bodies make for an outlandish and magnificent landscape.
The contact between groundwater, magma, sulphur and
salt causes unnaturally bright colours: orange brown, neon
yellow and poison green. To increase the surrealistic vibe,
hissing gases rise from countless geysers. As the nasty
smells of sulphur are having us gasp for air, we very care-
fully look where we place our feet. The surface is so thin,
that the lava flows right underneath our feet. When we leave
the area, we notice that the soles of our hiking shoes have
come loose. The glue just simply melted.
The day is over, and we head to
, a small ham-
let where many salt workers spend the night. The camp
consists of a few shabby huts, made of crooked sticks with
jute bags and torn sails over top, which must create the
illusion that there is a roof. Facilities, or anything remotely
resembling that, are missing. When we have to do our busi-
ness, we must find somewhere in the field, like everyone
else. There are no trees or bushes to hide behind. What
there are, however, are curious Afar, because a white bum
is always an attraction.