark uttered.

The smell was almost unbearable. “Oh gross,” I said as I pointed out a very dead, bloated, yellow house cat, that was so swollen it looked like it would explode any second!

Mark and I covered our noses as we rushed past the stinking area as fast as we could. By the time we got to the American Club, the cat had been replaced with other topics of conversation, of which I was grateful.

While we were eating we noticed some new faces at the club. Being the friendly type of guy that I am, I spoke to the new comers and found out that their ship, Lydia Lykes, (one of the last of the steam ships), had just docked at the port and they would be in the city for a few days while it got unloaded. From Djibouti, the Lydia Lykes was taking its final voyage. They were sailing to India, where the ship would be cut up and sold for scrap metal.

After a tasty lunch and some enjoyable conversations with our new friends, we followed the same route back to the embassy. I was excited that the Captain of the ship had invited me, and any of my team members, to tour his ship later that evening. 

Just before we got to the vacant lot with the bloated cat, I noticed the distinct smell of smoke and something unfamiliar that assaulted our nostrils. At the lot we observed a group of 4 or 5 local Djiboutian men. They had a small fire burning and they were talking and seemed to be enjoying themselves. That’s when I spotted it! The bloated fur-ball was now a shish kabob and was being rotated and roasted over the fire!

On some occasions with certain things being what they are, it just stands to reason to stop and stare; this was one of those occasions. Here I had just come from the American club where I had a pleasant meal in a comfortable air conditioned building, and met and conversed with some fellow travelers.

In front of me were some local people, who were also happy to be in one another’s company. While standing in the intense heat they laughed and joked with each other, and appeared excited to eat a cat they had found in a trash pile!

I was grateful for the circumstances I had been blessed with and didn’t have to eat critters out of rubbish piles. So often during my traveling days, and even after my traveling days, I stand back and count my blessings! I also admire the ability of people to laugh and have joy and make the best of harsh conditions.

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Thanks for reading. If you liked this chapter please click on the star. As always, I like to read your comments. Thanks again, Lloyd