by André Costa
The silence lasted a few seconds less than the fright. “Wow, that giraffe is like five or six meters tall!” David shouted. His Celtic face had grown even more pale than usual, making his eyes electrifying like those of a druid. His combined expression of surprise and joy was so infectious that the other passengers, who were used to seeing animals of all kinds on the road, burst out laughing.
Benjamin, who had worked for years as a guide at safari lodges throughout the country, seized upon David’s comment and turned off the engine.
“Look at that beautiful animal, priest. It can only be a male, judging by its height and also by its horns, which are larger and thicker than those of the female,” Benjamin explained. “Look, look now; it’s crossing over to eat the foliage on that acacia.”
“I read somewhere that they only eat leaves from the top of the tree. There was even a picture of it. That’s why the treetops are all leafless,” David added to the tour guiding explanation.
As the car pulled away, David felt as if his eleven-year-old self was looking out onto the road. He remembered the savannah enclosure at the Dublin zoo—large enough to house numerous giraffes, zebras, and ostriches, but lacking the peace and serenity of this endless space, a space that evoked calm and consoled desolation.
David looked back to see the giraffe and the tree fade into a tiny spot on the horizon. Facing forward again, he stilled his mind. Dozens of miles passed until someone broke the silence.
“Half an hour and we’ll be there,” said Ben. He had undoubtedly been thinking out loud since it was not his habit to play airline captain, but soon found his announcement to be useful to everyone. The five-hour journey had exhausted the passengers, who by this time were sitting in restless silence.
“Half an hour until Tsumkwe?” asked Jack.
David had first heard the name of the place at breakfast. He had been sleepy shortly after the incident with the giraffe but was now alert and inquisitive.
“It’s considered the capital of what was formerly called Bushmanland,” Marie explained. “Today it’s called Nyae Nyae, which means ‘place without mountain’ in Ju/’hoansi.”
“You mean flat,” laughed Jack.
“And that is our destination?” David asked.
“Almost. We’ll go into the region a little further,” replied Marie. “Just don’t expect to find cavemen, David. The San community there is very modern, not because they have assimilated a Western lifestyle and technology or because they speak English or Afrikaans, but because it is a very sophisticated civilization in itself. Although Ben must have a somewhat different opinion.” She tried to catch the driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror as she baited him.
Benjamin, who had until now refused to involve himself in the discussions taking place on the back seat, thought that the repeated reference to his name freed him from his professionalism.
“Madam, I just think the Bushmen should take more responsibility and become more involved in basic things. That’s all!”
“Like what?” insisted Marie.
“Like sending their children to school and learning some work. I’m not prejudiced; I’m not… But that’s what I think,” replied Benjamin, his knuckles turning pale on the steering wheel.
“Many of them are already farmers and cattle ranchers, like your people, Ben,” interrupted Jack. “But that doesn’t seem to make them happier. Incidentally, they have also combined their age-old knowledge with this new pastoral activity. For example, the theft of cattle is almost impossible among them, because they know the footsteps and possessions of every member of the tribe.”
“Like my people? No way, sir,” said Benjamin, shaking his head like a bull in an arena being taunted with a cape. “They don’t have the skills and knowledge to farm with cattle properly. In fact, many prefer to steal livestock from my people, but maybe I should rather keep my mouth shut.”
“David, I just meant that the San culture is as sophisticated and complex as ours,” Marie said, ignoring Benjamin’s last remark. “Their traditional knowledge of plants and animals is comparable to that of Western biologists. They can identify hundreds of herbs in their language and know how to use them as food and medicine.”
“Amazing. And is this the knowledge you want to preserve?” asked David.
“Twenty thousand years of knowledge cannot end up like this, dissolved into nothingness. They’re the oldest people on the planet, our older brother; we have to take responsibility,” Marie said, raising her voice and watching Benjamin closely for any reaction. His body language showed none. Perhaps he had concluded that fixing his eyes on the road in silence was more eloquent than his excited utterances.
“I can’t wait to find out more about their religiosity. Not their relationship to the Christian faith they may now profess, but their traditional spirituality, their beliefs, gods…” David’s words tumbled out in excitement, broadening the rift in mood between the two rows of seats.
“This is Jack’s favorite subject, the first priest in our mission,” said Marie, elbowing the former seminarian.
“It’s not a complex subject, David. You’ll see that religion is a much more uniform matter among the San tribes than the material aspects of their culture,” explained Jack.
At that moment, the vehicle slowed down in anticipation of a speed bump.
Sticking his head out the window, David noticed a sign that read, ‘Tsumkwe 20km’. The information acted as a placebo, bringing immediate relief to his body. His mind felt equally unchained, as he dug deep into his memories. He particularly remembered reading a children’s version of Charles Darwin’s The Origin of Species, detailing the theory of evolution and the ramifications of beings as the branches of a great tree of life. The idea seemed perfectly sensible and logical. Only the suggestion that Africa was the cradle of humanity had been surprising to the boy. Years later he learned that the young Darwin’s father, disappointed with his son’s lack of interest in medical studies, decided to force him to become a cleric so he could have a comfortable life. Eventually, Darwin did not become a priest, but he had certainly been charmed by the wonders of God’s creation, thought David. Similarly, David himself had never given up his naturalistic passion but had restricted his dogmatically disconcerting remarks to his conversations with Father Duane.
Coincidently, David felt the bumps more intensely after the car had driven past the sign. Perhaps some critical information had escaped him while he was drifting, like delayed-effect clauses in an insurance policy. The fact of the matter was that the bumps in the road, from that point onwards, started eliciting restrained cries from Marie. David laughed in response, and it was the first time that he looked at her carefully. For a moment, he saw in the feminine and distinctly Scandinavian facial contours his childhood friend and confidant. And he would have seen more, but his heart lacked the courage to keep on looking.
Whether from anxiety or the incessant dust—ineffectively kept at bay by the sweater over his nose—his breathing suddenly felt uneven and labored. So, he thought it best to introduce a subject that would inevitably fuel conversation until the final stop. He recalled once again the ancient anthropological view that the lives of hunter-gatherers were intrinsically tricky and a continuous struggle for survival in ever precarious and arduous conditions. As he had hoped, Marie accepted the bait.
“In their natural habitat in the Kalahari, they are simple people, Father, with very few possessions, but they are not poor. As you certainly know, poverty is a cultural construct, like the idea of civilization. And they are not as dependent on hunting as you may imagine. Hunting is a major social activity, but their need for protein is largely met by the vegetables and seeds they eat. Obviously, they hunt more when resources are scarce, but you would be impressed with how little time they need to meet their daily needs.”
“And what do they do with their free time?” asked David.
“N
othing, if you want a straight answer. By Western parameters anyway,” continued Marie. “They spend their time in long conversations, storytelling, jokes, dances, and spiritual rites. They live to relate to and cooperate with one another in the present moment, without any relation between means and ends. If you measure the affluence of a people by the number of hours of leisure, and not by the acquisition of goods, then the society of hunter-gatherers may be the wealthiest on the planet.”
“What about their spiritual needs?” David encouraged her to keep speaking.
“In the present?” asked Marie with the half-smile that David had already grown accustomed to. “As Jack could explain much better, there isn’t a historical clarity about the spiritual life of the Bushmen… almost no record of artifacts used in their rituals for archaeologists to support their theories. Besides, the ancient bushmen lived on fertile lands further south. After they were expelled and almost decimated, they had to adapt to this hostile wilderness, meaning their culture certainly underwent an enormous transformation.”
“But, David, there is a permanent aspect to their religiosity: animism,” added Jack. “There is no separation between human beings and all other things. It’s a constant communication between them and the trees, animals, rivers, and so on. Even in the moment of conflict, a hunter apologizes to his prey for having to sacrifice it.”
“And the notion of God? Do they believe in a higher deity?” asked David.
“There is no such thing as a universal god,” answered Jack. “When someone is sick, for example, the healer has to communicate with the specific spirit that caused the illness. No spirit or entity that is above all things or individuals. And there is no hierarchy in all of this. According to San beliefs, things, animals, and even spiritual entities have existence and consciousness of their own; they don’t exist or shape their existence in any way to please individuals.”
“But in their own society, is there really no distinction between classes? How are leaders chosen?” David asked.
“There are no distinctions or hierarchies, if that’s what you mean,” replied Marie.
“None?” David insisted.
“On earth as in heaven, David,” said Jack, without any attempt to hide his sarcasm.
“Except the healer, for his specific role,” replied Marie. “There isn’t exactly a political boss… so the leader emerges naturally, by age and qualities, by the way in which he makes his decisions, and by his capacity for persuasion. Usually, the leadership lasts only for a specific situation where a leader is required, such as during a hunt. Even so, he must be modest; he doesn’t want to exercise leadership by whim or ego.”
“And what do they do when a conflict arises due to a shortage of goods or food? Who punishes or resolves a dispute?” asked David.
“It’s a system of natural equalization of wealth, which occurs to absolutely everything they have, whether through giving, exchanging gifts, or borrowing from one another,” Jack replied.
“So, do they ever have conflict?” asked David in disbelief.
“Are you worried the confessional will be empty, Father?” inquired Edward, who lacked Andreas’s grumpy grace. It was annoying that he always played mummy before striking, like an immobile snake hidden between rocks. David had begun to realize that Dr. Freeman’s silence was a blessing far more than a strategy of observation.
The awkward moment had at least put Father Callaghan’s long list of questions to rest.
“Marie,” irrupted Jack, “a few days ago I was trying to explain to some Ju/’hoansi children the meaning of what they had just seen on the news. It was about the war in Syria, and one of them remarked: ‘It sounds like a stupid joke; someone could get hurt.’” Jack and Marie could not restrain their laughter, although it was short-lived.
“Of course, Dr. Steensen was describing the San people in their natural habitat, Father,” interrupted Edward. “This is definitely not what happens today. Most of their people are no longer nomadic; they live in miserable conditions on farms and are exploited by a white elite; they are losing their traditional culture at an alarming pace. Many have already abandoned their native communication system and have absorbed the language of the settlers, especially Afrikaans. In fact, several dialects that use the peculiar click sounds are vanishing.”
There was nothing intrinsically wrong with Edward’s explanation, other than its narrator and the professorial tone he had delivered. Besides, depending on the speaker, David was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the evocation of his priestly title. The effect of Edward’s words was, therefore, opposite to what had been intended. Edward’s brief and dry lecture had not captured David’s attention, whose thoughts were instead abducted by the previous narrative about the original affluent society and the validation of the lost paradise.
Like David, the other passengers digested in their own way the conversation that had shortened the final phase of their journey. In one of the brief moments that Father Callaghan had full possession of his senses, he noticed how much more economical the driver had been with his words than the day before. He seemed like a different person, except for the enormous skill with which he drove the old Toyota. And David could not help noticing something else. From time to time, Benjamin sought Marie’s gaze and—at least a couple of times—their eyes married.
Chapter VII
A comfortable silence enveloped the passengers when suddenly a human figure appeared before the car. Even at low speed, Benjamin’s dexterity behind the wheel was tested for a second time that day. The car skidded to the right and rolled over low bushes on the side of the road. The cloud of dust and setting sun made it almost impossible to see, so with Marie’s cry of fright still ringing in his ears, Benjamin brought the car to a complete stop and switched off the engine.
“What was that?” David shouted. When the human face appeared at his window, he instinctively pulled his head back and collided with Jack’s.
“It’s a Ju/’hoansi,” replied Marie.
The man’s countenance did not resemble the delicate and noble features described in David’s anthropology handbooks. The face glued to the window was wrinkled, sad, dusty, and, much to David’s astonishment, drunk. For a moment, David could see surprise and curiosity in the eyes of the old San, quickly replaced by a serene and open smile, which exposed his complete dental deficiency. The man raised his right hand slightly and pointed back toward a sign that read, “Nye Nye Conservancy. Please report to the Administration”. He turned and slowly waved goodbye to the passengers as he walked away. David and Jack responded with the same gesture.
As the cars continued, David could not stop thinking how barren and unfit for human settlement the land seemed.
“The anthropologists are fascinated by the Ju/’hoansi people, because of the equalitarian foundation of their society,” said Marie. “For decades, they’ve tried to identify what motivates their behavior, communication, and perception of the world.” Somehow, Marie’s spontaneous lecture lost its grace, and David’s ears were no longer available.
A few more kilometers down the road, the vehicles made another stop at a small shopping area. A sign marked the border to Botswana to be forty kilometers away, and a grocery shop near a gas station confirmed that they had arrived in Tsumkwe, the capital of Nye Nye, or Bushmanland. It was a tiny urban center with about five hundred inhabitants, out of nine thousand individuals in the entire district. Among them, it was estimated that only two and a half thousand were San people, all from the Ju/’hoansi tribe.
A man lay passed out next to the entrance of the only store. From inside the establishment, fragments of a conversation in an incomprehensible and harsh-sounding language spilled onto the street. David did not feel useful or invited, so he decided to exercise his legs, with Marie keeping him company.
“I know what you must be thinking, Father. This place probably seems nothing like what you’ve imagined, b
ut there is more to it than this.”
“At the moment, I’m only thinking about my legs and how good it feels to be able to move them. Not that they’re in bad shape. Quite the opposite… But they just can’t stand being ignored for so long.”
Back in the car, Benjamin surprised the group with another announcement. This time, he said it would take around forty to fifty minutes to reach the camp. David’s expectation, coupled with physical exhaustion, had already dropped to a much more modest level. In fact, his first impression of the San people’s territory had been somewhat negative.
“I don’t like how this place has changed,” Marie said. “Five years ago, when we were here for the first time, circumstances were very different. People were happy with the schools. International financial aid was robust, and there was an awareness of the need to develop the local economy with respect and pride for cultural traditions and identity. The development of the Ju/’hoansi people’s written language would have ensured this and elevated their self-esteem.”
“Self-esteem? Oh, right,” Jack groaned. “The settlement has become a hopeless, decaying land of alcoholic teachers and deserters, unemployed adults, and lost children.”
The rest of the journey was as difficult to bear as the new information David had assimilated. At dusk, assortments of quadrupeds regularly crossed the road, leaving the driver and passengers equally alert. Jack was the first to spot the light, most likely emanating from a campfire, at the bottom of an immense valley. At that distance, its glow merged with the flicker of the starry sky over the treetops. “That can only be our camp!”
His observation was confirmed just a short while later. As the vehicles stopped at the edge of the campsite, a stocky white-bearded man limped towards them, his arms waving in excitement. Behind him, a dozen or so San of different ages and genders mirrored his gestures.