The Oromo woman’s red circles lead to our first monochromatic triad, for which we remain in Harar. Commercially renowned for centuries, its markets still thrive, redolent with spices in every shade of red, filling their round sacks to the brim. At home, in the gegar, bright red dishes hang on the walls, the cowrie shells recalling the lucrative trade to the Red Sea and beyond. According to their status, guests and family sit on tiered platforms, painted red in honor of the valiant defense the town mounted against Menelik II in 1887. Next to this main room is a honeymoon chamber; for an entire week, food and drink are passed to the newlyweds through a red grille. Cloaked in brilliant scarlet, an unmarried daughter of the house awaits her moment.
