The day I met the Mursi tribe in Ethiopia

Rose Anette Briceño

@Rose_Anette

1989. Escritora, redactora, guionista, poeta y pintora. Licenciada en Ciencias de la Educación, mención Lengua y Literatura Hispanoamericana y Española.

Apr 27, 2018 Chapter 1

After hours and hours on a dusty and hot road, from the road we could see a settlement of huts and curious structures of a small Mursi town.

For a long time, I had the incessant curiosity to know this famous African tribe, a mandatory reference when talking about the most fascinating cultures on the planet. It was in the year 97, I was a young anthropology student who wasn’t satisfied with reading thick books and looking at distant photographs. I needed to know by my own hand, although I didn’t know what to expect most of the time.

I could write a whole book just to explain how I was able to get to Ethiopia, but for now I would like to focus on the true setback: reality destroying my expectations, which, as I said, I don’t even remember what they were.

The driver of the Jeep who made our transfer to the area where the Mursi were, told me that I should "take off my brassiere to meet them". I was the only woman in the group of tourists and the "recommendation" of this subject seemed out of place and quite uncomfortable, in no way I would. I gave him a withering look and continued looking out the window, ignoring everything he said...

I don’t know why I thought the Mursi would act like a cat when they saw us, watching from afar and approaching with curiosity, little by little. Instead, they approached me and began to take my wrists, to touch my neck, my back, as if looking for something. Suddenly, they squeezed my hands to take off my watch, broke the necklace of the medallion that was so proud on my neck and a man Mursi began to pull the clasp of my brassiere aggressively until he managed to get it out.

Once loose, began to pull and in a second, I was semi-naked in the middle of all those people. And I say "semi-naked" because the cotton blouse that I wore that morning to cope with the intense heat was quite transparent, I'm sure everyone could see my asymmetrical nipples.

Embarrassed, I tried to decipher what had happened and saw the man Mursi, evidently happy to have obtained my brassiere, stretched it and looked at it with fascination. Suddenly, he tied it in his head and his happiness at that point seemed overflowing. I was stunned.

The other Mursi, they fought and pushed to keep my watch and the expensive medallion that had been taken from me. Suddenly I looked at the driver of the Jeep and he made me a gesture saying, "This is so, I told you so." I felt much more ashamed and stupid.

To cope with the moment, I decided to take some pictures of the place. Then other Mursi approached me to ask me to photograph them, or that was what I could understand. This time, the Jeep driver told me: "after taking the picture, you have to pay, I hope you brought enough Birr".

Indeed. As soon as I took the photo the Mursi charged me, pushing me, pointing at me with a spear. In fact, I had to take as many as 12 pictures and pay for all of them so that they would be satisfied and leave.

I'm out of money.

We would have just 45 minutes in that place when the driver called us because it was time to return.

—"It's almost noon, come on, soon! You don’t want to stay here when the Mursi are drunk! —He exclaimed.

Then he came back to me and said: "With the money they charged you, they could get drunk three days in a row."

That was it. Disappointed, in debt and confused, I returned to my strange country. And I told everyone that it had been fascinating, the best experience of my life, the most rewarding.

I will hold that version until the day of my death.

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In a heartbeat, the short film that surprised everyone

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