Last night was my particular brand of nightmare.
I had killed those mosquitos and hoped that that would be the end of it. No such luck. There was more buzzing outside the mosquito net, which was very annoying and distracting, because all I could hear was malaria buzzing around the room. I kept waking up to check that the bugs were really on the outside of the net, but at about 2 am, I turned on the light to find a little lizard in the net with me. It was right above my head. I couldn't sleep with it there, I'd be worried about it falling on me or crawling in the bad all night. So I got up and got the toothbrush cup out of the bathroom and my notepad. I put the cup u dee the lizard, then tapped the netting, and he feel into the cup. I then slammed the notepad over the netting and the cup, then worked the netting free until it was just a lizard in a jar with a notepad over it. The poor thing was running in circles in the cup. Then I sneaked a peek outside to make sure nobody saw me in my skivvies and I tossed him off my porch.
Not much later, I heard the radio of one of the security men there go off outside my door. I don't know if he there the whole time or if someone had reported a crazy white lady in her underwear out on the porch. Sigh.
I got up early, killed another four mosquitos and got my bag together and got the hell out of that room. I felt like raw meat in there. At that early hour, I went and got some tea and watched the sun rise over the two lakes. It was a beautiful mix of reds, oranges, yellows defeating the darkness. It was so peaceful after a restless night.
We gathered our gear and headed out.
From this point forward, it has been explained that we will need to need to reach a financial agreement with individuals who we want to take pictures of. The going rate is roughly 1-2 birr per individual. If you have a group shot, it can end up costing you 20 birr rather quickly.
I have weird feelings about this, as well. On one hand, it seems so blatantly capitalistic to have this practice. It also feels like cheating in a photographic sense. You can't take a picture without them noticing and demanding payment, and it is difficult to have any real connection with someone under these circumstances. On the other hand, they have a commodity that they are selling to make extra cash. For people who have so little, this doesn't seem like a lot to ask. These tribes are exotic, they aren't found anywhere else, and their culture is constantly under threat. Why shouldn't they make some extra birr whenever they can? But it does create some problems.
We started out visiting the Konso tribe. This turned into a sad, upsetting part of the day rather quickly.
First, though, here are some interesting things about this particular tribe. They build very fortified towns and villages. Narrow walkways, high rock walls, and huge fences made of pointy branches. This is to better defend their village in the event of a raid or attack.
They have generation poles erected in their village ceremonial areas. Cycles can vary, but a village may initiate a new generation - consisting of boys between 8-25 - every 18 years. These are narrow tree trunks or limbs tied together. Count the poles and times by 18 and you'll get how old the village is.
To memorialize their important men (they call them generically "heroes"), they carve wooden grave markers called Waga. They are small statues, with facial features with enlarged and bucked teeth made from animal bone. His wife may also be featured with his marker. We actually got to see a set inside a courtyard of a home.
So this culture has all these interesting aspects to it, but the second we stepped into the village, we were surrounded by children who said this: "Hello. One birr. Picture." Repeat, repeat, repeat. Tugging at people, trying to jump into pictures to get paid, it was just awful.
Most of the group complained because the children were being rude, loud, and would not take no for an answer. There were people who said that we should have had a flat camera fee, and the children should be instructed to leave the tourists alone.
I thought it smacked of prostitution, to be honest. These children were dressed literally in rags, with runny noses, watery eyes, bad coughs, flies everywhere, and they were selling their image for 1 birr. I did not take one picture of a single person there. I couldn't. I couldn't buy that. They were worth so much more than that, it was too cheap, it felt so wrong. I was appalled that the parents would allow that, that the children were being brought up to literally beg (let's just be honest) white tourists for money to take their picture.
Then the guide from the village began to get into heated debates with the men there about what we could photograph. At one point, we saw them building their new community house, applying a new thatched roof, it was very interesting. The guide tried to arrange a flat fee for the group of men working, and they settled on 60 birr. But then the men wanted more, and at that point, I was so uncomfortable that I walked away. The deal fell through after much disagreement.
Later, some people in the group said things like, "They got greedy and lost the sale." "How dare they demand that?" Things along those lines. Like we were the ones being shortchanged. 60 birr is about $3.30. Ethiopia, just like everywhere else in the world is a supply and demand marketplace. They had the supply, we the demand, and we could not agree. No need to make snarky comments about how greedy the natives are. It is their show, and we can either pay or not.
As we went along, people kept telling the guide that they could not hear him over the children's racket, and he became frustrated as well. It was impossible to not be distracted. And every time you'd think you'd maybe had a real moment with one of the kids (they would bring their books and read the animals off in English, or show their workbooks with counting in English), they would then request money for the conversation. "1 birr" finished every interaction. The guide even grabbed one little girl by her face and pushed her into a wall. Then the children scattered, for about three minutes. It was terrible.
We left, and I expect that that individuals in the community made about 15 birr total. Truly a bad experience for everyone.
We headed to the museum to see the Waga carvings, and that was that.
I had killed those mosquitos and hoped that that would be the end of it. No such luck. There was more buzzing outside the mosquito net, which was very annoying and distracting, because all I could hear was malaria buzzing around the room. I kept waking up to check that the bugs were really on the outside of the net, but at about 2 am, I turned on the light to find a little lizard in the net with me. It was right above my head. I couldn't sleep with it there, I'd be worried about it falling on me or crawling in the bad all night. So I got up and got the toothbrush cup out of the bathroom and my notepad. I put the cup u dee the lizard, then tapped the netting, and he feel into the cup. I then slammed the notepad over the netting and the cup, then worked the netting free until it was just a lizard in a jar with a notepad over it. The poor thing was running in circles in the cup. Then I sneaked a peek outside to make sure nobody saw me in my skivvies and I tossed him off my porch.
Not much later, I heard the radio of one of the security men there go off outside my door. I don't know if he there the whole time or if someone had reported a crazy white lady in her underwear out on the porch. Sigh.
I got up early, killed another four mosquitos and got my bag together and got the hell out of that room. I felt like raw meat in there. At that early hour, I went and got some tea and watched the sun rise over the two lakes. It was a beautiful mix of reds, oranges, yellows defeating the darkness. It was so peaceful after a restless night.
We gathered our gear and headed out.
From this point forward, it has been explained that we will need to need to reach a financial agreement with individuals who we want to take pictures of. The going rate is roughly 1-2 birr per individual. If you have a group shot, it can end up costing you 20 birr rather quickly.
I have weird feelings about this, as well. On one hand, it seems so blatantly capitalistic to have this practice. It also feels like cheating in a photographic sense. You can't take a picture without them noticing and demanding payment, and it is difficult to have any real connection with someone under these circumstances. On the other hand, they have a commodity that they are selling to make extra cash. For people who have so little, this doesn't seem like a lot to ask. These tribes are exotic, they aren't found anywhere else, and their culture is constantly under threat. Why shouldn't they make some extra birr whenever they can? But it does create some problems.
We started out visiting the Konso tribe. This turned into a sad, upsetting part of the day rather quickly.
First, though, here are some interesting things about this particular tribe. They build very fortified towns and villages. Narrow walkways, high rock walls, and huge fences made of pointy branches. This is to better defend their village in the event of a raid or attack.
They have generation poles erected in their village ceremonial areas. Cycles can vary, but a village may initiate a new generation - consisting of boys between 8-25 - every 18 years. These are narrow tree trunks or limbs tied together. Count the poles and times by 18 and you'll get how old the village is.
To memorialize their important men (they call them generically "heroes"), they carve wooden grave markers called Waga. They are small statues, with facial features with enlarged and bucked teeth made from animal bone. His wife may also be featured with his marker. We actually got to see a set inside a courtyard of a home.
So this culture has all these interesting aspects to it, but the second we stepped into the village, we were surrounded by children who said this: "Hello. One birr. Picture." Repeat, repeat, repeat. Tugging at people, trying to jump into pictures to get paid, it was just awful.
Most of the group complained because the children were being rude, loud, and would not take no for an answer. There were people who said that we should have had a flat camera fee, and the children should be instructed to leave the tourists alone.
I thought it smacked of prostitution, to be honest. These children were dressed literally in rags, with runny noses, watery eyes, bad coughs, flies everywhere, and they were selling their image for 1 birr. I did not take one picture of a single person there. I couldn't. I couldn't buy that. They were worth so much more than that, it was too cheap, it felt so wrong. I was appalled that the parents would allow that, that the children were being brought up to literally beg (let's just be honest) white tourists for money to take their picture.
Then the guide from the village began to get into heated debates with the men there about what we could photograph. At one point, we saw them building their new community house, applying a new thatched roof, it was very interesting. The guide tried to arrange a flat fee for the group of men working, and they settled on 60 birr. But then the men wanted more, and at that point, I was so uncomfortable that I walked away. The deal fell through after much disagreement.
Later, some people in the group said things like, "They got greedy and lost the sale." "How dare they demand that?" Things along those lines. Like we were the ones being shortchanged. 60 birr is about $3.30. Ethiopia, just like everywhere else in the world is a supply and demand marketplace. They had the supply, we the demand, and we could not agree. No need to make snarky comments about how greedy the natives are. It is their show, and we can either pay or not.
As we went along, people kept telling the guide that they could not hear him over the children's racket, and he became frustrated as well. It was impossible to not be distracted. And every time you'd think you'd maybe had a real moment with one of the kids (they would bring their books and read the animals off in English, or show their workbooks with counting in English), they would then request money for the conversation. "1 birr" finished every interaction. The guide even grabbed one little girl by her face and pushed her into a wall. Then the children scattered, for about three minutes. It was terrible.
We left, and I expect that that individuals in the community made about 15 birr total. Truly a bad experience for everyone.
We headed to the museum to see the Waga carvings, and that was that.
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