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Issue Date: 11 / 2012 |
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Afar Way of Life
James Dorsey
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In the northeastern corner of Ethiopia an ancient tribe of nomadic warriors is unknowingly playing a quiet role in international relations while at the same time becoming modern day entrepreneurs and environmentalists.
The Afar people are Sunni Muslims who number about 1,500,000 spread throughout Eritrea, Ethiopia, Somalia, and Djibouti. Their history can be traced back at least to the 13TH century when they first appear in the writings of the noted Moroccan historian, Ibn Sa'id. They are sometimes referred to as the Danakil as they are closely associated with the great desert of the same name that most of them occupy. Theirs is one of the harshest lifestyles on the planet in one of the most barren regions, and it is this location that has thrust them on to the stage of international politics.
As typical nomads, the Afar owe allegiance to no particular country and have had numerous clashes with almost every state they occupy who have tried to impose their way of life upon them. Modern nations have usually failed to realize that lines on a map have no meaning to hereditary nomads. The great explorer and travel writer Wilfred Thesiger who crossed Afar land in the early 20Th century referred to them as a murderous people whose only purpose was killing anyone from another tribe. Little has been written about them since that time because of their extreme isolation and reputation. Since the military conflict between Ethiopia and Eritrea ended in 2000, the Ethiopian government has allowed the Afar great autonomy based on this reputation, and they have acted as a natural buffer between the two countries, acknowledging only the authority of their tribal sultans. They have become, knowingly or not, keepers of the no man's land that separates the two countries, and thus the peace, regardless of how tentative.
For the most part, this strategy has worked, as there have been relatively little border incidents for several years now in an area surrounded by political turmoil and increasing public unrest. It is estimated that less than 100,000 Afar live in urban settlements while the remainder maintain their traditional lifestyle as nomadic pastoralists, keeping goats, cattle and sheep, while using camels as their main means of transport. Typically the Afar are lean as willows with thick mops of wiry hair, much darker in complexion than their Ethiopian cousins. The men wear a waist cloth while the women adorn themselves with brightly colored handmade jewelry.
Those who live in the settlement of Berhaile, a rambling shanty town on the barren plains of the Danakil, of make shift houses comprised of volcanic rock and whatever detritus the local river brings after the rainy season, primarily make their living as salt miners, a brutal job, carried out on the barren flats of the Danakil depression, which at 509 feet below sea level is one of the hottest places on earth with temperatures averaging, 48-50 Degrees, (118-122) Fahrenheit in the summer. Using homemade axes, the men chop through the salt crust that may be as thick as three inches, then insert long tree branches while several of them will pry up slabs of salt weighing hundreds of pounds at a time. This is then sculpted by hand into small square blocks and immediately loaded on camels for the journey to Senbete or Bati.
The men who do this are following in the footsteps of hundreds of generations of ancestors, doing what they are expected to do and accepting life as it has been for thousands of years and yet their life is easier than that of their nomadic cousins.
Their Burras or camps are comprised of makeshift tent homes called an Ari, composed of sticks with mat coverings that the women construct and tear down as they migrate along the Awash River, wandering from water hole to water hole. These are some of the last places on earth where you will not find a satellite dish or a cell phone. This is an unmerciful land where mummified cattle and camel carcasses litter the landscape, sucked dry of former life and monuments to fleeting life in the Danakil. Ironic as it may sound, what you will never see is trash, because anything not indigenous to the area is offensive to the Afar. The Afar are very class conscious with the Asaimara being politically dominant over the Adoimara or working class. Several camps are usually controlled by a local sultanate called a Dardar. Their language, also called Afar, is a Cushitic branch of the Afro-Asiatic family. They practice circumcision for boys who must bear the pain silently or risk being ostracized, and if successful they may marry the girl of their choice who must be from the same ethnic group. They are among the last African tribes to still practice female genital cutting, and rare among Muslims, Afar women often go about bare breasted.
Hand in hand with their reputation as fierce warriors, the men, and many young boys, are heavily armed, usually with Chinese made Kalashnikov automatic rifles, easily obtained from across the Red Sea through Yemen or south from Somalia, and many carry world war two vintage hand grenades on their belts. Most also carry a small curved dagger. In contrast to this martial mentality the Afar have a bond with their environment and animals that is beyond the comprehension of most city dwellers. While they do slaughter animals occasionally for meat it is only after a ceremony asking for the animal’s forgiveness and thanking it for providing sustenance. This reverence for wildlife is believed responsible for the preservation of the African Wild Ass, (Equus Africanus) that thrives on their land while now extinct in other areas it used to populate. To the Afar, the land is their mother, their camels are part of their family, and they will not even step on a plant if they can avoid it. Their connection to the land is absolute because they do not have the distractions of modern life. There is great irony in this when one considers their track record concerning their fellow man.
While much of this sounds like scenes from the bible, about a tribal way of life unchanged in thousands of years, some of these desert wanderers have recently joined the entrepreneurial ranks of the eco tourism business. The Erta Ale volcano lies squarely in the Danakil depression in the heart of Afar land. It is a rare shield volcano, meaning it does not rise to a dramatic caldera as most of us envision them to be, but rather, it is a molten bubbling lava lake at only 600 feet in elevation. The Afar, with their deep attachment to the land, have always considered the volcano to be a blessing.
Its sheer inaccessibility kept it mostly unknown from the outside world until a few decades ago. But with the proliferation of ecotourism spreading its tentacles ever further off the beaten path, it is places like Erte Ale that have become the latest "Everest" for the intrepid adventurer.
It would have been interesting to see the confrontation between the Afar and the first trekkers to actually reach the volcano alive, but over the years as more and more people entered Afar land, they gradually realized they could make a pretty good living by sharing what they have always had.
They recently started contracting with tour companies based in the capital of Addis Ababa who ferry trekkers out to the Afar village of Dodom about ten miles from the volcano.
Dodom is a sparse, forsaken looking outpost of tree branches covered with plastic blue tarps as protection from a swirling sun that would be at home in a Van Gogh painting. Armed men lounge about, their machine guns slung lazily over a shoulder, while drivers from the trekking companies bargain with Afar elders over prices to enter their land and ascend the volcano.
This is a cash only operation as the Afar have no concept of credit cards or internet connections to execute such a transaction. They are in fact, still quite puzzled as to why strange foreigners travel great distances just to see what they themselves have always had, and are like kids in a candy store when confronted by the ever widening array of gadgets introduced from the outside world.
They are shrewd enough business men to insist that every trekker hire his or own security guard, citing recent attempts by Eritrean bandits crossing the border for the sole purpose of kidnapping trekkers in this area, and assuring jobs for almost every man in the village. Whether or not these tribes men would actually participate in a gunfight to protect a tourist remains to be seen.
Dodom is a macho haven where the men strut about fingering their rifle triggers while ordering the women to various tasks mostly to show their authority to visiting trekkers.
Halfway between Dodom and the base of the volcano the Afar have constructed a makeshift village of volcanic rock huts with thatched roofs that they rent by the hour to trekkers wishing to wait out the days heat before ascending the volcano at dusk. The huts are brutally hot inside but the only relief from a relentless sun. There are no facilities and all supplies, including water, must be brought in by the individual. The bathroom is the open desert and one must be aware of the constant presence of army ants. While there are several open wells in the area, the water is the color of dark coffee and used only to water the camels.
At sundown the Afar will gather, weapons in hand and using old crank operated flashlights to guide their clients along the torturous route up Erta Ale. There is no trail, per se, just a well worn track that meanders through giant boulder fields and over scalpel sharp lava formations that will shred the hands of anyone touching it. It is a brutal walk with terrible footing, and with no moon, the shadows produced by headlamps make eerie spirits dance among the rocks, inciting ones paranoia of isolation and danger. When one stops to rest the trembling earth reminds one that they are on the side of a very active volcano. The Afar will provide camels for those who cannot make the journey by foot but charge exorbitant prices for this service.
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They are quick to chastise anyone dropping the smallest bit of trash along the way, especially discarded water bottles, not just because it defaces their mother land but because everything has another use in this place where nothing is wasted. To them, a foreign piece of trash is an affront to mother earth.
They are also fond of firing off an indiscriminate round every now and then as much for shock value as to amuse themselves at the startled look on their client’s faces when they do so.The trek to the summit takes anywhere from three to six hours and covers about six miles, depending on the individual person, but once there it is surprising to find several additional grass huts, perched precariously at the very lip of the caldera for the clients to catch a little sleep. Watching the demonic red glow from the lava lake dance and shoot sparks into the night sky, one has little chance of getting a secure sleep inside a dry grass hut.
The volcanoes' lava lake itself lies hidden inside the caldera down a twisting slippery path where one false step can mean permanent injury or death, but the once in a lifetime view is certainly worth it to stand at the mouth of a churning fiery maelstrom, staring into the very face of hell, if only for a few seconds before the intense heat and overpowering stench of sulphur consume the visitor.
There is little rest on this journey as the Afar waken their clients before dawn to scurry right back down the mountain before the days heat scorches the land. The difficulty of descending in full daylight makes one wonder just how they were able to climb such a place in the dead of night, and from the summit, the desolate view ahead of the trekker brings to mind Frodo Baggins journey to Mordor.
The trek up Erta Ale is physically torturous, but the fact that it is now even possible is a gigantic stride in the evolution of the Afar.
They have no concept of adventure travel as an international business and would not understand if told they are now considered to be outfitters, but they realize people are willing to pay good money to see their volcano, and it produces more income than herding goats or digging salt under a blistering sun.
They are still crude in their dealings with outsiders, quick to anger, and often argue among themselves in front of clients. They also have an ingrained habit for haggling over price with clients even after one has been agreed on, but this is an inbred part of nomadic culture that visitors must be aware of. The fact that they are heavily armed seems to work in their favor, not just from a security standpoint, but presents them as extremely exotic to most trekkers, and they are a photographers dream. One must also know that taking their photo is not included in the price of a trip but must be negotiated with each individual each time, a modern appendage of capitalism they learned very quickly. As more and more adventurers enter their land, they will learn to deal with the idiosyncrasies of different cultures. The sheer fact that within the span of only a generation they have gone from indiscriminately killing outsiders to guiding them across their land is a remarkable feat of social evolution.
As one who has spent years wandering the more remote parts of Africa, I have seen more and more tribal cultures, once closed to outsiders, not only opening to outside travelers, but embracing such intrusions as a new way of life. Whether it is for monetary compensation or just the inevitable onslaught of curious adventure wannabees spreading across the globe remains to be seen. The fact that this recent phenomenon has reached the Afar, some of the most remote and least known people on earth, shows the extent to which adventure travel has flooded the planet. There are few places left that have not known a human footprint.
The Afar way of life is ancient, but now it is in transition, taking the first baby steps towards joining the modern world while holding on to the old ways.
James Michael Dorsey is a freelance photojournalist and a
frequent contributor to The World & I Online. His work can be
seen on the web at jamesdorsey.com.
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