Hamer tribe, Lower Omo Valley, Days 316 and 317

Christi and I are in the epicenter of Hamer territory and the weekly markets in Turmi and Dimeka offer excellent opportunities to meet them. And not 5 minutes from our lodge on the outskirts of Turmi is the Hamer village of Gambala. Over a two-day period Fekade, our driver-guide, takes us to all these locations. We begin at Gambala early in the morning on our way to the Dimeka market. Everything is quiet as we pull into the village, but that changes quickly as word circulates that camera-toting tourists are in town and cameras mean money. Suddenly Hamer men, women, and children appear in droves from their huts or from the fields – or even from other villages. And these folks demand to be photographed. I take as many shots as I can, leaving poor Christi to try to figure who should get what money. It’s all rather intense and the intensity levels rise as we get ready to leave and those that have yet to be photographed shout ‘Photo! Photo’. One girl who I had not photographed got so mad that she took up a 2-by-4 block of wood and barred our exit! Who knew photography could be so dangerous. And of course I readily succumbed to the threat of violence and photographed the bloody girl

The Hamer number around 30,000 and are subsistence agro-pastoralists (people living by a mixture of agriculture and livestock herding). Cattle and goats are the main domestic livestock, while sorghum, tobacco, and cotton are the principal crops cultivated. Much like the Karo, the Hamer women use a mixture of animal fat and ochre to give their hair a copper color. Hair is often fashioned into long chords. Women typically wear bead necklaces, iron rings on their arms, and (for married women only) an iron torc (ring) around their neck (which symbolizes the wealth and prestige of the husband). The women wear animal skins (although they often go topless) decorated with cowrie shells. The men are less dazzling, although if they have recently killed an enemy or dangerous animal they are permitted to decorate their hair with clay buns and feathers. And the number of ear piercings a man has reflects the number of wives he possesses. So symbolism is an important part of Hamer culture. Along those lines we see many women who have extensive scarring on their backs. We are told that this is all part of one of the most famous rites of passage ceremonies here in the Lower Omo Valley, the Jumping of the Bulls. If you recall many Karo youths were attending such a coming-of-age ceremony (at a different village) when we were in Korcho yesterday. A similar event is planned for the Hamer youths in a few days in Dimeka. Unfortunately we will not be around to see it. Basically the boy has to run across the backs of 10 bulls four times naked without falling. If he succeeds then he is deemed old enough to marry. At the same time the female members of the boy’s family engage in a kind of extreme hazing. The young Hamer men are taunted into whipping the backs of the women. It is extremely painful and causes severe scarring. The scars are a symbol of devotion to the menfolk and the practice is encouraged by the tribe. Personally I’d rather be running over the backs of some angry bulls buck naked than engaging in some 50 Shades of Gray type orgiastic bondage. But that’s just me. I don’t judge those who like a bit of flogging now and again.

The markets seem more of a place for socializing than anything to do with major commerce. Chewing tobacco and ochre were popular items for sale. We also see a few Banna women at the markets. And apparently another way to tell the Banna and Hamer women apart is that the Banna wear calash gourds on their heads, partly for decoration and partly to keep their hair dry when it rains!

Perhaps it was a mistake to eat lunch at the Dimeka market because later that day as we returned to our lodge, Fekade is forced to make a quick stop on the side of the road. Christi throws the door open and vomits into the red dirt. She also vomits in the grounds of the lodge before hastily taking to her bed. Oh dear. As an amusing aside – well I think it’s amusing but then I’m not the one feeling sick this time – but Christi’s most embarrassing vomiting story occurred in the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. So intense was that episode, the vomit actually came out of her nose. A fact that I may have pointed out to her, unnecessarily as it transpired. Later, a long time later actually, she admitted that the vomit stung her nasal passages during its bid for freedom. Now don’t tell me that isn’t funny!