| Ethiopia Arba Minch, Omo Valley: tribal country 2011 | |
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ETHIOPIA - BACK IN TIME There I was again, back in Ethiopia. Our travels in 2009 were so much fun, that I decided to return once again. Last time I visited mainly the region north of Addis Abeba, but this time I wanted to focus on the extreme southwest of the country, the famous Omo-valley, where so many small tribes live as if back in prehistoric times. Certainly by European standards. They told me the Omo valley had become too touristy, but my good friend Miki told me that it was not necessarily so. It would just all depend on where we would go exactly - and he knew exactly where to go. And so we did. The area borders Southern Sudan, which has been much in the news bulletins lately. Unfortunately all negative. Because of the extreme conditions I traveled alone - Marieke stayed with Kiora for whom the journey would not have been very pleasant... Arba Minch The trip from Addis Abeba to Arba Minch was about 500km. The first part consisted of fine asphalt, but soon it changed into gravel (of good quality by the way) but heavy traffic around Addis always caused delays. The trip took 9.5hrs in total. We went from the Amhara region to the Oromo region and from there to the Gurage region around Butajira. These tribes do not differ much from eachother, at least to the eye. In the Omo Valley that would be very different. Apparently Ethiopia has about 92 tribes of which 50 live in the Omo Valley! Via Kibet (Silte tribe) and Hosaina (Hadiya tribe) we traveled via Sodo (Walaita tribe) in the direction of Lake Abaya. At the other side of Lake Abaya lies Lake Chamo, separated from eachother by the Egzer Dilday, The Bridge of God, a mountaineous range where the city of Arba Minch can be found which was our goal for today. Lake Chamo is well known for Nechinsar National Park, a natural reserve which was re-instated by the Dutch organisation African Parks. The result is questionable by the way. The most interesting animals in the park are the gigantic Nile crocoldiles, but since we have those in Zambia as well I decided to skip them and to spent my time on the tribes! Arba Minch seemed to have been without power for weeks now, so with some difficulty we found our room, freshened up and ate injera with candle light. I just love the African sense of chaos! Dorze The first real tribe we visited were the Dorze. This tribe can be found in the mountains west of Arba Minch around the village of Chencha. The Dorze are well-known for their way they build their houses, high cone-shaped buildings. The people themselves are not so special when it comes to clothing or decorations, but they are definitely of small posture. The strange houses are completely build of banana leaves, without any use of nails but they are water proof! We visited one of the families and I asked them about the reason of the cone shape. The first reason mentioned was the function as a chimney for the smoke, but they also mentioned the fact that termites eat at least some centimeters from the base of the house each year! It does sound rather hilarious: let's build a tall house so something is left of it at the end of the year! I just go with the chimney explanation... Derashi and Konso (Konso) On our way to Konso we traveled through the area of the Derashi, which tribe doesn't differ that much from the Konso. We passed a market at the side of the road where many Derashi women were selling their harvest. When I entered the market with my camera, I was watched closely from all directions. When I did take a picture many women shouted at me angrily, and they looked angry too. When I made some jokes however and made funny faces they started laughing and let me be. Once we arrived in Konso we continued straight to the compound of chief Gezahegn, a young man who is chief of approximately 350,000 Konso, of which a small part even lives in Kenya! We pitched up our tents in the compound - which was a flat peace of land, nothing more - no water, no toilet or whatever which suited us just fine. We just finished pitching up our inner tents when Gezahegn came over and asked us to give him a ride. He just got the message a family member passed away. Of course we gave him a lift; although, if we would have known it was about 45 minutes away on a very bad road in the dark we might have reconsidered... That evening we sat together with the chief around a campfire. He told us he studied in Addis Abeba and that's where he learned to speak English. He was very open about a lot of things - for instance, he told me that he had been chief for 7 years thus far, but that he didn't like the thought at all at first - and that even now he still had his doubts. From one day to another he had to turn down his career as an engineer - his father, the former chief, had passed away and he was successor. 99% Of his time was spent on mediating between people because of fights or quarrels - which made him very tired at times, so he assured me. Also his accommodation was very basic, which it had to be according to tradition. I did witness his house the next morning - very basic indeed. No, it's not just fun being a chief... Key Affar: Bana, Tsemai and Ari On our way to Jinka we passed the little town of Key Affar where a colorful market took place. The tribes present were Tsemai, Bana (related to the Hamar) and Ari. Soon I got very excited: this was what I came for! I did see some other tourists but not too many. The local people did not like photography very much, but after an hour at the market they forgot about me and I was able to take photos and watch market life. It was 45 degrees Celsius by the way! The Bana and Tsemai were beautifully decorated, with green/yellow/black colors and red/blue. The Ari are wearing western clothes. In the past their women did wear dresses made out of banana leaves, but according to Miki only one village did still use those dresses, but to see that we would have to make a detour of 120km and a 4 hours walk. Maybe next time. Jinka and Mago National Park: Mursi and Bode In Jinka we bought supplies and all of a sudden I was surrounded by almost naked women with...lip plates! Yes, the Mursi. The ladies tried to say "photo photo" but talking with such a plate must be very difficult. One of the ladies removed her plate and offered it to me for money, including snot and slime. No, thank you very much! We continued to Mago National Park, in the middle of the Omo valley, where the Mursi lived. We were not the only visitors: a few other big white Landcruisers entered the park. Day visitors according to Miki. These people drive into the valley up until the very first Mursi village, get out of the car and make pictures of many drunken Mursi with a lot of stupid and non-traditional decorations, and would return one hour later to their airconditioned room in Jinka (if the power grid is up)! I definitely did not want to do it that way so we drove deeper into the park and only stopped at a Mursi village at about 14:00hrs. We spoke to chief Arsirege Mulu, a very decent man and also scout and ranger in the park. For a small payment we were granted a place to pitch our tent. The chief even offered a place inside the village, but we declined - we rather had some privacy at times. I waited for the worst heat to disappear before I entered the little village; it was really HOT! I mean, Zambia can get hot but this was even worse. It was almost impossible to breath normally. Once I did enter the village especially the ladies were getting ready. The principle "payment for picture" has been invented by the Mursi and the amount at present was 2 Birr for one photo, 3 Birr if also a baby was in it. Since the Euro was about 16 Birr, I was not too fussed about it, but I couldn't expect too much spontaneous behaviour. Even so it was quite bizarre to walk into a Mursi village; young girls had a small cork in the incision in their lower lip, some adult woman wore their plates. One of them had a plate of about 15cm diameter! It looked very uncomfortable and apparently it also is, and therefore the plates are only used during ceremonies or special occasions. Apparentlty I am such an occassion (with a wallet). Because of the fact we would be camping next to the village that night, I was not in a hurry, and the people got used to me. I also noticed nobody was drunk, which unfortunately usually is the case with the Mursi. It was Arsirege who hated alcohol and therefore nobody dared to drink in his presence. That night the young men would dance with the young women, but at 22hrs nothing had happened and we fell asleep from exhaustion and the heat. At 1 o'clock at night I woke up and indeed, I heard some monotone singing and clapping. It was quite special to just lay there in-the-middle-of-nowhere with my own private choir! At 5 o'clock I woke up again and they were still singing and clapping and when it got light at about 7AM the youngsters finally finished and went to their huts to sleep. What a great experience! The next morning we learned that in Hana, in the neighbouring Bode region, a local market would take place. I liked to go there. Arsirege would like to join and of course we could not refuse him, but with him another 8 men would have liked to join which was impossible. We drove out of the Omo Valley to an area not much visited by outsiders. The first Bode we met were men, real cattle herders, butt naked! There was no need for them to wear any clothing, it was simply too hot. The market we found was very small and there was no tourist to be seen - except for me of course. As a result I got a lot of attention, but after an hour or so they just let me be and I could really start enjoying the market. The Bode have special hair cuts - they shave it in unusual forms and shapes. There is a theory that says that the Bode were cannibals and in fact still are - they would dig up their dead the night after the funeral and eat part of the body. Hmmm, well I hope they don't have a taste for a fresh part of Dutch human meat! By the way, the Bode hardly ask for any money to be photographed, which indicates the fact they are not really used to tourists (thank God!). When I showed some of them the pictures I took, they all found it very hilarious. On our way back to Jinka we dropped Arsirege at his village. Unfortunately the villagers had been drinking heavily in his absence and everybody was very drunk. Arsirege got very very angry and did not want to have anything to do with his tribesmen, who quietly and sheepishly all sat down like punished school boys (with a huge hangover). I took some pictures of drunken Mursi before we returned to Jinka, where we hoped to find some water to cool off. Turmi and Dimaka: Bana and Hamar We changed the program when we heared that a bull jump would take place in Harar-country. A bull jump is a traditional ceremony for young men to become an adult. They have to jump and run over a line of bulls. A special occasion, so they say, the more so because before the jump the women ceremony takes place: whipping! With a branch of a special shrub they are being whipped to show respect to the young man who will do the jump. Well, that would be worth seeing. When we finally arrived in Turmi we indeed got confirmation that the same afternoon the bull jump would take place. We still had to drive there though, far into remote areas. Why not... The route was through beautiful landscape but the state of the "road" got worse and worse. Eventually we drove in deep sand in a dry river bed. We arrived at a small clinic in-the-middle-of-nowhere. The car could not continue, so we got our backpacks out and continued on foot. After one hour climbing the hills we arrived on a plateau where we saw a Hamar village - and we saw many Hamar. This would be the venue! We negotiated with the chief about an "all-inclusive" fee: photographing as much as we wanted and one night camping on the plateau. We quickly came to an understanding and the result was great. I could go wherever I wanted and I could take pictures of whatever I wanted. Sometimes somebody made a remark or somebody looked angry at me, but quickly that person was told that I was free to do whatever I wanted. The first thing I did was to descend into the dry river bed where the women were gathering. Also some men were present and they had two tasks: either face painting or whipping! The situation was really bizarre: there I was, the only westerner in the area, in a dry river bed surrounded by many Hamar with crazy decorations and body paint, watching a century old tradition as whipping! And whipping means real whipping! The women were really begging the men to hit them. They hit the woman while they face them on the side of the body, and the sharp branch leaves a clear blood mark on the back of the women where the skin bursts. Many women were walking around with blooded backs and many also had ugly old scars of previous bull jumps. The women however seem to love it, nobody forced them, and they showed no pain at all - actually, they laughed and looked extremely happy to be whipped and they all sang and danced afterwards. After the river bed we all walked to the village, where the beer -they brew it themselves- was tested. After that the dancing started - women and men separate. Others just sat down and chatted and drank beer. Many kids were running around or were watching the adults. It started to get dark which was not good for photography, but then the whole group climbed a hill where many bulls were gathered and were placed (with difficulty) in a neat row. The bull jumper appeared - butt naked - and he jumped on the first bull and ran the whole line of them, jumped down, turned around and did it again and again, about 5 or 6 times. And that was it, he was an adult now, so everybody returned to the village for a good party. We joined them for a short while but retreated to our tents shortly afterwards - a great place to sleep and dream while the Hamar were dancing and singing. Definitely a day to remember... Back in Turmi we visited the weekly Hamar market; it was very colorful, but people were being quite difficult about being photographed. The same happened in Dimaka at the weekly Bana market. It was fun to see the cattle market though, especially when one of the bulls broke out and all the Bana men ran away in fear! In the evening we pitched up our tents in the compound of a befriended Bana family, the family of Lailo. Unfortunately Lailo was not there (he was with his cattle in the bush) but his wives Buri and Asi welcomed us most friendly - and with them a whole bunch of kids. They watched everything we did very closely, and had lots of fun when we hang two beers in wet socks in the tree - in order to get a cold beer. They also loved my long hair and tattoos, and touched me continuously. Once it was dark, we drank coffee in Asi's hut. The coffee was made of the leaves and not the beans, and was very very strong. That night we slept together with about 50 goats inside the compound... Koncho and Gnangatom: Karo and Bumi The Karo were our next goal, a relatively small tribe that lived in 3 small villages along the Omo river. We would also pass the region of the Bumi, a tribe that did not have the best reputation and that had many disputes with other tribes. The Mursi for instance told us they killed two Bumi the week before, after they killed 3 Mursi while trying to steal cattle (which is the main course for conflicts in this part of the world). We would have to be careful, there hadn't been any tourists to the Bumi for a while now. After some hours driving in a landscape dominated by huge termite mounds (shaped like a chimney up to 4 meters high) we entered the "risk area". Just then a group of young men came out of the bush. Oh my, were we in trouble? These young men were Bumi, and these were tall people, one of the men looked down at me as if I am a dwarf. Many of the men were holing a machete in their hands...but surprisingly these young men were very friendly. They were just clearing some of the bush (hence the machetes) to create a campsite for tourists. They asked us why the torusists were no longer coming, and when Miki explained the reason why they told us everything would be safe now and it would not be a problem to come and visit. They would accompany us if we would like to visit their village. Of course we hade to pay a little fee, but the boat ride across the Omo river was included. We decided to go to the other shore, to the town of Gnangatom, which was a dusty affair. We left the town and entered the fields and the farmers were busy in the fields. We met some women; they wore necklaces which seemed to have been wrapped around their necks a hundred times at least. Obviously also they had something pierced through their lower lip, in most cases an ordinary nail. On our way back to the village I saw a young boy walking in an Arsenal t-shirt. It reminded me of the match that night, the one between Barcelona and Arsenal, the one I was not going to see because I was in the bush. But the young boy (who spoke a bit of English) assured me I would be able to see the match: they had DSTV (satellite TV). No way? Would that be possible? But indeed, in a shack made of garbage bags and sticks they showed me a real TV and a satellite dish. Unbelievable! They asked us if we would come that night to see the match. That would be around 23:00hrs because of the time difference with Europe, so we would have to travel in the middle of the night, across the river to a village where other tourists do not dare to go. But then again, wouldn't it be special? so we agreed with the young men that we would return early in the evening to the river... But first we continued to the first Karo village, Koncho. The village's location was beautiful, on top of a hill overlooking the Omo valley and Mago NP in the distance. The village was nice, but I got a lot of "photo for money" requests. I started to get used to it however. Every family had its own compound within the village. Salomon was showing me around and he indicated he would like to join us to Gnangatom that night to see the match, despite the fact that after last time they showed a match (between Manchester United and Manchester City) people started a fight. He joined us going back to the river, we found a place for our car and we crossed the river with the same small boat. Our new friends were already waiting for us and first we headed for the nearest bar for some beers and food. After that we went straight to the garbage-bag shack where, unsurprisingly, I was the only white person and as such was stared at a lot. The shack was sold out and just as the game was about to start, a tall Bumi jumped up and shouted "Mzungu, Barcelona? Arsenal?". It was quite clear who was supposed to answer that question. But was I to tell them I was a big Barca fan, among all these tall Bumi's who were clearly Premier League fans? Remembering the last games' result I pretended not to understand the question and I was beyond relief when the game started and all the Bumi's were now glued to the screen. Unfortunately I betrayed myself when Barca scored and I was the only one who cheered, but fortunately (for me) Arsenal won the match so all Bumi's were as happy as a (night)bird afterwards (of course Barca won the return game with big numbers). After some final beers we crossed the river once more at 2:00AM and found our tents unharmed... Omerate: Dassanech The drive from Gnangatom to Omerate went through a remote area where hardly anybody lived. In fact, it was a sort of wildlife reserve, so we could do a real gamedrive! And indeed, we did see some wildlife but it was very shy. We saw Grant's gazelles, a herd of hartebeest, twice a gerenuk and a lot of dik-diks (Gunther's?). The reason they were shy was probably because there was still quite some hunting going on. Omerate was a dusty town, and incredibly hot. It was at least 45 degrees, and I did sweat profusely. Once more we crossed the Omo river, and this time in a dug-out canoe, in which I barely fitted with my big arse. The Dassanech (the next tribe) were originally from Kenya and their huts resembled the ones of the Turkana in Kenya. Unfortunately they were also the most intrusive tribe thus far. They were all waiting to be photographed and to receive money; how spontaneous! I didn't stay long, also because of the unbearable heat. Tsemai, Arbore and Berahale Via Turmi we drove toward the east to Waito, and along the way we visited two tribes, the Arbore and the Tsemai. Both tribes had a lot of cattle, but they also fished in the nearby lake. I shot a lot of portraits, again I had to pay. The Tsemai I found to be less intrusive than the Arbore. Just after Waito was the Waito river, where many Tsemai brought their cows to drink, a beautiful sight. Miki told me about a very small tribe, the Berahale, living upstream. We decided to visit them, although it did mean quite a walk. The Berahale numbers are down to around 40 tribe members, and many have left because of intertribal marriages. These people were small and most of them were out in the fields. Their village was located in a beautiful bend of the river. Probably this tribe will not exist anymore in a few years time. Yabello: Borana From Waito we reached Konso for one night, and the next day we continued straight to Yabello, hometown of the Borana. Most of the road was gravel, sometimes with a lot of corregation so we arrived in Yabello completely shuffled. At the border of the Konso-Borana region we did find a lot of heavily armed Borana, apparently because a lot of disputes between the tribes regarding cattle had taken place. We found a guesthouse of which we later found out it was the local whore house. Fortunately the ladies did not make to much noise, I slept like a rock. The next morning the market in Yabello had not started yet, so we decided to drive south first to Dibuku to see the famous "singing wells". This very dry region had some dug-out waterholes, of about 20-25 meter diameter, and along the sides trails led down to the water. The Borana would form a line and pass through buckets of water to let their cattle drink. This is hard labour, so in order to make it possible and to pass the time they sing, which echoes in the well and sounds really nice. This activity has also attracted lots of tourists, but we were a bit late in the season and the wells were already filled with water. So no long lines of singing Borana's for us, but 6 of them offered to show us as a kind of theatrical act. How touristy! Once back in Yabello the market had started, and what struck me was that the borana were quite different from all the other tribes, they looked more islamic (which they were) than animistic. The Borana did not like to be photographed, not even for money, so the next day we visited a Borana village to get to know the people. They were very hospitable and friendly by the way. Via Dilla to Addis In Dilla we visited the stellae-fields, some kind of grave stones shaped like giant penises. In Awasha we wanted to treat ourselves to a good hotel to wash away all the sand and dust, but all rooms were taken by people of the NGO Save The Children. Sure, save the children....save yourself is what they mean. We chose the hotel at Lake Awasha, a bit rundown but with many Colobus monkeys in the garden. The long road to Addis only had one memorable happening: a flat tyre. Quite hilarious to get our first flat tyre of the entire trip on asphalt, after driving impossible roads in the Omo region. Once we arrived in Addis we headed for the Mercato to buy some souvenirs - I had to get used to these crowds again. Ethiopia can almost be named the India of Africa - people everywhere! We finished the day (and the trip) in the house of Miki, my good friend, with a delicious meal. Miki, Addis, Blen and Amen: you are beautiful people and I hope to see you again soon! |
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