Current Location: Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.
Highlights: The Mursi Tribe, chasing a chicken for dinner, and the hunt for petrol!
Upcoming: Departure to Sudan, and visits to Axum, Lalibella, and other religious sites in northern
Ethiopia.
Our drive down to the Mursi Tribe in Margo Park took two days. We got as far as south of Sodo the first day and bush camped on a quite hill but of course we were discovered at first light by a group of teenagers who gathered around the truck until we emerged from the rooftop tent. By nightfall the second day we made it to Jinka, a small "last outpost" type of town. We tried to find the road which left town and went to the park, but the map in the Brandt guide was wrong, so a local guy showed us. We bushcamped again just outside the park boundaries in a beautiful spot in complete privacy. It's moments like these that seem to compensate for the headaches!
Next morning we headed of to the park HQ where we had an interesting interaction with officials. To cut a long story short, we asked if they had a map of the park, which they said they did not. They said the Mursi tribe was inside the park, then they said they were outside. We asked if we needed to pay the park fees to visit the tribe since they were outside the park to which they replied we did. When we asked why, they changed their mind again and said that the Mursi were inside the park. When we asked where the park boundaries were, they produced a map. Hmm, I thought, just a few moments ago they said they had no map. When they showed us the map, they tried to tell us that Arbor Minch (complete nonsense as it's a town about 300 km away) was within the park boundaries! I got the feeling they just wanted us to pay up! The whole situation was very confusing as there are no signs on the roads saying where the park boundaries are and apparently they only have one map. From the map, it looked like we crossed into the park a ways back and that the first Mursi tribe was in fact within the park, so we paid the fees and headed off into the park.
The park was a beautiful area which expanded across a valley floor surrounded by steep mountains, but unfortunately we saw hardly any animals at all despite reported large herds of buffalo, elephants and all the big cats. In fact they say Margo Park is what Africa was like before colonial times. Before long we reached the Mursi village right on the banks of the Margo river and an EEC funded bridge building project. We
spent the whole afternoon with the tribe. I ended up using the tools we had to fix some of the their AK47 guns and had some friendly interactions with the men who take great pride in their guys. For full details & pictures on the Mursi Tribe, see the special diary entry I posted immediately before this one.
Just before dark we crossed the river to the other side of the park to find a quite place to bushcamp. We drove up a very steep mountain side onto probably the most beautiful plateau I have every seen. This would have been the most spectacular and wonderful place we have camped of the whole trip, but as soon as we reached the top people literally came running out of the bushes towards us. I can't imagine what they were doing up here as it was so dry and desolate. So we had to pass on this incredible spot and find a deserted area back off of the edge of the plateau to bushcamp.
We returned to the Mursi village the next morning and took more pictures before leaving. As we were leaving the park we "bumped" into a guy called William, a Brit who had driven down from the UK in a 4x4 VW van and whom we had met in Addis a week or so previously. So we all decided to go back Jinka and stay the night at the campsite to exchange travel info. Apparently, there was no petrol in Jinka, or any of the towns within about 300 km, and William ended up waiting 3 days for fuel at one point! This was a serious blow as we were depending on getting petrol down here to allow us to visit some more tribes and meant that we had to head back to the town of Arbor Minch which was about as far as our remaining petrol would take us and hope they had a delivery. With the decision to turn back the next day and the prospect of petrol uncertain, Aaron and I decided we wanted some meat for dinner so asked one of the kids if they could find us a chicken.
Rather than bring us a chicken they insisted I go with them to choose the chicken. So off we went into the village until we found a house with lots of chickens running around. I saw one that looked plump and told the kids I wanted that one. It was totally hilarious watching 6 kids chase this chicken around the yard. Finally the chicken ran straight into the house with a kid hot its tail. The kid closed the door and emerged 30 seconds later proudly holding up the chicken. I paid him 7 birr (about 90 US cents) and off we went back to the campsite with our diner. It might sound somewhat odd to go out and catch your dinner, but its the best, if not the only way, to ensure the meat is fresh where fridge's are almost non-existent. Back at the campsite I chopped off the chickens head, paid the kid to pluck the feathers and within no time we had the chicken roasting over a hot fire. It wasn't the most delicious chicken as just about all the meat is these parts is very lean and tough, but it really hit the spot!
The next two days we spent driving back to Addis. We were lucky as Arbor Minch had received petrol so we decided to stay the night at a campsite to "pamper" ourselves in town. Although Arbor Minch is not the most picturesque place, the view overlooking a huge lake and pristine forest from the camping area in the hotel was stunning. It was a long drive back on some nasty potholed roads and we wearily arrived back at Bob & Merlin's house in Addis late at night.
PS We have been reading in the news about impending famine because of drought in Ethiopia. This amazes me as we have seen nothing but heavy rain just about everyday. Of course the famine areas are not this wet, but there is not a lack of water in Ethiopia, there is just no infrastructure to distribute the water.
Showing posts with label Ethiopia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ethiopia. Show all posts
Sunday, June 15, 2008
African Adventure: O merci, its the MURSI people!
Before you start to read, you might want to scroll down and look at the pictures and place the images in your mind as you read. Southern Ethiopia has many different tribes, most are visually, linguistically and culturally different despite living so close to each other. In fact it was not until quite recently that some of the more remote tribes had even heard that a country called Ethiopia existed! One of the more bizarre tribes are the Mursi people because of the large clay lip plate worn by most of the women. We visited a Mursi village located in Margo Park in south western Ethiopia close to the town of Jinka and this is what we saw and learned about these people.
They are now used to visits by westerners and when we arrived they ran out to the Landy. The chief, quite a young man, was the only person who spoke any English and he approached us wearing just a small blanket around his waist and an AK47 on his shoulder. He said hello and that if we wanted to take photographs we had to pay him 20 birr each (that's about $2.50) and we must pay 2 birr to each person we photograph, and 5 birr to each to take video. Within a few minutes we were surrounded by about 20 or 30 people, many of the women with lip plates, some with interesting head dresses, and many of both the men and women with white body paint. Every man had an AK47 draped over their shoulder, all with clips full of ammunition. This is an much a status symbol as anything and I never saw it used in aggression.
I could not get a straight answer on the reason for the lip plate, but the consensus opinion seems to center around making the women as unattractive as possible so once they are married, no other man will find them physically appealing enough to commit adultery. The other reason I was told was so the women were made to look grotesque to prevent being abducted by slave traders. I am not sure to which slave traders this refers, but this area is quite close to the border with Sudan where people are still taken as slaves for the north.
How is the lip plate inserted? Well the best way to find this out is to look at the video clip where we show a plate being inserted! A hole is cut in the lower lip and to start with a small plate is inserted. Then over time progressively larger plates are used which stretches the lip. The lower from teeth are also punched out using some kind of chisel to make room for the plate.
Another tribe in southern Ethiopia, called the Samura, also have lip plates. However, the larger the lip plate the greater the price the brides will fetch when she is married.
Although it was fascinating visiting the Mursi people, and I really hit it off with some of the men as I helped fix some of the guns that were broken and traded a new bag strap (which they used as a gun strap) for some bracelets, over all it was an exhausting experience. Of the 7 hours one day and 4 hours the next morning we spent with the Mursi people, we were constantly poked, pinched, and pulled about with requests to take photos for which of course they want payment. But the real kicker is that after you have taken the picture, they usually refused the money you offered and wanted more. Without exception, and even when the amount of money was made very clear before you took the photos, they asked for more. Most of the time the chief or one of the men would intervene to settle the dispute. I asked Bob & Merlin (the missionaries with whom we are staying) about this as they have worked in this area for years, and they said that the Mursi people have little sense of truth, honesty, or agreements. In fact I felt really bad for one little boy. I had some keyring lights (given to us by ASU) which we would give to some of the kids. This one little boy loved the little light. So I gave him one after I took his picture with the digital camera (which I the showed him) and he was delighted, literally elated with a huge smile and ran around with his new toy. However, a few minutes later, a woman came to me and handed back the light with the poor little boy next to her
almost in tears and demanded money. Once again this was settled by one of the men (actually the tough looking guy in the top row of the pictures below) and the little boy got back his light much to his delight.
What I have found ironic time and time again, is that the things we often do not like so much about the places or people we visit are actually a product or rather caused by us visiting the place or people. For example, most of the Mursi women want only to have their picture taken so its almost impossible to interact with them. But this is because just about every visitor to the village wants to take pictures (us included). However, irresponsible tourism can make the situation much worse. For example, many visitors feel sorry for the people because they live in grass huts and have skins as cloths etc, so give them things like cloths, money, sweets, and almost anything they ask for.
This simply teaches the people to expect any visitor to give them things they for which they ask, to look at visitors only as a source of money and material items, and to be blunt, it turns the people into beggars. I am glad we adopted our philosophy of generally not giving handouts, but to give something in return for help, or as a trade. This is not because we "want" something in return all the time, but I want to try and not turn the people we meet into beggars who beg for handouts.
They are now used to visits by westerners and when we arrived they ran out to the Landy. The chief, quite a young man, was the only person who spoke any English and he approached us wearing just a small blanket around his waist and an AK47 on his shoulder. He said hello and that if we wanted to take photographs we had to pay him 20 birr each (that's about $2.50) and we must pay 2 birr to each person we photograph, and 5 birr to each to take video. Within a few minutes we were surrounded by about 20 or 30 people, many of the women with lip plates, some with interesting head dresses, and many of both the men and women with white body paint. Every man had an AK47 draped over their shoulder, all with clips full of ammunition. This is an much a status symbol as anything and I never saw it used in aggression.
I could not get a straight answer on the reason for the lip plate, but the consensus opinion seems to center around making the women as unattractive as possible so once they are married, no other man will find them physically appealing enough to commit adultery. The other reason I was told was so the women were made to look grotesque to prevent being abducted by slave traders. I am not sure to which slave traders this refers, but this area is quite close to the border with Sudan where people are still taken as slaves for the north.
How is the lip plate inserted? Well the best way to find this out is to look at the video clip where we show a plate being inserted! A hole is cut in the lower lip and to start with a small plate is inserted. Then over time progressively larger plates are used which stretches the lip. The lower from teeth are also punched out using some kind of chisel to make room for the plate.
Another tribe in southern Ethiopia, called the Samura, also have lip plates. However, the larger the lip plate the greater the price the brides will fetch when she is married.
Although it was fascinating visiting the Mursi people, and I really hit it off with some of the men as I helped fix some of the guns that were broken and traded a new bag strap (which they used as a gun strap) for some bracelets, over all it was an exhausting experience. Of the 7 hours one day and 4 hours the next morning we spent with the Mursi people, we were constantly poked, pinched, and pulled about with requests to take photos for which of course they want payment. But the real kicker is that after you have taken the picture, they usually refused the money you offered and wanted more. Without exception, and even when the amount of money was made very clear before you took the photos, they asked for more. Most of the time the chief or one of the men would intervene to settle the dispute. I asked Bob & Merlin (the missionaries with whom we are staying) about this as they have worked in this area for years, and they said that the Mursi people have little sense of truth, honesty, or agreements. In fact I felt really bad for one little boy. I had some keyring lights (given to us by ASU) which we would give to some of the kids. This one little boy loved the little light. So I gave him one after I took his picture with the digital camera (which I the showed him) and he was delighted, literally elated with a huge smile and ran around with his new toy. However, a few minutes later, a woman came to me and handed back the light with the poor little boy next to her
almost in tears and demanded money. Once again this was settled by one of the men (actually the tough looking guy in the top row of the pictures below) and the little boy got back his light much to his delight.
What I have found ironic time and time again, is that the things we often do not like so much about the places or people we visit are actually a product or rather caused by us visiting the place or people. For example, most of the Mursi women want only to have their picture taken so its almost impossible to interact with them. But this is because just about every visitor to the village wants to take pictures (us included). However, irresponsible tourism can make the situation much worse. For example, many visitors feel sorry for the people because they live in grass huts and have skins as cloths etc, so give them things like cloths, money, sweets, and almost anything they ask for.
This simply teaches the people to expect any visitor to give them things they for which they ask, to look at visitors only as a source of money and material items, and to be blunt, it turns the people into beggars. I am glad we adopted our philosophy of generally not giving handouts, but to give something in return for help, or as a trade. This is not because we "want" something in return all the time, but I want to try and not turn the people we meet into beggars who beg for handouts.
African Adventure: Helping two Samburu warriors find their cows, a beautiful bushcamp, and reaching Lake Turkana (May 27-28)
Current Location: Lake Turkana, Kenya
Highlights: A really interaction with two Samburu warriors, some real "buntu-bashing" offroad, a perfect place to bushcamp, and finally reaching Lake Turkana.
Upcoming: Visiting with nomadic Turkana and El Molo people, crossing the Chalbi desert, searching for water, and then Ethiopia (with the :stick-up by the guy with the AK47).
After leaving the flamingos and Lake Bogoria we continued our drive north into the dry and remote Lake Turkana region in NE Kenya. As it started to get dark, we turned off the road into the acacia trees and found a nice spot to bushcamp. Both tired, we put up the rooftop tent and crashed! As the sun started to rise the next morning we were woken up by two local men herding their goats. They curiously peered into the truck, asked for some things with gestures, and they went on their way. So we packed up and we also went on our way en route for the town of Maralal which is really like the last outpost of civilization where you can buy fuel and supplies.
Maralal was an odd little town, nice in some ways but not so nice in others. It has become a gathering and settling place for what are usually nomadic people that inhabit this area, completely changing their culture. More on this is a while. We changed money at the bank which took about 1 hr, then went to a small restaurant to eat and write an earlier diary entry. Then three dirty dusty white people on motorbikes came into the restaurant, one German guy and a Swiss woman and man.
I walked around the town of Maralal and took some pictures paying 20 KSH for each picture of the tribes people that now congregate around Maralal. There is a mission in town that hands out food for free so the nomadic people flock to town to pick up the free food. They have become dependent and reliant on these handouts and many no longer make provisions to feed themselves as its much easier to receive the handouts. I watched over a period of an hour as more people gathered outside the mission in anticipation of when the doors were opened at 3 o'clock. It was actually sad to see as they pushed and shoved each other, both old and young people, some people were drunk, as they barged through the doors.
We continued to drive north and the terrain started to get drier with fewer trees and fewer people but had a unique beauty all of its own. In the early evening we found an incredible place to bushcamp just off the road among sparse acacia trees. That night we made a fire, the first bushcamp fire we had made since Botswana believe it or not. It was a perfect night, no people, certainly no cars, just out in the African bush under a perfectly clear sky.
The next day we watched the sun rise which seemed to energize us both and again we pressed on driving further north. As we journeyed, the terrain got drier and sandier, fewer people still and fewer signs of life of any kind. After the picturesque town of South Horr, we came across two Samburu warriors who signaled for a ride. Curious as to where they were going as there was very little out here, I stopped. Amazingly one of them spoke some English and he said they wanted a lift about 30 km up the road to find their cattle. So we all squeezed into the front seat and off we drove. It turns out that they needed to find the cattle as they had been walking for a long time and had no food or water. The Samburu, like many tribes, don't really need food or water when they are with their cows as they survive by drinking the milk and the blood of the cows. We reached the spot where they needed to get out and walk into the bush to where they thought the cows were. Excited at the prospect of seeing our new friends drink blood, we asked if we could join them, so off we went into the bush too. This was some real buntu-bashing as we just turned off the sand track and into the bush just following one of the warriors who was on foot tracking his cows. There were no tracks so we just drove through and over whatever was in front of us and in some cases had to get out and clear a path with the machete or back-up and find an alternate route round an impassable obstacle. After several kilometers we came to a basic corral where the cows should have been, but they were no where in sight! Our warrior friends were worried now as they said they were weak and needed to eat and were very concerned for the whereabouts of the cows. They started to look around, at the age of the dung left, and where the sand had been disturbed and found tracks they could follow. It looked like the cows, about 180 in total, had left the area and walked in the direction in which we had just come, so we turned round and drove back through the bush. As we hit a high area, I decided to stop and see if I could see the cows by standing on the bonnet and scanning the horizon with our Steiner Safari binoculars. Our Samburu friends just loved this and immediately jumped up into the Landy bonnet to take their turn using the binoculars. Alas we could not find the cows.
Once we got back to the road, we said goodbye to our friends. We gave then some Polaroid pictures of themselves and with us, some food and well wishes. Looking back, I really wish we could have seen this "story" to its end. I would have loved to have spent the night with them in the bush and helped look for the cows the next day as it so rare that you get to interact with people like this not as a tourist or as someone from which they want something, but as a friend on equal terms which is how our interaction was. These were two kind and gentle men who were as fascinated with us as we were with them. But time is in desperately short supply now and we had to push on.
We pushed further north. As we drove the roads got worse, vegetation started to become even more sparse, and the sand turned into rocks and stones. At last we found Lake Turkana, a huge lake that looked more like a sea, so we drove off the track down to its backs and set up the tent. That night we both hardly slept at all. At about 8 pm it started to get windy and within an hour it was blowing like a gale. The tent remained standing and intact, but the whole night we were battered by the wind and the loud noise of the tent thrashing around. The morning light did not come fast enough, although putting down the tent was not easy in the strong winds. Once packed up we again headed north en route for the small lakeside town of Loiyangalani.
Highlights: A really interaction with two Samburu warriors, some real "buntu-bashing" offroad, a perfect place to bushcamp, and finally reaching Lake Turkana.
Upcoming: Visiting with nomadic Turkana and El Molo people, crossing the Chalbi desert, searching for water, and then Ethiopia (with the :stick-up by the guy with the AK47).
After leaving the flamingos and Lake Bogoria we continued our drive north into the dry and remote Lake Turkana region in NE Kenya. As it started to get dark, we turned off the road into the acacia trees and found a nice spot to bushcamp. Both tired, we put up the rooftop tent and crashed! As the sun started to rise the next morning we were woken up by two local men herding their goats. They curiously peered into the truck, asked for some things with gestures, and they went on their way. So we packed up and we also went on our way en route for the town of Maralal which is really like the last outpost of civilization where you can buy fuel and supplies.
Maralal was an odd little town, nice in some ways but not so nice in others. It has become a gathering and settling place for what are usually nomadic people that inhabit this area, completely changing their culture. More on this is a while. We changed money at the bank which took about 1 hr, then went to a small restaurant to eat and write an earlier diary entry. Then three dirty dusty white people on motorbikes came into the restaurant, one German guy and a Swiss woman and man.
I walked around the town of Maralal and took some pictures paying 20 KSH for each picture of the tribes people that now congregate around Maralal. There is a mission in town that hands out food for free so the nomadic people flock to town to pick up the free food. They have become dependent and reliant on these handouts and many no longer make provisions to feed themselves as its much easier to receive the handouts. I watched over a period of an hour as more people gathered outside the mission in anticipation of when the doors were opened at 3 o'clock. It was actually sad to see as they pushed and shoved each other, both old and young people, some people were drunk, as they barged through the doors.
We continued to drive north and the terrain started to get drier with fewer trees and fewer people but had a unique beauty all of its own. In the early evening we found an incredible place to bushcamp just off the road among sparse acacia trees. That night we made a fire, the first bushcamp fire we had made since Botswana believe it or not. It was a perfect night, no people, certainly no cars, just out in the African bush under a perfectly clear sky.
The next day we watched the sun rise which seemed to energize us both and again we pressed on driving further north. As we journeyed, the terrain got drier and sandier, fewer people still and fewer signs of life of any kind. After the picturesque town of South Horr, we came across two Samburu warriors who signaled for a ride. Curious as to where they were going as there was very little out here, I stopped. Amazingly one of them spoke some English and he said they wanted a lift about 30 km up the road to find their cattle. So we all squeezed into the front seat and off we drove. It turns out that they needed to find the cattle as they had been walking for a long time and had no food or water. The Samburu, like many tribes, don't really need food or water when they are with their cows as they survive by drinking the milk and the blood of the cows. We reached the spot where they needed to get out and walk into the bush to where they thought the cows were. Excited at the prospect of seeing our new friends drink blood, we asked if we could join them, so off we went into the bush too. This was some real buntu-bashing as we just turned off the sand track and into the bush just following one of the warriors who was on foot tracking his cows. There were no tracks so we just drove through and over whatever was in front of us and in some cases had to get out and clear a path with the machete or back-up and find an alternate route round an impassable obstacle. After several kilometers we came to a basic corral where the cows should have been, but they were no where in sight! Our warrior friends were worried now as they said they were weak and needed to eat and were very concerned for the whereabouts of the cows. They started to look around, at the age of the dung left, and where the sand had been disturbed and found tracks they could follow. It looked like the cows, about 180 in total, had left the area and walked in the direction in which we had just come, so we turned round and drove back through the bush. As we hit a high area, I decided to stop and see if I could see the cows by standing on the bonnet and scanning the horizon with our Steiner Safari binoculars. Our Samburu friends just loved this and immediately jumped up into the Landy bonnet to take their turn using the binoculars. Alas we could not find the cows.
Once we got back to the road, we said goodbye to our friends. We gave then some Polaroid pictures of themselves and with us, some food and well wishes. Looking back, I really wish we could have seen this "story" to its end. I would have loved to have spent the night with them in the bush and helped look for the cows the next day as it so rare that you get to interact with people like this not as a tourist or as someone from which they want something, but as a friend on equal terms which is how our interaction was. These were two kind and gentle men who were as fascinated with us as we were with them. But time is in desperately short supply now and we had to push on.
We pushed further north. As we drove the roads got worse, vegetation started to become even more sparse, and the sand turned into rocks and stones. At last we found Lake Turkana, a huge lake that looked more like a sea, so we drove off the track down to its backs and set up the tent. That night we both hardly slept at all. At about 8 pm it started to get windy and within an hour it was blowing like a gale. The tent remained standing and intact, but the whole night we were battered by the wind and the loud noise of the tent thrashing around. The morning light did not come fast enough, although putting down the tent was not easy in the strong winds. Once packed up we again headed north en route for the small lakeside town of Loiyangalani.
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