We had a little bit of a break during lunch time, and I took the opportunity to sleep. This head cold that I've caught has wiped me out, and combined with the heat...I'm not getting enough rest. I'm not sure anyone is.
But this afternoon, we were going deeper into Hammar Country to a market and a village. Can't miss that. Despite the heat and the head cold.
The market was difficult for me. It is hard to enter a place where you stand out so much, and everyone has eyes on you and wants to charge you for every photo you take. I got a few generic shots of the market, and one decent one of the soil that they sell there to do their hair. But I ended up abandoning the endeavor and sitting down for a drink while others shopped. Most people had a similar idea, and everyone was done within 30 minutes. But we had an hour and 15 minutes. So the shade and the soda were a good idea.
We then drove to a Hammar village. These were not the families that had participated in the whippings and bull jumping the day before, so there were no open wounds or women hobbling around in pain. In fact, we had a quite a crowd straight away when we arrived. It was explained that the women who are married wear heavy metal necklaces, an additional leather knotted necklace if she is new married, and a metal necklace with a giant metal square on the front of it if she has a son who has not jumped the bull yet. Once the son has done so successfully, his mother can remove or unlock the heavy medallion. The never remove these necklaces otherwise. I'm not even sure how you would remove them. I think they would have to be pried apart.
While we were there, we saw the application of the butter mixture to the hair and we were invited inside one of the homes.
There were some men around, but one older one was running around with a switch, and yelling at the women and children and threatening to hit them. I'm still not clear what that was about, but most of the girls scattered, then laughed at him once they were out of switch range. I don't know if he didn't want them talking with tourists, or only wanted certain ones to get their pictures taken...it was alarming, until I saw one girl just stand there defiantly. He came at her, but didn't hit her. Our main driver finally talked to him and took away his switch, tossing it on the ground.
Right before this interaction, most of the young girls had wandered back to the drivers, who are all men in their early thirties. The guys had one car going with the stereo on and everyone was dancing. One of the drivers was recording everything with his cell phone. You could tell that they enjoyed being surrounded by nearly naked, beautiful young tribal women. Then the man with switch tried to break up that particular party.
Picture taking was much more awkward this time. The girls all lined up and basically waited to be "picked" for pictures. It was uncomfortable to say the least. I'm going to be politically incorrect (or too politically correct, maybe) and say that it may have been extra uncomfortable because we were white.
I haven't felt that way here at all until we visited the Konso village a few days ago and then again today at the Hammar village. I don't mind being in the minority, I don't feel uncomfortable at all, nearly every person has been friendly, welcoming, and smiling. But when you are supposed to pick out your girl, or the child that you want...well. That smacks of a certain period of history that I personally find abhorrent. I have to keep in mind that they are being paid, that this is a source of income for them, and they are willing. If they weren't, there is zero chance that we would be allowed anywhere near their villages. They are pretty-well armed, after all.
But this afternoon, we were going deeper into Hammar Country to a market and a village. Can't miss that. Despite the heat and the head cold.
The market was difficult for me. It is hard to enter a place where you stand out so much, and everyone has eyes on you and wants to charge you for every photo you take. I got a few generic shots of the market, and one decent one of the soil that they sell there to do their hair. But I ended up abandoning the endeavor and sitting down for a drink while others shopped. Most people had a similar idea, and everyone was done within 30 minutes. But we had an hour and 15 minutes. So the shade and the soda were a good idea.
We then drove to a Hammar village. These were not the families that had participated in the whippings and bull jumping the day before, so there were no open wounds or women hobbling around in pain. In fact, we had a quite a crowd straight away when we arrived. It was explained that the women who are married wear heavy metal necklaces, an additional leather knotted necklace if she is new married, and a metal necklace with a giant metal square on the front of it if she has a son who has not jumped the bull yet. Once the son has done so successfully, his mother can remove or unlock the heavy medallion. The never remove these necklaces otherwise. I'm not even sure how you would remove them. I think they would have to be pried apart.
While we were there, we saw the application of the butter mixture to the hair and we were invited inside one of the homes.
There were some men around, but one older one was running around with a switch, and yelling at the women and children and threatening to hit them. I'm still not clear what that was about, but most of the girls scattered, then laughed at him once they were out of switch range. I don't know if he didn't want them talking with tourists, or only wanted certain ones to get their pictures taken...it was alarming, until I saw one girl just stand there defiantly. He came at her, but didn't hit her. Our main driver finally talked to him and took away his switch, tossing it on the ground.
Right before this interaction, most of the young girls had wandered back to the drivers, who are all men in their early thirties. The guys had one car going with the stereo on and everyone was dancing. One of the drivers was recording everything with his cell phone. You could tell that they enjoyed being surrounded by nearly naked, beautiful young tribal women. Then the man with switch tried to break up that particular party.
Picture taking was much more awkward this time. The girls all lined up and basically waited to be "picked" for pictures. It was uncomfortable to say the least. I'm going to be politically incorrect (or too politically correct, maybe) and say that it may have been extra uncomfortable because we were white.
I haven't felt that way here at all until we visited the Konso village a few days ago and then again today at the Hammar village. I don't mind being in the minority, I don't feel uncomfortable at all, nearly every person has been friendly, welcoming, and smiling. But when you are supposed to pick out your girl, or the child that you want...well. That smacks of a certain period of history that I personally find abhorrent. I have to keep in mind that they are being paid, that this is a source of income for them, and they are willing. If they weren't, there is zero chance that we would be allowed anywhere near their villages. They are pretty-well armed, after all.
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