We move from the humidity of the Lower Omo Valley up above the mist to reach Doza at 1800m. This is the first time I’ve felt a chill in the air here in Ethiopia. I’ve come up to Doza for the weekly market. The fine mist from the elevation quickly turns into a downpour and I huddle with the locals under the bit of overreach from the only building in this open-air market.
The field is littered with hobbled horses and the vendors have covered themselves with umbrellas, tarps or plastic bags. Cast your eye across the vast open-air market and it is a colorful patch of plastics, rain and red clay dirt.
For the first time in the Lower Omo Valley, there is a sense of color, abundance and variety. The lumpy tarps shield giant piles of potatoes, carrots, and cabbages. There is wild honey in small pots, piles of white enset wrapped up in banana leaves creating a delightful presentation on the eyes hiding the disappointment that is to come on the tongue. There are vendors everywhere and we are greeted with warm, curious, sister sister!
The rain cools you down from the days of heat and here at the market, you are the only foreigner insight.