LOCATION
Omo River Valley
STORY
The Wedding
COMMUNITY
Arbore Tribe
We had driven all day, departing the Daasanach village earlier that morning with aspirations to arrive with the Arbore that afternoon.
We drove on seemingly never ending roads leading out in one direction, trusting we would have enough gas. Hot air blew all around the vehicle and the drone of the tires on the newly paved road coaxed my eyelids closed. Even sleeping I could feel the heat pulling energy from me and burning the arm that hung lazily out the passenger side window.
Almost like an athlete, I knew today would have to be a rest day. The cameras would rest and I could give my overstimulated mind and eyes a break. The past few weeks had been a welcomed assault on the senses and each day carried with it an endless assortment of experiences that had my mind spinning as I tried to calm down and sleep at the end of the day.
The pavement eventually gave way to dirt roads once again and as we bounced I knew we were getting close. The sun began to hang lower in the sky and the reprieve from the heat allowed me to fall further into a state of relaxation as the vehicle finally came to a stop.
A storm presented itself in the distance like a wildfire would, a foreboding wall of dust and darkness climbing into the sky until finally being overtaken by the remaining blue of the day. We all exited the car, weary in our own ways from the journey, only to see a larger group congregating nearby.
The noise and commotion was recognizable as celebratory and as we got closer it became clear what was happening: it was a wedding celebration. I sprinted back to the car on baby fawn legs, not quite ready to respond to get my camera. Camera in hand I raced back to the celebration and began to do my best to connect with those taking part. I paid close attention and gave space. I read body language and leaned on my friends to communicate. I crouched low into the dust and sand and heat and happiness and tradition.
I was exhausted and drained and I knew both the fatigue and the moments I would soon witness would both disappear into the oncoming storm.
Only the storm never came, I never rested,
and the moments are with me still.
M. Thurk
Omo River Valley
