Until recent years, the tribes of the Omo River basin
in the remote south-west of Ethiopia had not even heard of the nation of which
they were a part. For all they knew, Addis Ababa might have been the dark side
of the moon.
Theirs is a traditional world. The men count their
wealth in cattle, their wives in goats, and their status by the number of
enemies they have murdered. They paint their bodies for war and celebration,
and drink cow’s blood to revive their spirits. The women, among the most
beautiful in Africa, scar their torsos in elaborate patterns for erotic effect,
and in preparation for marriage, insert plates the size of frisbees into their
lower lips.
“This is what
one dreamt about as a child”, a seasoned African traveller told me once. “An
Africa untouched by our own culture.”
Stanley Stewart (to
be continued)
