We stopped for lunch and to pick up water. The little strip of shops next to the restaurant were covered by about six little pickpockets - children who obviously live on the street. They run up and try to grab your hands under the guise of taking you to a shop, meanwhile they are patting down the front of your pockets to look for bulk. Money.
One person in our group was very active in trying to get rid of them, while others just went along, or even tried to engage the kids in games of "high five." One particular little girl was very aggressive and would not go away, when she was told "no!" Or "Ai!" (The equivalent of an Ethiopian 'scram!') she would mime slitting the throat of the person who was telling her to get lost.
I told one little boy, "No!" as he reached into the tummy pack of one of the group, and she said, "it's all right, he was only touching it after the zipper was shut." Since both the kid and I could see her money and his hand about 3 mm from it, I knew what he up too.
Most of our group wandered to the next block to, frankly, get away from the 'awkwardness' of one of our members shooing the kids off with a broom and yelling at them. There were mutterings about not knowing what would happen when the parents saw that, how you don't mess with kids in foreign countries, etc. it was the North American reaction to kids misbehaving: you do nothing and hope that the parents arrive soon to solve the problem, because if you dare say a word of correction to a child in America, you risk the parental wrath, getting sued, or accused of being an abuser. Children are sacred little precious snowflakes in the U.S., immune from any societal correction.
That is not the case here.
A female shop owner somehow got into it with the aggressive girl, and started yelling and grabbing her so she could throw her out of the shop. The girl was fighting back, but the woman was pushing her out and took off her shoe in order to hit the girl with it.
At this point, a man had stopped near the shop and was talking to Ceci and I. At first, it was just making conversation, "you must be sisters," that kind of thing. But when he asked Ceci about our visit, she told him about the kids and the potential pick pocketing and the slitting the throat motion of the little girl.
He started talking to the shop owner and she was yelling back. It turns out that the little girl was dumb - she could not speak, and she lived in the street. Her mother is a beggar. Then I could see her frustration and her anger. She kept trying to fight with some of the bigger boys, who would try to subdue her without hitting her.
The girl picked up a large rock and it seemed that her aim was to go after the shop owner, but the man grabbed her and took the rock away, then the shop owner came after her again. He then subdued her, too, saying, "If she beats and kills the girl, she will go to jail."
Ceci said to the man, in reference to the girl, "There by the grace of God go I." The man was confused by this, and I told him that it meant that any of us could be that little girl. He asked Ceci to write down the phrase for him.
Eventually, the little girl just wouldn't settle down, and an old man carrying a big stick arrived on the scene. He was dressed in a rather worn looking green uniform and cap, and he lit after the little girl, shouting at her. The man who was talking to us said, "He is yelling that he is going to take that big stick and kill her. She makes trouble everyday for him." He was apparently the town peacekeeper or child wrangler or something.
As we loaded into the trucks, the children all flocked back, obviously ready to snatch something a run. Claude was more than firm, telling them to get lost and shooing them off with his feet. He is the most child-friendly man in the world, but even he knew what they we up to. His position is that they don't represent Ethiopian culture well. They don't respect others, they don't respect their elders, he sees it as a possible bad turn for the future as more and more tourists arrive here and a begging or thieving culture develops over the true cultural values of this place.
It was an painful but educational look at the human race.
The reaction of our group provided even more education.
Some were pleased that Ceci and Claude took such a hard line with the kids.
Most were afraid of what could happen if this was not accepted here.
Some were apologetic of the children's behavior.
Some tried to make friends with the children.
And then one discovered that she had indeed, had her pocket picked. The kids only got a wad of tissues, but still. It was a lesson.
We left the chaos there, and headed into the mountains to see the Dorze tribe. Their houses are shaped like elephants, because many years ago, there were elephants here. The inside of them is compartmentalized, with separate quarters for each activity. They use bamboo and the leaves of the false banana tree to build the house, and it is incredibly strong. The false banana tree is used for most things, and every part of the tree is used up. The roots, the stalks, the leaves. They eat it and use it for building, they are very resourceful.
They take the stalks and strip down the fibers, creating a pulp by slicing bamboo down the stalk. The pulp is then buried in the ground and it ferments. It can sit there for up to two years. Then they remove it, knead it, add a little water, flatten the dough out like a pancake and fry it up. It is a staple of their diet. They put spices or honey or meat or vegetables on it. They only eat injera on holidays because it is too expensive for them.
The tribe also has a different dance style than in the north. They have a rhythmic hip shake that is very infectious. The children from the village came and sang and danced too. I always have a mixed feeling about these sorts of things. It is interesting, and beautiful, but also feels a tad exploitive. But then the village benefits from tourists and our money. I don't know. In the moment it feels - false somehow. I think it is much more complicated than it seems on the surface.
When we returned to our lodge, I discovered multiple bug bites all down my leg, and three on elbow and one on the other. I'm unhappy about this, and have already killed three mosquitos before bed. Grrrrr.
One person in our group was very active in trying to get rid of them, while others just went along, or even tried to engage the kids in games of "high five." One particular little girl was very aggressive and would not go away, when she was told "no!" Or "Ai!" (The equivalent of an Ethiopian 'scram!') she would mime slitting the throat of the person who was telling her to get lost.
I told one little boy, "No!" as he reached into the tummy pack of one of the group, and she said, "it's all right, he was only touching it after the zipper was shut." Since both the kid and I could see her money and his hand about 3 mm from it, I knew what he up too.
Most of our group wandered to the next block to, frankly, get away from the 'awkwardness' of one of our members shooing the kids off with a broom and yelling at them. There were mutterings about not knowing what would happen when the parents saw that, how you don't mess with kids in foreign countries, etc. it was the North American reaction to kids misbehaving: you do nothing and hope that the parents arrive soon to solve the problem, because if you dare say a word of correction to a child in America, you risk the parental wrath, getting sued, or accused of being an abuser. Children are sacred little precious snowflakes in the U.S., immune from any societal correction.
That is not the case here.
A female shop owner somehow got into it with the aggressive girl, and started yelling and grabbing her so she could throw her out of the shop. The girl was fighting back, but the woman was pushing her out and took off her shoe in order to hit the girl with it.
At this point, a man had stopped near the shop and was talking to Ceci and I. At first, it was just making conversation, "you must be sisters," that kind of thing. But when he asked Ceci about our visit, she told him about the kids and the potential pick pocketing and the slitting the throat motion of the little girl.
He started talking to the shop owner and she was yelling back. It turns out that the little girl was dumb - she could not speak, and she lived in the street. Her mother is a beggar. Then I could see her frustration and her anger. She kept trying to fight with some of the bigger boys, who would try to subdue her without hitting her.
The girl picked up a large rock and it seemed that her aim was to go after the shop owner, but the man grabbed her and took the rock away, then the shop owner came after her again. He then subdued her, too, saying, "If she beats and kills the girl, she will go to jail."
Ceci said to the man, in reference to the girl, "There by the grace of God go I." The man was confused by this, and I told him that it meant that any of us could be that little girl. He asked Ceci to write down the phrase for him.
Eventually, the little girl just wouldn't settle down, and an old man carrying a big stick arrived on the scene. He was dressed in a rather worn looking green uniform and cap, and he lit after the little girl, shouting at her. The man who was talking to us said, "He is yelling that he is going to take that big stick and kill her. She makes trouble everyday for him." He was apparently the town peacekeeper or child wrangler or something.
As we loaded into the trucks, the children all flocked back, obviously ready to snatch something a run. Claude was more than firm, telling them to get lost and shooing them off with his feet. He is the most child-friendly man in the world, but even he knew what they we up to. His position is that they don't represent Ethiopian culture well. They don't respect others, they don't respect their elders, he sees it as a possible bad turn for the future as more and more tourists arrive here and a begging or thieving culture develops over the true cultural values of this place.
It was an painful but educational look at the human race.
The reaction of our group provided even more education.
Some were pleased that Ceci and Claude took such a hard line with the kids.
Most were afraid of what could happen if this was not accepted here.
Some were apologetic of the children's behavior.
Some tried to make friends with the children.
And then one discovered that she had indeed, had her pocket picked. The kids only got a wad of tissues, but still. It was a lesson.
We left the chaos there, and headed into the mountains to see the Dorze tribe. Their houses are shaped like elephants, because many years ago, there were elephants here. The inside of them is compartmentalized, with separate quarters for each activity. They use bamboo and the leaves of the false banana tree to build the house, and it is incredibly strong. The false banana tree is used for most things, and every part of the tree is used up. The roots, the stalks, the leaves. They eat it and use it for building, they are very resourceful.
They take the stalks and strip down the fibers, creating a pulp by slicing bamboo down the stalk. The pulp is then buried in the ground and it ferments. It can sit there for up to two years. Then they remove it, knead it, add a little water, flatten the dough out like a pancake and fry it up. It is a staple of their diet. They put spices or honey or meat or vegetables on it. They only eat injera on holidays because it is too expensive for them.
The tribe also has a different dance style than in the north. They have a rhythmic hip shake that is very infectious. The children from the village came and sang and danced too. I always have a mixed feeling about these sorts of things. It is interesting, and beautiful, but also feels a tad exploitive. But then the village benefits from tourists and our money. I don't know. In the moment it feels - false somehow. I think it is much more complicated than it seems on the surface.
When we returned to our lodge, I discovered multiple bug bites all down my leg, and three on elbow and one on the other. I'm unhappy about this, and have already killed three mosquitos before bed. Grrrrr.
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