When I returned to Australia, I put together the document below, in an effort to educate people as to the plight of the Bushmen and raise money for a water tank for them.
We left Grootfontein early at 7am. 60 kilometres into the road trip and the car started making a terrible noise. We stopped and took the wheel off where the noise was coming from, and tried again but we couldn't fix it. We were worried, but decided to keep on going. We hit a gravel road and continued on to Tsumkwe (pronounced Choomkwee), which was like a small border town of some 5 people and then a further 20 kilometres to a tiny village in the middle of nowhere.
We pulled into the church yard which was large. The church was basically a roof with concrete block walls and some bench seating inside. The floor was just sand like the rest of the village. It did have a beautiful tree for shade though.
We pulled into the church yard which was large. The church was basically a roof with concrete block walls and some bench seating inside. The floor was just sand like the rest of the village. It did have a beautiful tree for shade though.
We were greeted by the village elder, who was surprisingly young. I was told that he was an elder not because of his age, but because of his involvement in the church, which was run by a local pastor. He spoke Africans and Bushman and understood English to a degree. He was one clever cookie let me tell you!
There is no way that I will be able to describe this visit well enough to explain the depth that these people touched me and how incredible they are, but I shall try.
The Bushman (who prefer to be called San, so I will from now on) have no access to electricity and only have intermittent water provision via a tap which is fed from a pump some way down the road from a bore. The problem is, the pump needs diesel to run, and they rarely have the money to buy it, and if they do have th emoney, they have to wait for a delivery of fuel which is rare. If they manage to get the pump going, it provides water to the rich black cattle-owners in the area first, then their cattle and then it goes to the San's single tap.
The group that has been chosen to work with me on the Permaculture project were some amazing folk. They were chosen because they had 'signed up' to learn how to grow their own food in exchange for provision of food by the Government.
They worked incredibly hard, demonstrated a team work and community second to none, and soaked up every bit of knowledge I could impart. They hung on my every word and were so honestly keen and committed to growing their own food. They were so incredibly grateful to me for visiting them and they demonstrated this in so many ways.
They ate one meal a day, which was around 3pm. They stopped work for lunch and each had a cup of weak black tea, no milk, no sugar. The tea bags that had obviously been used many many times were layed out to dry on a sheet of black plastic for another use.
I was deeply moved to be allowed to visit their huts and see inside some. Poverty is an obvious word to use for their circumstance, and yet it is not really the right one. They do go hungry, so yes they are poor, but their life is so unique and rich it its lack of complication, it its primitive existence. I saw so much beauty in their continued life being so untouched by western "civilisation" and "necessities". I doubt they would have agreed with me of course, but their simple life had such richness of community. And what beautiful people!
The Bushman (who prefer to be called San, so I will from now on) have no access to electricity and only have intermittent water provision via a tap which is fed from a pump some way down the road from a bore. The problem is, the pump needs diesel to run, and they rarely have the money to buy it, and if they do have th emoney, they have to wait for a delivery of fuel which is rare. If they manage to get the pump going, it provides water to the rich black cattle-owners in the area first, then their cattle and then it goes to the San's single tap.
The group that has been chosen to work with me on the Permaculture project were some amazing folk. They were chosen because they had 'signed up' to learn how to grow their own food in exchange for provision of food by the Government.
They worked incredibly hard, demonstrated a team work and community second to none, and soaked up every bit of knowledge I could impart. They hung on my every word and were so honestly keen and committed to growing their own food. They were so incredibly grateful to me for visiting them and they demonstrated this in so many ways.
They ate one meal a day, which was around 3pm. They stopped work for lunch and each had a cup of weak black tea, no milk, no sugar. The tea bags that had obviously been used many many times were layed out to dry on a sheet of black plastic for another use.
I was deeply moved to be allowed to visit their huts and see inside some. Poverty is an obvious word to use for their circumstance, and yet it is not really the right one. They do go hungry, so yes they are poor, but their life is so unique and rich it its lack of complication, it its primitive existence. I saw so much beauty in their continued life being so untouched by western "civilisation" and "necessities". I doubt they would have agreed with me of course, but their simple life had such richness of community. And what beautiful people!
And yes, this is where the San live. It drops below 0 degrees during winter at night time out here, and they have very little to keep them warm.
A couple of other chaps from neighbouring villages were allowed to attend my workshop. The gardens we are building today are to be located on one man's land that also runs the local 'Visitor's Centre'; a tin shed with some hand made souvineers for sale. He has donated his land to the people as a community garden.
I take a look at the site, which is right next to the village's tap, which makes this workshop a little easier than it might have been. I decide that rather than making raised garden beds, we would be better to dig down into the earth and make our no-dig gardens in the trenches. An oh, these San are very intelligent people. With English, arms waiving and diagrams drawn in the dirt, they started to make no-dig garden beds out of materials they had never thought to use.
Old women joined in pounding dry dung, children soaked dry grass in water, men dug trenches. We built a pond and a banana circle. They worked tirelessly all day without food, clicking away to each other in their native language.
I take a look at the site, which is right next to the village's tap, which makes this workshop a little easier than it might have been. I decide that rather than making raised garden beds, we would be better to dig down into the earth and make our no-dig gardens in the trenches. An oh, these San are very intelligent people. With English, arms waiving and diagrams drawn in the dirt, they started to make no-dig garden beds out of materials they had never thought to use.
Old women joined in pounding dry dung, children soaked dry grass in water, men dug trenches. We built a pond and a banana circle. They worked tirelessly all day without food, clicking away to each other in their native language.
I can't say Jellie, Alex, Boet or I worked tirelessly all day without food, and we stopped at midday to eat. I didn't realise at the time that they didn't have food, and realised half-way through a ham and salad role that they were all watching us. I am deeply ashamed of my lack of awareness and sensitivity.
The kids played around the church grounds regardless, and Jellie can be seen here taking photos of them with the digital camera, then showing them their picture. They were endlessly fascinated with the game and they all wanted their picture taken.
The kids played around the church grounds regardless, and Jellie can be seen here taking photos of them with the digital camera, then showing them their picture. They were endlessly fascinated with the game and they all wanted their picture taken.
Its pretty hard to look into their faces and realise that the San are a minority people who are not recognised by the Government and are considered lower on the pecking order than cattle.
Pastor Boet provides this village with food occasionally from funding he has managed to get through different organisations, but that is just corn/maize meal. They get no fruit or vegetables in their diet at all.
The San have alsways been hunter/gatherers but have been allocated this land and restricted, so they can no longer live their nomadic lifestyle. They are not farming people, so this exercise is going to be interesting to see how long they are able to sustain it.
They have a craft shop here which was a tin shack that had clearly not seen a tourist for years. They get no tourists at this village and all of the artifacts in the little shed are made by the village people. I bought a mobile, some jewellery and an amazing knife. These are real artifacts, not the mass-produced stuff you find everywhere else, and I'm really pleased to be helping them financially. [Back in Australia at customs, they took the jewellery off me (they were seeds made into beads), they cut one of the things off the mobile because it was a seed, but they let me in with the knife because it was JUST big enough to NOT be considered a concealed weapon - go figure!]
Here we are pictured with the men who made the knives, along with a couple of pics of the inside of the 'craft shop'.
The San have alsways been hunter/gatherers but have been allocated this land and restricted, so they can no longer live their nomadic lifestyle. They are not farming people, so this exercise is going to be interesting to see how long they are able to sustain it.
They have a craft shop here which was a tin shack that had clearly not seen a tourist for years. They get no tourists at this village and all of the artifacts in the little shed are made by the village people. I bought a mobile, some jewellery and an amazing knife. These are real artifacts, not the mass-produced stuff you find everywhere else, and I'm really pleased to be helping them financially. [Back in Australia at customs, they took the jewellery off me (they were seeds made into beads), they cut one of the things off the mobile because it was a seed, but they let me in with the knife because it was JUST big enough to NOT be considered a concealed weapon - go figure!]
Here we are pictured with the men who made the knives, along with a couple of pics of the inside of the 'craft shop'.
After our hard day's work, we headed out of the village to the local Pastor's property, where he allows people to camp and has surrounded a large area with thorns to stop wild animals coming in. Good oh!
Boet is well-equipped. We have a camping toilet and shower, big canvass tents, fridge and cooking equipment. We're fine, and we set ourselves up, cooked up a simple meal and because I am still feeling very unwell and the cough is persistent, I went to bed.
Boet is well-equipped. We have a camping toilet and shower, big canvass tents, fridge and cooking equipment. We're fine, and we set ourselves up, cooked up a simple meal and because I am still feeling very unwell and the cough is persistent, I went to bed.
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