For some days already, I am back on Socotra, continuing my work. I climbed the highest mountain already, swam in the Indian Ocean, did Qat (a local drug – though imho as much ‘drug’ as coffee.) with a local sheik, and had a goat slaughtered for me (on the picture the poor little creature is still alive). Everything’s great over here but the food (No spices! Poor little creature died for nothing) and I got quite some good shots already. I’ll keep you updated!
A hot wind dishevels my hair. It snarls, rumbles, and grows to a full roar, pulling on my cloths and pushing in a blunt attempt to knock me over. I cling to the handrail, carefully taking a step forward. So, here I am. Socotra! Ahead of me: the gangway down the aircraft, a short stretch of eroding tarmac and further in the distance – one of the most magical places on the globe.
Somewhere in the Indian Ocean, up north of the Seychelles, due east from the Horn of Africa, far out in troubled waters circled by Somalian pirates, this very island is paradise and hell on earth. It ranks among the top ten places with the most extraordinary endemic wildlife. But, being subject to Yemen, a crumbling state that was birthplace of al-Qaida, it also ranks as one of the scarcest and poorest places on earth. The mysterious Dragon Blood Tree, the Socotra cormorant, seven kinds of frankincense and an otherworldly landscape all add up to the great bizarreness of Socotra.