Arriving in Ethiopia, heading south

For my thesis in anthropology during my senior year of college, I chose to research the Ethiopian Jews, also known as the Beta Israel. For years I'd seen the widespread Ethiopian community throughout Israel, and I was fascinated by the little I knew of their story. So, I devoted my final semester in school to learning more about where that group of Jews came from and what happened when they were airlifted to Israel in Operation Moses and Operation Solomon. Ever since that semester of research and writing, I'd wanted very much to visit Ethiopia and see that world firsthand. Finally, on this trip, Ryan and I were able to make it happen.

We left Israel on February 28th and arrived just four hours later in the capital, Addis Ababa. Our first time in Africa! We spent two days in Addis, which are not really worth writing about. Addis is probably the ugliest city I've ever seen. I was shocked by how unpleasant it was to simply walk down the street. This was our first taste of Ethiopia and of the challenging cultural experience ahead. An important thing I should mention right away is food. Prior to this trip, we'd had Ethiopian food several times and always loved its unique flavor. Ethiopian food is unlike any other cuisine. The ubiquitous staple is injera, which is a sour, pancake-like, sort of bread that is eaten with everything. Injera is made from teff, a small grain harvested all over Ethiopia. Food is served in little piles on top of the injera. You scoop up the food with your fingers (no utensils), using the injera to collect the mushy stuff piled on top. It is delicious and extremely healthy!

We saw mounds of just-harvested teff all over the countryside:

The main religion in Ethiopia is Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity, which has been around for nearly 2,000 years. The Christian traditions and rituals in Ethiopia are ancient and many of them are not found in any other Christian communities. One such tradition is the practice of fasting (not eating any animal-derived food products) for two months prior to Easter. We were in Ethiopia during that fasting time, which was great for me! In many places, there were no animal products available at all. So I didn't have to worry about finding vegetarian food. It worked out well for Ryan, too, because he found that he didn't really like any of the meat dishes in Ethiopia. So, we pretty much stuck to a vegan ("fasting") diet while there.

Injera firfir, the poor man's food (which I loved!). It is injera with pieces of injera in it, mixed with spicy tomato sauce:

Injera with piles of all the vegan goodies. To the left is tej, Ethiopian honey wine:

After a couple days of more or less adjusting to being faranji (the local word for "foreigner," often spat into the faces of tourists in a derogatory manner, while other times called out in a way revealing curiosity and interest), we headed south. But before I jump into our time in the south, I want to explain a tiny bit about Ethiopian history. It's going to be really hard for me to sum this up....it is all connected in my mind as one long, complicated, detailed story. I will try to shorten that! I feel that I definitely learned more about this country's history and culture than I did about any other country on our trip. I arrived knowing only about the story of the Ethiopian Jews and close to nothing about the history of the country overall. I left feeling I had a solid understanding of the history, culture, religion, and society in Ethiopia. That understanding came from a month of reading, observing, and asking locals lots of questions. I read the historical/medical novel Cutting for Stone during our time in Ethiopia. The novel is set almost entirely in Addis, and it's an incredible story with lots of Ethiopian history woven in.

Let me just briefly say that it is important to understand that Ethiopia was the only African country never colonized. The Italians attempted to take over Ethiopia at the end of the 19th century, and they were embarrassingly defeated by the Ethiopians. It was the first time an invading white army lost to the local black army. The Italians were humiliated, and the Ethiopians were extremely proud. Then in the 1930s, the Italians decided they were going to get their revenge on the Ethiopians. So Mussolini invaded Ethiopia and the Italians managed to kill thousands and thousands of Ethiopians in a very dirty invasion. Thus, there was an Italian presence in Ethiopia around World War II, but it only lasted 5 years. The British then decided to support the Ethiopians, in order to kick out the Italians, and the British helped restore the Ethiopian emperor to power. Interestingly enough, although the Italians were in Ethiopia for only 5 years, there are many remnants of their short occupation--espresso, spaghetti, a few nice buildings, etc.

I could go on forever about what happened after World War II, with the famous Halie Selassie (i.e. Ras Tafari), and then the communist takeover and brutal rule of Mengistu. But this really is not supposed to be a history blog. And the point is that I'm trying to use a bit of history in order to explain what our guidebook calls "faranji frenzy" in Ethiopia. So let me get to my point. Because Ethiopia was never really colonized, Ethiopians never had much contact with white people. Ethiopians today are extremely proud of their identity as a never-colonized nation, and on the flipside they are quite xenophobic. (Along with not having been colonized, it goes without saying that the infrastructure, poverty, literacy rate, etc. in Ethiopia are awful.)

Ryan and I have never been anywhere else in Africa, so we don't know what it's like to be white in those places. We heard from other travelers who'd spent many months all over the continent that Ethiopia was the most difficult place to travel in, as far as being hassled for being white. I'll get to more of that later, but I thought I'd give a brief explanation of the lack of European presence in Ethiopia, and the reality that looking "different" in Ethiopia means that traveling around is not a piece of cake.

We arranged a week-long 4x4 tour to the Omo Valley, one of the most culturally diverse spots on the continent of Africa (and in the world, for that matter). In a very small area, there is an unbelievable number of different tribes, making for a very interesting cultural experience. It's an area that's very remote and does not have public transportation. The only way for travelers to get around is via 4x4, and even with an excellent vehicle, most of the time traveling in the Omo is spent on the road getting from one place to another. The first day of our Omo trip was a 10-hour drive from Addis to Arba Minch: a town that serves as the gateway to the Lower Omo. So, we spent the day observing from the window how rural Ethiopians live. It was amazing how we couldn't drive more than a couple minutes without seeing someone walking alongside the road. We were in the middle of nowhere, but there were people everywhere! (Ethiopia has a population of 80 million.) Again and again we saw people carrying things. Indeed, carrying was the theme of the day. Women would spend all day walking to a water source, waiting in line to fill their jugs, and then carrying the water back home. Some luckier folks had donkeys to carry their stuff instead. Men (who didn't do much carrying) were walking with their herds of cattle or goats. Everyone was simultaneously walking and working. The typical rural home in Ethiopia is a tukul, a round home made of natural materials including mud, sticks, leaves, etc. We must have seen hundreds of tukuls on just that first day, but somehow each one managed to look singularly beautiful. The drive was beautiful. Along with appreciating the hard work of all the walking villagers, the beauty of their round homes, and the stunning colors of the countryside, we also were enamored with all the animals. There were goats and cows everywhere, and they somehow remained very interesting all day long.

Notice the back bumps! They all had this bump:

The greatest animal moments were when we saw baboons! Each time this happened, our driver stopped the car and we got out to try and approach them. They were such fascinating creatures! I remember sitting in the car all those hours that day and thinking to myself that the Ethiopian countryside was the most beautiful place I'd ever been. It was such a contrast to the ugliness of Addis. It was a completely different pace of life, a reality completely dictated by nature. One of our stops that day was at Tiya, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Tiya was basically an old burial ground for significant people. It was pretty neat, but these 800-year-old ruins didn't affect me nearly as much as seeing the present-day life of Ethiopians in the countryside.

An important lady was buried here 800 years ago:

The first night, we slept in Arba Minch, and our hotel had a great view! DAY 2: The next morning, from Arba Minch, we took a boat tour on nearby Lake Chamo to see crocodiles and hippos!

The dock:

Although I was quite terrified, it ended up being a really peaceful ride. Our local guide in the boat told us about the lake and wildlife. He told us about the fishermen who make their livelihood from the lake. Unfortunately, there have been several cases of fishermen getting killed by crocodiles (and one case by hippos!). According to our guide, the animals feel threatened by the humans and attack before they can get hurt by the men. The fishermen, of course, are just out there to try and catch some fish to sell to the market. Anyway, it was pretty crazy hearing these stories while we were just a few feet away from the killer crocs. The hippos were enormous! They stayed mostly submerged in the water though. It was incredible to be so close to their home.

Below is an enormous, 60-year-old guy who had his mouth open the whole time we were floating beside the shore.

It was a nice way to start the second day. Ryan and I realized (again) that one of our favorite things in the whole world is to simply watch animals. Seeing them in the wild, in their natural habitat, is especially awesome. We decided we'll have to experience a safari some day.

We left Arba Minch and headed into the tribal area of the Omo Valley. The weather and landscape had changed significantly from Addis to Arba Minch on the first day. It was much hotter, lower, and far more humid now. As we continued driving south toward Konso, it continued getting even hotter! And we saw how the soil turned to a beautiful red. It was quite striking to witness such distinct changes in the land, which were accompanied by cultural changes. As soon as we were on the rough road to Konso, the people changed too. Suddenly, our vehicle was a superstar because the locals walking alongside the road knew it contained faranjis. We started hearing people yell at us. What did they yell? Often, it was, "you! you! you! you! you!" while running after our car. We also, of course, heard the obligatory "faranji! faranji!" every now and then, which was not exactly very inviting. Every single kid we passed yelled out, "highland! highland! highlaaaaand!" We had to ask our driver, Tomas, about this. He explained that one of the first bottled water companies in Ethiopia was called Highland, and the locals in the Omo yell "highland" because they want our empty water bottles. Tomas told us this, and we didn't quite believe it. Then when we drove by the next kid yelling, "highlaaaand!" and Tomas told us: "watch." He took one of his empty water bottles and threw it out the window. The kid running behind us ran toward the plastic like it was pure gold. When he grabbed it and held it up, it was his most prized possession.

"Highlaaaaaaand!!!"

"You! you! you! Highland!"

Seeing the kids' excitement for plastic was astonishing. It really makes you think about the whole concept of possessions. And about how something so useless for one person can be so significant for someone else. And about how this problem we have in the West of too much plastic is something absolutely absurd and unimaginable in a place like the Omo, where every bit of plastic serves a function.

By far the coolest thing about driving in the Konso area was the welcoming dance performed by some of the kids walking alongside the road. They'd see our 4x4 coming, and would momentarily leave the side of their goats or cattle or whatever they were doing. Others would run from the fields up to the road. And guess what they did! These kids would start dancing! Tomas told us it was their way of welcoming us to Konso. Most kids would lift one leg off the ground and shake their bodies like crazy with that one leg in the air. It looked so awesome. Other kids danced upside down! We had lunch in Konso, which was neat. By this point, we knew enough Amharic to order our food and thank our waiter. And we'd gotten pretty good at eating with our fingers and scooping up all the food in the injera. I think locals were impressed when we ordered the traditional food and not spaghetti, which was the only other option. Leaving Konso, we had a great view of the village down below. We got out of the car to breathe in the view and take some photos, which immediately turned us into star attractions. Locals walking alongside the road came up to check out our cameras. Our drive continued through the valley, and the farther we went, the deeper it seemed that we were in the middle of nowhere. I couldn't stop thinking that so many of the images--of nature, animals, and people--from my window were like just out of National Geographic. This place we were driving through was a place travel journalists go to for special stories, special images. At one point there was an interesting cultural shift in the dress of the people. We crossed a bridge behind a herd of cattle. As soon as we got to the other side, the people looked different. Their skin was darker and they wore so many colorful decorative items on their bodies: beads, paint, jewelry, etc. It was incredible to me how sudden this obvious change was. Maybe it was my imagination, but the men also seemed suddenly taller. They carried themselves differently too. It was like we'd entered a different world. People alongside the road weren't smiling anymore, or calling after us. Instead, they stared. They stared hard. Not many photos from that stretch of the road.

And then we got a flat tire.

This was actually a great experience. It was the first time on our trip that we had such close interaction with the tribal people. One kid just walking down the road by himself stopped and stood with us the entire time that Tomas worked to change the tire.

Others who passed by stopped for a while, watched, and then continued on. It was interesting to see how differently the locals looked at us now that we were not tourists behind glass windows, but were suddenly stuck in the middle of the road. Their stares were less harsh.

One of our observers:

A local who passed helped Tomas put the flat in the trunk:

Eventually we reached our next destination, Key Afar, a village famous for its market. We arrived late because of the flat tire, which meant that the liveliness of the market had died down. It was still extremely colorful and unlike anything I'd ever seen. A local guide walked with us and explained to us how to identify members of the different tribes by their clothing and hairstyles. And then we had our first experience with paying for photos, something we'd get to know quite well over the next few days.

Ryan's new friends:

Here's how it works: the villagers from the surrounding tribes who come to the market to trade or buy know that tourists want to take pictures of them. The way the tourist industry has evolved in the Omo is really quite disgusting. The culture there remains authentic, which is why it's such a draw for tourists, but you have to pay for it. For every single photo you take of an individual, you must pay 2 birr (about 12 cents USD). If you take a photo with 5 people in it, you must pay each person 2 birr. Obviously that's not much money for the tourist, but handing over that money completely alters the experience. It seems perfectly reasonable to pay locals for their photos. After all, we are coming there to take away an experience of their culture, so you could argue that they should be able to take something from us too. But the result of this payment-for-photos is really, really nasty. It's created an aggressive approach to tourists. For example, if you walk through the market and just want to walk and observe and think and absorb your surroundings...well, you will not be allowed that privilege. At all times, there will be someone at your side, saying "photo? photo? photo?" and following you. It's not possible to walk around the market and be left to simply experience the place by being present. Your experience is absolutely colored by the constant demand for photos/money. Neither Ryan nor I had ever experienced anything like this before. Still, we were able to appreciate the amazing diversity at the Key Afar market: the clothing, the jewelry, the crafts for sale, the vendors and buyers, the life of that place. After the market, our day of driving continued. We drove from Key Afar to Jinka, where we stayed for the night. For the Omo Valley, Jinka is huge. It's the town that kids from dozens of kilometers away come to for school. We met many adolescents and teenagers who were from villages 40 or 50 km away. They were the lucky ones whose parents could afford to send to school. (School is free, but by "afford" I mean afford to have one less body to work at home.) Since there is no easy transportation from Jinka to the surrounding villages, the students live in Jinka all week long and try to go home on weekends to see their families.

Jinka is a center in another way too. We met one guy, a teenager, in a town 4 hours away who came to Jinka just to use the internet. He'd do the 8-hour round trip in one day in order to have just a bit of time in front of a computer. It was amazing to see how such a seemingly dusty, tiny town like Jinka served as such an important center for the area. The heart of the town is basically a really wide road that is occasionally transformed into a soccer field. It's always full of pedestrians. Walking down this main road in Jinka, we met one fifth grader to whom my heart went out to. (I must mention that he was also the first person we met who didn't ask us for money!) This kid was awesome. His name was Dio and he was super smart and curious. We got to talking about Obama and Dio's dream to go to America. We had many conversations with locals we met that went exactly like this:

"You. Hello. Where you from?"
"The U.S."
"Ah...Obama!"
"Yes, Obama."
"I love Obama."
"We do too."

This was sometimes followed by more discussion of Obama's awesomeness, but also often just ended there, with the local's clear expression of his pride that Obama is the American president. We also found Obama in random places. Like on the covers of notebooks. Even an Obama necklace with a picture of him. And random spots like this: Although it may seem silly, every time we saw the pride for Obama in these Africans' eyes, or on their signs, or in the names of their restaurants, we felt proud too.