This ebook is probably the most comprehensive one that I’ve written yet. I tried to touch on everything that is relevant to using natural light in photography, from the mind-set we need to be in while exposing the frames, to understanding various types of light, to knowing what role post-processing plays, as far as light is related to the creation of a strong photograph.

In short, I think it is the latest, greatest, most mature thing I’ve written, illustrated with some of the best photos I’ve taken, and it is beneficial for almost every photographer. How’s that for a sales-pitch?

For more please go to the Sales Page on Digital Photography School’s Website. I always enjoy working with those folks and this one has been a pleasure too.

The fascinating cultures, the breathtaking landscapes, the ever present feeling that you are in a different time, a different dimension—this is what I absolutely love about Ethiopia. The constant feeling of being a human piggy-bank, the challenges of doing the simplest of things, the often occurring feeling that your new “friends” are measuring you up to see what they can extract from you—this is what I’ve come to hate beyond words about the country.

I’ve been in Ethiopia for a bit over four months now. I know that many of the readers of this blog are photographers and travelers, some of whom have aspirations to come here. For this reason, I feel that I should write an account of sorts. One that is fairly uncensored and touches on the good, the not so good and the plain ugly sides of this incredible and incredibly challenging country.

Ethiopia has a lot of potential, but, I am yet to meet a single independent traveler who says that they’ve fallen in love with it. Perhaps one of the more defining comments about independent travelers’ experience here comes from two Australians who have cycled through much of the country. “Never have we been treated as such pieces of sh-t as we have in Ethiopia.” This is what they wrote in an email to me after we parted and they left Ethiopia. Another traveler on two wheels, a brave solo female motorcyclist who rode through half of the world to get here was so frustrated and disappointed with Ethiopia that she breezed through much of it and left within a couple of weeks.

Anyway, the point is – everyone I’ve met who had to deal with the everyday realities of being a foreign traveler in Ethiopia hasn’t liked it. Most don’t want to ever return. Organized tours are a different matter. These usually shield you off from those harsh realities as much as possible. Participants of such tours may very well come home with the illusion that all is well and jolly in the “cradle of civilization.”

I could go on and on about the frustrations, but I’ll be more practical instead. Below is a quick report on the places I’ve visited. I’d like to end on a positive note, so I’ll get the places I didn’t enjoy out of the way first. The ones I did enjoy are towards the bottom of the post.

Gondar and its surroundings (totally freakin hated)

If there’s one place I never ever want to come back to it’s Gondar and most of the area that stretches as far as 120 km West of it. One of the major problems with Ethiopia is that many of the not-so-well-off locals ask for money as soon as they see a foreign face. The problem reaches a whole new level around Gondar, here people don’t ask for money, they demand it. When they spot a foreigner, a lot of the children and even adults just stretch out their hands saying “Money, money!” or “You, you, Bir, Bir!” I am sure I’ll have many horrifying flashbacks with this damn phrase. Thank you Gondar for the memories, if I ever want to play a very cruel joke on someone, I’ll recommend this town as a great holiday destination.

Geralta Area (loved the churches, hated virtually all interaction with the locals)

It baffles me how an area that has as much to offer as Geralta can be as annoying and as frustrating as it is. The rock-churches here are nothing short of amazing, but the residents almost everywhere we went made sure that whatever magical experiences we had were tarnished in one way or another, usually in multiple ways.

There were bad experiences – the greed and thirst for Bir of the priests at virtually every church we visited was incredible, but the lowest point came on the way to one of the more remote churches. Somehow, among the scam artists and the cheaters we found a wonderful young man named Kinfe. He came with us on a mini-adventure to that remote church. He was convinced that the people of the area were all lovely and couldn’t believe all the troubles we had. A couple of hours later, when we found ourselves walking to the church, accompanied by about thirty money-demanding children, who threatened to throw stones at us, if we wouldn’t meet their demands, Kinfe said “These are not people, they’re savages! I don’t feel secure, let’s leave!” What can I say – lovely.

The one saving grace of interaction with the locals in Geralta was an afternoon with Kinfe’s family. Lovely, lovely folks. That’s a photo from that afternoon above.

The entire road to Lalibela (disliked, considerably)

This is where our journey began and it quickly became apparent that traveling around Ethiopia would not be a walk in the park. Every rest stop along the road was accompanied by children and whoever was nearby, running at us asking for money, shoes, t-shirts or whatever else they could think of. The “highlight” of the journey was an instance when Tanya and I lied down to relax under some trees, only to have a bunch of kids nagging constantly over a period of twenty minutes, asking us to give them whatever we had.

The Simien Mountains and the town Debark (indifferent)

I can’t really say I liked or disliked the Simien Mountains. It was fascinating to see the Gelada baboons so up close and the scenery was nice (though it’s just as nice in other, easier to travel places). It was however frustrating that I couldn’t ride around the park without the mandatory scout (just a dude with a gun). This limited what I could do, since three people on a bike doesn’t leave much space for camping gear.

Even more frustrating was the national park management’s (almost the whole area is a national park) lack of care about my request to head out into the mountains and do some home-stays with local families. “The homes of the locals are not equipped with tourist facilities” this was their excuse for saying that I couldn’t do it. I’ve slept on goat skins, so that’s not an issue and of course had I been more set on getting out there, I would have found a way, but with all the obstacles and more places to see – why bother? It’s just a pity that from all the tourist money which changes hands in the Simien Mountains, the mountain residents see one big “Zero” as a result of the management’s approach.

Danakil depression (it was fascinating, but perhaps more frustrating than fascinating)

The main annoyances about the trip to Danakil were the ridiculous restrictions and regulations introduced by the local government, to make some money off foreign visitors. Mandatory armed guards (all of which had to be paid) and a local guide (almost entirely useless) meant that we could not ride our motorcycles here. We needed to hire a 4X4 car, which would fit everyone in. Not only was this expensive, but the driver of the car turned out to be the worst person I ever met in my life, no exaggerations.

We paid a lot of the money up front, believing he was nice. I guess we softened a little after spending a few days in the lovely town of Mekele. With this being his first trip to the Danakil, the driver didn’t know what to expect. After seeing the rough roads, he resisted taking us virtually anywhere we wanted to go. Not only that, the man would have left us in the middle of the salt desert, had it not been for the mandatory guards, whose only usefulness was the fact that they took away the driver’s keys and locked him out of his own car, while we walked around and took photos.

Most of the locals living in the villages we’d stayed at in Danakil were not exactly saints either, but in comparison to our driver, they did at least seem very human.

Harar and Dire Dawa (kinda liked, but not as much as I expected after all the praise)

Harar is a fascinating and incredibly photogenic town as are parts of Dire Dawa, but having been to cities in India that remind me of these two, I can’t say that I was blown away. A big reason for my lesser level of excitement is also the attitude of the locals (more so local women) towards being photographed. I understand that no one owes me anything and that no one has to be in my photos, if they don’t want to, but, that doesn’t mean that I can’t like the place less, when people go out of their way to ruin a shot where they are only a small component within a frame. A little tough to explain that concept, I guess.

Gunda Gunde and its surroundings (liked)

Although Adigrat, the gateway to Gunda Gunde lies along the main tourist route often called the “Historical Circuit,” but, Adigrat has for some reason been spared from all the crap that tourism usually brings. The people are decent and helpful – no cheating, no begging. The whole road to the jumping off point for the trek to the remote Gunda Gunde monastery is filled with children who simply wave and smile as you ride past them. Things are much the same during the hike, though some of the more cunning villagers did show signs of wanting to make a quick buck from the visitors. The monastery itself was not as fascinating as I had expected, but being among genuine, hospitable people more than made up for it.

The Omo Valley (liked)

For me the Omo Valley was surprisingly hassle-free. This, however, might be because I saw relatively little of it, or perhaps my expectations had completely hit rock bottom by the time I got there. Regardless, the Omo Valley is nothing short of amazing, especially when you’re riding through the African bush and seeing tribal folks along the roads (if you can call them roads) that belong in a Nat Geo documentary.

My time with the Hamer tribe was one of the highlights of the journey. Unfortunately it does seem like they have been indoctrinated with the idea that every click of the camera should result in money and despite paying for a home-stay, a few of my female photographic subjects did request Bir, when I hung around with the camera for extended periods of time. A funny, regular occurrence though was the fact that just after being somewhat pissed off about not getting paid for being photographed so many times, the women would completely switch moods bursting into laughter or inviting me in for food. See the post on the Hamer tribe HERE.

Lalibela (loved, but depends when you go there)

Lalibela is magical. It might be my favorite place in the world, as far as religious centers go. I was there during Ethiopian Orthodox Christmas. Having been surrounded by all those incredible churches and rural folk who looked the way I imagined people looked during biblical times – I felt like I was back in time. You can see the post on Lalibela HERE.

I stayed in Lalibela after the celebrations too and outside of those times it is a different town. There are more tourists than pilgrims, and money hungry, scheming locals are attracted to the tourists like, pardon the comparison, flies to you know what.

Abi Adi and West Tigray (liked a lot)

I first started to feel that things were changing in a positive way when we arrived in the town of Abi Adi. While looking for a hotel, we came across many children, not a single request for Bir, pens or whatever other crap. The folks at the churches still had their minds set on charging the standard “entrance fees” and hoping for a tip for doing some pretty small things, but, there was no real hassle.

Some of my favorite moments of the journey came in this area too. A visit to an elderly leather-worker’s house that felt like a trip to a real-life museum, as well as a crazy ride through some of the worst roads I’d ever been on, that one ended up in a climb to a monastery, up a vertical cliff face with the assistance of small footholds and a chain.

Enderta area in Tigray (absolutely loved it)

This is the only area where I got close to falling in love with Ethiopia, perhaps even did, for a while. I didn’t hear requests for money or anything else throughout my entire stay,which was close to a month, and this almost made me forget all the bullsh–t I encountered before. The people of Enderta are proud, genuinely hospitable and just lovely. They’re some of my favorite people in the world. It didn’t hurt that they were incredibly photogenic too.

We stayed overnight in a few villages and visited quite a few more on day trips. No matter what happened before or after, Enderta will remain a place that is dear to my heart. You can check out my blog post from a few weeks back, if you’re interested to read and see more about the area.

Conclusion

That’s about it for my report. Writing it was somewhat cathartic. I’m sorry if I’ve sounded too negative at times, but this blog, besides being a resource for like-minded people is also a sort of a diary for myself. I want to remember my impressions of Ethiopia and the blog post will help.

I probably don’t have much more time in the country. My wife has already left for Belarus and I’m hanging around until I make a decision on where I go next. The big question that I have been asking myself and that others might want an answer to is “Will I ever come back to Ethiopia?”

There are still places that I really want to see and I feel like my trip to the amazing Omo Valley was unfinished. On the other hand, I feel like I need to be a bit of a masochist to go through all the crap again. At this stage I’ve honestly got no idea whatsoever if I would come back here on my own accord. Time will tell.

In today’s world of technology and modernization it doesn’t make sense that there’s a place which lives virtually oblivious to that world. A place where ancient customs are still upheld strictly and where people walk around half-naked, with the little clothes that they wear being mostly those, which they designed hundreds of years ago. A place like that does exist and it’s called the Omo Valley. I had the opportunity to visit the area and to have a glimpse into the lives of the Hamer people by spending a few days in their village.

The Omo Valley is home to close to 20 tribes, a lot of whom live in what seems to be a different dimension to most who are reading this blog post on their computers. What amazed me was that they don’t dress up in traditional attire and don’t do their customs for the tourist dollar, they do it because they don’t know how life could be lived otherwise. Riding through the African bush and seeing the half-naked locals along the roads, with sometimes beautiful decorations in their hair, on their arms or legs can only be described as surreal. It’s like I was in one of those National Geographic documentaries, which were what actually made me want to travel.

Despite the Omo Valley being an amazing place I was really concerned about coming here, because, to be honest, it doesn’t have the best reputation. Many travelers have called it a “circus” or even worse, a “human zoo.” A standard tour to the Omo includes visits to villages where locals put on their fanciest decorations for the tourists and count every click of the camera shutter, demanding monetary compensation for each. This is not what I wanted to see, and thankfully, I haven’t. The closest I came to that kind of atmosphere was a visit to one of the tribal markets. I tried to photograph some women from up close – they didn’t like it and demanded money. I tried two more times with different people and got the same response – point taken, time to move on.

What we decided to do was a sort of a home-stay in one of the smaller villages not far from the small town of Turmi, with one of the local guides. This would give me the opportunity to get the kinds of photos I wanted – not the posing smiling children or disinterested adults during one of the tour-group visits. It wasn’t all perfect, but in general, I have nothing but positive things to say about the Hamer. To a Westerner, they can come across as somewhat child-like – curious, moody, excitable and sometimes cunning, in a child-like way, but at the same time genuine and affectionate.

Every morning in the village would begin with coffee. The coffee in Hamer land is different to coffee in the rest of Ethiopia. It’s made from coffee bean shells and tastes a little like kava – the Vanuatu drink with “relaxing” qualities. Those who have tried kava know that it tastes awful and the only reason people drink it is to get high, different case here, the coffee is considered to have a good taste. After I told one of the local men about kava, he got really excited and wished that their coffee had the same kind of effect.

Once everyone has had their dose of coffee, the milking of the cows and goats begins. Cattle are everything to the Hamer and taking care of them involves the entire family. The teenage son’s are usually in charge of overlooking everything and the younger ones usually assist.

As I said, the whole family is involved in taking care of the animals. The little ones help drive the goats out of the family compound, but the adults call the shots.

Aike is a biy of about 17 (the Hamers don’t count their age.) He is in charge of overseeing that only the animals that need to go out for the day go. In this case, the little calf wanted to go with the goats and Aike had to catch it and put it back into its enclosure.

The standard procedure is that one of the older men will take one of the younger boys and will give him the instructions for the day – which route to take and so on. After the instructions are given, the boy is solely responsible for the family’s animals.

The women’s jobs mostly revolve around house-chores and pleasing their men. If they are mothers of new-borns, as Karri is, they stay inside the house, closely tending to the baby for about 40 days. The various rituals that the Hamer have in relation to babies are a human-rights activist’s nightmare. If a baby is born outside of marriage he/she is thrown away. If the baby’s first teeth come from the bottom – the baby is thrown away too. Rituals like these are a very sombre reminder that no matter how much we want to exoticize or romantisize the world’s tribes – there are some serious issues in some communities, which are outright insane for most of us from the so called civilized world.

The Hamer men can have up to three wives. It wasn’t clear to me whether they could have more, if they were rich enough, since the family of the girl must get quite a lot of cattle in return for their daughter. The decoration just under the chin of Karri signifies that she is her husband’s first wife – Yes, Hamer customs are a women’s right’s activists nightmare too.

Women and young children spend a lot of time indoors. This time together helps the children to develop stronger bonds with their mothers. For me the indoor situations provided some wonderful photographic opportunities, since I love photographing in this kind of diffused, directional light.

Once the more crucial tasks are finished, the women have some time to do something for themselves. Above one of the family’s younger women is fixing her belt. I was told that the decorative shells are actually brought from Djibouti (pretty far away) and the beads – from Kenya.

It was interesting that once their main house-chores were done, most women would start working on their goat-skin “dresses” or on beautifying themselves in some way.

Kradja is the name of this woman “kradja” means the cold breeze. The Hamer often give their children names in accordance to what happened at their time of their birth. If there was some important person around, they sometimes give the baby the same name as that person. That was the case with the man whose photo is at the top of the blog post. His name is Girma, which is not usual for Hamers and he was named that because an important Girma (probably a non-tribal Ethiopian) was around at the time of his birth.

The women don’t only stay at home all day. Occasionally they accompany their male relatives or husbands at the farms. During one of the days Kradja accompanied her brother-in-law. Her duty was to make coffee and to brew traditional alcohol and while that was happening, she sorted through the sorghum seeds.

The Hamer land can be struck by spells of drought. The last rainy season did not see much rain at all and the bullock almost forgot their job, not wanting to have the wooden plough attached to them.

Luckily for the Hamers, and not so luckily for us, the rains came when the rainy season was meant to be over. Rains mean life or death for people from traditional societies and the Hamer are no exception.

It’s fascinating that most of the things the Hamers use they make by themselves. Even the ropes which hold together the lough are made from local plants. Here one of the men is making that kind of rope.

A rainy afternoon brings everyone who remained in the village indoors. Above Aike is watching his younger and very mischievous brother Bali make a run for it.

I like to shoot in situations that others might not usually photograph in, so rainy weather was just fine to me. I was sitting just outside the house, under the roof while the rain was still drizzling when I heard the mother shout out to Aike. It probably meant something like “Aike, we have water – go and wash Orna (the little one)” The scene of Aike washing Orna was a moment of care and tenderness, which was a little surprising, considering that moments earlier the older brother had been absolutely torturing the little one in the way he played with him – picking him up, making him do backflips while holding him and then, dropping him, almost flat on his face.

Rainy weather equals more time indoors, which in turn equals more time to beautify yourself. The young lady on the left is a relative of Karri who came from another village to help her during the 40 days that she has to stay mostly indoors with the baby. With all the chores finished, she was making traditional arm-bands and trying them on.

Something I heard of and read about a lot before coming to Ethiopia are the ubiquitous guns. I actually didn’t see too many of them in the North and I only saw a gun inside one of the houses in the village (not really on the shoulders of most men.) The Hamer are one of the larger tribes in the Omo Valley and their neighbours are mostly their own brethren. If anyone messes with them, they basically realize that they will be outnumbered. Hence there is relative peace and the main reasons the Hamers use guns is for protecting themselves from wild animals when they go far from home to heard their cattle or, when they hunt.

If there are no rains, the rivers remain virtually dry. There was not much water in the village we stayed in. The cattle had to be taken to what appeared like nothing more than a puddle to have their daily dose of water.

There were more children in the second family compound that we stayed at than I could count. Most of them super cute and very mischievous. This little girl is called Lalo. Tanya and I nicknamed her Princess Lalo because, while being mischievous she also had this royal, graceful way about her. The little goat-skin cape you see is something she chose out of her “wardrobe” herself, right after waking up.

Another cute Hamer child. I never got her name, but she was probably the only one in the entire village who wasn’t even a bit mischievous. She just looked at us with these curious eyes, not knowing whether to run away or cry, or whether to come up and say hello.

I absolutely could not resist taking this photo. It pretty much sums up the role that the fathers have in the lives of the babies. I’m not saying they’re not affectionate, this father tried to console his daughter in various ways, but the little one was unconsolable once her mother was not around.

Gonko is the head of the family. He has two children so far – Lalo and the little one in the photo above. When I asked his approximate age, he said, let’s say I’m about 26, which of course is not even close. Gonko was one of the first folks I communicated with in the village and he was the one who I told about Vanuatu kava being like their coffee, but with a more “pleasant” effect. He was so inspired by this thought that he made his wife brew traditional drink for him a day later.

As I mentioned in the beginning of the post, most Hamers don’t wear much and when they do, it’s the stuff they’ve had since as long as they remember, which is pre-Made-in-China t-shirt era. The women’s dresses are usually made of goat-skin, but when the Hamer go to more (only slightly more) modern villages and interact with non-tribal Ethiopians, it is common to see them in t-shirts, still with all the traditional stuff on top, but with t-shirts nevertheless.

The men’s (young and old) outfits usually consist of a simple, colorful cloth, some necklaces, arm-bands, earrings and in some cases – some very fancy hairstyles.

Late in the afternoons the madness of bleating goats and running children begins again.

The goats have their enclosures where they stay when they aren’t feeding. This prevents anyone from straying away and getting eaten by a coyote.

The amount of goats that the Hamer families usually have tend to make quite a mess. The women regularly sweep the grounds of the family compound to keep things relatively clean.

Part of the evening activities includes the milking of the goats. The little containers the girl and the woman are holding will be more than sufficient for the milk which they gather, which means there’s not very much of it.

The milking procedure for cows is pretty standard. First the calf is brought to the mother to make the milk flow, then it is taken away. This one was putting up a bit of a fight.

This little dude kept following me around, wanting to have his photo taken, though not in a pushy way. That’s why I eventually gave in.

Goats are eaten on special occasions, or whenever anyone with enough money wants to buy one. It made me feel very sad to be responsible for the killing of this goat, but, we wanted to make a good gesture to our hosts and to create a good impression on the villagers by sharing the meal. Whether the plan worked or not is hard to say, but the meat did taste very good.

The Hamer men drink blood from the animals they slaughter. Here Ibo, the chief’s son is stirring the blood and getting read of all the hard clots. Yes, I did drink the blood and no, it’s not something I want to do again.

Goat barbecue - Hamer style. Ibo is the village expert at cooking goat. I can attest to the fact that the man knows what he’s doing. The meat was a little chewy, but fried just the right amount.

When not eating barbecued goats, the Hamer women prepare meals inside their huts with no modern light systems, just the light from the fire.

Night-time arrives. Right from the first evening, when we arrived in the village I felt that the huts with fire inside would make for a great photo opportunity, so, I made it happen with the help of a tripod and a remote timer.

I’m very thankful for my time with the Hamers. It is incredible to have had an opportunity such as this one. I was planning on having visits like this for at least half a month, but I am now not sure if it’ll be possible, thanks to a guide that was meant to take me around the area. The dude has gone AWOL with a LOT of my money, and I guess this is another reminder of why Ethiopia is such a challenging place to travel. I’ve learnt to take things for what they are and to make the most of my photographic opportunities, no matter what the outside circumstances may be. However, this is hardly an ideal way to work, the stress is further wearing me down and on top of that, it seems that the delayed rains have come. They will make the dirt roads into mud roads and will become virtually impassible on a motorbike.

Despite all the negatives it seems to me that the Omo Valley is still a very, very special region. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen a place quite like it. It’s a different world, you feel even more like you’re back in time then anywhere else in Ethiopia. I also don’t think that the tribes will transform and modernize quite as quickly as some predict, for this reason I hope that perhaps, even if I don’t see much more here on this trip, I will still be able to see these things if I come back in the future.

When you drink four chocolate milkshakes at a Western cafe, when you would rather chat to other travelers than take photos, when you arrive at a camel market, but don’t care about shooting anything and just want to catch up on sleep—that’s when you know you’re getting tired, getting close to burning out.

Maybe it’s the long motorbike journeys, maybe it’s the fact that I have left my “sanctuary”, the area around Mekele, or maybe, it’s just because I’ve been in this country for pretty long. Whatever it is – I am indeed pretty damn tired. But, I ain’t ready to stop just yet.

The last leg of this adventure is a trip to the South, to the sometimes infamous Lower Omo Valley. I’ve heard from a few people that it might be incredibly disappointing, but heck, it might, just might turn out to be amazing and if that is the case, well, then I gotta see it for myself.

The photos in this post are a very brief overview of where we’ve been over the past couple of weeks.

The first journey after our trip to Enderta was into the mountains of the very far North Ethiopia, bordering Eritrea. We spent the night in a mountain village. The views weren’t too bad.

The night-halt was in the stone house in the image above. A cosy and atmospheric little place. The only problem—bed bugs! The tiny monsters didn’t let us sleep all night and the hike the next day was very demanding.

The path through the mountains is that little line in the bottom-right corner of the image above. This was the easy part. The hard part was the ridiculously steep walk down and then up, on the way back.

The final destination was the ancient monastery called Gunda Gundeh. It wasn’t anywhere nearly as photogenic as I had hoped, but that’s only because my hopes were set very high. The morning after the walk we noticed women lined up outside the church. The combination of the rock church, the warm candle light flickering from inside and the women made for an interesting scene.

Monks inside the church during morning mass.

After leaving Tigray we almost immediately traveled to the far Eastern Ethiopian town of Harar. Harar is a street photographer’s dream. The only problem is that most women are really fed up with photographers. My solution was to take the camera put up to my eye, stand there and be clearly seen as a photographer by everybody on the street. The shy or angry ones would avoid me, the ones who didn’t mind or didn’t notice would walk into my frame. Since this isn’t portrait photography and you can’t really make out the faces of the people I didn’t have any moral dilemmas with having those who didn’t know they were being photographed in my shots.

Harar is full of little alleys and at times there are beautiful photos to be made, when the circumstances align. This young lady saw me with my camera and thankfully she wasn’t against having her photo taken hence not ruining my image by putting her scarf over her head as so many other women do.

One of the main streets of the Old Town has views to the main Mosque. I felt that an image with the minaret in the background was very telling of Harar and that’s why I hung around for some time.

Harar’s Old Town is not too different from old towns in Rajasthan, India. There is a sewing street, colorful vegetable markets and many fascinating characters just hanging around. It’s the kind of place where you just have to get lost to see what you can discover around the next corner.

Harar is known for being a colorful place and indeed if you want to photograph colorful scenes the place won’t dissapoint.

In a section of the market in Old Town women sell firewood. These women don’t reside in Harar and for this reason they’re quite ok with having their photos taken. I guess they haven’t felt the photo overload from the visitors, yet.

By one of the city gates in Harar there always seems to be burning rubbish in the mornings. Smoke and rays of the rising sun equal to something special in my books and so I just had to stick around and make some photographs.

Same place – different scenario – still pretty magical combination of light and smoke.

Having come so far East we decided to explore some of the neighboring towns so, we went to Dire Dawa, considered Ethiopia’s second city. New Dire Dawa is about as boring as a city can get, but the old part has a large, bustling market, full of color, characters and people who are in general much more inclined to having their photos taken then the folks at Harar.

This vegetable seller seemed to be feeling the heat of the day. I smiled, gestured if I could take her photo and she basically remained still. I smiled after the photo and she gave me a very slight smile back.

Dire Dawa, like Harar is full of color. You just have to pick your moments, walk the streets and awards will inevitably follow.

During the morning we found a camel selling section at the Dire Dawa market. There was a rather large herd who were just hanging around, until two herders started to direct them somewhere. Turns out the camels were headed for the train station where they would board a train to Djibouti and then a ship to the Arab Peninsula, where the locals say the camels are actually eaten.

Lots of camel legs heading for the train station.

This is the only image I got at Babile’s camel market. Heat and lack of inspiration were my obstacles. It is on that day that I knew I needed to get some R&R before the next adventure.

I write this blog post from Arba Minch, a town in the South and the last developed place before the Omo Valley. The journey to here was surprisingly enjoyable and smooth, what happens after is possibly another story. There are already some complications with guides and agreements. I guess I have come to expect challenges in Ethiopia, but for some reason, I still do not want to leave this country, four months after I’ve been here.

Dramatic landscapes, kind, warm people and photographic inspiration at every corner – this was my romanticized vision of Ethiopia. Perhaps this vision was what made me all the more disappointed and emotionally deflated, when for over a month I came across more rudeness, dishonesty and overall strange treatment than anywhere else I had traveled. It took time and a lot of luck to meet the right people, to finally find the Ethiopia I dreamt of, but I have found it and, it is A-m-a-z-i-ng!  I’ll give you a bit of a background story to put things in perspective and then, to the photos.

Ethiopia, up to a bit more than a month ago was the most challenging country I’d traveled. For one simple reason – I stopped feeling human when interacting with most of the locals. When virtually every child on the street meets you with an outstretched hand and a demanding look, when every conversation leads to money that you should give – you start to feel a little weird, to say the least.

Then at the beginning of last month two things happened – we came to Mekele – a student town in the Northern Ethiopian province of Tigray and, we met Zemenfes – a young man who was to be my guide/translator, but has turned into a younger brother (who needs an occasional butt-kicking, but who’s always there for you). It’s funny how one’s fortunes can change so quickly, when you’re with the “right” people and in the “right” place.

As I was flying into Mekele after a quick trip to Addis (to renew my visa) I saw villages in the mountains, scattered far away from each other, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, nothing but occasional, barely visible dirt-tracks connecting them to the rest of the world. These villages, I realized were where the Ethiopia I was looking for was. Such places were where we ended up over the last few days. Whether they are indeed the heart of Ethiopia is of course questionable, but I certainly hope so. I hope that before all the money demands, all the overcharging on various transactions, all the dishonest guilt-tripping, those people were also “pure” – honest, full of dignity, just like the people I met recently.

Ok, enough of that, I’ll let the photos tell the rest of the story. Remember, you can always click on the image to see a larger version of it.

Our first trip with Zemenfes was to an area called Abi Adi – a fairly isolated region in South West Tigray. Churches, lots of them made of rock, are omnipresent throughout the region and there was a particularly awesome church called “Abba Yohani” that I wanted to see in this area. We did, first riding to it after sunset to see where it is located, then riding to it again at 4am, as that’s when the mass was held.

My new friend made a suggestion that we should gift the church a few candles, if we wanted to be seen as something more than regular tourists (not that more than a few come here every year). I of course love shooting in candle light, so he got no arguments from me. There’s light from a few little lamps here too, the candles are used less for lighting, more for ceremonial purposes. The priests did very much appreciate the gift and said that no other foreigners had ever gifted them culturally relevant things like that before.

It was refreshing not to have to deal with the crap that we dealt with in the more visited churches – a tip for the “key boy” a tip for the priest, a tip to take a breath – you get the point. Here, the folks were genuine, really into their faith and, they were hospitable and friendly. I could take photos wherever I wanted to, as long as I did it with respect for the ceremony.

I was told that there’s supposed to be a “green area” around all the churches, a mini-forest of sorts. While this isn’t really the case in the drier regions, there was a beautiful little patch of trees and bush that surrounded Abba Yohani and a neighbouring church, to which we went with the hopes of seeing a christening, but were too late.

The view of Abba Yohani church from the outside is pretty spectacular. When I first saw a photo similar to this one in the “Bradt Guidebook to Ethiopia”, I was pretty compelled to visit. To get the kind of photo that I wanted, I returned closer to sunset and waited for the sun to cast its orange light on the rock surface.

The news of a foreigner with a motorbike photographing the church spread quickly. A priest who we had met, but not really seen the previous night turned up to greet me and Zemenfes. He was pretty photogenic and very willing to be in the photo, so, I said – why not?

Of course the area is not all about churches. After photographing in and around Abba Yohani, we had a special day with Wurko – a young shepherd boy we met along the road (the dusty one). He turned out to be a wonderful fellow. Even children are hospitable in this area. Wurko offered us beans from his family’s garden and showed us around his village.

One of the coolest things Wurko showed us was the family tree house. It was the place where guests slept and it was here that he spent most of his time when the crops needed to be guarded from birds and other “pests”. In this image Wurko is pointing out an escaped cow to the kids below.

After our time with Wurko, Zemenfes and I decided to just keep riding along the road, to see where it takes us. A few kilometers later we came across a very traditional looking house. I wanted to check it out. Inside we found an elderly man, aged close to 90. He was a leather worker and used to be relatively rich in his youth. His abilities and the demand for leather is no longer the same, but he does still work. Here he is making a baby harness, for which there is still some demand in the areas that are deep in the countryside.

We asked the man if we can see around the house and we soon came across his daughter in law and her child. As you can see, the traditional houses are built of stone.

The woman went into the house to breast-feed her child. It took me a little by surprise (coming from the “west”) that there was no shyness about the process, none of the stigma that I might have expected from a conservative society, especially when taking a photo. It was just a natural, human process – a mother doing what a mother is supposed to do – breast feed her child.

I had really wanted to see inside the traditional kitchen and we asked if the woman was planning to cook anything. She wasn’t, but being incredibly hospitable she cooked some dried beans, which are a common snack around the area, and fed them to us.

There’s plenty of beauty and drama in the landscapes around Abi Adi, one just has to get on a motorcycle (or into a car) and explore. This is exactly what I did closer to sunset.

Just a few hundred meters from the landscape in the photo before this one I found this scene, which is very common around rural Ethiopia. It is estimated that Ethiopia has millions of donkeys and their jobs vary from carrying water containers from the well or a waterpump, to carrying less mobile people up hills.

Mosei (Moses) is a priest, but not just a regular priest. He is one of very few people in his area who can write holy texts for the mass. The texts are not written on paper, but rather on goat skin because it can last “forever” as Mosei says. We met him just before we were about to leave Abi Adi. I’m sure there are plenty more fascinating subjects in the area. Perhaps another time I will explore them too.

In an area South of the city of Mekele, we traveled along a ridiculously bad roads towards an isolated monastery in the mountains. There we met a nun who’s name translated to mean something like “The daughter of a thousand” or in other words someone who everyone wants to have as their daughter. Like many folks who end up at monasteries, she had a sad story. Her husband and children are all dead, she didn’t want to talk about the details. I asked whether she found some inner peace away from the the “real” world in the monastery – “Yes. I am at peace now.” Was her reply.

One of my plans was to photograph exorcism in a remote mountain village in an area called “Inderta” (around Mekele). To get to the village, we’d need to leave the motorbikes (now there are two) in another village next to what can vaguely be described as a road, and hike up into the mountains with a donkey. Because Ethiopians are quite fond of everything beaurocratic, we also needed a paper that basically said “These guys are ok, please assist them” from the head of all the villages in the district.

We found the head of the district who, like most people in Inderta, turned out to be incredibly helpful and hospitable. The only problem was that is was late in the day and ended up having to stay at his home. This is a photo of his wife and daughter preparing stew. The seldom used flash in a softbox was placed off camera to help me light this shot.

With the letter in hand we went to the “Exorcism village”, but, the “head exorcist” said it wasn’t good enough. No matter what letter we had, nor how much money we had, we weren’t allowed to even attend the exorcism and certainly not to photograph it. We needed to be Orthodox and while Tanya and I are actually Russian Orthodox by default, we aren’t exactly religious, hence, I felt it was pointless trying to convince the guy to let us do what we wanted.

While such an outcome was disappointing, I also admired the fact that the man stood by his principles and wasn’t solely interested in getting paid, as so many of his “colleagues” are in other parts of Tigray. Not wanting to return to the (lower) lands of Inderta just yet, we stayed a day and a half. I got to photograph in more traditional Ethiopian kitchens then I’d dreamt possible. This woman immediately invited us to her house for some bread and stew, just out of hospitality, because we were guests. The same act was repeated by numerous other families.

The “exorcism village” is known for being ridiculously windy and cold in the mornings. It’s beautiful, yet rugged and not the ideal place to live, if you like warmth.

As is the case with so many rural Ethiopian settlements, donkeys are used to bring water from the water pump. It appears that water is relatively scarce around this place because one of the water pumps was locked to a chain and only opened for special reasons.

There isn’t much greenery around most of Inderta, so coming to the mountains village was a bit like coming to a green oasis in the middle of the desert. With nothing but traditional houses and greenery, the place is incredibly photogenic.

Most of the life for the children around Inderta revolves around house chores. They help the parents feed the cattle, clean the house, get firewood etc. In this photo one sister passes on hay for the cattle to another.

It should come as no surprise that the financial situation on villages like this one is measured by the amount of cattle a household has. The cattle are a precious”commodity” and must be taken care of regularly.

There aren’t many places where you can still see mothers using traditional harnesses to transport their young ones. Inderta is one of those places.

As I mentioned, I visited my share of traditional Ethiopian kitchens. We were either fed or offered coffee for the duration of our stay. So much for my idea of losing weight by not eating much in the countryside. These folks just kept feeding us!

Another family met – another invitation for coffee. The interesting thing about this case was the grandmother. She used to be a merchant in Addis. When Zemenfes asked what she sold, another family member replied – contraband. She seemed like a pretty outgoing and very humorous woman and, kept wanted to marry off Zemenfes to one of her granddaughters.

We noticed that the parents of the area are particularly good with their children and I guess, as a result, the children are some of the best kids you can encounter anywhere in the world. They might be a little mischievous at times, but when a child of four offers you a piece of cloth to sit on so you don’t dirty your pants by seating on the groung, you know that the parents did something right.

It was a little sad to leave the “exorcism village” in the mountains, but our next stop would be the village of the district head, which seemed equally hospitable. As you can see, it’s not bad looking either.

We soon found out that foreigners or at least white foreigners (there are occasional Chinese road workers in Ethiopian countryside) had never visited either of the villages. The result – nearly the entire population gathers around and watches virtually your every move. This can play in your favour, if you’re a photographer, as a lot of potential “models” come to you without you having to look for them. That was exactly the case with this image.

Tigrayan woman collecting hay to feed her cattle. The whole region of Inderta is blessed with some very beautiful scenery.

Village children walking along the “street”. There’s no motorized transport in the village, nor is there electricity, nor running water. Regardless, people who live here are some of the happiest I’ve come across. I’d be oversimplifying the matter if I were to say that the poorest folks are the ones who are usually happiest, but it is often the case. Modern day amenities will come here one day and I’m sure that a lot of positive things will follow, but I am also almost sure that a lot of the innocence and the warmth will be gone when television arrives. A proper road may very well bring tourist vehicles with people throwing around candy, pens and whatever other crap and then, well, I’d like to hope that day is still far away.

Children in tourist areas run at you demanding things. Children in villages which had never been visited by foreigners approach you carefully. They’ve heard about you from their neighbours, but they still don’t know what to expect. Above is a typical scene – curious kids peeking through the door, to see what all the fuss is about.

It seemed that every house wanted to have us as guests and then at one of these houses, we learned that there would be a christening of a young boy the next day. We decided to ride back to Mekele for a few hours (to recharge batteries and dump all the images onto a harddrive) and come back for the evening and next day’s christening. A lot of injeras were to be cooked and in the image above children are collecting firewood to keep the cooking fire going.

The christening of a child is a BIG deal for Ethiopian Orthodox Christians. The mother gets her hair done before the big day, while feeding her soon-to-be christened son.

Preparations continue for the entire night, with different women taking turns at making the injera for dozens of guests who will come the next day.

It was a true privilege to hang out with the family and to be allowed to photograph them in various intimate aspects of their everyday lives. While we were having our very late dinner, one of the younger kids had a nightmare and had to be comforted by the mother.

Photographically, the problem with christenings is that they usually occur in a small part of the church, only large enough for a couple of people. Of course, these little rooms get crammed with more than a couple of people and this makes the photographic process all the more difficult. On the positive side of things, because we had already become friends with the family, it didn’t feel so awkward making my way through to get a better angle.

And so, the big moment comes. The baby is of course completely clueless and totally freaked out, but such is the tradition.

With a few splashes of the holy water, the baby is baptized and is now a christian. We were given the honour of naming the child. I wasn’t initially sure if they were for real, but it seemed that they were, as they kept referring to the boy as Samson – the name that we decided to give him.

I am now in Adigrat, backtracking a little along the road which I used to come to the Southern part of Tigray. I hear that there’s an amazing monastery which isn’t on the tourist map and that usually means – normal, decent people.

I can’t say how privileged and happy I feel to have had the opportunity to see this side of Ethiopia, after almost giving up on the thought that it even existed. It truly sucks that tourism can have such a negative impact on what are potentially some of the world’s most special places. All I can say is that I’m damn happy that I decided early on to get my motorcycle with the hopes of getting off the beaten track – tt’s paid off big time.

The climb takes around forty-five minutes and it is literally a climb using your hands and feet for the last part of the journey. Holes in the vertical rock surface are what you use to keep yourself from falling off and to get to the top. As The “Lonely Planet” guidebook says, if you’re scared of heights, “Don’t look down!” Having a panic attack or “freezing” here would not be a good idea.

The first reward of the tough climb is the fact that you can now stand on your two feet and relax. As you catch your breath and glance in almost any direction, the views of the other rock mountains and over the plains leave you breathless again.

Ok, so I didn’t find the climb as challenging as the famous guidebooks claimed it to be (Lonely Planet and Bradt). But it was definitely exhilarating. In the image above is one of the priests of the church, he stands on the ledge of what is the last part of the journey into the rock church of Abuna Yemata Guh. To the right side of the frame is a drop off of a good few hundred meters. On that rock wall to the left there was a snake when we first tried to enter. The two did not make for a good combination. Luckily we were accompanied by some locals, who seemed to have scared the snake away, though probably into the church.

The main reward of the climb is the church itself. The frescoes on the walls and ceilings are centuries old. There’s a certain kind of serenity that one feels in a place so isolated from most of the world. That serenity is soon destroyed by talks of tips to various members of the group of locals who are there with us, some invited, other not, but let’s keep things serene for this blog post.

I’m not much into frescoes or architecture on their own. My interest has been and still is in the human aspect of everything. I wanted to see the church come alive, so I asked the local guide to find out when they held services there.

It turned out that the next day the church would hold a small baptism ceremony for one baby. When would that be? The start – at 6 am, meaning we’d have to begin the climb in complete darkness at around 5 am (the sun only begins to rise midway through 6 am at this time of the year in Ethiopia).

The ceremony began with the head priest reading from the bible, then everyone else in the clergy followed. I took this image at 3200 ISO and 1/5S shutter speed, stabilizing myself against one of the church columns.

The young deacon is next up after the head priest. As those who read this blog regularly can imagine, the whole candle-lit side of things got me pretty excited. However, because there were only two candles lighting the whole church, I did have to keep the ISO at no lower than 3200. These are the moments I wish I had one of the newer Nikons with which you can shoot at 6400 ISO and still get usable images.

The praying goes on for some time. By the time it is interrupted, the sun is high enough to penetrate slightly into the church. The same young deacon from the previous image got a large cross and got dressed up for the second part of the ceremony. He asked if I wanted to take his photo and of course, I didn’t decline.

The actual baptism part wasn’t terribly exciting visually and the crammed cave where it was done limited my angles. Here a baby held by the young deacon is having holy water poured over her by a senior priest. This was done a few times. Then the baby was wrapped up into a towel, put on her grandmother’s back and went back to sleep.

After the pouring of water over the baby, the priests make the climb back into the church to say new prayers.

The family of the baby climb up to the church in order to join in the prayers too.

Priests and deacons pray inside when everyone returns. One of the more senior priests blesses everyone in the church with smoke.

The deacons reading from the holy book towards the end of the prayer.

I’m currently in a town called Mekele, the most pleasant of all the places that I’ve been to so far in Ethiopia. After some harsh times and endless encounters with incredibly annoying people, Mekele is refreshing – full of helpful, friendly folks not wanting anything from us other than to share a smile or to help us. I’ve even met a guide/translator/fixer who might be one of the best of such folks I’ve ever encountered on any of my journeys.

We went to a village in the mountains today which was rather amazing, if it’s a sign of things to come – I am excited! In fact I have a few very exciting plans for the near future. Stay tuned!

Experience a new place I did, though Gondar has quickly become one of my least favorite places in Ethiopia. It just ain’t pretty and it has the feel of a forever underdeveloped town rather, there isn’t the likeable rural vibe that Lalibela exuded.

In any case, I came here for Timkat and I somewhat foolishly paid in advance for a ridiculously overpriced room, so I figured I had to stay and witness this supposedly amazing event.

After I spent a few days in Gondar, it became apparent that I’d likely be in for a disappointment. A procession in a town with such ugly architecture, with so little character could not be very photogenic, simple as that. The most photogenic thing about it all were the priests and deacons, dressed in colorful garb. Whether that warrants  one to spend close to a couple of hundred dollars for three days in a mediocre hotel (that normally costs $10 per night) is something I’m not sure I’d be in favor of now.

You have likely caught on by now that I wasn’t crazy about Timkat in Gondar, however, that didn’t mean that the locals didn’t absolutely love everything about it. Lots of happy faces, cheering and clapping. Ethiopians love this sort of stuff and that’s great for them. At least the multitude of faces did provide some photo opportunities.

The only folks who weren’t noticeably crazy about the whole thing (besides the foreigners) were the kids involved in the procession. You can see that the dude above was getting a little bored and probably dehydrated, and this was taken just a couple of hours into the procession.

If the scene of the child hanging off a huge cross attached to a moving carnival-like float took place in the “developed” world, the organisers would probably be in big trouble for child abuse. The little dude (there are two actually) was tied to the cross, exposed to the scorching sun (likely not given water) for at least a few hours. The cross was spun around quite often and so, it really amazed my how these kids didn’t pass out or vomit during the procession. I guess ultimately it was an amusing sight and at these kinds of festivals that’s all that ultimately matters.

No, the above image isn’t from a riot, it’s from the celebrations of Timkat. The city soon became full with testosterone-induced boys and young men, who ran back and forth screaming out some sorts of war chants. Anyone that got in their way was pushed aside. One group even ran over a man in a wheel chair, though they did make the effort to “put him back together”. These war-like marches had a very aggressive, unpleasant feel to them and the agression occasionally spilt into fights between what might have been rivaling clans. Amazingly, I didn’t see any serious injuries, but I did see a young man get a pretty intense punch to the head today. This was another reminder that I wasn’t in the almost magical, spiritual Lalibela any more.

Crowd control at Timkat is very straight-forward and rather effective. You want to climb where you shouldn’t? You get smacked with a big stick! Surprisingly those getting smacked often chuckle and usually back off. The whole thing is unusually light-hearted. Though you may see that machine gun on the security/policeman’s shoulder, never once was a shot fired, at least not in my presence.

While the men and boys like running around shouting out war-cries at the top of their lungs and getting beaten with sticks for trying to jump the cue, the female participants take their pleasure in much more civilized activities – like singing and dancing. The main road of Gondar was filled with women and girls looking like they had reached nirvana through the power of music and dance.

The crowds all head to emperor Fasilidas’ baths, this is where the main ceremony would take place the next morning. Once the sun set, the crowds lit candles, some continued to dance and sing, some prayed or listened to the prayers. Those who follow me on Facebook, would have recently discovered my love for candle-lit images. I sure as heck wasn’t complaining when I saw this.

Some devotees remained at the baths, while others went home and came back again before sun-rise. Almost everyone came with a candle in hand, which made for the only moment during the event when the whole thing felt somewhat magical.

In the image above a woman is kissing the door-frame as is quite common at holy places in North Ethiopia.

I think my love for candle light comes from the fact that it makes some of the more mundane and uninteresting things look romantic and even a little mystical. Or maybe, it is because in the dark it’s easier not to see all the cheesy crap that surrounded this festival.

I noticed this wonderful scene of a girl standing  with her candle, reading prayers in the roots of a tree, right next to a door from which more and more devotees entered the compound. I hung around for a while, snapping off a few frames. This is one of them.

Having arrived quite early, I had the chance to shoot candle-lit scenes to my heart’s content.

Scenes like the one of the devotees lined up with their candles against the ancient wall of the emperor’s bath were one of very few moments when I felt a sense of not knowing what time period I was in.

Everyone waited for sunrise at the compound. When the sun would rise, the time for the blessing of the water would come and the devotees (those lucky enough) could jump into the huge swimming pool-like bath and in turn be blessed themselves.

The swimming begins! Initially dosens of devotees jump into the bath and then more follow.

Unfortunately, like many things during Timkat, the whole swimming part was pretty lame. Just a bunch of dudes frolicking in the water like children. I suppose I might have had a different opinion on this, if I took a dip myself. The water was supposedly clean enough, as the bath was newly filled over a few days before the festival. It was not to be however, as the crowd was much too dense and I was certainly not devoted enough to fight through to join in.

More water fun, from a different angle.

As I exited the bath area I came across devotees drumming devotional tunes, singing songs and dancing.

The dancing, the horn-tooting and the general excitement continues as I type. Timkat was followed by St. Michael’s day (today), which apart from the bathing thing is virtually like Timkat anyway, at least visually.

Now that the festivals are out of the way we will continue our journey at our own pace, without having to think “Oh, we have to be at such and such place by this date.” That is much more my style, to be honest. Just me and Tanya, on the bike. Free like birds, ready for new experiences.

Lalibela is Ethiopia’s answer to Jerusalem. In fact, it is often referred to as “The New Jerusalem” and it even has its’ own “Golgotha.” The legendary town is known for its’ incredible rock hewn churches. It is a place of elaborately dressed deacons and priests and a center for thousands of pilgrims who come during special occasions to recharge their “spiritual batteries.” Lalibela was one of the main reasons that I wanted to come to Ethiopia so badly. Thankfully, I wasn’t disappointed.

I won’t go into lengthy descriptions of the place, rather I’ll get right to the selection of photos I’ve come up with and will try to tell the story through them. What I will say is that the ride into Lalibela was spectacular and as the sealed road ended, the feeling of going back in time quickly started to take over. It surprises me that places like Lalibela and its’ surroundings still exist parallel to the world that most of us in the “West” live in. It goes without saying that I am more than thankful this is still the case.

One of the first things that struck me when I arrived at the first church (there are eleven) were the priests, deacons and the pilgrims, lining up or leaning against the walls and reading passages from the bible.

One could probably spend weeks just photographing all the characters that gather around the church to read the sacred texts in an almost trance-like state. I quite enjoyed photographing these folks and most of them didn’t seem to mind me much either.

The careless actions of tourists, such as giving out of money for photos has made for a rather annoying experience when some of the devotees beg for money after being photographed. Money in exchange for photography is a complex topic, which doesn’t necessarily have a right or wrong answer.

However, my opinion on the issue is firm and clear – I never give money for photos. Most of my work, particularly recently is documentary and I am not asking the subject to do anything they wouldn’t normally do. I certainly wasn’t asking the folks in these images to pose one way or another. A polite “no” and a smile was usually enough to make people understand my position. It seems that a few simply wanted to try their luck and weren’t persistent in their requests. Nagging children are another matter, but that’s a different topic altogether.

The first day I started shooting was January 4th. By next day, the crowds started to increase noticeably. People from all over the North of Ethiopia came to celebrate in Lalibela, the holiest of places.

Many of the pilgrims would enter churches with their arms stretched out and their palms facing the sky. I had previously only seen this amongst Muslims. This was just one of the small details. Pilgrims also kissed doorways and walls upon entering the church compounds, as well as bowed down in front of the sacred buildings.

The church interiors provided for some truly fascinating lighting scenarios. Here a group of pilgrims is being illuminated by light at the end of a tunnel, while waiting to be let into the compound of one of the churches.

As Chrismas neared, the services were impossible to get into, due to the crowds. I did manage to get into a couple and here’s the result of one of them.

There were many indications that a lot of the pilgrims had never seen a photo of themselves. That was the reason that quite a large number asked me to photograph them, just to see their image at the back of the camera. When I think of it now, I wish I took those photos more seriously and placed the subjects into more ideal lighting situations against less busy backgrounds, as was (naturally) the case here.

As the crowds grew, it became somewhat more difficult to shoot inside the churches due to lack of any room to operate. Here’s where are wide angle lens came in handy.

A lot of the pilgrims would simply gaze at the churches in awe, which is more than understandable. I was in awe too and I’ve seen many buildings during my travels, I can only imagine how impressive the churches must be to those who haven’t seen much more than mud huts and occasional ugly government buildings.

The pilgrims come from far and wide, from all over the North of Ethiopia. Some, like the man above come barefoot. Faith seems to be even stronger amongst those who have less. It was hard to get this shot, since it’s not a common thing to photograph someone’s feet. I also wanted the photo to represent a “real” moment, so I waited a couple of days near an ideal spot with the idea of getting an image of worn out feet.

A lot of people come with their own crosses. The reasons for pilgrimage vary. Some come to celebrate, some to mourn the death of a close one.

A lot of the pilgrims are overwhelmingly happy. Many groups dance and sing at virtually every church they reach.

Not unlike other religious places I’ve been to, things here ultimately seem to be about getting blessed (for the pilgrims) and collecting money (for the church). Here a priest waits to bless the next pilgrim just after he put his donation on the donation box.

When I was a child, I was Christened in a Russian Orthodox Church, which has many similarities to the Ethiopian one. Kissing of the cross is a familiar sight and there was certainly a  lot of cross kissing in Lalibela.

On the day of the celebration things really started to get intense. More and more people started to pour into the church from every imaginable entrance. The security had a tough job controlling the whole thing, but were surprisingly effective.

Going from church to church really becomes an effort. Thankfully crowds also mean lots of faces and lots of photographic opportunities.

There are quieter moments amidst the madness also. I noticed a child around the top of the church, near the window with the bell. He noticed me too and gladly cooperated with my photographic idea (I told him to move forward a little). Soon another person came and I had the image I wanted.

Another thing that soon becomes apparent in the churches of Lalibela is how much of a challenge it is to enter the churches. At times, the high stairs and dark tunnels seem like no less than an obstacle course. Things were even more difficult before. I’ve seen older images around the areas which now have wooden stairs. People used to have to climb ropes to get there.

It never ceases to amaze me how faith drives the elderly folks to visit some of the most hard to reach pilgrimage sites. This is something I’ve seen almost everywhere that I’ve traveled.

As the sun begins to set it starts beaming through some of the interiors, adding a sense of divinity to the whole place.

St George church, like some of the others was made from a single stone. It was the last of the churches in Lalibela that the king built and hence is considered to be the finest. It is the only church with a drainage system on the roof. My mandatory guide repeated a few times “You can appreciate how smart the king was to have built something like that so long ago.”

Pilgrims flocked to St George all day. Some prayed facing the church, others took rest while enjoying this architectural marvel.

While in Lalibela I stayed most of my days at an acquaintance’s place – a local house with no shower or toilet. It was a little rough, but nothing in comparison to the conditions the pilgrims lived. Most just slept outside, in the cold, under the open sky. The food was basic, mostly types of grains and beans.

The pilgrims set up a temporary village outside of the churches in Lalibela. I am not sure of the numbers, but I am certain they were in the tens of thousands.

It’s not only the churches, but the streets (if you can call them that) of Lalibela which provide great photo opportunities. With the constant flow of people one is never short of subjects. In the image above, I thought that the woman had a bit of a divine look to her (with the backlight) so I couldn’t resist making a few frames.

One thing that really stands out in Lalibela, even during such busy time of the year as Christmas is the lack of motorized traffic. Donkeys, mules and horses seem to be the go, if not them, then people carry goods using their own muscle power.

As the day of the final, big celebration approached, hundreds of pilgrims began making fuses for the candles, which were given out to everyone present at St Mary’s church during the big evening.

I took a few photos at the Baptism pool at St. Mary’s church. This was one wacky place. At first, I was told that infertile women came to take a dip in the holy water (very foul looking) so that they could conceive. Later I saw men coming here too and figured that perhaps they have the same issue. At one stage I saw a mentally ill boy thrown into the very same pool and figured that the water is believed to have powers to cure anything.

The sight of people being dipped in the pool is disturbing or funny, depending how you look at it. It appears that most of the folks entering the pool had no idea how to swim, so they made the most awkward of faces and desperately gasped for air. The crowd cheered on, occasionally breaking into laughter, when someone would make a particularly “funny” face.

During the eve of the celebration my acquaintance helped me get about as close as one could be to the “action”. The problem was that being so close didn’t actually allow me to show the scope of the celebration. I took a few photos of the deacons chatting as things were getting ready and moved on.

After some fairly monotonous chants the clergy would occasionally break into a more exciting rhythm, a priest would come out with candles in his hand, dramatic drumming and chanting ensued and continued as he walked around the church and blessed the devotees.

The whole church compound was full. It was hard to move anywhere. I ended up getting a spot on a rather small column. It provided me with great views from above, but was not the best place to sit. It seemed that I could only fit half a but-cheek onto it, especially every time after I got up to take a shot, as my local neighbour would “steal” some of my space. Nevertheless, it is in this place that I saw that Ethiopians are very accommodating and quiete hospitable, since the “neighbour” actually gave up half of the space for me in the first place.

The big deal about the ceremony for me visually, besides the procession was the lighting of candles, which was meant to be done by everybody simultaneously. Some people began lighting them early. I thought that was that, photographed it and went to sleep after a very exhausting evening. I was told later that the mass lighting of candles only happened around two hours after I left.

Even though I wasn’t there when everyone lit their candles their was still enough people doing so to make things visually interesting. People lit candles outside the church as well as everywhere in the vicinity.

The reason I wanted to go to sleep was so that I could have enough energy to photograph the events the next morning. Another procession was to take place. The clergy lined up along the top of the walls of the church compound, performed a ritual dance and showed the devotees some sacred icons.

As you can see from the image above, the crowds got rather insane by this stage. Again, I must note how accommodating the Ethiopians are towards foreigners. I managed to again get one of the best spots despite having left in the middle of the night

The deacons waited atop the wall for the procession to continue and that provided me with some chances to make photographs.

A mad rush begins as the ceremony ends. I am really quite surprised that there were no casualties during the celebration. I guess it’s a combination of people being civil enough and the security knowing what they were doing.

The next morning the crowds are gone and only a few worshippers pray around St George church. It was amazing how everyone disappeared so quickly.

I realize that this has turned into one long, photo-filled blog post. I guess that kinda makes up for my lack of blogging over the past few months.

I am now in a place called Bahir Dar, in a hotel by lake Tanna, the biggest lake in Ethiopia. I plan to visit some of the lake monasteries that this region is famous for and might discover something else along the way.

That’s (finally) all for this post. No idea when the next one will be.

My dream has finally come true. I’m in Africa! Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, to be exact. Well, ok, the Addis Ababa part of it is far from a dream. To me the city seems like one big tragedy of humanity – a strange fuse of colonial and socialist architecture as well as tin-shacks that make up most of the small shops and all the slum dwellings. The city is overwhelming in many different ways – beggars, street hustlers, noise, pollution – a little of everything. Nevertheless, this is Africa! I have wanted to come here since I was a child and now I’m here at last.

While I’ve been in the “wonderful” city of Addis my main aim has been to find out whether it is was possible to buy a motorcycle. I found out that it was and after some of the most amazing bureaucratic procedures I am happy to say that I now own a motorbike in Ethiopia, what’s even better is that it’s registered under my name, not something you can do in some of the places I’ve been riding around. I’m looking forward to exploring this country which seems to offer so much, and I’m gonna do it on my terms now. Woohoo!

I haven’t had much time to shoot. Over the past few days I’ve been running around government offices trying to sort out the papers and around the markets, to buy the materials to make saddle bags for the motorbike. Nevertheless, I did make some photos, so here they are.

Mother and daughter crossing Churchill Avenue in the morning. When I first arrived in Addis it had this apocalyptic feel to it (to me at least). Lots of concrete, construction and at the same time a lot of decay and crumbling roads and architecture.

Street kids playing cards by the roadside. There have been quite a few people who have not been crazy about being photographed and a few who wanted money as soon as I would raise my camera. It was refreshing that these kids, who have absolutely nothing didn’t demand anything at all. I smiled, they smiled. I asked if they could continue their game of cards. They did, smiling all the way through,

A common sight outside of my hotel every morning. Young and not so young men in Ethiopia are crazy about football. On Sundays the roads become football fields until about 8 am.

Addis is unexpectedly cold around winter time and my guess is that people use coal for heating. That would explain the smell of burning coal that fills the air early in the mornings and late in the evenings.

While wondering around the back-lanes of the surrounding residential areas I came across this scene. Coincidentally all the members of this family just kinda froze and looked at the “faranji” (foreigner).

As in a lot of Asian countries a lot of life and activities happen in the streets and, space is certainly at a premium.

Street scene in “Mercato” possibly Africa’s largest market. The “Lonely Planet” says that if you’re gonna get robbed anywhere in Ethiopia – this is the place. There are certainly a lot of dodgy characters around, but I’m happy to report that during our four visits we had not lost anything.

The vegetable market section of mercato was what I found most fascinating in the area. Vibrant, lots of characters and energy.

Another scene from the vegetable market. The amount of manual labor that takes place at markets in “developing” countries is amazing and Ethiopia seems to be no exception. Carrying incredible amounts of stuff on heads seems to be a particularly common thing.

Yet more heavy loads, this time for the donkey too. An insanely large number of donkeys are used as goods carriers around Addis and its outskirts.

That’s it from me for now. It’s been an exhausting week. But things are getting set in place for this adventure, which I am now getting very excited about.

I hope to have internet in places that I visit in the near future. If not “A very happy new year to all of you!”

I can finally announce my latest e-book. Actually, I almost missed the release, due to my temperamental internet connection here in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The e-book is called “Rabari – Ecounters with the nomadic tribe” and it’s available HERE or by clicking the image at the top of the post.

I won’t go into too much detail as to what it’s about, rather, check out the information page at “Lightstalking” they are the folks I collaborated with on this release. All I’ll say is that I’m exited to have it out there and the main reason for my excitement is that this e-book goes beyond the basics and behind the scenes. That’s the sort of stuff I like reading about most and like writing about most too.

When I was considering writing the e-book, I asked myself the question; if one of the photographers whose work I really enjoyed let me get into his/her head, to gain a deep understanding of his/her creative process in a practical manner, would I be interested in seeing that information in some shape or form? The answer was a big “yes.” So, this is an e-book which I basically wish I found someone else produce, because I’d be interested to read it.

“Rabari – Ecounters with the nomadic tribe” is the first e-book of a series on travel documentary photography that I will do with “Lightstalking.” We’ll release at least two more of these types of e-books in the coming year. The first of the series is about my project on the nomadic shepherds of India. I thought it was a fitting choice because it was the first significant project I did. It was the body of work which put me on the map as a photographer.

That’s about it from me for now. I’ll post something from Addis very soon. By that time I will hopefully have a motorcycle and will be ready to head out into the mountains, towards Lalibela, a place sometimes referred to as the Ethiopian Jerusalem.

You can learn more about the e-book and see some reviews that have already been written in the links below:

Digital Photography Student

Lomi Monk Photography

Nature and Travel Photography

Rowan Sims