Time Travelling to the Karo Tribe

Typical Conical Shaped Karo Huts

In Ethiopia they use a calendar based on the Coptic Egyptian calendar rather than the Gregorian calendar that we in the west use. This calendar moves slightly slower than the Gregorian and allows for 13 months in the year – the 13^th month having only 5 or 6 days in it, but nonetheless allowing the Ethiopian tourism industry to advertise ’Come to Ethiopia where we have 13 months of sunshine’.  I call this calendar the antiageing calendar because it is also seven years slower. This technically makes me 43 not 50, therefore NOT middle-aged and Not eligible for any, oh so considerate, ‘seniors’ benefits! They exploit this well with the slogan – ‘Seven years younger in Ethiopia!’  Technically this means you can leave your home town on the 3^rd of December 2013 and arrive in Addis Ababa on the 4^th of December 2006, having effectively travelled back in time! 

If this hasn’t amazed you enough you can be further astounded by the fact that in Ethiopia they tell time differently! We have Orop time (Europe time) and Ethiopia has Habbishat time. It’s quite logical really - the clock, which is a 12 hour clock, starts at sunrise (this varies little in timing during the year and is usually at 6am, sunset being at 6pm). Therefore, logically, the first hour of the ‘day’ – our 6am- is 12 o’clock, 7am is 1 o’clock and so on until it gets to 6pm when its 12 o’clock again. Why do we start our day at midnight anyway? Next time you want to ‘miss’ an appointment with a less than desirable friend at say 1pm, just send them a text at 7pm and say, ‘I’m here, its 1pm Habbishat time, where r u?’ 

Anyways, having confirmed with our guide that we would be leaving at 7 the next day and was that 7 in the morning or 1 or really 1 in the afternoon which was 7? – we set out to find the Karo tribe. We had already been travelling for 3 days and this day was another road from hell. 65km’s across three river beds later, we finally arrived at the Karo village, perched on an escarpment overlooking the serpentine Omo river. This river irrigates crops of maize and sorghum planted close to its banks.

  Grass conical shaped huts lay sprinkled across the dry, red earth. A group of five or six men stood under a singular acacia tree awaiting our arrival with Kalashnikovs slung casually over their shoulders. We pulled our two 4WDs up in a cloud of dust and got out to greet them. The men have a unique way of greeting whereby they shake hands whilst simultaneously bumping opposite shoulders together. Indil-cat declared she felt faint as soon as she got out of the vehicle, so we left her under the shade of the acacia tree and went off to explore the village, meeting the individual members of the tribe. It was incredibly hot and it wasn’t too long before one of the men came up to tell us the Cat had fainted. We rushed back to the acacia tree to find her laid out flat with a woman cooling her down by splashing water over her face. After she’d downed a litre of water she felt better and got up to shoot Polaroids of the children. She gave them their photos and watched their amazed little faces as they looked upon their image captured on a piece of paper.

Indil-cat showing Karo children their polaroid photo

Every Karo family owns two houses: the Ono, the principal living room of the family, and the Gappa, the centre of several household activities. The Karo are renowned for their elaborate hairstyles of red ochre and animal fat, similar to the Hamer tribe who they share lineage with and intermarry, put together in elaborate styles. Body paint is drawn with ochre, white chalk, yellow mineral rock, charcoal, and red iron ore. The men make a part from one ear to the other, pulling the front section into braids, framing the forehead. The rest of the hair is drawn back into a bun and held firmly by a colourful cap of glazed earth that can take three days to construct. This can be painted in various colours or into which pieces of bark and  ostrich feathers are attached. A man wearing a grey and red-ochre clay hair bun with an Ostrich feather indicates that he has bravely killed an enemy from another tribe or a dangerous animal, such as a lion or a leopard. It is usually remade every three to six months, and can be worn for a period of up to one year after the kill.

They wear goatskin loincloths decorated with elaborate beads and sometimes tiny shells they have traded for and the women are considered particularly beautiful the deeper their chest scarification's are. Some of the men had painted their bodies white which made them look fierce. The Karo men cover their body and face with ashes mixed with fat as a symbol of virility. Scars across their chests are a symbol of having performed a major kill, either of an enemy from another tribe or of a large animal. They offered Occy 100 goats and 1 Kalashnikov (this is more valuable than the 100 goats and is also worth one leopard skin) for Monkeybuns which he politely declined saying she was already promised to another who had offered 200 camels and 2 Kalashnikovs! They sagely nodded their heads in acquiescence of this greater offer. A man in the tribe can have as many wives as he wants, but must be able to afford them.  Most men will only marry two or three. The end of the Mengistu reign in the 1990s and ongoing conflict in Sudan and Somalia means there has been an influx of left over AK-47′s, Kalashnikovs and G-3 rifles. Look at this photo of us (minus the Cat who was still under the acacia tree feeling dodgy) with some of the Karo men - don't we look like white worms that haven't ever seen the sun!

Ethiopian Mursi Tribe Expedition - a fascination with lip plates

With the Mursi Tribe in the Lower Omo Valley of Ethiopia

The Lower Omo Valley in the hot, dry west of Ethiopia, is home to the most fascinating tribe - the Mursi or Man as they call themselves. We bounced along, over a barely visible goat track, in two 4 wheel drives searching for this elusive and aggressive Mursi tribe. Being nomadic they had shifted camp recently so it took some detective work locating them.  As we started the ascent up a small and dusty hillock I fleetingly caught a glimpse of a black torso, head and spear before the apparition ducked behind an outcrop. WE had been spotted. 

Our 4WD's at the Mursi village

We knew we were close. As our 4X wheel drives crested the hill and we descended toward a dried out creek bed I could see a couple of Mursi women up ahead.

‘Ooo look!’ I exclaimed to the occupants of the car in general and Occy specifically, ‘Occy, take a photo!’

Occy dutifully (yes, he has a thumbprint on his forehead ;-) whipped out his camera and started shooting. Bad move! Travellers be warned! Nek minnut our vehicle was being pelted by rocks and Occy was half prostrating himself – at least as well as one man can whilst sitting in the front seat of a car - and showing in sign language that he had gotten the message and was making  said offending camera disappear.  If you don’t negotiate for the privilege of shooting a photo beforehand, with a suitable price of course, then you run the risk of having a rather exciting stoning.

Grass Mursi Huts in the Lower Omo Valley  

Photo Russell d'Scarlett

We sped up to escape anymore gleeful stone throwing and after several more kilometres finally spotted a low collection of around 20 grass covered round tukuls. Half a dozen Mursi men carrying Kalashnikovs and sticks approached our vehicles as we pulled up in the dusty red earth. They appeared very serious and we felt slightly intimidated by their direct and almost menacing stares. The thought fleeting crossed my mind to wonder if we had been quite in our right minds bringing our children to this isolated and aggressive tribe.

Elderly Mursi woman seeks refuge from the sun inside her hut. Note the fire stones and ubiquitous yellow water containers 

Photo by Dorit d'Scarlett

The scorching sun drove the very young and very elderly into the shade of their tukuls.  Once the ritual greetings with the men were completed (clasping opposite hands and shoulder bumping) we were invited to visit with the tribe. The women quickly and eagerly surrounded us. Apart from the obligatory hide skirt, they had the most unusual decorations, each as varied and individual as the next. The women were uniquely fashionable and poised. The beautiful and elaborate headdresses they wear are inspired by nature and are a reflection of the beauty they see around them. Some had huge head decorations of cow’s horns, others gourds of various shapes and sizes, some had corn cobs and animal teeth.

Young Mursi Girl with Lip Plate, Body Scarification and Bangles

  Photo by India d'Scarlett

 

The Mursi are known for their clay lip plates, or dhebinya, made of clay and fired black. Some are plain whilst others carry an intricate pattern of dots traced into the clay before firing, then afterwards rubbed with grass (linnui) to darken the colour. After this they may then be painted with decorative designs in ochre. 

Painted lip plate and gourd headdress

 Photo by Russell d'Scarlett

When a girl reaches the age of 15 or 16, another woman from the tribe, usually her mother, cuts her lower lip. A wooden plug holds the lip in place and allows the wound to heal in that way without closing the incision, similar to having an ear piercing only a hundred times larger and worserer (yes that is an actual word in our house ;-). Over a period of time, newer and larger lip-plates are inserted though it is the girls’ prerogative whether or not she wants to continue widening the cut. Not all of the women had lip plates. Some of the younger women had quite obviously never worn a lip plate, whilst others had removed their lip plates, leaving their lower lips to hang below their chins. The lip-plates show a woman’s sexual readiness and are an aesthetic choice that displays their pride in being fertile and respectable women. 

Lip Plated Mursi Mother with Child on hip

 Photo by India d'Scarlett

The Mursi are also known for their body scarification. A cut is made into the skin and the cut then rubbed with ash to allow a raised keloid scar to form. Historically the use of lip plates and scarification is what protected the women of the tribe from slavers and during wars with neighbouring tribes from rape.

The young women were magnificent. Tall with ebony skin that glowed, pride and self-confidence radiating from their very posture, they were far from shy. They approached my three girls with open curiosity, quickly pulling down the girls’ tops and bras to examine their breast and in particular their nipples and compare them to their own which were on open display. I have to say that I am very proud of the fact that my girls didn’t flinch or try to cover themselves up. They acknowledged the Mursi girls honest curiosity and gave it as due payment in exchange for them allowing us to visit them. It was actually somewhat surreal because we had come to visit them, thinking they were so exotic and unusual but they had exactly the same perspective of us.

Mursi Grandmother with Child on Back - no lip plate 

Photo by India d'Scarlett

Mursi Woman Grinding Sorghum - notice the absence of the lip plate causes the lower lip to hang down  Photo by Russell d'Scarlett

The traditional food of the Mursi is a thick porridge made from sorghum flour and coffee which they brew from coffee bean peel. The actual beans are not seen as valuable. The Mursi are largely herders and cattle is their most valued possession, a measure of social status equalled only by owning an AK47 or Kalashnikovs which also help protect the herds from other thieving tribes.

The Mursi roam nomadically in search of the best pastures. In the dry season water is very scarce and the Mursi have to dig deep holes to reach underground water. Inside the low round  huts or tukuls, which are merely branches lashed together with strips if cow hide and covered in grass,  skins are laid out to sit and sleep on. A fire either outside the tukul or in the middle is where cooking is done. The Mursi like the other tribes have very few possessions and certainly no western possessions apart from their Kalashnikovs and the ubiquitous yellow plastic water containers seen all over Africa for fetching and storing water.
The members of the tribe are eager to show us their stick fighting techniques and two elders go at it, whacking each other’s sticks. They are just giving us a demonstration of their techniques but when it is done in serious ceremonies there is a lot at stake. The winner gets to choose the bride he wants. Stick fighting can be very brutal and even lethal.

Ritual stick fighting 

Photo by Dorit d'Scarlett

After we have met all the members of the tribe we are permitted to negotiate prices for taking photographs. The Mursi  make the most magnificently simple brass bracelets from melted down bullet casings, curved into a slight heart shape with small dot decorations on them. I negotiate for two of them. Once on my wrist they are not coming off and I have worn them ever since. Every day I look at them and think of my favourite Ethiopian tribe, the Mursi.

Beautiful Mursi woman in her own style headdress 

Photo by Russell d'Scarlett

This is the downside of westerners coming to visit the Mursi. They have no use for western goods but plenty of use for the cash to buy araki, a very strong alcohol, from the Arri tribe in Jinka famous for its making. It is widely known that visiting the Mursi in the afternoon is not a good idea. They have usually imbibed liberally of araki and become even more aggressive.

Me with my favourite tribe the Mursi Tribe  

Photo by Russell d'Scarlett

I am so grateful that we spent time with the Mursi tribe while their culture is still intact. The bad news is that the Ethiopian government is building a road thru the land normally traversed by the Mursi complete with electricity. This will feed a massive sugar plantation on the very southern edge of the Omo Valley enabling the private contractors, rumoured to be Chinese investors, to build a massive sugar refinery and workers quarters housing 500,000. See The Gibe III Dam and the Large-Scale Commercial Irrigation Scheme to find out more. The government are pushing to move the Mursi into this permanent housing, making them workers and all under the guise of providing education and healthcare to them. The Mursi have escaped slavery for so many centuries and maintained their own unique and fascinating culture only to be threatened with a form of slavery and complete annihilation of their culture in this day and age. I can’t think of a single worse travesty than the death of this magnificent culture.