Early flights are hectic for me; I love my bed. However, today I needed to forego my beauty sleep and head for the airport. By 2am I was up; I had to leave in an hour.

I got to Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi without incident. I blearily followed the procedures — the removing of the shoes and belt — and checked in. An early check in usually gives me time to relax in the lounge either with a book, a magazine or online. Today this it was not to be.

At the Ethiopian Airlines counter, the lady asked for my passport and ticket. I reached for my travel documents and handed them over. “Do you have a yellow fever certificate, sir?” she asked. I do have a yellow fever certificate, thanks to an impromptu vaccination on the Tanzanian border some time back. I ransacked my bag but could not find it.

It then dawned on me that I must have left it at home. I never thought it would be required in Ethiopia. “No, madam,” I replied. I explained to her that I had left it in the house.

She insisted that I must have a yellow fever certificate and her word was final. I could either miss the flight or get the certificate in the shortest time.

I had a commitment in Addis Ababa the same day so I couldn’t afford to miss the flight. I couldn’t make it to the house and back to the airport because the city would be awake and there would be the usual traffic jam; it was now a few minutes to 4am.

I tried calling a friend, but he wouldn’t answer his phone. I got fidgety and restless, pacing the hall. I tried again and he answered. I explained my dilemma. “Could you kindly go to my house and get my yellow fever certificate, and rush as fast as you can to the airport?” I asked.

His sleepy voice asked, “Where do I meet you?” I gave him directions to the international departures terminal; fortunately I had left my car at my house, which I asked him to use.

I prayed that all would be well, and kept inquiring how he was faring. All seemed to be well but the clock was ticking. Finally the lady said they would be closing the counter for that flight to Addis in 10 minutes.

Just three minutes to closing the counter, my friend pulled up. I grabbed the certificate and ran back into the hall.

The flight was uneventful; I fell sleep as soon as the plane hit the clouds, and woke up as the plane touched down at Bole International airport in Addis Ababa.

At the immigration counter, no one asked for my yellow fever certificate and I felt a little cheated. But I figured it was better the trouble was in Nairobi, than being turned back from the airport in Ethiopia.

We had not made plans as to where we would put up for the few hours before our first meeting. At the airport there were booths for various hotels in the city. A lady approached: “Salamno,” she greeted us and said she had some cozy rooms in the city. We took the offer and didn’t even have to pay for the taxi that took us to our hotel.

We checked into our hotel and I went straight to bed. In the afternoon, we met with our hosts briefly, and later retired to watch some international athletics. The Ethiopians were very sporting; cheering both Kenyan and Ethiopian wins.

The following day, we left for Bole airport and headed to the northwest of the country to a region called Amhara — one of the nine devolved regions of Ethiopia. We landed in Bahir Dar, which is the biggest city in Amhara.

Our hosts took us to our hotel, the Jacaranda, overlooking Lake Tana. We took a walk to the shores of the brown lake. It is one of the sources of one of the longest fresh water rivers in the world, the Blue Nile.

Families sat on wooden terraces on its shores, eating the fresh water fish from the lake. I sat with them and had a serving of deep fried tilapia. It was lovely.

The following day we set off for a district called Gondar, which borders Sudan. About 100km away, we came to the Blue Nile with brown heavily silted water gushing down the hills on its way to the land of the pharaohs. We pulled over to the side of the road and walked down to the banks of the river.

The Blue Nile from Lake Tana in the Ethiopian Highlands snakes its way down the hills and joins the White Nile from the great Lakes regions of Khartoum in Sudan and together and they flow thousands of kilometres to give a livelihood to millions of people in Egypt, and eventually reaching the Mediterranean.