In which I lose the staring contest.
Outside the vibrant walled city of Harar, Ethiopia, I spotted an Afar tribesman so striking that I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. He met my gaze with an unwavering stare so intense that I quickly lost my nerve and scuttled past him, eyes averted. Kicking myself for being so shy, I turned tail and ran, dodging the mad crush of traffic, donkey carts, fruit vendors, and toothbrush salesmen to find him. His Day-Glo beard and headscarf made him easy to spot, but without a common language, all I could do was offer my hand, grin, and point to my camera. His severe expression remained unchanged until I showed him his photograph - at which point he laughed, pointed and took mine.