Dimeka

Another town, another market. Dimeka’s is on Saturdays, and is marginally bigger than Key Afar. Most people in Dimeka are “normal”, according to our driver, with which he means that they go dressed in Western cloths. However, on market day there are a lot of out-of-towners around, many indeed in traditional dress – although it seems that the women have been encouraged to put on a T-shirt. The main advantage of a market is that people are more relaxed, look more natural than in the villages, where they are only focused on having their picture taken (and if successful, have this totally unnatural pose, unless you get them to laugh - not always easy).

(1, 2) the market, mostly with out-of-towners

(3, 4) the men, in loin cloth, but obviously contemplating new elements to the wardrobe

(5, 6) and the women, some of whom have already made the move towards modern underware

There has been talk of the traditional bull jumping ceremony, a Hamar custom in which they first beat up their wives, and then have the young boys walk over the backs of up to eight bulls, to prove their manhood. As a tourist, apparently you may be lucky, or not; after all, this is a serious cultural thing, important in Hamar society, not to be taken lightly. It was just coincidence that, a few days ago when we arrived in Turmi, they just had had the ceremony; it must also have been coincidence that the hotel was fully booked, that day. But how lucky we were that in Dimeka they were, just today, going to have another such ceremony! And what a coincidence that, just today, there were once again so many tourist around! Who were all going to be paying 300 birr entrance!

If they could just admit that they do this for the tourists, not for themselves.

We skipped the ceremony, went to our hotel instead, and watched some more birds. But we enjoyed the market.

(7, 8) preparing for the bull jumping ceremony, the woman below already dressed in bangles and the lot, to add to the overall noise levels

Jinka

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.

(12, 13, 14, 15) some pictures from the Key Afar market, including some of the fearsome women, a fearsome child, and some of the artefacts on sale

Karat - the Konso

Further south from Arba Minch we initially stayed on the flat valley floor, where banana production seems a major activity – in addition to the omnipresent herds of cows and goats, which are still being watered and being walked, somehow preferably up and down the main road. Only after a while we left the valley floor and climbed into the mountains again.

 (1, 2) all along the rift valley - but also in other parts of Southern Ethiopia - trees are equiped with cylinders serving as honey combs

(3, 4) they don't have as many donkeys, in this part of the country...

(5) still is still not too far away from the lake, plenty of fish eagles (remember the one at Lake Chamo?)

The next town of any importance, if only because it is located on a junction of the only two main roads in this part of the country, is Karat, home to the Konso people. There are some 300,000 of them, apparently, mostly scattered across the country side, but around Karat they are concentrated in characteristic mountain villages: the oldest part on the top, and additional layers of houses built in circles around it, each lower layer protected by its own stone wall. The houses themselves are tukuls, round huts with thatched roofs and a pot on the top, against leakage (the pot can also signal the religion of the family, eg with a cross in the pot, or whether the family is that of an important clan leader, then they have an ostrich egg on the pot). Of most interest to us, collectors, are the wooden sculptures that are being placed on important graves, depicting the hero or clan leader, his wife, and the enemies he killed during his life; unfortunately, most of those so-called wagas have already been stolen, to the effect that the Konso now keep their dead inside the compound, not anymore in the fields around the village. We decided not to put a bid in.

(6) Konso women, with their typical skirts - apparently, you can tell from the length of the skirt whether she is married or not

(7, 8, 9, 10) Konso village, with its narrow entrance and round huts, decorated - in this case - with ostrich eggs to identify the house of a very important person

(11, 12, 13) and some of the village's inhabitants

(14) a window, and some mais drying (just a pretty picture)

(15) a collection of wagas, statues indicating the grave of an important hero, depicted in the largest sculpture, and his wife, and defeated enemies in the others

With the Konso, we have also arrived in the South Ethiopia tourist trap, where everybody wants to have their picture taken, only to charge you somewhere between 10-25 cents for the privilege, afterwards. They also try to charge you for every other photo, whether from their house or somebody else’s, from a cow or a goat, or from an exotic bird that happens to be in the neighbourhood. And then, suddenly, it turns out to be a blessing to have a mandatory guide, someone who puts things in perspective and deals with the unreasonableness of the villagers – mind you, we have already heftily paid for the visit at the official Konso tourist outfit, nothing comes for free here. I suspect this is how the next few days will be, in each and every village of each and every tribe. Did I say, earlier, that this was the last frontier, the only area where African tribes still lived in their original setting?

(16, 17, 18, 19) Konso market in Karat, including the selling of green herbs - not the usual chat, I think, this is more a man's business - and colourful hats