The Stick/dula/ or the Stone/dΪngay/?: A Cultural Archaeology

When a simple tool reveals a civilization's soul

Philosophical questions delight precisely because they unsettle us. They stretch minds, spark wit, and often deliver unexpected humor. Consider biology’s eternal riddle: Which came first—the chicken or the egg? Student answers range from lexical logic (“C comes before E!”) to culinary pragmatism (“Both are delicious!”). My favorite? “Egg at breakfast, chicken at dinner—case closed.” Charm overrules coherence every time.

Now, let’s turn this playful inquiry toward Ethiopia’s past:
Which tool anchored human ingenuity first—the stick (dula) or the stone (dïngay)?

Historians debate fiercely. Some champion the dula as humanity’s earliest ally. Others counter that stones endure millennia while wood decays—suggesting a “Stone Age” predating any hypothetical “Stick Age.”

Yet walk through Ethiopia today, and the dula whispers an older story.

Now, applying that same spirit of curiosity to Ethiopia’s deep history, let’s ask: Which tool was introduced first—the stick (known generically as dula) or the stone (dïngay)? Like the chicken-and-egg riddle, the answer isn’t straightforward.

Some historians argue in favor of the stick, claiming it was our earliest tool. But others suggest stone tools predate them, surviving the test of time far better than organic material. After all, sticks decay, while stones endure. This perspective aligns with the notion that the “Stone Age” likely preceded what we could (playfully) call the “Stick Age”—if such a term even exists.

Yet a closer look into Ethiopian cultures paints a compelling picture. The prevalence of the dula across ethnic groups and daily traditions offers clues that sticks were not just common but central to life for thousands of years—perhaps predating even our most ancient stone monuments.

From defending against wild animals to aiding travelers, the dula is more than just a tool—it’s a cultural mainstay. It has served as protection from robbers and beasts, and as a symbol of authority and community identity.

Consider the Mursi and Surma people, whose tradition of Donga stick fighting blends athleticism, ritual, and courtship. Victors win the admiration of peers—and even the hearts of young women. Or the Hamer, whose meter-long hooked dula helps them forage fruit amid thornbushes, build cattle enclosures, and perform blessings and curses in religious ceremonies.

The Oromo, Amhara, Tigrayans, and many other ethnic groups have their own dula traditions. But this simple stick has not remained simple. Like the fabled staff of Moses, the dula has transformed, diversifying into a fascinating range of tools:

·         K’omet’: A hardwood, knobbed weapon used by guards and police.

·         Kezera, Bətïr, or Mïrkuz: Walking sticks with 7-shaped heads, offering support and status.

·         Zeng: A traveler’s stick, treasured for its power and protection in the wilderness.

·         Mədənk’əriya: A sturdy, four-foot-long rod used to bar doors in countryside homes.

·         Zenezena: A thick, heavy stick for pounding grain in a mukəch’a (mortar).

·         Mek’wamia: A sacred prayer stick for clergy and elders, featuring a brass T-head for support during long liturgies and used with rhythmic grace in Epiphany (Tïmk’ət) processions—almost like a conductor’s baton in a symphony.

With such rich variation and significance, it’s hard to believe the stick’s prominence is merely coincidental. While stones undeniably shaped our past, I believe the humble dula may have been Ethiopia’s earliest and most enduring tool—woven into daily life, ritual, defense, and cultural identity.

Məlkam samïnt! (Have a great week!)