A revered warrior with his leopard pelt, a young boy holding his pet dik-dik, and a guide eager to share tales of tradition and lifestyle greeted me at the Konso tribe village in Ethiopia.

This is the profound joy and privilege of travel, being welcomed into others’ lives.

The Konso tribe consists of 9 clans. They moved onto the hill away from the Omo River to farm and avoid mosquitoes. They terrace the land and build villages in concentric circles with stone walls and narrow passages. When they outgrow one circle, they make another around it. The village I visited had three circles.

The Konso add generation poles, essentially tree trunks, to a collection every 18 years. The celebration signifies a changing of the guard and serves as a way of counting how old the village is.

Boys from age 12 until marriage sleep in a raised room above the community center for protection and defense. When ready for marriage, a young man must lift a large boulder overhead and drop it behind him to prove his strength.

When the king dies, he is mummified for nine years, nine months, nine days, and nine hours before burial to acknowledge the nine tribal clans.

I met a warrior in the tight confines of his family compound, surrounded by gawking children and relatives. He wore traditional garb and had kind, wise eyes. Ten years ago, he killed a leopard using only his spear and a shield of elephant hide; the pelt is proudly displayed in the compound. He is treated as a hero, and you can sense the family’s pride.

Children followed me in the narrow walkways between the stone walls. One carried his tiny pet dik-dik. Being a huge animal lover, I couldn’t resist kissing it on its little head – to the shocked laughter of the tribe. Others carried their own baby siblings. When the guide told me about the young boys sleeping in the elevated room, the boys rushed to demonstrate, creating happy chaos like only a group of excited boys can.

I met the chained woman here (that’s another story) and photographed an 87-year-old man named Reggie.

You can find information on the Konso tribe easily on the internet – their language, religion, and history.

But there’s one more story I’d like to tell. A few years ago, a photography group was visiting here, staying in the same place I did. They could sense the innkeeper’s unease when they arrived and were told to stay in their rooms. They heard gunshots that night. When they left that place the next day, they drove through a burned-out area and were instructed to keep their eyes looking forward.

I was told the Konso tribe had been in conflict with another tribe. The military showed up to end the situation, and someone shot and killed a soldier. The military told the tribe that they could either give up the shooter or the military would exact revenge on the whole group. The tribe protected the shooter. So that night, the military burned out a village, killing over 35 people.

Shocking story, and I’m grateful I wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time. (But honestly, that can be said on any given day right here in the U.S.A.)

My experience with the Konso tribe was filled with friendliness and curiosity. The richness of being surrounded by another culture and connecting with people so different from myself is always worth the effort.