Even if the Omo Valley was completely out of our original itinerary, involving a several-hundred kilometer detour, Haroldo and I decided that it would be worth trying to visit. Recently we were informed of some challenges that threaten the notorious tribes of the lower Omo Valley. The Ethiopian government has contracted an Italian company, Salini, to build yet another dam on the Omo River. This huge project has even larger environmental and social consequences for locals in the region. To begin with, like with any dam project, it will completely modify the river’s original flow and thus significantly change the surrounding ecosystem. The periodic flooding that irrigates the fertile margins of the river will no longer be the same. For the local tribes that depend on the river for agriculture, the dam will have dire consequences. A project brings other bi-products, such as tarred roads, cellular phone towers, and people from other places in Ethiopia (and the worlds) that bring along their own social issues. Survival International – an NGO that supports indigenous groups worldwide – recently launched an awareness raising campaign raising a red flag to the negative cultural consequences the dam will generate.

On the road we pass a caravan of dozens of tractor-trailers with the Italian contractor’s name, Salini. Each truck pulls two shipping containers headed for the Omo Valley where the dam is to be built.

We arrive in Konso, a crossroads between various Omo Valley villages. The town is situated around a single roundabout. We find a great place to camp for the night, Strawberry Fields Ecolodge, a TIES (The International Ecotourism Society) member that offers perm-culture courses, alternative cultural tourism options, and a seriously delicious organic dinner. It was during our moringa with garlic dinner that we met our new friend, Admasu, a guide from Addis Ababa that is very familiar with the Omo Valley region. He gives us some much needed travel tips as we plan our itinerary for the next few days in the valley. “Be careful when you cross the Kasker River, before arriving in Turmi. The river grows quickly and is very dangerous. Last year several cars were taken by the river” the experience guide warns us.

The next morning, after officially entering the valley – and paying 50 birr ($4) to the cultural counsel of the region – we arrive at the notorious Kasker River. We carefully inspect. The riverbed is completely dry, blue skies above, and the firm sand should present no problems. We cross the river – no big deal – and downplay Admasu’s extravagant warnings. Certainly he just wanted to impress the faranjis (foreigners) and exaggerate the adventure.

In Turmi, we have lunch. Once again, our local favorite, injira with shiro: injira is a sort of spongy crape made of fermented tef, a grain native to Ethiopia; shiro is a paste made of beans with a tomato paste and spices. At the same restaurant, we meet Admasu again (he was guiding a French guy going through a serious mid-life crisis). We tell him we had no difficulties with the river. He agrees and smiles, as if to say ‘these faranjis think I am making up stories.

After lunch we drive back 3km towards the campsite, which sit on the banks of the Kasker River. That afternoon, as we are casually chatting with locals about the current situation in the valley, we hear frenzied yells from children towards the river. The shouting is accompanied by a loud rumble, like an endless thunder. Instinctively Haroldo and I get up, grab our cameras, and dash to the river. The dry riverbed was being invaded by a muddy wall of water, a flash flood. It was the first wave. Wow!

Two young men were crossing the river when it began to grow. The first wave was small, but in seconds the river took gargantuan proportions.

The explosion of mud get stronger and stronger. The river continues to rise. We can tell that the flood comes in long waves. There are moments when, suddenly, the volume of water doubles. The natural disaster, during the rainy season, can take over the river a couple times a week. It attracts the attention of everyone who is nearby. Even the sun comes out to watch.

On the other side of the river, trucks and 4×4s arrive. They will have to wait on the other side overnight. There is no way of crossing the river at this stage; those that have tried have lost their vehicles.

It is not only tourists that are caught by surprise with the sudden flash flood of the Kasker River. The following day, Monday, is the weekly market in Turmi, which attracts members of the Hamer tribe that live in villages as far as 20-30km away. They walk, sometimes up to two days, to sell their goods and buy other necessities at the market.

A young Hamer walks all day to arrive in Turmi. Luckly she was able to cross the river before the sudden flood. Sitting on a rock, she waits for others from her village who stayed on the other side.

Once again we bump into Admasu. He was at the village when he herd of the flood and hurried to witness the familiar event with his own eyes. When he sees us, and our shocked faces, he smiles (once of those ‘I told you so’ smiles). “You thought I was exaggerating or making up legends, right? But the Kasker River is really like this, suddenly is appears with all of its furry. Even if here in Turmi it did not even rain, the rain comes from the mountains, many kilometers away. It takes a few hours before it comes raging down here” confirms Admasu.

So, how about the Omo Valley tribes? I’ll continue the story in the next post, next week.

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