Our colleague, JD, turns to face us from the front seat. He
has that sparkle in his eye, the one he gets when he’s about to launch into a
good story.
“Did I ever tell you about my fellow student at Oxford? He
was a fairly prickly character, not known for his diplomatic prowess. He came
to Ethiopia to do research and was speared to death by some local tribesmen. There
was a certain irony to the story, as he was quite an accomplished darts
champion.”
We are driving through the amazing landscapes of the
Ethiopian countryside. We have passed the golden savanna of the Rift Valley,
dotted with acacia trees, conical huts, and haystacks shaped like loaves of
bread. We’ve driven past the green highlands, through a torrential rainstorm.
We’ve seen jagged mountains, green hills covered with coffee and banana
plantations, and vast lakes. We’ve visited Borana herders near the border with
Kenya. We’ve criss-crossed the country towards the Sudanese border to meet with
Mursi pastoralists. They are famous for their elaborate body decorations, including
painted designs, scarring, incredibly creative jewelry, and earplugs. Mursi
women also are known for the large lip plates they wear, made of ceramic, as a
sign of status and value. They start stretching their bottom lips at puberty,
with increasingly larger disks, the size of which at marriage will determine
the bride price their family can claim.
It’s as though we’ve stepped right into the pages of the National
Geographic magazines of my childhood.
I’m working on a fascinating project, which involves
photographing and learning about the indigenous cattle of Africa, and their
importance to the culture, lives, and livelihoods of the people who keep them. So
I am traveling with a photographer and a fellow writer to some of the most
remote bits of various African countries.
I am also speaking with researchers about the scientific importance of
the genetic diversity and resilience of these traditional cattle, many of which
are at risk of disappearing.
It’s an incredible experience, which involves long days that
start before sunrise, exotic foods, and the need for a strong bladder. Creature
comforts are few and far between, but the rewards are great. Though our time
with local herders and farmers is brief, it is intense and striking. We start at
dawn with its milking and early morning activities, all bathed in the light of
the rising sun. The middle of the day is reserved for following the cattle to
water, and late afternoons for interviews and photos as the light turns golden
and cows come home.
The result will be a gorgeous coffee table book. The photos
will be amazing, drawing out the beauty and dignity of the people, animals, and
landscapes we meet. The book will speak of tradition, but also of change. It will highlight diversity and adaptation.
What it won’t show are the behind-the-scene moments; the time we had to break
our colleague out of his hotel room, discussion of how many camels I would be
worth, or the time an irate pastoralist chased our photographer with a stick.
We have several more countries and encounters to go. So stay
tuned.
