Finding transport from Hukuntsi, a village in Botswana located just south of the tropic of Capricorn, has always been semi-difficult. It never seems that there is a shortage of 4X4 vehicles but finding one willing to give a white a lift for a few days at the black price takes a little bit. The first try netted an offer of 500 pula (about $110 US) per day which was too much.

After floating around for much of Thursday transport with two cars for 125 pula per day was found but one had a missing bolt causing a rattle and the other a clog somewhere in the gas line. After more waiting a 1990 Toyota Landcruiser driven by a friendly fellow named Pete came on the scene. He asked when we wanted to go and I said now.

Now, but not now now. After making sure we had an extra spare tire and plenty of water and food we were off to Ngwatle. At Ngwatle I’m familiar with about 25 artists who I buy from each time I’m around. One of my favourites was called Maseben. She stayed with her grandmother and her young daughter in a hut made of twigs coated on the outside.

On my first visits to Ngwatle it was clear Maseben was one of the most talented and prolific artists creating ‘Mareka’, the !Xo word for ostrich eggshell jewellery. On my previous trip, February 2003, she’d had the strength to make only one piece, a bracelet which I’ve held onto. Maseben was infected with HIV and was clearly at that point about to succumb to Aids.
I talked to her about it at that time and she indicated that the infection was passed on to her by a government worker.

Unfortunately for her she did not have access to Anti-Retroviral medications as she said he did.

I was not surprised to learn that Maseben passed away last April. I knew that it was to be but it cast a bit of a pall over the proceedings. As usual I set my tent near to the grandmother’s place. I call her Mosadi Mogolo, old woman in Setswana.

Although we arrived after dark we found her up and active. She’d just come from the community water tank but found it difficult to open so we trekked back with her and carried back 60 litres of water over a kilometer or so.

The next day the artisans assembled and I was able to collect jewellery they’d created from 40 kilograms of ostrich eggshell I’d dropped off last year.

After spending the day at Ngwatle we escaped to N/aang some 36 kilometers away. Here we were also able to assemble the artists and collect some jewellery.

I was delighted that Pete let me drive from N/aang to the next settlement. I’d not really had a lot of practice with driving manual or in deep, deep sand but luckily there’s not a lot of stuff to hit along the desert roads so I just winged it and did fine. Unfortunately, at some point the sealant holding a hole on the radiator closed came off. We overheated.

It’s not really the best place to be, the Kalahari Desert, with a broken car. However, Pete seemed to expect this problem and had some more sealant. We managed to make it back to Ngwatle where we stopped to refill our water.

To restart was a problem. The engine didn’t turn over and to make it worse the hood wouldn’t open. I read a book while a few gathered Bushmen and Pete worked on getting the hood open. After a while I got out to look and recommended they pull the grill forward and reach inside. This worked.

We convinced ourselves that the problem with the engine was the choke but we were wrong. After another while I walked to see some American missionaries stationed at Ngwatle. Missionaries in Africa are usually really good at fixing cars.

Jim and Jill and the boys were surprised to see me but I explained I’d been coming for some time and they seemed happy about that, and to see me. Jill asked how many we were and said she’d put on more chili.

A few problems were diagnosed. First, Jim felt that Japanese cars were shitty and we should be driving a Ford F-250. But I’d grown attached to the Landcruiser and disagreed silently. No need to annoy the guy who was going to prevent me from being stuck in the desert.

The next issues were more serious. I’m not a mechanic but it seemed like a lot of the wires were bare and sort of twisted together. Jim thought it would be better if we wrapped them with gum. His son quickly chewed a Chappies, the local brand, and wrapped it around one of the bare bits of wire. Next the carburetor was adjusted and our battery attached by jumpers to there.
The choke didn’t come into play at all.

Once the engine started we thought we’d better not tempt fate and took off. We had two choices about root: A road straight to Hukuntsi and 80 kms or one through Zutshwa with an extra ten or so. I wanted to stop at Zutshwa anyways but Ronnie wanted to take the car back for fixing. Luckily we took my root and died in the middle of Zutshwa. We got a first boost to get rolling again but not far.

We stopped beside somebodies place so I asked if we could camp in their yard. It turned out that one of the ladies, Kennie, remembered me from being there last year so we ended up chatting for a while catching up on what had happened there and elsewhere.

The next day I sought out Tantane, a Bushmen who’d really helped me last year when I’d come. Zutshwa had at some time in the past had a Trust which set up a craft buying organization. At some point the money was eaten a tremendously skilled group of artisans were left without a place to sell their work. So, my coming was a good thing for them. My first meeting didn’t go as smoothly as I’d like. A great deal of debate took place with former trust members saying I had to go through them if I wanted to buy crafts. Considering they’d collapsed the trust I pretty much ignored them apart from one lady who was much louder than the rest.

This year there was no commotion. No one had been to buy crafts in the eleven months since I’d last come. I had promised I would and everyone seemed pleased about it. There was some disappointment that I had not kept a promise to bring the ladies nail-cuts, a tool employed in the making of ostrich shell jewellery, and an explanation was demanded. I explained that I’d forgotten and this was accepted at face value.

Tantane and I moved around for the day quickly became fast friends. Last year his English was not great but this year he amazed me. He kept referring to molecules and about different things that were “driving him bananas”. When I asked him why he’d been so pitiful at English last year he explained that that day he was feeling lazy.

I went through the task of buying in a relatively straightforward way and found the quality of the workmanship extremely high but the materials lacking. Some of the ladies were using maize meal sack as string for the jewellery. This material after some time would rot and break and they knew it. So pieces that were diagnosed with sack were sent back to be restrung with a strong nylon thread I’d brought. No one complained about this and the day was spent pleasantly chatting with Kennie, Tantane and others.

I was anxious to find out if the traditional doctors were around but they were not.

So from Zutshwa it was back to Hukuntsi after three good days in the bush where I’d budgeted five bad. I made a promise to return again as soon as I can.