Painting on the Streets of Jinka

Dr Gloves in action

Gloves and i opt not to visit the Mursi tribe – an experience that even Lonely Planet describe as a “human zoo”.

Gloves is a keen water-colour artist and decides he wants to find a nice spot in Jinka for a painting session. We walk from the Jinka Resort hotel to the local market place and try to find a “spot”.

We do, in one of the off-shoots from the main square. However, being on a corner, there is a waft of urine emanating from the space. A couple of English speaking locals asks why we want to hang out at a public urinal and they have a point. I procure Gloves a small stool from a shop opposite and then head off for a coffee at a local cafe.

Returning back some 45 minutes later and Gloves is surrounded by curious locals. Clearly the concept of painting is fairly foreign here and many ask if he is an architect or town planner who wants to redevelop the area.

a gathering crowd

As he finishes up, one of the shop owners comes out. She is loud and mad, and demands Birr. Gloves offers her a hand fan he has brought from Hong Kong. She looks at it with distain and passes it back to him. He offers her the painting, but this is also poo-pooed. He then offers her a few Birr but she slings it back in his face. It is starting to get ugly. When faced with madness, i invariably act with greater lunacy and this is no exception. I go into her face and do my Sammy Seal impressions as Gloves quickly packs up his stuff.

We are followed by a youngish man who says he is “security”. He informs us “painting is dangerous” and repeatedly follows us We end up scurrying from cafe to cafe trying to lose him. It takes some 40 minutes.

He is right however, painting is dangerous.

Post Script: With some trepidation, Gloves pulls out his paints at sunset on the bank of Lake Awassa and enjoys an undisturbed 45 minutes.

Southern Tour - Day Four - Jinka to Konso

 

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Southern Tour Day Three - Turmi to Jinka

 

Two Saturday markets to whizz around (Dimeka and Jinka), but it did mean we missed the Buffalo Run - 21kms out of Dimeka - and over an hour even in our natty 30 year old land cruiser. The Buffalo Run is a rite of passage for the boys and ho can only become men by running over the backs of large buff - lined up ith some 30 heads of cattle. Failure to complete straight runs involves ridicule from the watching women and beatings with sticks is not uncommon.

The woman above is from the Hamma tribe, famed for their gorgeous locks which is made from a mix of matural ochre mixed with fat.

Although a custom for the women, i seize on an opportunity for a cultural exchange. i ask for same treatment for my unravelling dread-locks. It thick and course and smells like raw sewage. Gloves is too intrigued or in fits of laughter to capture the moment for prosperity - probably just as well methinks.

 

my new hairdresser in action