There is
really no reason to come to Jinka, other than using it as a spring board for
visiting the Mursi – about which more later. Jinka is even more insignificant
than Jijiga was, much more insignificant, in fact. Jinka does have an airstrip,
apparently there are even occasional flights, but they will need to clear the
cattle off first. Jinka has a few basic hotels, basic food, a small, very basic
market, and a smatter of very basic, dusty streets. And it has an annoyingly
large number of young men, members of the local guide association, who hang
around at the hotels, and besiege you as soon as you get outside. And then get
annoyingly rude and insulting if you decline their services – not very becoming,
not a very good advertisement for this town.
(1) Jinka airstrip, full of traffic (non-flying, non-taxiing)
(2, 3, 4) Jinka town does have some colourful shops, and (5) a small market (well, a little bigger than this, but still)
But it is
a nice enough drive to Jinka, first through hilly Konso country, then down to
Weyto and into what the local people call the Weyto desert, indeed a pretty dry
stretch of land, although still nothing compared to what was dry in the north
and the east of this country. I think it is mostly the heat, what makes people
refer to desert in this case, and hot it is! (claims of high 30o’s, low 40o’s C
– given how dry it is, this could well be true).
(6) Konso country, on the way to Jinka, extensively terraced
(7) the so-called Weyto desert, not really a desert, but hot and dry enough
(8) and a dikdik, the smallest of antilopes, and perhaps also the most curious
This part
– we are now getting into the South Omo Valley proper – is in fact very
sparsely populated. But whatever population there is, is, true to reputation,
quite spectacular. Few Western T-shirts, few real trousers, however shabby. No,
mostly tribal garb: Hamar and Bena people with short, tight loin cloths for
men, and animal skin skirts for the women, who will also occasionally wear a
gourd on their head. Men have intricately constructed hair dos, women mostly
brown-coloured rasta-type hair. All are brightly decorated, with bracelets on
upper and lower arms, body covers with cowry shells or with colourful beads - this
is quite different from your usual development country used clothing
collection. The first impression, especially seeing the men, is fearsome, and I
suppose that it what it was meant to be, the original reason for the tribal
outfit. But then, when we make eye contact, and we smile, they smile too, and
they are actually quite nice people, the air of invincibility quickly melts.
(9) a fearsome warrior on the way
(10) and another one, note the mobile telephone charge card as ear decoration - yu cannot take this seriously, anymore!
(11) especially not if the next five warriors are actually stilt walking, and having great fun at it (for my Didam audience: shall we invite them for the annual Didam on Stilts festival?)
In between
Weyto and Jinka is the town – village, perhaps – of Key Afar, which is famous
for its Thursday market. So we, and with us all the other tourists in the
entire South Omo Valley region, it seems, congregated at the market, which is
really a sad affair, from a market perspective. In terms of goods, like
vegetables, or chicken, eggs, pulses etc, there is very little on offer, and in
very small quantities. The main commodity seems to be tourist knacks, crudely
carved wooden sculptures, beads and other decorative objects – the same we had
seen on the people we passed on the way –, and pots and gourds. The few things
we do like are so outrageously expensive that we quickly abandon the
negotiation process – and then we get the same reaction as from some of the
would-be guides in Jinka. The basic concept of commerce, supply and demand,
hasn’t penetrated here yet, and us not wanting to buy against asking price is
interpreted as white exploitation of blacks. Really! The idea that us paying
the asking price would be black exploitation of whites, no, that doesn’t catch
on.
But we have been in this country for a while now, and nothing surprises us anymore.
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