Chaos, noise, tradition, celebration.

Women taunt bachelors into whipping them to prove their strength, ability to handle childbirth, and support for the young man about to jump bulls.

Horns blow, bells jangle as the women jump and chant.

Older men sit together in the shade. Beer is shared.

Young men wrangle loose bulls into a line using only their hands—a bare-handed, bare-footed rodeo.

And a lone young man is standing quietly in the commotion.

His parents are sponsoring this multi-day celebration. He must run across the backs of a line of bulls, naked, at least four times. If he succeeds, he will be considered a man and able to marry.

He did it.

We were privileged to observe this cultural tradition with the Hamar and Banna tribes. The drinking, dancing, taunting, and whipping were well underway when we arrived. The bachelors seemed to prefer sitting in the shade with their beverages, but the women were relentless. They would dart under the shade and yell in the men’s faces. A cheer would go up when a man would finally grab the whip. Sometimes the women would shove each other out of the way, hoping to be the one whipped. There was one bachelor in high demand, famous for killing wild animals.

The government tried to mandate that women wear shirts and not be whipped on bare skin. The women simply tie their shirts up and away from their backs.

Soon, the crowd headed off down a long dirt path. After walking for quite a while, two young men on motorbikes convinced me and my friend Jamuna to hop on and get a ride out to the village and jumping site. It was still miles away. We hung on, bouncing over rocks and ruts, only getting off to cross a dry riverbed on foot before hopping back on the bikes.

At the village, the bulls were herded in. The women ran around them, chanting and blowing horns. The bulls were not pleased. They were even less pleased when the rodeo broke out, young men grabbing them by the horns and tails to pull them into line.

The young man ran across the bulls four times. He got a running start, leaped onto the first bull, ran like hell, and jumped down on the final pass into the arms of a man waiting for him.

We didn’t see him after that. We were whisked away on the motorbikes and back down the dirt path as the celebration continued.