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The Hyena Men of Harar

Spotted Hyenas in the city lights wait patiently for a nightly dinner of scraps fed to them by friendly Harari people (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Night falls over the ancient, medieval city of Harar. Cobbled streets are bustling with the commute of women carrying heavy sacks of produce between the labyrinthine market of the city and dodging children playing football in the alleys after school. As the quiet of the night befalls these colourful streets, a different pedestrian traffic starts moving through Harar, one of the three most important cities of Islam on earth and a world heritage listed city of northern Ethiopia.

Harari women carry their shopping on their heads as they walk home from the ancient spice market in the city (Image by Inger Vandyke)

For it is within the ancient walled city, creatures of the night roam the streets fearlessly and respectfully, searching the narrow alleyways for rubbish. These are Spotted Hyenas and the Harari people have an unparalleled relationship with these animals that has lasted for over seventy years.

By day the traders of Harar’s ancient spice market ply their goods in alleys too tight for vehicular traffic. By night, these alleys are roamed by wild Spotted Hyenas in search of food (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Harari people are predominantly Sufi muslims. Sufism is a mystical form of Islam, a school of practice that emphasises the inward search for God and shuns materialism. It has produced some of the world’s most beloved literature, like the love poems of the 13th century Iranian jurist Rumi and its modern-day adherents cherish both tolerance and pluralism. Across Africa this gentle strain of Islam has manifested into the construction of ornate shrines, spectacular mud mosques and even the establishment of sacred Baobab trees in Senegal. Its believers are largely mystics who are responsible for a tremendous academic and theistic history that spans great swathes of the Sahara, Sahel and Horn of Africa. In Harar, this gentle belief system underpins the relationship between people and the wild hyenas that call this beautiful city home. In an odd juxtaposition between anthropology and zoology, this rare culture of humans and wildlife is like a symbiosis where people respectfully look after hyenas in exchange for the hyenas effectively acting as ‘garbage collectors’ cleaning up scraps of organic waste in the labyrinth of alleyways that define Harar.

Portrait of a beautiful Harari girl (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Established in the 6th century, the walled city of Harar has seen its share of conflicts over the years. The walls were constructed around 500 years ago to protect the city from foreign invasions but resident Hararis have now carved hyena-sized bites out of the ancient stone walls to allow this curious relationship between wildlife and man to continue.

Holes in the city walls of Harar are just big enough for roaming hyenas and playing children (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Seen as fearful wild animals by almost everyone else, each night a young man sits at the bottom of the hill on the edge of town surrounded by a pack of hungry hyenas. If you didn’t know better you’d think that this terrifying situation would be short lived as one of the hyenas devours the human giving it food. Instead, each hyena approaches slowly and gently, taking morsels of meat from the hand of man in much the same way as a pet dog would do. His name is Abbas and he is the youngest generation of Hyena feeders in Harar. In the 1950s his father Yusuf was one of the first to start this tradition after he began feeding the hyenas scraps of meat to lure them away from eating his livestock.

Abbas, the most famous Hyena man of Harar, feeding one of his Hyena friends (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Now, the nightly feeding of Spotted Hyenas in Harar has become a popular tourist attraction that draws people from all over the world who are curious to witness this unique relationship for themselves.

An eager Spotted Hyena waits patiently for his dinner served by Abbas (Image by Inger Vandyke)

When Wild Images heard about this phenomenon we decided without hesitation to include it as an extension to our Ethiopian wildlife photography tour. We visited the famous Hyena Men of Harar as part of our tour in March this year and we weren’t disappointed.

At sunset on our first night we waited for Abbas to arrive. We’d been sitting on the ledge of a nearby mosque that was gradually being swallowed up by the roots of a parasitic fig tree when we first spotted Abbas, who sauntered over to a piece of litter-strewn, vacant land close to his home. He carried a large yellow drum filled with the bones and meat scraps donated by the centuries old Halal butchery in the centre of the city. Abbas took a seat on a large stone.

What to do when a local fig tree swallows up your mosque? Why build the mosque around it, of course! The Sufis of Harar believe in pluralism and sharing their world with nature in a harmonious way (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Then from the inky depths of the nearby scrub they emerged, at first a little shy and then becoming bolder as time transpired. Our group sat transfixed. We were positioned in the dirt in a semi-circle to allow the hyenas enough space to approach Abbas who began feeding them a dinner of scraps hanging off a small stick that he held. Joining them with remarkable acceptance were a few of the local feral dogs from Harar. Initially we thought this might mean the hyenas would fight the dogs off but oddly, the nightly feast of scraps was shared without incident.

A shy hyena emerges from the murky gloom of Harar’s outskirts (Image by Inger Vandyke)

As the feeding intensified, Abbas began to invite guests over to sit beside him to feed the hyenas themselves. At first I didn’t think anyone in our group would volunteer to do this but it seems I underestimated all of them! Absolutely everyone went up to feed the Hyenas! What a brave bunch! Each of us willingly took turns to sit next to Abbas while gigantic hyenas came up and rested on our shoulders to eat.

Two hyenas at their nightly dinner table in Harar (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Of course I joined in, as did my fiance, Mark Beaman. It was quite something to be so close to an animal I have mostly feared in the wild. I didn’t know what to expect. Were they going to smell like dogs? Do they have fleas? Would they hurt me?

Mark smiles as a Spotted Hyena rests its paunches on his shoulders to enjoy a meal with Abbas (Image by Inger Vandyke)

All of my fears and expectations were unfounded. Instead of anything I mentioned above, I was thrilled to find out that Hyenas smell of the earth in which they live. They have a ‘perfume’ similar to the smell of hot, dusty earth before the rain. Instead of bombastically jumping on our shoulders, they gently raised themselves up on us. There was no fleas, no saliva, no dirt. In fact it was nothing you’d imagine it to be. We ended up enjoying our first evening so much that we went back for a second night to witness this incredible spectacle.

The colourful city of Harar seen from the air. Harar is home to 83 mosques and 102 shrines, all painted in the same hue of green (Image by Inger Vandyke)

On the day between feeds we visited the crucifix shaped courtyard of the Halal butchery in the centre of the city which is home to another curious relationship between Harari people and wild animals. For a small fee one of the boys working in the butchers will come out and feed a resident flock of Yellow-billed and Black Kites by hand.

Feeding the kites by hand. One of the employees of the local halal butchery in Harar throws up meat tidbits to feed the kites in a testimony to the soft relationship that Hararis enjoy with their wild creatures (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Again, we watched in awe as these large birds acrobatically flew down from the roofs of the butchery buildings to grab morsels of meat tossed in the air for them by people.

When fed, the kites of the butchery in Harar perform remarkable aerial acrobatics (Image by Inger Vandyke)

This makes for amazing photos in their own right and also provides amusement for Harari people watching photographers stand around with large lenses in order to get fantastic flight shots of these birds as they dominated the skies in search of food.

A Yellow-billed Kite waits and watches for meat morsels from the butchery in Harar (Image by Inger Vandyke)

A second night at the Hyenas, however, was an opportunity not to be missed. Not only did more hyenas turn up on the second night than the first, we also had a chance to hone our night photography skills to get better shots than the night before and experiment with bokeh, different angles and lighting while meeting more of these wonderful animals and becoming acquainted with them.

Harar’s hyenas are remarkably tolerant of the local feral dogs that often join them for dinner (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Of course, we all fed the hyenas by hand again. When you are there it is very difficult to say no to such a fantastic opportunity and I’m happy to confirm that all of our group made it through two hyena feeding sessions alive and with all of their digits and camera gear intact!

Spending time with Abbas and his hyenas was one of the highlights of my wildlife photography career. It was right up there with other experiences like swimming with Humpback Whales, walking on the ice with polar bears and having a wild penguin fall asleep on your lap.

Me feeding hyenas with Abbas (Image by Wild Images Guest Annari Faurie)

Aside from the fantastic photographic opportunities, going back for a second night allowed us the time to also just put our cameras down, sit and watch. Personally I recognised some of the animals that had visited from the night before including a shy female with a notch out of her ear and another more boisterous youngster who always barged in first to be fed. Apparently Abbas knows them all by name. They come to his calls for food and he knows them well enough to visit them at their dens. I believe they are that comfortable with his presence he has even crawled inside a hyena den when they’ve had cubs – an act which would mean a certain death for anyone else trying to do the same!  Spending time with this self effacing young man is as much a highlight as the hyenas themselves.  He just has a wonderful way with them that is neither exploitative or disrespectful.

Not all hyenas are bold enough to join the pack for dinner (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Prior to visiting Harar, a guest on my own Ethiopian trip to the Omo Valley had suggested I read “Among The Bone Eaters: Encounters with the Hyenas of Harar” by Australian researcher Marcus Baynes-Rock who spent time with a clan of Harar’s hyenas called the “Sofi Clan”. Each day he would follow them into the city from their dens, watching where they went and he even played with them frequently.

He writes:

“The Old Town of Harar in eastern Ethiopia is enclosed by a wall built 500 years ago to protect the town’s inhabitants from hostile neighbours after a religious conflict that destabilised the region. Historically, the gates would be opened every morning to admit outsiders into the town to buy and sell goods and perhaps worship at one of the dozens of mosques in the Muslim city. Only Muslims were allowed to enter. And each night, non-Hararis would be evicted from the town and the gates locked. So it is somewhat surprising that this endogamous, culturally exclusive society incorporated holes into its defensive wall, through which Spotted Hyenas from the surrounding hills could access the town at night.

A typical street scene of Harar with its colourful buildings, cobblestoned alleyways and smiling locals (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Spotted Hyenas could be considered the most hated mammal in Africa. Decried as ugly and awkward, associated with witches and sorcerers and seen as contaminating, Spotted Hyenas are a public relations challenge of the highest order. Yet in Harar, hyenas are not only allowed into the town to clean the streets of food scraps, they are deeply embedded in the traditions and beliefs of the townspeople. Sufism predominates in Harar and at last count there were 121 shrines in and near the town dedicated to the town’s saints. These saints are said to meet on Mt Hakim every Thursday to discuss any pressing issues facing the town and it is the hyenas who pass the information from the saints on to the townspeople via intermediaries who can understand hyena language. Etymologically, the Harari word for hyena, ‘waraba’ comes from ‘werabba’ which translates literally as ‘news man’. Hyenas are also believed to clear the streets of jinn, the unseen entities that are a constant presence for people in the town, and hyenas’ spirits are said to be like angels who fight with bad spirits to defend the souls of spiritually vulnerable people.

Portrait of a Sufi muslim girl in Harar. A liberal form of Islam that is punctuated by spiritual beliefs in Jinns, or little devilish spirits, Hararis believe the hyenas’ are said to be like angels who fight with bad spirits to defend the souls of vulnerable people. (Image by Inger Vandyke)

My current research in Harar is concerned with both sides of the relationship. First is the collection of stories, traditions, songs and proverbs of which there are many and trying to understand how the most hated mammal in Africa can be accommodated in an urban environment; to understand how a society can tolerate the presence of a potentially dangerous species. Second is to understand the hyenas themselves and their participation in the relationship. In other parts of Ethiopia, and even within walking distance of Harar, hyenas are dangerous animals and attacks on people are common. Yet, in the old town of Harar, attacks are unheard of and it is not unusual to see hyenas, in search of food scraps, wandering past perfectly edible people sleeping in the streets. This localised immunity from attack is reassuring for a researcher spending nights alone with the hyenas in Harar’s narrow streets and alleys.”

The crucifix shaped courtyard of Harar’s halal butchery is the centre point of this ancient, World Heritage listed city (Image by Inger Vandyke)

We now list Marcus’ book as essential reading for anyone thinking of joining us on our tour extension to Harar. Why don’t you join us? Email our office to find out the details of our next tour!

A wary hyena approaches a pile of bones at the nightly feeding of hyenas in Harar (Image by Inger Vandyke)

2019 – A Year in Pictures

My annual summary of some of my most loved and appreciated work. Thank you so much for following me. I hope I can continue to amuse you all with further images in 2020!


Namibia from the Air

Of all the places I am blessed to visit with my work, it is perhaps Namibia that is my most favourite destination for aerial photography.  Recently I returned from Namibia with some very special views of this remarkable country – from the air.

Using a combination of drone, light aeroplane and a doorless helicopter flying over the desert, here are some of my favourite shots from the trip.

My group gathers at the base of a dune in Sossusvlei for landscape and sunrise photography
A truck moves through the roadworks connecting Walvis Bay with Swakopmund
Deadvlei in the famous Sossusvlei area is beautiful from any angle you photograph it! 
An Oryx family pauses at the crest of a dune in Sossusvlei
The myriad of patterns in the coastline of Walvis Bay
Walvis Bay Saltworks
The unbearable lightness of trees
A mother Oryx and her baby in the dunes of Sossusvlei 
Dorrob National Park in the late afternoon
One of the spectacular water formations in Deadvlei
The lines of the Skeleton Coast – where the desert meets the sea
Flamingos blast off from the coast of Walvis Bay
The incredible dune formations at Sossusvlei
Elephants and Oryx gather at an oasis in the desert
An Oryx on the run
The last light of day catches the dunes through the fog of the Skeleton Coast 
Water in the desert
The flamingos of coastal Dorrob National Park
Sossus Dune Lodge – our accommodation inside the incredible Namib Naukluft National Park
Oryx in the early morning light
Dune terminus
The incredible geology of Dorrob National Park
The Devil’s Fork 

Visiting my Himba “Family” during a drought

I recently returned from Namibia where I had the blessing of meeting a group of Himba people I have almost come to regard as “family” now. They live in a remote valley very close to the border of Namibia and Angola. It is always a wonder to be back in their world. I cry every time I leave

Over the time I have been visiting these people I have seen them weathering some very harsh conditions but none so severe as the drought they are currently living through. It is one of the worst droughts in Namibia’s recent history.

Feeling a bit internally conflicted about visiting them during this time (my trips are planned two years in advance with no knowledge of droughts – after all I don’t have a crystal ball) the consolation I had came through significant donations of food, supplies and topical medicines to families really struggling with their existence.

Below are some photos of the people I know, how I’ve captured them in happier times and how they were recently. Their strength lies in their smiles and hopes. Their strength is bolstered by their headmen who are guiding their people through livestock loss, illness, lack of food and water.

Over my two village visits a few weeks ago, I was pleased to see headman Uapenga’s family doing reasonably well. His wife, Kovipiriko, recognised me instantly. She still has a wry smile and although her natural expression is frowning, I always love it when she is smiling.

Kovipiriko when I met her back in 2016
And a few weeks ago. She is such a lovely person and a great mum!
One of Kovipiriko’s daughters back in 2016 when I first met her.

She has now married…..
And is the mother of Uapenga’s newest grandchild!

Spending time with Uapenga’s daughter and her new baby was this girl, whose name I didn’t catch sadly.
I first met this lady and we shared a joke about how many children we both have. It was 5. Unlike me, however, she has now had her 6th child – always a blessing in Himba families.

Puzusurira. She was one of the first Himba girls I ever met in this area.

I learned that, due to health reasons, Puzusurira had switched from Himba to Herero. She was quite amused when I asked her if I could fly my drone above the well as she fetched water for her goats with her family.

This amazing girl….
Had a tiny baby when I last saw her…
So I was very happy to see she was pregnant with another child when I saw her a couple of weeks ago.
Beautiful Tjiintje when I met her at the well two years ago…
She has since had a little baby, who is now 9 months old!

Here are some other favourite shots from my recent trip and, as always, I will take my prints back to my Himba “family” when I next visit.

Himba Handhold
Himba women are stunning, even from behind.
This lady had us both in stitches. Not only could she lift heavy buckets of water without a flinch, when she asked me to try, I did, I struggled and then she laughed at my feeble attempts to be a ‘white Himba’
Himba babies grow up surrounded by so much beauty
Portrait of a young Himba boy and his puppy
Despite the drought it was good to see a few girls ‘expecting’
A beautiful elderly Himba woman
Portrait of a young Zemba girl who was selling bracelets in Kamanjab
Ngombe with her beautiful little boy in Palmwag
Himba children playing outside their hut in remote Kaokoland

Walking with Mucubal Nomads

An intimate account of survival in the face of adversity….

A young Mucubal boy makes the long walk to water with his dog by his side (Image by Inger Vandyke)

“Don’t go anywhere near that! That’s how they trap us!” yelled out an older Mucubal boy to his two younger brothers.

We had encountered them as the sun was getting low in remote Angola. My guides and I were looking for a place to camp, hoping to stop with a local group of Mucubal people in one of their beautiful, ornate villages.

Before I continue, I should tell you that everything Mucubal people do is beautiful. Their huts are like arid igloos sculpted in white clay, their women wear layers of simple brass bracelets across their arms and over one of their legs, their men wander the countryside with neatly shaved hair and a loin cloth made from colourful Mucubal fabric. The crowning glory of Mucubal beauty, in my opinion anyway, is the Ompota worn by Mucubal women. These large hats are fashioned from wicker which is kept rigid by being filled with dried cow’s tails. Once created Mucubal women cover their Ompotas with brightly coloured fabric scarves.

A typical Mucubal village with beautiful huts sculpted from local clay (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Failing to find a village that late afternoon we decided to drive to the closest town when we met them, a group of young Mucubal boys returning to their camp from a day of herding livestock. We wanted to ask them about the whereabouts of their village and as soon as I got out of the car, they saw me as some type of tall, white ogre with blonde hair and they ran off screaming in to the bushes. My guides and I stood next to the car laughing. “Oh come on! I’m not the big scary person they think I am” I said to my guides. “What’s going on here?”. My guide, Joao, said “I’ll take a bottle of water over to them so they can at least drink” and then we took the water to a place around 150m away from us. It was then that the ‘They’re going to trap us!’ conversation took place.

Laughing, and still unable to determine how far their village was away from our car we eventually waited until the boys fetched their parents to consult about their safety in the face of these strangers.

A drone’s eye view of a Mucubal village in remote Angola (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Soon after their parents appeared from behind the bushes, I went over, smiled and introduced myself. Mahovilo, the oldest of the Mucubal women in her family held my hands, hugged me and kissed both my cheeks. We told them what had happened with their young sons and we all laughed. Mahovilo screwed up her nose, threw her head back in to the air and laughed loudest.

Beautiful Mahovilo. She is wearing a Ngombe around her neck. To the highly spiritual Mucubal people, this amulet symbolises Mahovilo has cattle. During the extreme drought of Angola, sadly, I never saw her with any (Image by Inger Vandyke)

After all, good parenting isn’t monopolised by any one specific group, ethnicity or nationality. Stranger danger makes sense everywhere, even in remote Angola.

Before we could even ask, the family invited us over to their camp.

In all my travels around tribal people in Africa, I have always been extremely humbled by these invitations. It is always an honour to be the recipient of such a kind gesture and some of the most memorable nights I’ve had in Africa emanate from nights around a campfire chatting to local people through awesome translator guides. Through them I have learned and laughed so much. These encounters have shaped who I am and I carry something from every one of them with me every day.

Portrait of Nghilituma wearing her beautiful blue Ompota (Image by Inger Vandyke) 

We wandered through the acacia bushes back to their makeshift camp. “We shouldn’t camp too close” I suggested to my guides. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

We set up around 100m or so away from this family and I asked if it was OK to wander over and take photos. We arrived while a young Mucubal girl name Mbapumbika was grinding flour to prepare for dinner. I watched the methodical way in which she ground grain against a stone. Despite her young years she knew routinely how to do this, storing her ground flour in a beautifully hand woven Mucubal basket carrier.

Mbapumbika rhythmically grinding grain to make flour for dinner (Image by Inger Vandyke)

As I watched, I noticed Mahovilo out of the corner of my eye. She was carrying a huge piece of wood towards the fire. I stopped and went over to her. Being a much larger person, I carried it for her towards the fire. She seemed relieved.

Around the fire at sunset (Image by Inger Vandyke)

As the sun set and a fire was lit, Mahovilo began to prepare for dinner. I lingered only long enough to take a few photos. From what I know people with nothing will always share what they have in remote Africa. These people were suffering through a drought. I wanted their food to be theirs. Instead, I went back to my camp where my own dinner was being cooked and I dined there instead.

After I’d finished eating we still had food left so when my hosting family of Mucubal people came by in the dark, we shared whatever we had with them. By that point, the children were no longer afraid of me and as I sat with numerous little hands touching my hair and resting on my knee we chatted about the drought and how it was affecting them.

Kamundimba, the Soba (or headman) of the nomadic Mucubal family I stayed with (Image by Inger Vandyke)

This family were on the move from their region towards greener pastures, hoping to get much needed water and grazing lands for their livestock. Where they were heading was still well over a hundred kilometres from our camp. I wondered, honestly, how they were going to make it. Their only way to reach it was on foot.

The Issue of Drought in Angola

I had confirmed my Angola travel plans long before I was aware of any drought that was going to happen. Upon hearing the news of no rain in southern Angola, I almost pulled out of travelling there. I have, however, been around Himba people in northern Namibia, during droughts before. As I was too heavily committed to this trip, I decided to go anyway and just take more food and supplies than I would normally account for, to give to people I met along the way.

What I didn’t realise until I arrived, was the true gravity of the situation the tribes in southern Angola were facing. People were sick, many were on the move to try and find water. The lucky ones were still drawing water from the tiniest wells dug in to ephemeral rivers or they had access to one of only three large tanks of water that the Angola government had delivered to the entire region.

Mbapumbika taking her goats out to graze, her mini Ompota on her head (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Food for people had been delivered also but this had to be rationed. I was stunned to discover that a 25kg bag of rice would need to be shared by 100 people, that a one litre bottle of oil was t be shared between 6.

Surviving livestock was being actively sold by owners trying to capitalise on their worth before their diminished state decreased their market value. Their beloved cattle that they would normally sell for 20,000 kwanza a head were being sold for a mere 5,000 kwanza per animal. Desperate for water, animals were dying. All around me people were hungry and thirsty. Yet they were moving. They had to move. It was the only way they were going to survive.

Sharing my breakfast with my newfound Mucubal friends (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Climate Change and Africa’s Tribal People

Readers of this post might be thinking “These people have seen droughts before. This is all quite normal.” What was happening in Angola wasn’t normal. This was the worst drought that these people had experienced in many years.

In our media, we read often of climate change, how it is creating mass extinctions, wild weather and migrations of people trying to escape the worst of their situations as the world warms and great change takes place.

Profile of beautiful Nghilituma (Image by Inger Vandyke)

What we rarely hear about is that the frequency and intensity of these droughts is causing a great strain on some of Africa’s most treasured and beautiful tribal people. Yes they may survive a single drought but repeated droughts over several years? It is becoming too much for any of them to bear.

For someone who loves these people as much as I do, it was a harrowing situation to find myself in.

Mukwa, one of the Mucubal women in the family I stayed with (Image by Inger Vandyke)

As I sit here making preparations for my trip to Namibia next month, already I am preparing to take more than I normally would out to the remote Himba families I know. For the drought in Angola doesn’t know borders. It is well and truly entrenched in northern Namibia too, affecting the lives of the people I know well. My list not only includes food and water but also topical medicines like antiseptic creams, tiger balm etc. After all, it’s the least I can do for a group of people who live three days walk from the nearest town.

My Final Morning with my Mucubal Family

Before I went to sleep I asked Mahovilo and the Soba of the family, Kamundimba, if it would be OK for me to help the children herd their goats out the next morning. Of course they said yes.

A Mucubal goat herd in the dust at sunrise (Image by Inger Vandyke)

So at sunrise we had breakfast, shared as much as we could of that meal again and off I went, following a beautiful group of Mucubal children into the bush with their dogs, goats and sheep, running around in the dust. When they are small Mucubal children are fitted with a makeshift brace made from a decorated piece of animal bone, often the rib of a cow. This body brace is worn by children until they are able to walk. It helps them to walk straight and tall. When that child can walk properly the brace is removed and handed to the next baby born to a clan.

Mucubal children are given a brace made from leather and bone to help them walk upright after they’ve taken their first steps (Image by Inger Vandyke)

I watched these brave, tall, Mucubal children walk in to the distance, their beautiful postures disappearing in to the dust and sun. Stoically they moved on another day, just one step closer to water.

Animal husbandry, Mucubal style (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Spending time with that family moved me deeply. I think about them often, hoping they made it finally to the greener pastures they sought. Who knows when I might follow their footsteps in the dirt again. My hope is, that if somehow I find myself in their sphere once more, that they will be in a better place with water and sustenance.  And just maybe they will no longer fear the tall white lady with the blonde hair who brought them smiles and food.

The longest journey to water (Image by Inger Vandyke)

The Muhimba of Angola and how they deal with Livestock Theft

Sunset in the wilds of Yona in southern Angola (Image by Inger Vandyke)

During the Wild Images reconnaissance trip to southern Angola, I found myself inadvertently caught up in a livestock theft situation involving tribal Mucubal and Muhimba people.  Here is what transpired…..

“Out here there are no laws, only traditions. Our laws take precedent. If we cannot resolve a situation with the elders, then Angolan law applies” – Carmilo, the ‘soba’ or headman of a remote Muhimba community in southern Angola.

Yona. It is a region of vast and sparsely populated land stretching across southern Angola. Flanked by the wind and seas of the Atlantic in the west and the town of Oncocua further east, Yona is an area dotted with granite outcrops and thorny gated tribal villages. Her veins are the ephemeral rivers that have pulsed underground for centuries, providing only the most knowledgeable with water that sustains all life.

I arrived in Yona during one of the worst droughts the region had experienced in decades. People were starving, animals were dying and anything that lived was on the move in search of food and water.

One day in to Yona and the road finished. Replaced by simple animal tracks my guides navigated our way the harsh yet beautiful national park of Yona in search of any communities who had decided to stick out the worst of the dry. On the way we gave lifts to nomadic people, hoping to save them a walk in the relentless conditions.

Our car was filled with water, fuel and enough food to survive for a week in countryside that has no roads, no shops, no fuel and no water unless you know how to find it.   Aside from the supplies we had to sustain ourselves, we took as many supplies for the local people as we could.

Portrait of Ngwafyapo and her baby in the village (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Elsewhere in Africa driving a goods laden vehicle through areas afflicted by such a severe drought is a tricky and dangerous endeavour.   Cars like mine have been hijacked and people who are desperate for food and water have killed people like me for the bounty they carry.

Muhimba women are strikingly beautiful (Image by Inger Vandyke)

Southern Angola is different. These people have endured periods like this before. They stoically do their best to hold on to their lives, the lives of their livestock and their homes. Most will only pick up and move if the conditions force them to.

Nomadic Mucubal men on their way across Yona (Image by Inger Vandyke)

We arrived in a remote community of Muhimba people around mid-afternoon. The atmosphere was tense. Earlier in the day a young Mucubal boy decided to rustle, or steal, around 30 head of sheeps and goats owned by the Himba. We were three days drive from the nearest town.

Unfamiliar with the language of Angolan Muhimbas, and speaking through translators, I hadn’t understood fully what was going on until the early evening.

The children of the Muhimba village round up what is left of their herd before sunset (Image by Inger Vandyke)

We were so far away from any civilisation that Carmilo invited us to camp in his village. I spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying the company of my hosts, taking photos and flying a drone up over their village which everyone was astounded by.

As the sun lowered we made dinner and the families I stayed with did so also. It was only just after dark that I realised the gravity of the situation my hosts were facing.

Silhouette of a beautiful Muhimba woman shortly before the celebrations began. Their men had saved half of their stolen livestock (Image by Inger Vandyke)

I was resting in my tent under the stars when the air was pierced with the shrill ululations of the Muhimba girls in my camp. The men of the village had not only located the offending Mucubal livestock thief, they had brought him back to the village with just under half of the missing animals he stole.

What followed was a great celebration of the women who expressed their joy to their men for bringing the thief to justice and their much loved animals home.

Marikondjo, one of the Muhimba boys who worked to keep the Mucubal boy captive until his parents arrived (Image by Inger Vandyke)

A dialogue between the Mucubal boy and Carmilo ensued. Earlier in the day, when the sheep and goats went missing, the Angolan police were called. The fastest they could get there was two days.

We discovered that the boy’s parents, his father an elder of his Mucubal community were at least one day’s walk away.

Portrait of Tchikacha, one of the young Muhimba girls in the village (Image by Inger Vandyke)

It was decided. Carmilo would wait for the boy’s parents first. On arrival he would discuss the theft with them, determine a suitable punishment and the return of the remaining animals to resolve the situation. If nothing could be resolved, then the Angolan police would arrive a day later to enforce regular law to fix the issue.

I was astounded. Had I been in somewhere like the Ilemi Triangle or Omo Valley in Ethiopia, such a situation could have easily resulted in intertribal conflict involving guns and death. Yet here I was, surrounded by tribal people diplomatically trying to deal with a situation that was borne by extreme conditions.

At the same time I was fascinated. What on earth were the Muhimbas going to do with this Mucubal boy while they waited for his parents? What might happen to him when they arrive? What if we really needed to wait for the police?

Proud of a job well done, Tchihukumutue stands with his arms crossed the morning before Inger left (Image by Inger Vandyke)

The Muhimbas were surprisingly diplomatic, exacting punishment in non-martial ways.The first thing they did was slaughter a goat to celebrate the return of half their stock. Preparing it in front of the Mucubal boy must have felt like a torture to him in his hungry state. The Himba boys lit a fire, cleaned the carcass of the goat and made a hot stew of goat’s meat for dinner, eating it in front of the Mucubal boy, who sat at the side with his head between his knees in shame. As guests to this event, the much prized liver was reserved for us. Despite our initial protestations, they insisted we ate it and I have to admit, it was delicious.

Cooking and eating a celebratory goat was already punishment for the Mucubal boy who stole the livestock. In his hunger he had to simply watch the Muhimba boys eat (Image by Inger Vandyke)

I was curious. “What are they going to do with this boy? How will they detain him until his parents arrive?” I asked . “Oh there’s enough Muhimba boys here to keep him. He will sleep surrounded by them. If he tries to escape, he will wake one of them up and he won’t be able to run away from them.”

Marikondjo is one of the Muhimbas that is not to be messed with (Image by Inger Vandyke)

And so it transpired. I never really found out if the Mucubal boy was punished for his wrongdoing, or if the Muhimbas ever got their stock back. I had to leave their village before we found out the outcome. Perhaps watching others eat a great meal while the perpetrator was hungry was enough.

This village taught me just a little more about my beloved Himbas and through their diplomatic handling of what could have been a tense situation, I came to love them even more.

I am leading the 2021 photography tour of Angola for Wild Images. Further information can be found on the following link: https://www.wildimages-phototours.com/photography-tours/angola-photography-tour/

Omo Valley Journeys – Abushe

Before I went to the Omo Valley, I’d seen quite a number of images of Abushe circulating on Instagram. After all, it isn’t often you see photos of little blue-eyed children among the many photos you see of people in Africa.

I was intrigued by Abushe as soon as I found out about him. What was he like? Was he easy to find? Would he even mind if I photographed him as well?

When I learned more about him and where he is located, I decided quickly to not divulge anything about him other than a few simple things that I know would be OK to share.

Abushe has a very complex story and there are quite a number of mistruths posted about him on social media by people who perhaps haven’t understood his story. Since I am worried about him being exploited I am not going to divulge exactly what I know about him. Abushe is just a little kid and he deserves the respect of any child that crosses my path.

I can and will tell you about my impressions of meeting him though!

Abushe shares his blue eyes with other members of his family including, I believe, a cousin of his who lives some distance away.

He is a very striking little boy and as soon as I saw him I recognised him. We met him in a cafe where we shared lunch with him while we chatted.

I wasn’t sure what to expect with Abushe to be honest. I somehow pictured that he would be a shy little boy, perhaps who has been bullied because of the way he looks?

What I found was the opposite! I met a very sweet young man who is tack sharp, wants to further his education and is always cracking jokes!

He knows photographers well but one of the things that always struck me about photos of him was that we never smiled! I found myself saying aloud “Why does he never smile? He is just a little boy! Doesn’t he ever laugh?”

So I set out to find the zany, funny side of Abushe and photograph him that way.

When we first started taking photos, he pulled all sorts of funny faces at me!

And then I started joking around with him which brought out a fantastic, huge, Abushe smile.

Then he settled down a bit!

I gave him a blue shawl that I had brought with me on the trip. This procured more funny looks!

Soon he got in to the swing of that scarf though and in the end, one of my favourite images of him is with it (below).

Meeting Abushe requires your guide to have good contacts and know the area that he lives in. I’m not the first photographer to meet him obviously but I have one small request for the photographers who may follow in my footsteps.

Please be mindful that this little boy is just that, a little boy. Spend some time with him, enjoy a meal, talk to him. He is not a subject and definitely shouldn’t be objectified for the way he looks. Above all be a good ‘parent’ around him and don’t do anything you wouldn’t do to your own children. He is a lovely little guy with one of the most infectious smiles I’ve seen in Africa. My hope is that he always has a reason to smile. Please go gently with him.

Omo Valley Journeys – Nyangatom & Toposa

To visit the Nyangatom people of the Omo Valley requires a combination of stamina, 4WD vehicles that are well maintained, extremely good guides and the ability to be able to camp independently.  It takes almost a full day to reach these people from the Suri if you are coming from that way.

The drive over is a spectacular traverse through ploughed fields, tall native forests, nail-biting rock tracks on the sides of mountains and finally through a national park that is home to a large herd of buffalo.  Leaving that park, the land becomes flat, dry and almost desert-like.  The red earth of the region is mostly broken up by waxy calitropis bush. 

Then you reach Kangate – a one horse town on the side of the Omo River.  From there, you drive quite some distance and then you are in the heart of the Nyangatom and Toposa people who originally come from South Sudan.

The Nyangatom, also known as the Donyiro, are Nilotic agro-pastoralists inhabiting the border of south western Ethiopia and South Sudan and the Ilemi Triangle with populations in both countries.  They number approximately 30,000 with populations in both South Sudan and Ethiopia.  Many Nyangatom are nomadic, residing in mobile livestock villages that may migrate several times a year.  A substantial number of Nyangatom also reside in semi-permanent villages.  It is common for individuals to move between mobile cattle camps and semi-permanent villages.

The Nyangatom are known to be great warriors and quite frequently active warmongers.  They are often at war with the neighbouring tribes including the Hamer, Turkana, Daasanech and Suri.  The Kenyan government provides some military support to the Turkana in these conflicts. 

Despite the risk of intergroup conflict, many Nyangatom have bond friends with members of other groups and there are trade relationships between the Nyangatom and many of their neighbours. 

Napokot standing outside her hut in the morning

Along with other groups in the Lower Omo Valley, the Nyangatom face challenges to their future subsistence and cultural traditions due to large scale agricultural projects occurring in their territory.

Considered Ethiopians since the conquest of the Lower Omo Valley by Emperor Menelik II, the Nyangatom can be equally qualified as Sudanese because their territory straddles the border.  They inhabit the south-western corner of Ethiopia, the Lower Omo Valley, but use the Ilemi Triangle on the south eastern corner of Eastern Equatoria as a seasonal pastureland. 

Ecologically, the Lower Omo Valley is an extension of Lake Turkana depression and Ilemi Triangle shelters a prehistoric overflow channel o the lake towards the Lotilla River in the Murle country that extends from here to the White Nile Basin.

In the Lower Omo Valley, the Nyangatom have two types of settlements.  Since early times the part of the tribe which, for various reasons, had lost its domestic stock, used to dwell in villalges along the western bank of the Omo River, living on fish and sorghum cultivation. Domestic animals cannot survive along the Omo because of the Tsetse Fly.  Families who manage to rebuild a herd commit it to their relatives’ care on the western part of Nyangatom territory, from the Kibish area on the Sudanese border to the western pasturelands of the Ilemi Triangle and the Toposa rangelands.

They are indeed fierce warriors which is supposedly demonstrated by their custom to scar/mark their chest; one scar for each killed enemy.  Heavy necklaces and long skirts from goat skins, which are richly decorated, are characteristing for the women.  Necklaces were traditionally made from dry seeds, but these days they have been largely replaced with colourful glass beads coming from Kenya.  The women also decorate themselves with ornamental scarification on their faces, chests and bellies.

Traditionally, until recently, the men were completely naked – just as the better known Surma and Mursi.  But lately they adopted a large piece of cloth, which they usually wear tied across a shoulder or wrapped around their hips, or even shorts and shirts.  Also famous are the unique deep wells which the Nyangatom people must dig in dry riverbeds during the dry season in the villages far from the Omo River.  The Nyangatom are famous among the tribes for their storytelling and singing.  The favourite animals of the young men of the tribe are called song cows and song bulls.  In ceremonies and during fights with neighbouring tribes, the tribe sing about them.

Portrait of Lotukoy Nakale with his incredible shoulder scars. His male ancestors would have made one scar for every enemy they killed. These days, scarring is done like this simply because they feel it looks attractive

One of the very few people that actually live harmoniously around the Nyangatom are the Toposa.  Over the border in South Sudan, the Toposa are known for their grand village architecture.  In Ethiopia, however, you need to search out the Toposa living in the Nyangatom.  This takes time, a keen eye and an extremely good guide who can help you tell the subtle differences between the two people.

Beautiful Kolonyo, a Toposa girl with her amazing scar patterns!

I should mention that we only met 3 Toposa people in this region, but they stirred my fascination to do a trip to South Sudan, which I can see happening in my near future.

Omo Valley Journeys – Suri for Tourists

A brightly painted Suri woman with her lip disk and baby

OK. The Omo Valley trip I led this year in February left me to do a lot of thinking. After all, the tribal people living there see more tourists and photographers than any people I’ve ever worked with in Africa.

The fact they see so many is due to their incredible appearance and the diversity of people over a relatively small geographical area.

I’ve tried hard to show what the real people are like on my blog posts so far. Tried hard to propagate accurate information about them and our experiences with these beautiful people.

One of the most curious aspects of their cultures is the way that photographers have altered them, to an extent. For the beautiful Suri people, the sheer number of photographers visiting them for photos has encouraged them to take a very obscure practice that was once reserved for special occasions like weddings, funerals and rites of initiation and then turned it in to an everyday thing.

This is what I call “Suri For Tourists”.

Spending time around painted up Suri people is a lot of fun. I mean it really is. It seems the more time you spend with them doing this, the more wild they get. Drawing much of their inspiration from nature and the things they find around them, we photographed people with fruits, seeds, flowers, gourds, horns, bells, goats and puppies.

At first I wasn’t sure what to make of all of this. On the one hand I rolled my eyes when I saw them doing it, then we had a lot of laughs with the people who had dressed up. Not only do the Suri have a natural affinity with what is around them, they have a tremendous colour sense and they are born posers for these sessions. They truly are a portrait photographers’ paradise!

Sadly this act of extreme decoration has very little anthropological value but we enjoyed seeing it anyway and I will take my guests on my future trips to see this, simply because I like their creativity and sense of whimsy.

After my previous post about the REAL Suri, here is a selection of images of the TOURIST Suris!

Gorgeous Babuku with his painted face. He is surrounded by the traditional copper bracelets of his mum and the women of his Suri clan

Gorgeous, smiling Bagogu with his face decorations. The circles are made with bottle caps!

Omo Valley Journeys – The Real Suri


Suri, or Shuri, is the name of a sedentary agro-pastoralist people and its Nilo-Saharan language. 

They inhabit the Bench Maji Zone of the Southern Nations, Nationalities and People’s Region (SNNPR) in Ethiopia as well as parts of neighbouring South Sudan. 

A young Suri girl decorates her hair with Poinciana blossom in Kibish

There are some 34,000 Suri in the south west of Ethiopia. Suri is their self-name that comprises of two separate groups called Tirmaga and Chai. 

An extremely traditional Suri man. This is how the Suri looked before they do now. It is extremely unusual to find Suri like this in the Omo Valley

A third group, speaking a somewhat different language, are the Baale (or Balesi, or Kachipo), who also live partly in the Republic of South Sudan and move regularly across the border, following interests dictated by trade, intermarriage or the occasional search for better pastures in the dry season.

Portrait of a Suri woman with her baby. She is wearing wooden billets to stretch her ears. I met her at a stick fight and her appearance, especially with the adult Waterbuck horn she was carrying, was so striking!

The Suri area was conquered by imperial Ethiopian troops in 1897.  The region was then formally incorporated into Ethiopia and was the frequent target of cattle raids by highlanders and imperial troops based in the newly established villages. 

Portrait of an elderly Suri woman in remote southern Ethiopia. Her bottom lip hangs down where a disc would normally be inserted.

Their society, while now more integrated into national Ethiopian structures of administration and more under the control of the state, previously had a fairly autonomous political structure, headed by the elders of the reigning age grade as well as a few ritual chiefs or ‘priests’ , called Komoru, as among the Mursi.

Barshamu with his extreme Suri scarring

The Suri have a traditional belief system with a supreme sky deity called Tumu (like the Himba with Mukuru).  The Komoru is the mediator between humans and Tumu, acting as a contact point with the sky god that brings rain and fertility.  But Suri have no public religious services of any kind dedicated to Tumu.  Ancestors of clanlines are also recognized as having powers and as influencing the health and destiny of living people. 

Portrait of an elderly Suri man with the horns of a cow

In the past 15 years, Evangelical Christianity has gained adherents among the Suri (some 200 – 300), notably among those in the town of Kibish and those that left the area to study.

A Suri lady and her baby in Turgit

The Suri have lived in the Ethio-Sudan border area for many generations, successfully surviving through a combination of livestock herding (cattle, goats and sheep), some hunting and gathering, rain-fed cultivation of a variety of field crops like millet, corn and sorghum and the garden cultivation of legumes, spice plants, peas and beans. 

Are you done with taking photos yet?

Migration has been restricted due to armed conflict, state pressure and some very serious droughts which have led to food shortages and even famines in the past few decades. 

A beautiful young Suri girl wearing clay billets in her ears to stretch her lobes

Since the late 1980s the Suri have also gained cash income from the sale of alluvial gold to highland traders in nearby villages.  During the last five to seven years, this trade has suffered from strong competition from highlanders and army related people, who have tended to push the Suri out of business.

Walking down the street of a remote Suri town you can find so much beauty

The post 1991 ethnic federal Ethiopian regime has formally accorded the Suri political autonomy a separate woreda (district) but the leadership of this district is carefully groomed and controlled by the authorities.  The state does not really consult the Suri community leaders on any matter and has appointed its own advisors. 


Ethiopian government gave a collective name for the Suri, Mursi and Me’en groups that inhabit the south-western part of the country.  This name is Surma.  All three groups speak languages belonging ot the Surmic branch of the Nilo-Saharan language family.  Some authors have used the terms “Suri” and “Surma” interchangeably or for contradictory purposes.

As time goes by many Suri are dispensing of some of their ancient traditions. Embarrassed by wearing a lip disc, some Suri women are stitching their bottom lip so they don’t wear it anymore

In a bizarre ritual, female members of the tribe have distinctive clay discs inserted into holes in their bottom lip, which are considered signs of beauty. 

Incredible Naguru with her traditional Suri scarring

To have the discs inserted, their bottom two teeth are removed before the hole is cut.  The larger the plate, the more cows the girl’s father can demand in dowry when his daughter marries.  The average man owns between 309 and 40 cows.  In order to marry, he needs 60 cows to give to his wife’s family.

A Suri girl with her ear discs and scarring
Suri men traditionally shave their foreheads clean
The haunting beauty of Nagudo