Visiting the Tribes of the Omo Valley, Ethiopia
The kids danced by the side of the road, shouting as they saw our car approaching.
“What are they saying?” I asked the driver.
“Highland. It’s a water brand. They are asking for your empty water bottles.”
The South of Ethiopia is a place where nothing goes to waste. Things that would get tossed as trash back home are reused in ingenious ways. Empty water bottles are used to store cooking oil and other liquids. Used tin cans are used for making coffee. Old flour and rice sacks are unraveled and the threads braided together for beading bracelets and necklaces. Life is broken down to its fundamentals. There is no such thing as extra or excess.
My first week in Ethiopia, I spent in the Omo Valley where many of the traditional ethnic groups of Ethiopia live to varying degrees of tradition. Over the course of the week, we visited the Ari, Mursi, Dorze, Hamer, and Konso people.
I confess that it often felt like a human zoo. We would drive many miles, hop out of the car for an hour, and then take some photos. These hour-long stops are how most tourists see the Omo Valley. Sometimes the visits were outright unpleasant. The Mursi are known for being aggressive with the tourists, and even though we had been warned, it was still jarring. Unlike the other tribes, the Mursi have a set price scheme for taking photos. As soon as we arrived, we were told that each adult you want in your photo costs 5 Birr, each child 3 Birr, each baby 2 Birr. Since this is how they make money, when we arrived, 50 people swarmed us shouting “photo! photo!” Each posed to look their best, pointing to various features that might distinguish them from their neighbor, like a pierced lip or beauty scarifications on their body.
I would have taken a photo of the whole scene if it wouldn’t have cost me hundreds of Birr. People were reduced to prostituting for tourist photos. Na’ama and Noa didn’t take any photos at all of the Mursi because we felt so uncomfortable.
Naama and Noa, two Israeli girls, were my travel partners for the week.
I’ve been pretty lucky finding travel partners during my trip. I met Naama and Noa the night I flew into Addis Ababa from Dar Es Salaam. They had only a week to spend in Ethiopia, and the next morning, they told me they were leaving in a few hours for the South, if I wanted to join. My travel life is made up of spur of the moment decisions, so I packed my stuff and we spent a whirlwind morning preparing for the trip. Since they wanted to observe the Shabbas (no driving from sundown on Friday night to sundown Saturday night), they planned to stay with the Hamer people Friday and Saturday nights. Camping two nights in one place would mean seeing less and I didn’t need to observe the Shabbas, but the idea still sounded appealing to me.
Without a doubt, those two nights in the Hamer village were the highlight of the week. No electricity, no running water, no toilet. Just our tent pitched outside our local guide’s mother’s stick hut.
When other tourists ask me what we did for three days in that tiny village, they seem genuinely perplexed. Really, we just hung out. Existed. Survived. Life fundamental.
The first night we arrived, a crowd of twenty children sat and watched us chop onions and cook spaghetti over a camp stove. Over the following two and a half days in the Hamer village, we spent a lot of time with the children and got to know them and their families. We played patty cake (after all these years, I still remember all the words to every patty cake song I’ve ever known!).
We kicked around a soccer ball wih the kids (which wasn’t really a ball at all because there are no toys in the village, but a sack stuffed with something).
We spent one morning making beaded necklaces and bracelets with the girls.
When it got too hot to move, we lay in their hut alongside the other women.
The children taught us local songs and took turns braiding our hair.
At the height of the heat, we walked 2 km to bathe under the hand pump like the locals.
The. Best. Bath. Ever.
Other than how simply and resourcefully the Hamer lived, what struck me the most was how much things seemed to be changing. Each of the tribes seemed to be at a different point of the spectrum in terms of integrating “Western” culture with their own. The Ari people, the most Westernized of the tribes we met, dressed in Western clothing and lived in huts with metal roofs. The traditional clothes were worn only for ceremonies and special occasions.
The Mursi and Hamer people were the most traditional still, living in thatched huts and wearing traditional clothes. However, change was already afoot. Hamer men and women traditionally go bare chested, but some women and women were wearing T-shirts to cover up. All the little children would plaintively ask us for “T-shirts.” If I’d had an extra, I might have given one. They wanted T-shirts, and who am I to say that they should or shouldn’t wear a T-shirt? But a part of me felt like their traditional way of life was disappearing with every Tshirt. In five years, I am sure it will be completely different.
“What are they saying?” I asked the driver.
“Highland. It’s a water brand. They are asking for your empty water bottles.”
The South of Ethiopia is a place where nothing goes to waste. Things that would get tossed as trash back home are reused in ingenious ways. Empty water bottles are used to store cooking oil and other liquids. Used tin cans are used for making coffee. Old flour and rice sacks are unraveled and the threads braided together for beading bracelets and necklaces. Life is broken down to its fundamentals. There is no such thing as extra or excess.
My first week in Ethiopia, I spent in the Omo Valley where many of the traditional ethnic groups of Ethiopia live to varying degrees of tradition. Over the course of the week, we visited the Ari, Mursi, Dorze, Hamer, and Konso people.
I confess that it often felt like a human zoo. We would drive many miles, hop out of the car for an hour, and then take some photos. These hour-long stops are how most tourists see the Omo Valley. Sometimes the visits were outright unpleasant. The Mursi are known for being aggressive with the tourists, and even though we had been warned, it was still jarring. Unlike the other tribes, the Mursi have a set price scheme for taking photos. As soon as we arrived, we were told that each adult you want in your photo costs 5 Birr, each child 3 Birr, each baby 2 Birr. Since this is how they make money, when we arrived, 50 people swarmed us shouting “photo! photo!” Each posed to look their best, pointing to various features that might distinguish them from their neighbor, like a pierced lip or beauty scarifications on their body.
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| A Mursi mother nursing her baby |
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| A young Mursi girl |
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| A Mursi mother and her two daughters. The lip piercing, which girls do around the age of 13, is now optional. Girls can decide themselves to do it or not. |
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| Mursi men. The sticks traditionally are used for stick fighting where men demonstrate their prowess and in the process win honor/women |
Naama and Noa, two Israeli girls, were my travel partners for the week.
 |
| Naama and Noa making our delicious lentil stew |
I’ve been pretty lucky finding travel partners during my trip. I met Naama and Noa the night I flew into Addis Ababa from Dar Es Salaam. They had only a week to spend in Ethiopia, and the next morning, they told me they were leaving in a few hours for the South, if I wanted to join. My travel life is made up of spur of the moment decisions, so I packed my stuff and we spent a whirlwind morning preparing for the trip. Since they wanted to observe the Shabbas (no driving from sundown on Friday night to sundown Saturday night), they planned to stay with the Hamer people Friday and Saturday nights. Camping two nights in one place would mean seeing less and I didn’t need to observe the Shabbas, but the idea still sounded appealing to me.
Without a doubt, those two nights in the Hamer village were the highlight of the week. No electricity, no running water, no toilet. Just our tent pitched outside our local guide’s mother’s stick hut.
 |
| Naama and Noa having breakfast in front of our tent in the Hamer village |
The first night we arrived, a crowd of twenty children sat and watched us chop onions and cook spaghetti over a camp stove. Over the following two and a half days in the Hamer village, we spent a lot of time with the children and got to know them and their families. We played patty cake (after all these years, I still remember all the words to every patty cake song I’ve ever known!).
 |
| Having my hair braided during a soccer break |
We kicked around a soccer ball wih the kids (which wasn’t really a ball at all because there are no toys in the village, but a sack stuffed with something).
We spent one morning making beaded necklaces and bracelets with the girls.
When it got too hot to move, we lay in their hut alongside the other women.
The children taught us local songs and took turns braiding our hair.
 |
| Aita making a beaded bracelet |
 |
| A pregnant Hamer woman who I lay next to in the hut during the hot afternoon. Okay, so she had a little more of an excuse to be exhausted by the heat, but really, it was hot! |
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| Making coffee |
Other than how simply and resourcefully the Hamer lived, what struck me the most was how much things seemed to be changing. Each of the tribes seemed to be at a different point of the spectrum in terms of integrating “Western” culture with their own. The Ari people, the most Westernized of the tribes we met, dressed in Western clothing and lived in huts with metal roofs. The traditional clothes were worn only for ceremonies and special occasions.
The Mursi and Hamer people were the most traditional still, living in thatched huts and wearing traditional clothes. However, change was already afoot. Hamer men and women traditionally go bare chested, but some women and women were wearing T-shirts to cover up. All the little children would plaintively ask us for “T-shirts.” If I’d had an extra, I might have given one. They wanted T-shirts, and who am I to say that they should or shouldn’t wear a T-shirt? But a part of me felt like their traditional way of life was disappearing with every Tshirt. In five years, I am sure it will be completely different.
 |
| Two Hamer girls |
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