as with the outlier settlement, women were working in the gardens.
‘We’ll take our time,’ Zeno said. ‘Kaboue is probably somewhere nearby solving a dispute or giving advice.’
‘What sort of advice?’ asked Carmen.
‘Child rearing, crop planning, grain storage, bereavement, and dealing with the men when they return.’
‘Where are the men?’
‘Most likely looking after cattle on pastures alongside the main river. They’ll return when plots closer to the village regenerate.’
‘How long will they stay away?’
‘Who knows – a few days, a week or two, sometimes months at a time.’
Zeno set about finding the sage. He asked an older woman sitting outside her hut where Kaboue could be found. The woman stared and did not reply. She was bent over trying to catch her breath.
‘How old is she?’ Carmen whispered to Zeno as she looked at the woman’s lined, drawn face, her crinkly hair thin as spooled cotton. The old woman ignored them and stared at the ground.
‘I have no idea, but her working days are certainly over and she’ll be cared for in the village.’ The old lady didn’t move. From time to time, she turned a knobbly walking stick handle over and over in her hands.
Kaboue could not be located, so Zeno took the students beyond the village down the creek bank, past more tilled land and onto scrubby pasture country. They walked above the pasture for another mile, climbing towards a prominent rock ledge. Louise wondered why Zeno was taking them further away from the village and the gardens where Kaboue would be found. Then he stopped and looked back towards the village.
‘Look across this pasture towards the village and you will see the cycle of these people’s lives at a glance – pasture, water supply, cultivation and settlement; and it has been like this for centuries.’
The students looked across a scattering of tree tops and boulders towards the village. Now they could understand why Zeno had brought them here: for the completeness of the picture before them.
‘The village would have begun its life as a nomadic resting place and then taken root,’ Zeno said. ‘The outlier settlement is a good example. Initially it was within easy walking distance of the main village and then gradually huts and permanent life were established. Here you can see progress from nomadic life to cultivation and pastoral settlement.’
‘Is it like this in every village in the valley?’ asked Horst.
‘Yes and no,’ Zeno replied. ‘What develops in one place may not be appropriate in another, but they buy and sell alongside each other at local markets.’
The students took photos of the nearby village, the creek, gardens and the distant outlier settlement.
‘Okay, we’ll walk back to the village and find Kaboue.’ Zeno stepped off the ledge and, sure of foot, began the descent. In half an hour they were again on the outskirts of the village. The word had got around and Kaboue was waiting for them outside her hut. She was a neat, compact woman who remembered Zeno and spoke in a gentle but commanding voice. She shook hands and greeted each student.
Louise estimated Kaboue was probably fifty years of age. Her walk was elegant and she carried herself with quiet assurance; her directions seemed to convey a kind of code which the village women understood, as if Kaboue’s gentle gestures were a secret language. Her grasp of the essentials of village life was based on a bedrock of deep, non-judgemental wisdom. Kaboue simply knew her duty, her guidance, so necessary in this isolated settlement – the principal elder on whom they relied.
‘Of course we must feed you,’ she said to Zeno, who translated for the students.
‘She wishes to provide us all with a traditional village meal. That is their custom towards visitors who spend time with them. We should accept. Cherish the moment. We won’t get to another village today but there’s plenty to see here. Kaboue will answer your questions. She is well acquainted with the community and its customs.’
‘Isn’t their main meal taken in the evening?’ Louise asked.
‘That’s right, but it’s too dangerous for us to take the track out of the valley in the dark and we don’t plan to spend the night here. We’ll share a small meal with them around one o’clock and leave by mid-afternoon.’
Although it was a busy time in the garden and fields, with women looking after children as they weeded and gathered baskets of vegetables, they were aware of visitors. They soon left the fields and returned to the village to help prepare food. Kaboue had summoned them. She was like a friendly but uncompromising hen with her chicks as she rounded up women from the fields, gesturing and giving specific instructions. They responded with smiles and laughter.
With children playing around them, the women cut up vegetables, and killed and plucked three chickens. Younger women watched Kaboue carefully as she gave instructions, pointing, insisting and smiling as she emphasised how the meal was to be prepared.
As the party of village women and students sat in a tightly knit circle, Louise found herself face to face with Kaboue. Zeno translated.
‘I am glad to see you,’ Kaboue said, holding out her hand to Louise.
‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ Louise said. Zeno addressed Kaboue and spoke in Oromo.
‘You will always be welcome to share with us,’ replied Kaboue.
Share with them when they have so few resources, thought Louise. What a privilege.
Preparation of the food happened quickly. Over the meal, only Kaboue spoke to Zeno’s students. The other women just listened. Her eyes sparkled and she smiled constantly. Louise learnt that the villagers traded their grain and vegetables in the local market for hoes and small ploughs, implements not used in other regions. She also learned that, if age-old customs were not passed on by significant elders such as Kaboue, the likelihood of starvation and famine was enhanced. Louise admired the timeless wisdom of this Oromo woman as she related her knowledge of the seasons, of the harvesting of sorghum and millet, of storing seeds for the next planting. This was effective husbandry of the most fundamental kind – a practical village strategy, determined by Kaboue. She would have spent a lifetime collecting seeds, comparing soils and conserving water.
Zeno’s party spent almost three hours sitting, talking, drinking tella, their beer made from sorghum, eating roasted corn, with chicken and vegetable hot-pot spooned onto the biscuit-coloured injera and kocho. Louise listened carefully, grasping the sense of the conversations, even when Zeno did not translate. She relaxed and let the gestures and voices wash over her.
Louise felt like she was being entertained at the court of a queen – the intriguing Kaboue. Yet she sensed an undertone, especially among the younger women, almost as if they were imprisoned by her influence.
At the end of the meal Kaboue thanked Zeno and his students for visiting her village. He replied thanking her and the women and promised to return at the first opportunity. Louise realised that he needed to court her support if the changes he had in mind were to be introduced. At this moment she recognised how similar to Kaboue was her grandmother’s calmness, and belief that hardship can be endured.
Zeno’s
