The arrival to the Omo Valley has been enshrined with a late-night conversation with a 10 year old child who escorted me to the hotel after having a dinner. My invitation to the restaurant surprised him, and his table manners have amazed me. As a good gentleman polite and happy to walk into a restaurant for the first time, he decided to leave in front of my room as a sign of recognition. And then we started walking into the dark.
There is no electricity nor lampposts on the street. No light at all, or at least I thought, so I instinctively turn on the torch to light the unknown way.
He – Turn the light off!
Me – Why?
He – You just turn the light off .
I do what he is asking me to do.
He – You see? You don’t need the flashligh, you can see properly. The moon illuminates our path.”
This is how my journey into a world that will soon disappear began. A world filled of traditions and stories, tales and surreal characters, where I lived for a while that, after becoming acquainted to the members of the tribe, opened its doors. Even those of the huts.
Welcome into the Omo Valley, Kingdom of tribal traditions and stories.
Dasanech and Hamar tribes (Omorate, Turmi and Turkana Lake)