Bonda Market

Thursday.  We have another early start today and are breakfasting by 5.30. Our fellow guests are going with us to the Bonda tribal market in Onakadelli today, about three hours by road. They are better at early starts than we feared. We say our goodbyes to Leon and the lady doing early shift today and climb aboard a shiny new Xylo 4x4. Our luggage is strapped on the roofrack as we will be getting dropped at the station on the way back from the market.

Our driver takes things steady on quiet roads which are mainly quite well surfaced. After about two and a half hours we pull up in a village where we are to meet our guide. He has phoned our driver to tell us to get photocopies made of passports and visas for the necessary permits.  Although the village is a pretty miserable place there is a shack with a photocopier so we get the copies done. We spend the next twenty minutes warding off a persistent beggar until the guide arrives in another car with 4 more Western tourists. He introduces himself then we are on the road.

As we pass through the next village there is a loud bang and the window next to Laurent shatters. There were no other vehicles around and we were going slowly so it had to be a stone thrown with some force. The driver needed no encouragement to get out of the place quickly. Laurent had a couple of small cuts but his wife had antisceptic and sticking plasters. We were all pretty shocked by this as was the guide when we got to our destination and we told him about it. On route we had passed a bombed out police station which made us wonder a little.

We were now very briefly briefed by Najendra, the guide, about the tribal market dos and don'ts. Cameras are prohibited and must be left in the car. The tribal people don't give change so have the right money if you buy. The market itself is a single street lined with shops and pavement stalls selling normal stuff such as vegetables and housewares, mainly operated by non-tribal people. The Bonda ladies walk around selling jewellery such as bracelets and necklaces. They stand out because of their jewellery -nose studs, huge earrings and massive brass and aluminium neck rings. Right at the top of the street it is lined with men tending pots of frothy fermenting liquor. The Bonda are notorious drinkers and can get aggressive later in the day. There is a heavy presence of armed soldiers. There is a bit more about the Bonda people here http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bonda_people

There are more Western tourists in this restricted area than we have seen since we got here. It is all a little sad and after a couple of circuits we head back to the car for an early lunch. Our guide appears and collects 1500 rupees from our party - nice work if you can get it! We decide that we have seen enough and head for home. This involves retracing our route through the stone throwing village but then taking a different route via Koraput Junction.

We had not gone far when we passed through a village with some kind of festival going on. The young men had painted their faces and were dancing, some waving palm fronds. After the dancing some older men led a parade of women and girls carrying pots and coconuts on their heads. Everbody seemed very friendly but nobody spoke English or French so we were none the wiser. As we drove away one of the elders flagged us down. We expected a request for money but he just wanted to ask "What country?"

The rest of the drive was uneventful although more scenic than the morning journey. We were at Koraput three hours ahead of our train but at least we were there in one piece. We said goodbye to Laurent and his family who have a couple more days at Chandoori Sai.