We retraced our steps back to Jinka where we had some lunch. That 70 km journey is the one many Mursi people make every week to the Jinka market and it takes them at least 2 days. Unfortunately we did not have time for the Jinka market, but we went straight to the Keyafar market in a neighbouring village some 30 mins west of Jinka. This market was in Banna territory, but was also visited by the Hamar tribe. This market was primarily a food market and visited by many people plus several tourists as it was on the main tarmac road from Abra Minch to Jinka.


When we arrived it was already hot and there were plenty of tribal people milling around in their traditional outfits . In the old days, the tribespeople only dressed in their traditional clothes on these market days, but nowadays they dress traditionally during the tourist season.


Here in the market, photography appeared to be tolerated as long as it was just general shots, otherwise the subject would demand a 5B fee. These general shots were easy as most of the tribal visitors settled down under the trees to talk and drink honey beer. It was a time to catch up on the gossip and see old friends. Other groups of older women sat together in the sun selling an interesting range of spices and beans with red ‘lips’, together with some unusual greens. There was also a little fruit available and plenty of honey, tobacco, clay, corn and sorghum.


The Banna tribe dressed in a similar way to the Hamar and both tribes had adopted some 21st century items into their fashion ensemble. These included coloured hair grips, umbrellas, water and soft drink labels plus plastic beads. What was really impressive though was the Hamar women’s use of a dark red clay in their platted hair. This was newly applied for market day and glistened in the afternoon sun. This was not unique to the Hamar, but they were unusual in fastidious way they applied the clay. On many women it had a sort of moist look.


Also there were several young Hamar men also wandering around in their market day clothes clutching their little wooden stools in their hands . Mamo said these Hamar men were handing out invitations to a bull jumping. This involved giving other Hamar people pieces of rope tied with knots. The knots indicate the date, the place and the time of the bull jumping. Unfortunately we did not see these invitations, but we were shown the grasses from which the rope was made.


We eventually called time on the market and headed off for a drink at a local restaurant called the Aman Hotel. This was allegedly owned by a friend of Mamos, but the establishment ended up trying to charge us close to $25 for four soft drinks and two coffees. “Farangi price” again. The inevitable argument resulted and the bill was reduced somewhat, but this was still some five times higher than the locals pay. Of course this highly objectionable practice was facilitated by the local restaurant owners refusal to produce or write a menu, which is illegal in Ethiopia.


After a two hour drive south towards the Kenyan border we arrived at Turmi, in the heart of the land of the Hamar people. It was little more than a dusty collection of shacks on a major T junction. Here we went straight to the campsite, a lovely secluded place underneath some mango trees next to a drive river bed. The campsite was owned by a local Hamar chef and was managed by a Hamar lady complete with clay hair, tribal outfit and a huge smile . After the overcharging of Keyafar this was a welcoming, friendly place which was clean and comfortable. The wildlife and birds here were great (when the drivers were not playing their stereos at full blast). We had a local meal and turned in.


The tents were remarkably comfortable and we had a good night sleep, and we were roused at 5.00am for another three hour trip on bumpy dusty roads to vista the Kao tribe in the west of the Mago National Park. The Karo are a tribe famous for their fishing (on the banks of the Omo River) and their face painting and we were determined to arrive before the other tourists, so we could meet them on our own and when the light was at its best.


The Karo people did not disappoint and we arrived early, as the village was rousing. Unfortunately the tribe was having none of the group photography deal and continually thwarted Mamo’s attempt to secure a more cost effective deal for Stefan and myself, so in the end we just negotiated away with the individuals. They were though very photogenic and decorated themselves on their faces and the bodies in front of us to show us the process. They used clay from the Omo river and the girls also used a specific flower from the desert. Some of the young warriors looked magnificent. I found one and managed to have a conversation with him, after surprisingly finding out he spoke some English . “How old are you?” I ended up asking. “17” he replied (which was much younger than I thought). “How old are you? he retorted. “Nearly 50,” I said, to which he looked at me and uttered “wow, thats older than my grandfather!”  This did not make me feel good.


In the end we sat with the elders under a tree overlooking the Omo Valley and Stefan asked his questions again (much to the growing irritation of Mamo). It was a great visit and we left as more 4x4s arrived.


After lunch we returned to the campsite for a rest at which point the driver started munching on some chat. Chat is a plant that when chewed gives a high and leaves the individual in a semi zombie state. Soon the driver was zombified, but as Mamo had only planned a local excursion to a nearby Hamar village, he decided he would drive himself.


We arrived at this village just before the sun started going down and were invited into a Hamar house for coffee. Like with the Mursi tribe this was coffee made from the bean husks, but refreshing nevertheless - sort of like Nescafe. Two young Harmer girls invited us into their hut, showed off their traditional attire and let us look around their two story hut. It was made from a local wood which is termite resistant with a large communal seating area (the floor) on one side covered with animal skins and a sleeping area opposite and a fire. Upstairs was the storage and an additional sleeping area, if rehired. Children ran around the hut and it easily accommodated the seven of us plus a baby goat. The entrance was though tiny (to prevent other domestic animals from gaining entrance) and we all had to perform a serious contortion to get inside.


The hospitality was very warm and friendly and this was a great visit. When we did finally emerge from the hut, the rest of the village had gathered and we proceeded to snap pictures this time at our leisure. The children were especially alluring here and we also met several women with aliments and wounds who had come hoping for treatment. Stefan who seemed very adept with first aid duly obliged. We then left for dinner in Turmi, after rounding up the comatose driver returned to the campsite where I left the other three drinking beer and retired early.


The following morning was a far more relaxed morning than the previous ones and we had a lie in before hitting Turmi for breakfast. We then drove back up the main gravel road for some thirty minutes to the Dimak market. This market Mano assured us was one of the most interesting in the area involving many Hamar tribespeople and their cattle, but this was also where we hoped to have the bull jumping location confirmed. Although nothing is ever guaranteed in this neck of the woods, Mano seemed confident that we would be attending bull jumping that afternoon.


The market was hot, crowded and very interesting with groups of Hamar tribespeople gathering from miles around. We walked into the main part of town with the Hamar who were arriving on foot (some after very long journeys) with their wares to sell. It was all very colourful and again once in town the women sat in groups selling their produce according to type. Flowers, grasses, tobacco, honey, clay etc etc


The outfits were outstanding and whilst we tried to take photos at a distance, if we decided on taking a portrait again we had to pay. Mano again did the negotiation. Stefan found a Hamar lady to ask his questions too, and when he asked his final question “is there anything you would like to ask me?”  She replied, “yes can you buy me some food, as my husband died last year and I am finding it very difficult to feed my kids!”  This was a heartbreaking story and both Stefan and myself readily agreed. Mano also chipped in we bought her a large sack of corn. She then introduced us to the wife number one, as she turned out to be wife number two and they were both so grateful - it was very touching. Within twenty minutes though we had experienced the complete opposite when a Hamar woman accused us of taking photos of her, when we were not and demanded money. She got quite hysterical in front of a large audience of some thirty tribes people.


The market was great, and the cattle market section was particularly fascinating with the men bargaining in dramatic and theatrical fashion. It was here that my new memory card jammed losing all the cattle market shots (it was a new one so I lost just 40 snaps, but all the cattle market) and this was very annoying. As the sun rose in the sky to full strength, we retired to a local cafe for some tea. It was here that Mamo found out that the bull jumping was in fact on the following Monday and not on this Saturday which rather torpedoed our plans for the rest of the day.


We remained at the market until the late afternoon and then returned to Turmi for the enviable beer and chat around the camp fire. With the amount of beer being drunk I told Mamo that whilst I was happy to buy one or two for him and the driver, as they were now starting to drink 10 to 15 each per night I was not paying for this any more. Beer is not cheap in Ethiopia, and this practice is just taking the Mickey! This seemed to be accepted by Mamo and the driver, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it would cause an issue later in the trip.