The tribal roundtrip. Day two.

The harijapeople live in these round huts called bhungas. They are made out of mud and straw, and are often richly decorated in the form of painting, mirrorwork and mudwork.

Mudwork inside a home. This art is made by modelling the mud when still wet. Then the pieces of mirrorglass is inserted.

A young girl outside a home.

Colourfull laundry. These items are not from a factory. They are great, solid examples of local handicraft.

A girl making textiles.

dinner is under preparation. When it was time to eat, i went together with my driver and the male members of my hostfamily and we were eating together while the women formed a separate eating circle.

Relaxing in "downtown"along the main road.

The village blacksmith.

Making charcoal.

There was a Muslim pilgrimage going on. People walking towards a sacred place in the western end of the region more than 100 kilometers away. Some people had already travelled far. I guess nobody can call this wheel chaired man a nonbeliever.

It is hot. It is dusty. It is bone dry. I was glad for my elevated position in a tuktuk. Even though i gained no merit. A few places along the way there are established resting camps with shade, food and drinks available.

Rabari herder.

The moment i knew my exact latitude: 23.26.1467 N. The unforgiving terrain didn't care about that.

A strife of luck-true nomads have established a camp close to the road.

The nomads water their herds in a waterhole.

Visiting a pottery village. How the large clay vessels are formed-not with the well known spinningwheel, but by knocking the clay into shape. a laborious and time consuming process.

A load of earthenware has been burned. It is still warm.

After cooling and cleaning the items gets decorated.

A steady hand is needed.

The finished product, ready for sale. I bought myself a small bowl, ideal for all those toasts along the path of a longterm traveller.

Woodcarvings for furniture.

It makes sense that woodcarving furnituremakers have wood decor on their truck!

Visiting another highly decorated village.

The women's clothing is stunning with all that embroidery and mirrorwork. It takes months to make a dress like those worn here. They are costly items. Yet-every traditional woman have a dress like this.

The heat creates numerous dustdevils. This large one crossed the road in front of us. We found it wise to give it a wide berth.

The tribal roundtrip. Day one.

The Kutch district of western Gujarat is an area where several tribal groups live. It is one of those photogenic, exotic, fascinating Nat Geo style type of places every traveller want to bag. I decided on a multi day trip to meet them, and to see some of the excellent craft produced in this area being made. I got myself a guiding tuk tuk driver trough the curator of the Aaina mahal palace in Bhuj, and in the morning next day-after having got my filling of sugarcane juice- we left. It was going to be a long day, meeting lot of different people.

I already had eaten breakfast-chay and a few samosas. Those are sort of a fried pastry made with maidaflour which is bleached and very finely milled wheat. The samosas comes with a variety of fillings depending on where you are. With it one often get chili sauce as a dipping.

Breakfast or not, it wasn't long before the first chaybreak and a little bit of people watching. This man with an axe is a herder coming to town-without his animals.

It is an arid country, but camels thrive here.

Nests of s weavingbird colony.

We visited a village where everybodys livehood is weaving. They use two types of looms-this huge, 20 meter long outdoor version and the more standard indoor loom used everywhere.

The operators of the long loom, an elderly couple of the Rabaritribe.

Atractive yarn.

A rabariherder of the younger generation at work. His axe over his shoulders. The rabaris are thought to have left the iranian plains over a millenia ago. They moved in to this area from Rajasthan some 8-00 years ago.

And one of the elder generation. The rabaris used to be nomadic, now most of them are semi nomadic, or completely settled. This white attire is what is traditionally worn by the rabariherders. Understandable, considering the heat they live in.

A new teastop at a roadside teashop. Some locals have gathered for some quality time. Arriving here in the company of a translator-it is vital as no english is spoken-is great fun, and the locals are quite including.

The tea kitchen in what the owner ironically call Hotel Maharajah.

My tea is heated with charcoal, a much used fuel in this area.

A rabariman with hennacolured beard, fashionable in these parts. The rabaris came into being when the hindugod Shiva put them on earth to tend Parvatis camels.

There is no water in any of the houses around. One must get it from the well. Here returning with two pots of water.

Hoisting up a water jar. I got to try the next one, it is hard work if lot of water is needed. This girl is a charmer and she was a very willing photomotiv

Young girls are curious about the visitor. Few outsiders come to this dusty, remote little settlement.

Laundry. The arched concrete house is a disaster relief house, set up after a big earthquake.

The house to the left was abandoned after the last earthquake.

The icecream vendor is in town. Word is out.

Doing the yearly maintenance of the courtyard-a mix of mud and cowdung is plastered on the surface.

Old rabari man in a village. They are thought to have moved out from the iranian plains more than a millennium ago.

Just returned from the fields, but cooking up some tea brewed on local herbs.

Mother and daughter posing.

Laundry.

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The nests of a weavingbird colony.

Rogan painting. An almost died out artform.The artists boil castor oil until it gets rhesinlike. Then it is mixed with colour. Painting is maybe not a good word to describe the art, since the resin is applied rather than painted. It is all done on freehand, and what is done can't be undone. Bad if the error is made just before a piece taking a month to make is finished.

Often the painters fold the cloth, making a mirrored image. Something demanding a steady hand to make it perfect.

In the late afternoon we arrived in a hamlet in the outskirt of Khavda village. It is inhabited by another tribe-the Harija, whose belief is Islam. Visually they are spectacular-their cloting, jewellery and houses are vividly decorated and unlike most seen elsewhere. More on that in the continuation in day number two.