Thursday, February 02, 2006
Tsodilo Hills
With the Bushmen there is always an element of mysticism.
Traditional Healers will dance late into the night connecting their souls to god from inside their deep trance. They'll consult with the ancestors to discover the right path.
Being with them is to hear stories about people who can turn into snakes or men who will taste blood to diagnose an illness.
Many places are sacred to the Bushmen and none more than Tsodilo Hills.
Tsodilo is a world heritage site. It's a place where people have always lived with artifacts found dating back to the early stone age.
All around the hills are paintings showing animals and the culture of the Bushmen. From the tar road We travelled down a not to bumpy road and the male hill, the biggest, grew larger in the windscreen.
At the site we found a gate, with a sign: "Please close gate." We went through and did and wound around the male hill to see the female beside it. Further on were a child and a grandchild.
Without a clue where to go we eventually found an arrow which we followed and ended up at a beautiful campsite nearby a museum. The sign said "Tsodilo - Mountains of the God".
After dinner and washing up we thought we'd better get a guide for the next day.
As dusk fell we headed back, not quite the way we'd come, heading for the gate and hopefully to find a Bushmen guide.
As we left our campsite we looked to the road signs and spotted a big owl on top. He whisked up onto a branch and sat looking at us, and we at him.
The Bushmen attach significance to animals that you spot. Us whites consider it simple good luck since part of the reason we come to Africa is to see exotic creatures. Our party is even ticking off creatures in a field guide as we spot them (saw a Bushbuck this morning at Shakawe).
Further on the way we saw six more owls. But it might be that two flew away and came back so maybe it's only four but it's still quite good.
We found the "Keep Gate Closed" gate opened and went through. The Bushmen had once lived right at the base of these hills, as they'd always done. I thought that they'd be close at least to the gate but it didn't prove the case.
Quite aways away and through some deep, 4X4 required sand we found a the "Basarwa". The next day we saw some signs indicating the way but at night it was a bit tricky.
When we made it we found a lady and her mom who identified themselves as !Kung. We asked if they were making crafts and how many there were. It seemed a few were making a living these days by selling to tourists who came by there village and at the gates to the park. Overall it seemed there were fewer people than I'd expected.
When I asked why there were so few they indicated that after they were moved from the base of the hill in 1994, most of the elders died quickly. I didn't ask who, when or how many exactly but my impression is that when San, Bushmen or Basarwa are moved a lot of them die.
Some who are moved will even grab your hand and ask you to take them back to their home so at least they can die there, in the place where they were born.
We organized that one of the men from the village would come in the morning, at 06:30 to guide us up the hill.
We woke at 07:00 and found that he'd been waiting for us.
After brushing and washing at a surprisingly nice ablution block (we hadn't expected running water) we went to the museum office to register.
The fellow there was nice and explained that the community was benefitting from the hills by being the only ones who could guide people. We were instructed to pay the guide 30 pula per trail for the group and to browse at crafts that were in the museum and also to see the displays about the place as well.
The interesting thing for me was to see some of the old things that had been taken from the site. In particular old ostrich eggshell beads from some thousands of years ago.
We chose the rhino trail. Very quickly we were faced with red rock paintings of different types of antelopes, rhinos and elephants. There were also scenes of trance dances, the dancers were showing off very large erect penises. There are a lot of sexual analogies to the trance dance. The best dances last the whole night.
We took the easy way around gradually climbing upwards to the peak of the female hill before pretending we were goats scaling rocks down. The climb was a bit sweaty as the day grew hotter.
I noticed that I was not hassled by one fly or mosquito as we worked our way up and down. This to me, having been quite a lot in Botswana, was a miracle.
I attribute it to the fact that the Gods were pleased. Knowing that others who didn't show respect have had trouble the night before we made a small offering of tobacco on our fire. I'm sure any sane Bushmen would have scolded us for not giving them the stuff but I had a feeling that it was the right thing to do. If the flies stay away then all the better.
We managed the walk in two hours and I was pleased about the pleasantness of the scenery and the exercise.
At the bottom we showered again and headed back to Basarwa Village.
Two years ago I'd got a certain something in Ghanzi that was beautiful and unique, a certain type of necklace. Here at Tsodilo I'd found the maker. The people were in the dry season, not having tourists around who to buy up their wares so my timing was good.
Things were very well organized and we spent a couple hours talking and now I can say I know another place I'll want to come on each of my trips. Even better, a place I know I'll be welcomed.
Botswana Baskets
Up the western panhandle of the Okavango River lies a lot of reedy places. As you roll into villages with names like Sepopa, Kajaja and Seronga you will find ladies under trees using baskets made from reeds. The baskets are used for separating the chaff from grains and other utilitarian tasks. The skills inherent in making these baskets have evolved to create an artform.
Reeds that are plain, pale yellows and greens are dyed using barks and natural dyes to become bright oranges or browns. The colours are interspersed to make designs as reeds are wrapped and woven, spiralling outwards.
The result is stunning works of arts worthy of Botswana's national museum.
For a few days we decided to move up and down and find the ladies who are making this work. They are primarily from a tribe called the Humbukushu, a river people.
From what I can gather there was a huge market for baskets in the past as some individuals did a lot of work to market them overseas. Today it seems as though the hands of the basketweavers are fairly idle. The communities we visited were glad to see us and quickly asked us to make orders. The prices they were asking seemed to be already well established and understood being similar from one place to the next. There was no need to haggle, only to decide how many of what style I'd like on my return trip.
So with a handshake, I've made some deals.
The reward will be when I get everything home because these baskets are truly amazing.
With the Bushmen there is always an element of mysticism.
Traditional Healers will dance late into the night connecting their souls to god from inside their deep trance. They'll consult with the ancestors to discover the right path.
Being with them is to hear stories about people who can turn into snakes or men who will taste blood to diagnose an illness.
Many places are sacred to the Bushmen and none more than Tsodilo Hills.
Tsodilo is a world heritage site. It's a place where people have always lived with artifacts found dating back to the early stone age.
All around the hills are paintings showing animals and the culture of the Bushmen. From the tar road We travelled down a not to bumpy road and the male hill, the biggest, grew larger in the windscreen.
At the site we found a gate, with a sign: "Please close gate." We went through and did and wound around the male hill to see the female beside it. Further on were a child and a grandchild.
Without a clue where to go we eventually found an arrow which we followed and ended up at a beautiful campsite nearby a museum. The sign said "Tsodilo - Mountains of the God".
After dinner and washing up we thought we'd better get a guide for the next day.
As dusk fell we headed back, not quite the way we'd come, heading for the gate and hopefully to find a Bushmen guide.
As we left our campsite we looked to the road signs and spotted a big owl on top. He whisked up onto a branch and sat looking at us, and we at him.
The Bushmen attach significance to animals that you spot. Us whites consider it simple good luck since part of the reason we come to Africa is to see exotic creatures. Our party is even ticking off creatures in a field guide as we spot them (saw a Bushbuck this morning at Shakawe).
Further on the way we saw six more owls. But it might be that two flew away and came back so maybe it's only four but it's still quite good.
We found the "Keep Gate Closed" gate opened and went through. The Bushmen had once lived right at the base of these hills, as they'd always done. I thought that they'd be close at least to the gate but it didn't prove the case.
Quite aways away and through some deep, 4X4 required sand we found a the "Basarwa". The next day we saw some signs indicating the way but at night it was a bit tricky.
When we made it we found a lady and her mom who identified themselves as !Kung. We asked if they were making crafts and how many there were. It seemed a few were making a living these days by selling to tourists who came by there village and at the gates to the park. Overall it seemed there were fewer people than I'd expected.
When I asked why there were so few they indicated that after they were moved from the base of the hill in 1994, most of the elders died quickly. I didn't ask who, when or how many exactly but my impression is that when San, Bushmen or Basarwa are moved a lot of them die.
Some who are moved will even grab your hand and ask you to take them back to their home so at least they can die there, in the place where they were born.
We organized that one of the men from the village would come in the morning, at 06:30 to guide us up the hill.
We woke at 07:00 and found that he'd been waiting for us.
After brushing and washing at a surprisingly nice ablution block (we hadn't expected running water) we went to the museum office to register.
The fellow there was nice and explained that the community was benefitting from the hills by being the only ones who could guide people. We were instructed to pay the guide 30 pula per trail for the group and to browse at crafts that were in the museum and also to see the displays about the place as well.
The interesting thing for me was to see some of the old things that had been taken from the site. In particular old ostrich eggshell beads from some thousands of years ago.
We chose the rhino trail. Very quickly we were faced with red rock paintings of different types of antelopes, rhinos and elephants. There were also scenes of trance dances, the dancers were showing off very large erect penises. There are a lot of sexual analogies to the trance dance. The best dances last the whole night.
We took the easy way around gradually climbing upwards to the peak of the female hill before pretending we were goats scaling rocks down. The climb was a bit sweaty as the day grew hotter.
I noticed that I was not hassled by one fly or mosquito as we worked our way up and down. This to me, having been quite a lot in Botswana, was a miracle.
I attribute it to the fact that the Gods were pleased. Knowing that others who didn't show respect have had trouble the night before we made a small offering of tobacco on our fire. I'm sure any sane Bushmen would have scolded us for not giving them the stuff but I had a feeling that it was the right thing to do. If the flies stay away then all the better.
We managed the walk in two hours and I was pleased about the pleasantness of the scenery and the exercise.
At the bottom we showered again and headed back to Basarwa Village.
Two years ago I'd got a certain something in Ghanzi that was beautiful and unique, a certain type of necklace. Here at Tsodilo I'd found the maker. The people were in the dry season, not having tourists around who to buy up their wares so my timing was good.
Things were very well organized and we spent a couple hours talking and now I can say I know another place I'll want to come on each of my trips. Even better, a place I know I'll be welcomed.
Botswana Baskets
Up the western panhandle of the Okavango River lies a lot of reedy places. As you roll into villages with names like Sepopa, Kajaja and Seronga you will find ladies under trees using baskets made from reeds. The baskets are used for separating the chaff from grains and other utilitarian tasks. The skills inherent in making these baskets have evolved to create an artform.
Reeds that are plain, pale yellows and greens are dyed using barks and natural dyes to become bright oranges or browns. The colours are interspersed to make designs as reeds are wrapped and woven, spiralling outwards.
The result is stunning works of arts worthy of Botswana's national museum.
For a few days we decided to move up and down and find the ladies who are making this work. They are primarily from a tribe called the Humbukushu, a river people.
From what I can gather there was a huge market for baskets in the past as some individuals did a lot of work to market them overseas. Today it seems as though the hands of the basketweavers are fairly idle. The communities we visited were glad to see us and quickly asked us to make orders. The prices they were asking seemed to be already well established and understood being similar from one place to the next. There was no need to haggle, only to decide how many of what style I'd like on my return trip.
So with a handshake, I've made some deals.
The reward will be when I get everything home because these baskets are truly amazing.
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