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.
