June 2 – 8, 2019

“To travel is to discover that everyone is wrong about other countries.”

• Aldous Huxley

I can’t remember when the first time was that I saw pictures of topless women walking around in public. It was either an article about the Woodstock concert in my dad’s Life magazine, or pictures in my dad’s National Geographic magazine about African tribes that included women with huge plates in their lower lip, or brass coils wrapped around their extended necks.  Both were completely fascinating to a young fellow in conservative East Tennessee.  One of those is long gone, the other continues today.  When I saw a trip advertised on Trekkup Dubai (www.meetup.com/trekkup) called ‘Eye to Eye with Lip Plate Tribes/Eid Break in Omo Valley, Ethiopia’, this was too much to pass up. I continue to be amazed at how much about the world I don’t know.  When I thought about Ethiopia, I thought about a poor, politically unstable country in the horn of Africa that had produced a routine stream of successful marathon runners in the Olympics in years past.  In other words, I was clueless.  There is a lot more to Ethiopia than that.  Here are a few items:

• The population of Ethiopia is estimated to be over 106 million, the most populous land-locked country in the world, and the 12^th most populous overall. This was stunning to me.
• Ethiopia has been an independent nation since 980 BC. 
• The capital and largest city is Addis Ababa, population 2.7 million.  That seemed like a small largest city given the population of the country.  For example, Egypt has a similar population, but Cairo is over 20 million.
• According to the World Economic Forum, Ethiopia is the fastest growing country in Africa, growing over 8%/year.  By purchasing parity, the GDP of Ethiopia is ranked 63^rd in the world.  Poor, but a long way from poorest.
• Some of the oldest anatomically modern human skeletons have been found in Ethiopia, and the Ge’ez script is one of the oldest alphabets still in use in the world.
• Ethiopia is home to over 85 tribes and 200 dialects.
• Ethiopians believe the Ark of the Covenant is housed at Aksum in Ethiopia. Only one specially chosen guard has access to the Ark, and even he is not allowed to look at it to confirm it is there.
• The Ethiopian calendar has thirteen months, twelve of 30 days and one of 5 days. It is 7.5 years behind the Gregorian calendar.
• Ochre is a natural clay earth pigment used by the Hamar tribal woman in making the distinctive braids unique to their tribe. It is the oldest known natural pigment in the world, used by our hominid ancestors over 3 million years ago.
• Coffee is native to the Kaffa region of Ethiopia, with the earliest evidence of use dating back to the 15^th century.  Coffee is the world’s second most valuable commodity behind petroleum.
• Ethipoia is home to an ancient wine called Tej made from honey and the gesho shrub. The tradition is over 2000 years old.
• Dallol in the Danakil Depression holds the record for the highest annual average temperature for an inhabited location at 35°C (95°F).
• The name Ethiopia comes from the Greek words aitho and ops which together mean “burnt face”, a term the ancient Greeks used to refer to the dark-skinned Africans.
• Ethiopian Abebe Bikila became the first black African to win a gold medal in the Olympic Marathon, winning the race in Rome in 1960 running barefoot. Four years later in Tokyo he set the world record in the marathon, again running barefoot.
• Traditionally, Ethiopian parents and children do not share the same last name.  Children take their father’s or grandfather’s first name as their last name.

I call my blog “An Innocent Abroad” – for this trip, that definition is spot on.  We have become adept at packing and have some idea what to expect for most places we go, even Tajikistan.  But Ethiopia?  Hot or cold? Omo Valley is only about 5° north of the equator but is in the most mountainous country in Africa.  Parts of Omo Valley are over 1300 m elevation.  Wet or dry?  Ethiopia has both. And finally, when your guide tells you to prepare for a “raw, bone-jarring experience” – what does that look like on a packing list?  The warning about water quality that is becoming standard for many trips was taken to a new level for this hike, as we were advised to bring disposable utensils and plates (but didn’t use them).  The Center for Disease Control recommends a whopping 15 vaccinations for Ethiopia in addition to a malaria prophylaxis.  I obliged the majority but did not get meningitis, flu, shingles, or rabies (that one is a 4-shot series, and I live 2+ hours from Abu Dhabi). Rare medical advice from me – anti-vaxxers shouldn’t go to Ethiopia.

I joined our group for this early-morning flight at one of our standard meeting points, the Costa Coffee Shop in Dubai Airport at 3:30 AM. This was an international group of 11 people: 3 USA, 2 Ireland, 2 Australia, 2 Lebanon, 1 Poland, and 1 UAE. I simply can’t say enough about how great an experience it is to share these with such great travelers. We start the trip as complete strangers and end as good friends.  We left Dubai at 5:40, arriving two stops and about 9 hours later without our luggage in the small south Ethiopia town of Jinka. We moved through customs smoothly (I previously paid $72 for a 90 day tourist visa, obtained online at www.evisa.gov.et), and changed our money to a stack of Ethiopian birr (100 birr ~$3). I had read US dollars were welcome but that was only partially true.  We paid for all tips and pictures in local currency, generally at the rate of 5 birr per person in the photo.

Our tour group met us at the Jinka airport, sans luggage, and drove us through town with its collection of small businesses and private dwellings, with goats, cows, chickens and people wandering the streets. We arrived at our first night lodging a few miles from town, the Eco-Omo Lodge.  This was a series of plain but comfortable tents complete with mosquito nets for the beds and a small bathroom. I regretted not packing the essentials in my carry-on backpack.  We settled in, then took a walk to a nearby Ari tribal village led by our guide, Gino Loshere. Gino is a member of the Dassenach tribe near the Kenyan border.  He was an outstanding guide, with good English and an excellent working relationship with all the tribes we visited. We had heard that a bad initial encounter with the tribes could result in your being asked to leave, or even having rocks thrown at you. The village we visited was one of many Ari villages. About 600,000 strong, this tribe is the largest of the 85+ tribes living in Ethiopia. The activities taking place in the village, as was the case all week, were legitimate daily affairs of the tribespeople, but Gino notified them on days when he would be coming through so that they wouldn’t be surprised when we arrived. Gino told me this style of eco-tourism started about a decade ago.  The tribes still live their daily lives, but with the knowledge that strangers may come around.  The general rule was that pictures of landscapes are free, and a small fee of about 15 cents per person otherwise. 

The Ari tribe was the closest to town and said to be the most civilized, an assessment I agree with.  Still, there was no evidence of running water or electricity where we visited.  We witnessed pottery being made by a local lady using a mixture of clay with some fine sand she ground herself.  She was quite talented at what she did, but our guide said such positions are not held in high esteem in the village.  A man owning a cow would have much higher stature.  She would mold her clay into a bowl, plate, cup, or something of the sort.  After drying for a couple of days, she would fire the piece in a small grass fire piled around the piece for uniform heating. The pieces she made seemed very sturdy and practical.  I bought a plate, one of the few treasured souvenirs I am collecting on these trips. This plate will hold an honored spot amongst my collection of shark’s teeth, petrified wood, German beer steins, Egyptian canopic jars, and dinosaur poop.

Our tour of the Ari village continued. A nearby lady was making injera bread, a flatbread made from teff grain that was a staple at every meal. Cooked on the village-made pottery over a wood fire, the batter was poured like a pancake, then covered with a reed lid coated with cow dung to trap the vapors and help cook the bread, making the final bread a delicate moist texture.  This was one of many instances during the week where it was best to set aside your notion of how things should be done and just go with the flow.  Some of our members were given the chance to try their hand at pouring the batter and baking the bread before we headed on down the road, the neighborhood kids eagerly holding our hands as we walked down the street.  Gino explained that the children of the village roam from home to home with no particular regard to which family they belong to.  Sounds a bit like east Tennessee growing up in the 60’s.

After stopping at another hut to watch a young boy working on forging a knife in a fire, we moved on to the neighborhood still.  This impressive rig took the wort made from germinated corn seeds and local hops that had spent time fermenting in a drum for several days, then distilled over a fire into a brew called arki.  This tasted like something in between tequila and moonshine to me.  Served in an Arabic coffee cup, that was one cup where germs weren’t a concern.

On the way back to our camp, we noticed some girls dressed for church walking down the street.  Ethiopia is about 40% Orthodox Christian, 34% Islam, 19% Protestant, with a smaller percentage devoted to traditional beliefs of the more remote tribes. Gino described religious differences are of no consequence among villagers, a lesson the rest of the world could take to heart.  After returning to camp, we ventured into Jinka for dinner, then back to bed, hopeful our luggage would arrive the next day.

We woke to a gentle rain. I had an ambient temperature shower that was actually pretty refreshing.  This turned out to be the last shower of consequence for the week.  We had a fun breakfast getting to know each other a little.  Breakfast was banana bread, cheese, sausage (not sure what animal), and eggs (I learned two-sided means over easy).  We also had moringa, a dark leafy dish like turnip greens.  I learned this is quite a health food when I looked it up – chock full of vitamins, minerals, and protein.

The rain subsided as we checked out and headed to our next destination, Kako Market, about 22 km outside of Jinka.  Locals come to this open air market every Monday to sale or barter their goods, which include butter, honey, fruits, vegetables, beans, various grains, tej (the local wine made of honey and the leaves of a local bush), coffee, tobacco, eggs, as well as an active meat market.  A half-gallon tub of butter cost about 350 birr (~$12), a gourd of honey about 450 birr (~$15), while a nice bull can set you back 20,000 birr (~$675).  Most people can’t afford a bull (a real status symbol) – goats are quite common.  A bit surprising to me, I saw no sheep or pigs.  We stopped by a booth that had a simmering pot of beans and corn that was quite tasty.  I washed it down with ‘farsi’, a sorghum beer brewed in a barrel that I drank from a gourd.   Gourds are still the common drinking utensil, but I was sad to see that plastic is making inroads for tribal use.  Gino said not all tribes are friendly with each other and sometimes fight over water, overgrazing, or livestock theft. Penalties if the police get involved may include fines that result in loss of livestock, a serious penalty that helps maintain order.

We said farewell to the market and got back on the road.  We drove through a green landscape with banana, mango, and papaya trees.  I expected none of this in Ethiopia.  Our driver, Kalu, of the Ochlo tribe was a splendid man with decent English.  He played us reggae music that he said was Ethiopian on our way back to Jinka for lunch at the Orit Hotel. We had a plate of avocados and tomatoes for the first of several times during the week, along with sautéed vegetables, grilled beef and a local beer called Walia.  Our luggage arrived from the airport, so we changed clothes, and walked down to the local bank to get a stack of low denomination bills for tips and pictures before heading out again. 

Our afternoon trek was scheduled to be about a 14 km hike through the hills of Ethiopia to Senegal school, but because of a late start we only made about half of that due to darkness.  The hike was wonderful – lush green with rolling hills dotted with occasional local dwellings and family farms plowed with a wooden plow pulled by a bull.  The predominant crops were sorghum and corn.  Shortly after sunset we crossed a road, where we waited for our rides to pick us up and take us to the Senegal School grounds where we spent the night.

We stopped at three different schools over the course of the week, meeting with school administrators and learning of their challenges, and meeting with the kids that were almost in a frenzy to see the visitors. We left donations of t-shirts, games, toys, and educational supplies.  The Senegal school, our first school, was empty when we arrived at dusk, and our cook ‘Sam’ set up shop in one of the classrooms. I estimated the room (all the classrooms looked the same) to be about 10m x 10m, with no lights, no ventilation, no power, a few simple wooden desks. The team set up a light string of 3 small LED lights that provided the only light except our headlamps. Sam used two single burner stoves on propane tanks, and really did a remarkable job with that simple arrangement to feed us all week.  Our dinner this night was pasta, mixed sautéed vegetables, and lentil soup.  Adib, our organizer, produced a bottle of dark rum to go with dinner. Some enjoyed a special high mountain tobacco that seemed vaguely familiar.  A good time was had by all.  I just love the way a group of complete strangers from all over the globe can bond into such a fun group so quickly.

The team also set up our lodging for the week, one-man tents set up in the schoolyard. I was quite content with this arrangement. We went to bed by the light of bright stars but awoke to rain the next morning.  Some of us who neglected to close the fly with the stars out woke up to wet feet but no matter.  After a breakfast of scrambled eggs with chilis and bread and jam, we packed our gear and prepared to meet the school kids already buzzing around.  This was quite the sensory overload as we distributed some of our goods (the bulk were left with the teachers to distribute under more controlled circumstances).  School teachers said they have about 45 kids in each room, and several children share each schoolbook. I considered that perhaps our gifts weren’t quite on target for truer needs.  I learned that birth records are rarely made for children living in the remote villages.  A child born out of wedlock or with deformities as trivial as having their upper teeth come in before the lower is considered cursed in some tribes. These children are called ‘mingi’ and may be killed by abandoning in the bush or drowning. This practice was outlawed by the Karo tribe in 2012 but is still a common practice.

We loaded into the cars under clearing skies and headed to our next stop, Alduba Market.  Our stay here wasn’t quite as long as at the previous market.  The feel of the market was somewhat different, my feeling was that it had more of a social gathering function for nearby villages in addition to being just a market.  The reception to visitors was not broadly as welcoming either, with people vigilant for photographers to demand payment, or in some cases, open hostility (not physically) towards the unwelcome visitors, not wanting pictures taken at all. Our guide Gino was quite adept as steering us away from challenges, moving us along and chasing off children that became too much of a nuisance.  Tourist souvenirs were more prevalent and heavily marketed than the Kako market, where there were very limited tourist offerings and virtually no pressure to buy.  Vendors came up during lunch peddling their goods, even after just completing a sale to a group member.

After lunch, we continued south, driving along roads shared with goats, cattle, people, and small motorcycles. The landscape flattened somewhat, and generally became drier though still green. The ubiquitous acacia tree dotted the landscape shared with termite mounds. These mounds are often 5 meters tall or higher, a feature I learned is an exotic ventilation and air-conditioning system that maintains the mound at a constant temperature.  I chatted with our driver about improvement projects in Ethiopia and politics (he likes the current Prime Minister, the last one was corrupt) as we drove through the changing south Ethiopian landscape.  As the sun lowered in the sky, we arrived at our next destination, the Korcho village overlooking the Omo River.  This village was home to about 250 members of the Kara tribe, the smallest in Ethiopia with about 3000 people.  We first encountered a few boys, returning to town with their bows and arrows and a small bird they had shot. Gino established the precedent that no cameras were allowed until he gave permission. This was one of many wise moves by Gino that improved the quality of the experience, not just for us but for future visitors.  The tribes are accustomed to tourists now, but they are proud strong people. I read several stories where tribes turned aggressive if the relation wasn’t first established.

We surveyed the landscape. The village overlooks a horseshoe bend in the Omo River from a small bluff, with the Omo Valley extending to distant mountains.  Tribal members walked down the road to meet us. Gino made introductions and discussed our visit with tribal leaders.  He mixed well with all the tribes we visited, conversant in their dialects, treating everyone with a confident respect, and was treated with respect in return.  We mingled with the tribe as we walked towards town, children anxiously holding our hands.  Some of the bare breasted women attempted to lure the men to their huts to show them what the inside of their homes looked like.  We learned this was a ruse designed to set up a request for extra money for this special treatment.  They had no takers this trip.  Only women and children sleep in the small huts at night, men and boys over about age 10 sleep outside. A beautiful rainbow appeared over the valley below, and Gino released us to take photos of this special treat. We meandered through town, seeing their homes, goat pens, food storage huts – all very traditional.  Our tents were set up overlooking the Omo River.  We strolled along the riverbank, noting a lone canoe fishing while the kids entertained us by climbing trees and turning flips down the bank.

We came back to camp as the sun set. I brought out my bottle of Tej wine I bought at the market to try over dinner.  I am not a sommelier, but I thought it was good, blending well with a dinner of lentil soup (recurring theme), rice, and chicken.  A few of us talked about Knights Templar, Freemasons and symbolism of dollar bill markings by the campfire before turning in for the night.  It was a hot calm night.

I awoke early as I normally do and sat on a bench overlooking the river for a time.  A chorus of frogs serenaded me from across the river, and I watched a young boy struggle up the bluff with buckets of water.  The sounds of birds filled the air.  I watched as an elderly lady took down the stacked log gate to the goat pen one log at a time, allowing the goats to begin their daily foraging. I closed my eyes and pondered on the good things in this world.

Our neighbors began to gather around the campsite in anticipation of the coming photo frenzy but did not bother us as we had breakfast and packed up. Once the photos began it was a crazy affair.  They were dressed in their best to showcase their traditions.  Process was to pay 5 birr (~15 cents) for each person in a photo, as a result, it was a challenge to take the picture you wanted due to people constantly jumping in front of the camera. And of course, a woman with a baby in hand was two people. After about 30 minutes we were again to the point of sensory overload.  I had the bad fortune to have phone problems (‘moisture detected’) and was left to my old backpacking point-and-shoot, but I was in the company of some first-rate photographers who let me use some of their pictures. 

We ended the photo session and took the short walk through the village to the nearby school, arranged similarly to the last school we saw.  This school was for grades 1-8. The teacher explained that attendance could be a problem as sometimes parents felt there were other priorities, and he sometimes resorted to going home to home to get students to come to class.  We toured the grounds and left our supplies with the principal.

We left Korcho village and headed to our next destination, Mango Campground just outside the village of Turmi.  Shortly after leaving the village, we stopped by the river and took a walk up the riverbank, observing the water birds and several crocodiles cruising the shoals looking for their next meal. As we continued towards our campground, I noticed herd after herd of goats foraging in the terrain.  Our driver Kalu said boys of 7 or 8 are trusted with the herds in the vicinity of their homes, but they need to be about 10 before they are trusted to freely range with the herds.  I noted he would occasionally toss a water bottle out the window toward a roadside shepherd in an empathetic gesture.  He said his middle name was Tomas after the disciple Thomas in the Bible, but I did not observe any special religious behavior by our guides over the course of the week.

Mango Campsite on the bank of the Kaske River was a lovely spot in a grove of mature Mango trees.  I didn’t realize they could grow so large, but the trees we camped under provided a complete canopy of trees probably 15 meters high or taller.  We weren’t here for long – we had a bull jumping to attend.  We got back in the cars and headed for the country, watching locals bathe and wash their clothes in the river, spreading their clothes on the bushes to dry.  We saw dik-diks in the brush, a small antelope less than half a meter in height and weighing just a few kilos.  Our Ethiopian members chewed bags of khat for hours.  Khat is a native plant that acts a stimulant, causing feelings of euphoria. It isn’t strong, so they had a good size bag to chew on for hours.  I had heard of it but never seen it.  I suspect it may have had something to do with Sam’s perpetually sunny disposition.

Bull jumping is a rite of passage in the Hamar tribe of Omo Valley for a boy to become a man. The tradition dates back thousands of years.  It may involve a marriage but doesn’t have to.  The process is a lengthy affair involving the whole tribe.  Elder women prepare and serve buno, a hot drink made from boiling the husks of coffee beans. It has a somewhat tea like flavor. I was served mine in a gourd, the traditional drinking vessel, by one of the non-maternal mothers of the bull jumper. Men can have multiple wives in the tribes, and this particular duty was performed by one of the non-biological mothers.  Female family members and relatives spend hours dancing in a circle, blowing horns and occasionally stopping to jump up and down.  Bells strapped to their legs make a tremendous racket. Members join in and drop out, but the dance lasted for hours.  Men who have completed the bull jump but are not yet married are designated whippers, using thin wood strips a couple of meters long to whip the women across their backs from time to time. Rather than avoiding this horrific looking treatment that left their backs streaked with stripes of blood, the women seem to relish it, jumping in line enthusiastically to be next.  Butter was spread on the backs of some to better prepare them for the whip.  How you ask?  Good question indeed. The ritual is said to be a chance for them to show their happiness and support for the jumper.  There was said to be some favor curried by the women in having this done but I never figured that part out.  This only reservation I saw on the part of the women was that most wore bras during these festivities, there apparently being some limit on what they like to have whipped.  Some prepubescent girls jumped in line to be whipped. They were either disregarded by the whippers or whipped lightly enough to do no more than sting.

Women of the Hamar tribe have a distinctive hair braid called goscha.  Young girls do not participate in this hair styling. The hair is twisted into small strands colored with red ochre blended with butter or animal fat with fragrances blended in.  The red ochre is a natural clay pigment with coloration based on the ferrous oxides found in the soil. The hair glistened with the butter in the warm afternoon sun.  The smell is a distinctive strong aroma.  Like the smell of fresh bread from the oven takes me back to my mother’s kitchen as a child, I think with a period of exposure this would become one of those transformative smells that would take you back to this place and time were you ever to smell it in the future.

As the afternoon sun lowered in the sky, the entire tribe moved across the valley to the bull jumping area.  About 20 bulls had been gathered in the space of about an acre.  Youngsters harass the bulls, chasing them around the low shrubs to agitate the bulls, thereby further increasing the challenge for the young man.  Men of the tribe gather about six bulls and with great effort, they line up the bulls in a row by wrestling them by the horns and another pulling their tails to get them into position. Once aligned, the young candidate, now naked to demonstrate his strength and vitality, runs to the bulls, leaping on their backs to race across the row.  Should he fail, he risks being impaled on horns as he falls, or being trampled underfoot. At a minimum he will be ridiculed for his weakness and may have to wait for another chance.  Our candidate fell once, but persevered and made the run down across the bulls and back.  After a celebration by the family after his success, the young man is now a Maza. His diet will be limited to blood, milk, honey, and meat until he marries. He is now also a whipper for other bull runners until he marries.

We said our farewells to the Hamar tribe and headed back to our campground at the Mango Campsite, arriving after dark. Now in our third day without a shower, we had high hopes for this campground.  Alas, the shower amounted to no more than a strong trickle of ambient temperature water in a concrete building with lizards running around the walls.  I made do as best I could and washed out my shirt and pants at the same time to the light of my little solar powered lamp. 

We sat down to dinner. Sam was grilling some goat leg over a wood fire (maybe lamb, but I hadn’t seen any around but plenty of goats).  Our guides had bought us a case of a local brew. We had a relaxing dinner of the goat made into a goulash and some fried cauliflower.  I enjoyed the camaraderie of my new batch of friends. This was shaping up to be really special trip.

I got up early the next morning and spent some time walking by the river. A new hand pump well had been installed near the river’s edge, replacing the old traditional dug well with a bucket lowered on a rope.  That one is still in use when lesser quality water is adequate.  We had breakfast of scrambled eggs with chilis and bread with jam before packing up and heading out for the new days adventure.  Our first stop was a primary school in Turmi, with about 500 kids in grades 1 – 8.  We met with the director and left him our bag of games and supplies. The director had the only computer in the school.  As all the schools were that we visited, the classrooms had no lights, electricity, ventilation, or air conditioning. As many as 60 kids are in a class, with 5 or 6 kids sharing a single textbook.  Education is free but support is not, and some of the kids must travel 50-60 km to school.  So cash donations are welcome to help support these kids while they are at school away from their family. This did not seem to dampen the enthusiasm of these youngsters as they swarmed around us during their recess.

We left Turmi and headed back towards Jinka.  Our drive was down a dirt road for mile after mile, giving us what some called an “Ethiopian Massage” as we bounced along the rough roads.  We pass thousands of seemingly feral goats as the miles roll by.  Occasionally we pass a family farm with small gardens protected from foraging by natural fences of thorny brush that looks more effective than razor wire. Sometimes we see children yelling ‘carmello!!’ at us (candy!!) from roadside and we toss pieces out the window to start the children scrambling. 

After another stop by Abdula Market and a lunch of hard-boiled eggs and boiled potatoes, we head west to Mago National Park, home of the Mursi Tribe of lip plate fame. We pass through the Great Rift Valley, a lush green valley surrounded by high mountains. A common feature of the landscape is women – sometimes young, sometimes quite old – walking with bundles of wood on their backs.  Great labor goes into this effort to provide fuel for cooking, or perhaps to sell for a few birr at a nearby marketplace, and I never saw a male performing this work. On one stretch of road we slowed to a stop, the usual herd of cattle wandering down the road, but with an extra feature this time.  A group of painted youngsters walked down the road on stilts – really high stilts, a meter or more high in the air. They stood motionless on these in an amazing display of gravity defying balance.  Of course, this is a marketing opportunity by these young men, and it worked well as we willingly shelled out our birr to snap a few pictures of this impressive display.  Gino said these are smart young men who have learned to make more money walking the streets on stilts than a teacher or soldier is paid.  The stilts themselves have no connection to any tribal tradition, simply boys who learned an ingenious way to make some money.

About 4 PM we arrived at Mago Park. The landscape was stunning, as were the flocks of brilliantly colored birds with nests thickly packed into the trees. Our driver pitched water bottles out the window to tribesmen we passed that were tending flocks. As we neared the Mursi tribe we would visit, I considered blogs I read before coming.  Blogs that described the aggressive nature of this tribe, how armed guards were needed, and some visitors wanted to leave early and never return.  I had come to have high trust in Gino and how he handled relations and just took in the landscape as we approached. We passed the chief on the road entering, a regal spectacled figure (the first I saw wearing glasses) armed with an AK-47. We continued to the village, greeted by a friendly young man. Introductions were made to other tribal leaders, all seemed peaceful, friendly and relatively indifferent to our arrival. The chief caught up with us, leading the cattle into a large holding pen for the night.  He came and joined us, freely showing us the weapon.  This was the Merrage village of the Mursi tribe with about 200 members.  We toured the village and walked down the road to enjoy a lovely sunset. 

We came back for dinner. Our tents were set up on a grassy plain about 50 meters from the village huts, and the picnic tables set up for dinner as dusk fell. Sam prepared our last dinner for us and we chatted about our experiences.  Our trip organizer, Adib, broke out his little Bluetooth speaker and we turned up the music a little as dark settled in. Everyone was having a good time, and the music got a little louder as a campfire was built.  I asked Gino if perhaps we were being disrespectful with the music, he just smiled and said “Not at all. Turn it up if you wish.”  Before long, members of the tribe came over and proceeded to dance their tribal dances for us, a simple dance where individual members came out one a time, taking turns while one of the leaders illuminated the area with a solar powered lantern I brought. We all danced together as the night closed.

I got up early the next morning, abuzz from the week’s experiences that weren’t quite finished. We saw a few of the lip plated women the night before, but this morning they would be on full display. They remained at a distance while we finished breakfast and packed our gear, the result I believe, of discussions between Gino and the chief. When the time arrived, we received an experience unique to this tribe.  The women of the Mursi tribe in their teenage years have their lower lip pierced, and a small wooden plug is inserted.  After the wound is healed, the hole is made progressively larger in each subsequent piercing, and handmade decorated ceramic discs made by the woman replace the wood plug, eventually reaching up to 20 cm (~8 inches).  Some of the women had baskets of the plates for sale at 50 birr each (~$1.50).  I read different reasons for the purpose of the plates.  Gino said originally, they were to make them undesirable to slave traders as well as members of neighboring tribes who may be interested in stealing a wife.  That explanation satisfied me. In addition to the lip plates, other women wore necklaces packed with seashells, earrings made of wart hog tusks, and headdresses of animal horns. Some women carried an AK-47 in one hand and a nursing child in the other.  The men wore decorative clothes and ear plugs, but no doubt women were the main attraction here.

As a show that always seemed to have one more act, next was the bull bleeding.  Milk from the herds is consumed daily, and on occasion the blood is drunk – sometimes for ceremonial purposes but other times for simple nutrition in a manner that does not harm the bull. We gathered at the cattle pen, where two men with some difficulty wrestled the bull into position. A rope was tightened around the bull’s neck to restrict the blood flow and another member shot the neck at close range with a small bow and arrow. A strong stream of blood was captured in a gourd. When 1-2 liters were collected, the rope was released, and the blood flow stopped by daubing mud on the wound.  The blood then had some fresh milk added and the gourd offered to the crowd.  I didn’t turn down anything all week, and this was no exception. I took my place on the log and took a drink of the salty-sweet blood.  I believe the salt to be the blood and the sweet the fresh cream of the milk.  Another member of the team joined me; others couldn’t even watch.

Our last spot to visit with the Mursi tribe was the gardens. Gino said the tribe was happy because the rains had been good, and the gardens were growing well. We went by fields of sorghum and maize, with lesser amounts of beans and some gourd squash.  Young men and women had duties to take a place on stands built in the fields where they threw rocks with slingshots with amazing accuracy and distance to chase away birds and animals. Many of the tribespeople remain in the field during the growing season.

We said our farewells to the Mursi, and to Ethiopia as we returned to Jinka for our flight to Abu Dhabi.  As I thought about a hot shower and a soft bed, I considered my visit to Ethiopia.  This was certainly an eye-opening experience for me.  The landscape we saw with lush green fields and mountains, with wildly divergent tribal customs, decorations, and traditions have broadened my horizons in a special way.  Gino said the type of tourism we took part in was relatively new, starting about 15 years ago.  The native activities we saw over the course of the week, to my eye, were legitimate tribal activities, but there was no doubt the tourism has added a new dimension that was not always an improvement. The expectation for payment for pictures is a distracting reality, making candid photos difficult. We saw unsavory tourists completely disrespect tribal customs in their push for a better picture.  We saw improvement projects like roads to a new Ethiopian sugar project that promises to dislocate tribes from the self-reliant way of life they have known for millennia.  Can the native tribal way of life remain?  Only time will tell.

This trip cost me $2043. That included round trip air fare, guide service, all meals on the trek, accommodations, vaccinations, visa, tips (both for guides and for taking pictures) and souvenirs (two bags of Ethiopian coffee).  Truly, I received more than I gave on this trip.  For those interested in such a trek, I give full endorsement to our guide.

Gino Loshere

ginoloshr@gmail.com

+251 9 20 01 06 91

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