The sky is packed with rain while we move along the dirt track that leads to the neighbor Sudan. North of Blue Nile, Let's go to the Gumuz encounter, a nilotic tribe to which the own Ethiopia, of which is part, Look with suspicion and call "Shangallas" (Blacks in Amárico). That suspicion, course, It is reciprocal.
For centuries, the rases (old Ethiopian war lords) They were supplied with slaves in these lands, paying the eternal distrust of the gumuz in front of his compatriots of the Altiplano, led by amara (the dominant ethnic group in the country), to those who refer as "red" (for your skin clearer).
The sky is packed with rain while we move along the dirt track that leads to the neighbor Sudan
Who drives the ranchera is, likely, one of the most knowledgeable of the Gumuz. Juan González Núñez, Combonian missionary, He has dedicated most of his life to Ethiopia and the passion with which he always talks about this town and his unknown history was what had brought me here, to dispear the most tourist routes and at the price of having to give up the enigmatic Harare due to time.
To Be and Joni, The driver and the Ethiopian guide that accompanies us, It is also the first time. When in Injibara we leave the main road that leads to Bahar Dar, A Tropic Retazo on the banks of the Lago Tana, To enter Gumuz land, They were uncomfortable, resigned to fulfilling the incomprehensible whim of the strange couple of Spanish clients.
Some local travel agencies "refuse to go beyond Chagni", The last city amara on the map
They were aware that they ventured in hostile territory, because the ethnic groups of the highlands look at the Gumuz as "primitive people who kill each other and who murder those who venture through their lands", As the combonian affirms in one of his lucid articles about this tribe published in the magazine "World Negro". The missionary already recorded that some local travel agencies "refuse to pass beyond Chagni«, The last city amara on the map. We had left Chagni behind a good time.
Precisely shortly before arriving in Chagni we have had to stop dry due to a mechanical breakdown in a small village that maps ignore. We soon became tourist attraction, surrounded by locals that scrutinize us without dissimulation and whisper confidences about the appearance and behavior of the two Faranji (Term in Amárico with which Ethiopians refer to foreigners).
We become tourist attraction, surrounded by locals who scrutinize us without dissimulation and whisper confidences
One would bet your whole life that in a place like this it is impossible to find the English key we need to repair the fault in the front suspension. But a good time, Someone arrives with the English key in hand. In Africa, patiently, Often almost everything ends up solving. You just have to learn to part with the presura that attaches us in everyday life.
And Gilgel Beles, where is the main combonian mission in this region, I have met again with Father Juan more than ten years later. Andu and Joni have turned around. They want to go back where we have come to sleep in Batha, only 40 minutes by Chagni car, As if there were an evacuation alert and wanted to place themselves as close to the emergency exit. The missionary insists that they have better accommodations in Gilgel Beles, But his words do not seem to reassure them too much.
The teenager looks on her cheeks the traditional scarifications. His gaze seems about to fall
We address Cooker, where the combony have launched a small mission among the gumuz. We have to hurry because we must go back to Gilel Beles to sleep before last night and, if possible, Before the sky starts in two on our heads. Way, We stop in a town of a dozen huts that now only wore a few goats and chickens. On one side there is a humble chapel raised by the combony. There are only women and children. Men have not yet returned from the field, of his sorghum and millet crops. Abba Johannes (how the Gumuz know the missionary) Ask for permission to travel the place to a woman who will not have more than 18 years, And already load with a baby behind the back, While three little girls upset around. Like all the women of their tribe, It will have given birth alone from the village, Not to bring misadventure to the family with his blood.
The teenager looks on her cheeks the traditional scarifications. His gaze seems about to fall, As if someone had emptied it inside, Maybe the life that has had to live. Walk to our side with his little back as a poaching shadow that resists fading. Is, perhaps, the metaphor of a town that the voracity of the dominant tribes first, and the crazy policy of peasant resettlements promoted by Mengistu later, They have expelled from the best lands in the Altiplano, pushing them towards the most arid. They have no reason, course, To receive a stranger with a smile.
The Gumuz have been expelled from the best lands in the Altiplano, pushing them towards the most arid
We continue route. As the kilometers occur, The back of the ranchera is filled with people that the missionary collects to bring their homes, With its tools, His woods of firewood and his kalashnikov in tow. Until there comes a time when no one else can. Yet, Abba Johannes stops every time they sign up and ends up giving up the most of the time.
In the detour that leads to Manbuk, A little girl greets effusively to the missionary. «¡, here!», shout in their language. His smiles arrive before his malvestite bodies and bare feet. We start up on ground. As is usually the case in Africa, From nothing begins to sprout little by little people who come to greet the combonian, A ritual that extends as ceremony questions happen.
As the kilometers occur, The back of the ranchera is filled with people
Llovizna when we finally arrive in Gublak. It has cost us an hour and a half tour the 50 kilometers that separate her from Gilgel Beles. To the border with Sudan less than a hundred are left. It's four in the afternoon and it should not be delayed to return (We barely have a couple of hours of light), But before we visit the humble combonian abode (Today a mission that is already taking body). Two amara girls loaded with two ten -liter drums of water approach us and give us their smiles overflowing with curiosity..
Back to Gilgel Beles's mission, Where will we spend the night, The story is repeated and the ranchera is going to be crowded with spontaneous to which Father Juan does not know how to say, Including a group of partisans who have followed for days the trail of a band of road assaulters. All very reassuring. Ya en Manbuk, The leader insists that we accompany his home to invite us to coffee and thank us for kindness. But there is no time and we must continue, Even if it is difficult for him to understand.
The waters of Beles fall very murky, As if our presence had disliked mise-guy, The spirit of the river
The waters of Beles fall very murky, muddled, as if our presence had disliked Mise-guichachacha, The spirit of the river. To protect yourself from your anger, Father Juan tells, The gumuz get their side get wet before crossing it, especially at night. The shadows have already fallen on the Gumuz Earth, But we don't have time to stop to meet the ritual. Mise-guichachacha, this time, It turns a blind eye.
This story is part of the book «Journey to the sources of the Blue Nile», of Ricardo Coarasa (Editorial Mundo Black, 2013)
