changing tracks. narrowly missing a child who suddenly runs out into
the road. a screeching halt. Gash Umar saves the day once again. I see
the scene play out as it occurs. inches. moments. blessings. Allah is
watching Gash announces. all is fine. the mother grabs the child in
fearful anger. parting words….
three are fasting in the crew. Ramadan. tempers are short during the
day. hungry bellies. I am refusing to be involved.
a struggle.
it is Ramadan Ahmed reminds us. when he breaks fast, he expects a
feast. that feast must include meat. these are the ways. the rest of
the bwois declare this is their way as well. so they decide on
slaughtering a sheep tonight. our scout/guard: a man named Nagoosey
Adanen- which means "to heal." he carries a large rifle that hasn't
been used in thirty years, wears a little green beret perched on his
head, is humble, kind and sweet and loves to be a part of photographs.
he suggests talking to the next shepherd we see. so we stop. the bwois
all trek out to the field to talk to the shepherd. with video camera.
I see Ahmed grab a reddish colored sheep. force it to the ground and
check it over. the shepherd is delighted. they pay him. then a big
to-do occurs. where will the sheep go for the rest of the ride? Umar
insists that it can't be tied to the roof. the shepherd can't bring it
to the campsite. so the bwois stuff it in the back with them. then
joke about it peeing or pooping on them. I hear the sheep let out a
whimper. it knows it's fate. I am distraught at this point and can't
help but feel saddness. little to no attention has been put on making
this a sacred act. I could do with out the jokes about how to
slaughter it. it seems childish and barbaric to say the least. the
joking and lightness further discourage me from seeing this as a
Ramadan "necessity." when we arrive at the campsite, all unload. I
hear the bwois yelling about getting the blades and preparing to slit
its throat. they want the slaughter on video. I prepare to take a
solitary hike for meditation. I look behind me and see a sweet and
humble being, legs tied together, laying in the grass, waiting for its
death. it knows all. it is clear. it's dharma is a reality and is
coming to an end. in moments. I can't help but cry. I cry for all the
animals. all the slaughters. all the beings who are in the cycle. of
birth. death. slavery. torture. all beings. all. there is perfection
somewhere in all of this. it is a miserable perfection.
Simien style.
giant carpets of wildflowers and herbs. everytime I take a step,
beautiful aromas engulf me. thyme, flowered scents, delicious colors,
scenery and landscape. this is pure joy and perfection. sitting atop
the peaks. with the clouds rolling past. the sun then takes over. then
clouds roll in again. a daily cycle. I sit on the edge of a cliff.
rocks cradle me and give me a meditation seat. I open my eyes suddenly
as a hawk glides past. my eyes close. light and purity in my sight.
Simien peaks. rocks. san cablo is our spot. with an irie circle
kitchen with a thatched roof. the sheep massacre earlier in the day
saddens me and leaves me needing solitude. I trek to a peaceful spot
alone. at the edge of a mountain, I take my seat. yellow flowered
carpets surround me. I sit at the edge of the universe. a perfect spot
for r and r (relaxin' and reflectin'.) all returns to sacredness and
is overstood. when the eyes open, another hawk sighting. rainbow's and
waterfalls. mountains and texture as far as the eye can see. depth.
huts magically appear on the visual canvas. I recline on my bed of
rocks. gratitude and joy return. I return to light. by the time I
arrive back to the campsite, normalization occurs.
geladas and more.
after two nights in the Simiens at two different campsites, we pack it
up. rolling out early in the morn. watered dews. thyme and grass
spritzers. sleepy-eyed wildflowers. sun's intensity begins. Hopper's
egg delight and black coffee. a PB&J for the road. tent is folded. we
load and roll. more gelada sightings (a type of monkey/baboon.) gelada
life is eventful and full or surprises. snapshots and amazing footage.
lucky spectacles and scenes. close contacts. the community is playing
out its daily life. mothers nurse their babes. teen males fight for
their authority. we witness some sexual dramas that are quite
intriguing. a large, older male forces himself on a younger male. then
demands to be groomed by him. this scene plays out a few times until
finally the older male prefers to "play with himself." both are
"excited." males force themselves on females. loud gelada voices fill
the air. if you get too close, they bare their teeth.
we load back into the cruiser. a lucky encounter to say the least. we
pass travelers on foot. scout tells us that they are headed to Debark-
a full day's walk on foot if you start in the wee hours of the morn.
he is co-captain currently and has lively dialogue with Gash Umar in
the front.
sun on the skin. heat is rising. rose water and tea tree cools my
face. scents and sights. passing the new eco-lodge that has been built
on a high mountain. is has all the amenities and boasts eco-compassion
and a positive community agenda. I like it.
a large flock of birds lifts off and fly above my head. the sound of a
thousand wings flapping through the sky. gliding just above me. it
feels like I could take of with them. Ahamdala!
Al Qaeda passes. these are the crazy isuzu trucks. always overburdened
with goods, people hanging off the sides. they take hair pin turns
with audacity and fearlessness. the passengers don't even flinch.
often they are transporting massive chat. (a leaf that is similar to
coco and is chewed in quantity here.) the drivers are chatted out as
well. half of the accidents you see on the side of the road are al
qaeda. they are crazy! crammed with bodies, animals and plastic jugs
and goods. driving wrecklessly around the curves. danger. but they
don't seem to mind.
dropping scout off in Debark. his precious, curly haired daughter
meets him and takes his goods: the sheep pelt, some plastic bottles.
we tip him well for being such a brilliant member of the crew for the
last couple of days. we all will miss Nagoosey terribly. Ahmed tells
his boss at the rangers station that he deserves an advancement. we
promise to send pictures and stay in touch.
we head south where we will catch our road to Lalibela……
a stop to see the Falasha Jews. clay lions. baskets. smiles.
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