Sunday, January 27, 2008
Sir Seretse Khama Airport
After one week in Gaborone I was ready to go. My guest this trip was Katherine Topolniski, a photographer from Canada, my graphic designer and a friend.
Katt arrived as scheduled and walked out through customs only to have to run back to fill in missing information of where she’d be staying while in Botswana. Nomad is the description which is apt but instead I advised the Mogoditshane Service Apartments (no-frills, but clean P50 per night and up).
Her gate pass already in hand I thought another ten minutes and we would be on the road to Kgalagadi as scheduled. But, this is Africa. Katt’s bags were suspected to be in Johannesburg. Within a few minutes of leaving we were called to say they would be on the next flight.
We went back at the appropriate time and Katt was shuffled back to look at all the bags. She was not the only one in this predicament. Seemingly there was a problem with the conveyor belt at Johannesburg or that the hot air would not allow the planes to run heavy so bags were regularly left or that the storage on the plane was very small, all or none of which may be true.
After further fiddling on a computer it was determined that the bags were actually in Paris which isn’t bad since they were only off by one continent.
We decided to push the next morning without the bags as they may again end up elsewhere than we wanted them to be. Strangely all you really need for sure here is clean underwear, especially if you are the type who prefers clean underwear. My toiletries consist mainly of a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and a bar of soap. I have one suitcase filled with clean underwear and another with beads, earring hooks and other paraphernalia demanded by the sorts of artisans that I consort with.
Kgalagadi
The Kgalagadi district is one of my favorite places. Having lost a day we decided to act as a whirlwind or dust devil might and spin through. My favorite friend in the area Pedris had been following my delays as they developed by the hour and faithfully waited even though it might be possible he was neglecting his job as a generator operator. The generators are required to produce electricity to provide power to boreholes which supply water to the inhabitants on the settlements in Kgalagadi.
I phoned Pedris from in front of the bar and he informed me he was behind the bar. It’s always nice to reunite. From Hukuntsi we discussed the plans. We passed through Zutshwa and flagged people down to let them know that tomorrow we would be back at 11:00 to buy.
As we approached the last house of the village we saw a hectic pandemonium. Three children a man and a woman were running circles around the hut. They were yelling in !Xo. It was quickly translated for us to English: “Snake in the House!”
I noticed sticks in the hands of the children and they were poking and thrashing at a small mamba which soon wound up dead.
We pushed for Ngwatle. It’s a peaceful place miles away from the annoyances that are inherent in places with electricity. Of course, that’s not exactly the view of the people and they commandeered my vehicle to blast some traditional music from the tape deck. Of course they also left the fan running and a drained battery as a result.
But there’s no need to panic. The worst case is that you are stuck in a great place. At Ngwatle that day the forestry department had arrived to deliver trees in an effort to reforest the area. Each resident was entitled to three small trees.
The forestry department was happy enough to give me a boost and off we went.
The quality of the beadwork at Ngwatle is incomparable and I was happy to buy everything available.
The next stop was again Zutshwa and by 12:30 we were arrived at the Kgotla. Of course, we were the only ones. Someone had spread the rumour that we were to be there at 2. Despite that as we arrived people started walking from all corners of the village.
Zutshwa is not a village where people live close together so it took a couple of hours to have the late stragglers arrive. In the meantime I bought all available and made it back by the end of the night to Hukuntsi for a beer and some rest.
I am now in Namibia and desperately behind in my blogging and what not but ahead in other areas so it has been a worthy trade. I will do my level best to catch up.
Karibib
The new places are always more interesting since you can’t know what’s around the corner. Turning left at Otjiwarongo leads to Karibib. I might actually have been here if you can count passing on a train. There was a choice of staying at a campsite or a backpackers. The backpackers was empty and there were two guests at the campsites. One of the guys looked like a goat-killer and upon further looking I concluded he was owing to the goat carcass hanging from a tree behind him.
The backpackers represented the first bed in a while and it was welcomed. Plans to go out for a beer were scuttled on account of already being asleep.
UsakosNamibia is famous for mineral wealth. Past Usakos at the turn off to a gravel road leading north was a row of small stalls filled with women behind tables full of minerals. Mostly Aquamarine, tourmalines, garnets, quartzes and more.
At the time the women were selling there were men off in mountains with tools for digging looking for more stones to bring to the road. If asking where a stone was from, the owner would just point in the direction of one of three mountains in the distance.
Arriving before ten it took a few hours to go through everything. The sun was hammering by the end of the day. My calves, neck and forearms were all casualties.
Erongo
Sometimes you are in places where your mind couldn’t imagine such beauty. Even to think that life can happen in such places is difficult but clearly it’s there. Signs of life appear whether it’s tree, shrub or grass jutting out between rocks. After that there are occasional huts and fences indicating the local Damara people and their livestock. From there we were lucky to get very close to spy kudus, springboks and baboons.
Pushing forward we arrived at a place called Khorixas and ate local gemsbok. Pretty good.
Kunene
Pushing from Khorixas we were bound for Opuwo. Reading a map and driving a road are two different things. We’d been advised there might be some cool stuff along the rocky roads going through Uis, Palmswag and Sesfontein.
Sesfontein especially seemed big on the map and clearly indicated were that there were some handy gas pumps there.
Pushing through the dessert was marvelous. Most of the rocks for kilometers were remnants of a forest long petrified. Marvellous sandstone sculptures were along the road and long weathered mountains contained colours of oranges, reds, blues and yellows. Not much green though.
At Palsmwag were stopped by a sputtering gate attendant who promptly carved our names into a makalani palm seed. I guess you shouldn’t tell them your names to avoid buying another one but even if you don’t they’ll carve out your license plate number to guilt you out of twenty or thirty bucks.
Our attention was distracted by the cool drinks available at this spot and indulged. A quick calculation indicated we had enough gas to comfortably make the remaining jaunt.
As we pushed towards Sesfontein we noticed we could go straight or into the village and decided to pop in. This must have been a miscalculation. As we approached we found a crew working on the building the bridge which was now out. We were directed to take our 4 X 4 around on a track and one of the crew jumped into help direct us. I hadn’t know, never having been there, that Sesfontein is one of the sandiest places on earth.
Immediately after leaving the road we caromed over a rut and the sand splashed up over the car, through the partly opened windows, through the ventilation system, into our lungs and over everything else.
Knowing one thing about this terrain I pushed for about 3 kms. Thankfully, the car is strong, something the crewman repeated a few times as we pressed forward.
Arriving at Sesfontein we went to the shops for cool drinks and looked for directions for diesel. No diesel was repeated a few times. The map had let us down.
Looking at a sign I felt regret as the main attraction of Sesfontein was desert elephants. I have never seen desert elephants but wanted to as soon as I knew they existed and that they were only 24 kms away. Unfortunately 24 X 2 is 48 and deep sand is not the friend of efficient fuel consumption. So it was off from Sesfontein towards Opuwo
Looking at the gas gauge I was slightly apprehensive noticing that it had declined a fair bit from where it felt comfortable.
We spotted three figures at the hiking spot leading to Opuwo. I thought with our empty back seat we could manage them and I pitied people who can wait at such places for days and days.
Well, our three Herrero friends were not traveling lightly and it took a few minutes to pack everything into the car. I noticed right away the car felt heavier. It wasn’t three people only that would weigh it down like that but nearly a full household worth of stuff.
We pushed and with worries on my mind I didn’t stop for the people who were flagging us down to give them water. I was worried myself about our litres as well.
As we climbed up and down mountain roads I noticed the temperature gauge edging upwards as the diesel engine worked hard. On the down hills things went back to normal. I thought of what first we could jettison to lighten the load and a couple of large Herrero carry bags sat at the front of my mind.
As we crested a deadly steep peak another more ominous appeared in front. I tried to gain speed to make it up as far to the next as we could. I tried to maintain RPM’s at less than 3000 and the Hilux struggled with the wait and the angle. The heat gauge started to spike about a third up and I just wanted to eek to the top before we stopped. Just before it touched red we crested again and I shut her down.
The rad boiled over and I popped the hood to let air on it and to look at it as one does in such a situation.
I wanted to calculate a new strategy and decided to look to the elder among us, the Herrero patriarch. He was more parrot than anything as he’d repeat any word I said right back. I should have just muttered the solution to our crisis so he could repeat it back to me.
The question was whether to go ahead to the unknown or back to Palmswag where there might or might not be gas. Even Sesfontein seemed better and there were elephants not so far away from there.
Nothing was going to happen until the car cooled down and it was seeming to when another car, the first we’d seen on this road during our time on it, appeared moving towards us.
The car was bound to stop seeing our car with the universal hood up signal indicating that we are cacced in some way or other. I hoped that the inhabitants of the car were not pirates or robbers. As it pulled up I noticed the sticker on the window indicating that they didn’t have guns as representatives of the Namibian Red Cross. Red Cross people are typically well prepared for emergencies, even situations that hadn’t become emergencies yet, such as ours, can be helped by their organization.
So we negotiated a jerry can full of the sweetest red-cross diesel ever poured in a tank and solved one of our potential problems.
We asked about the road ahead and were reliably informed that it was much better than the road behind. This put some wind in our sails as we enjoyed watching the landscape transform as we entered Kunene. We even passed a few Baobabs trees and indications that the rains had been here in the days before us.
All this was part of the journey to Opuwo which is where I sit now.
After one week in Gaborone I was ready to go. My guest this trip was Katherine Topolniski, a photographer from Canada, my graphic designer and a friend.
Katt arrived as scheduled and walked out through customs only to have to run back to fill in missing information of where she’d be staying while in Botswana. Nomad is the description which is apt but instead I advised the Mogoditshane Service Apartments (no-frills, but clean P50 per night and up).
Her gate pass already in hand I thought another ten minutes and we would be on the road to Kgalagadi as scheduled. But, this is Africa. Katt’s bags were suspected to be in Johannesburg. Within a few minutes of leaving we were called to say they would be on the next flight.
We went back at the appropriate time and Katt was shuffled back to look at all the bags. She was not the only one in this predicament. Seemingly there was a problem with the conveyor belt at Johannesburg or that the hot air would not allow the planes to run heavy so bags were regularly left or that the storage on the plane was very small, all or none of which may be true.
After further fiddling on a computer it was determined that the bags were actually in Paris which isn’t bad since they were only off by one continent.
We decided to push the next morning without the bags as they may again end up elsewhere than we wanted them to be. Strangely all you really need for sure here is clean underwear, especially if you are the type who prefers clean underwear. My toiletries consist mainly of a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and a bar of soap. I have one suitcase filled with clean underwear and another with beads, earring hooks and other paraphernalia demanded by the sorts of artisans that I consort with.
Kgalagadi
The Kgalagadi district is one of my favorite places. Having lost a day we decided to act as a whirlwind or dust devil might and spin through. My favorite friend in the area Pedris had been following my delays as they developed by the hour and faithfully waited even though it might be possible he was neglecting his job as a generator operator. The generators are required to produce electricity to provide power to boreholes which supply water to the inhabitants on the settlements in Kgalagadi.
I phoned Pedris from in front of the bar and he informed me he was behind the bar. It’s always nice to reunite. From Hukuntsi we discussed the plans. We passed through Zutshwa and flagged people down to let them know that tomorrow we would be back at 11:00 to buy.
As we approached the last house of the village we saw a hectic pandemonium. Three children a man and a woman were running circles around the hut. They were yelling in !Xo. It was quickly translated for us to English: “Snake in the House!”
I noticed sticks in the hands of the children and they were poking and thrashing at a small mamba which soon wound up dead.
We pushed for Ngwatle. It’s a peaceful place miles away from the annoyances that are inherent in places with electricity. Of course, that’s not exactly the view of the people and they commandeered my vehicle to blast some traditional music from the tape deck. Of course they also left the fan running and a drained battery as a result.
But there’s no need to panic. The worst case is that you are stuck in a great place. At Ngwatle that day the forestry department had arrived to deliver trees in an effort to reforest the area. Each resident was entitled to three small trees.
The forestry department was happy enough to give me a boost and off we went.
The quality of the beadwork at Ngwatle is incomparable and I was happy to buy everything available.
The next stop was again Zutshwa and by 12:30 we were arrived at the Kgotla. Of course, we were the only ones. Someone had spread the rumour that we were to be there at 2. Despite that as we arrived people started walking from all corners of the village.
Zutshwa is not a village where people live close together so it took a couple of hours to have the late stragglers arrive. In the meantime I bought all available and made it back by the end of the night to Hukuntsi for a beer and some rest.
I am now in Namibia and desperately behind in my blogging and what not but ahead in other areas so it has been a worthy trade. I will do my level best to catch up.
Karibib
The new places are always more interesting since you can’t know what’s around the corner. Turning left at Otjiwarongo leads to Karibib. I might actually have been here if you can count passing on a train. There was a choice of staying at a campsite or a backpackers. The backpackers was empty and there were two guests at the campsites. One of the guys looked like a goat-killer and upon further looking I concluded he was owing to the goat carcass hanging from a tree behind him.
The backpackers represented the first bed in a while and it was welcomed. Plans to go out for a beer were scuttled on account of already being asleep.
UsakosNamibia is famous for mineral wealth. Past Usakos at the turn off to a gravel road leading north was a row of small stalls filled with women behind tables full of minerals. Mostly Aquamarine, tourmalines, garnets, quartzes and more.
At the time the women were selling there were men off in mountains with tools for digging looking for more stones to bring to the road. If asking where a stone was from, the owner would just point in the direction of one of three mountains in the distance.
Arriving before ten it took a few hours to go through everything. The sun was hammering by the end of the day. My calves, neck and forearms were all casualties.
Erongo
Sometimes you are in places where your mind couldn’t imagine such beauty. Even to think that life can happen in such places is difficult but clearly it’s there. Signs of life appear whether it’s tree, shrub or grass jutting out between rocks. After that there are occasional huts and fences indicating the local Damara people and their livestock. From there we were lucky to get very close to spy kudus, springboks and baboons.
Pushing forward we arrived at a place called Khorixas and ate local gemsbok. Pretty good.
Kunene
Pushing from Khorixas we were bound for Opuwo. Reading a map and driving a road are two different things. We’d been advised there might be some cool stuff along the rocky roads going through Uis, Palmswag and Sesfontein.
Sesfontein especially seemed big on the map and clearly indicated were that there were some handy gas pumps there.
Pushing through the dessert was marvelous. Most of the rocks for kilometers were remnants of a forest long petrified. Marvellous sandstone sculptures were along the road and long weathered mountains contained colours of oranges, reds, blues and yellows. Not much green though.
At Palsmwag were stopped by a sputtering gate attendant who promptly carved our names into a makalani palm seed. I guess you shouldn’t tell them your names to avoid buying another one but even if you don’t they’ll carve out your license plate number to guilt you out of twenty or thirty bucks.
Our attention was distracted by the cool drinks available at this spot and indulged. A quick calculation indicated we had enough gas to comfortably make the remaining jaunt.
As we pushed towards Sesfontein we noticed we could go straight or into the village and decided to pop in. This must have been a miscalculation. As we approached we found a crew working on the building the bridge which was now out. We were directed to take our 4 X 4 around on a track and one of the crew jumped into help direct us. I hadn’t know, never having been there, that Sesfontein is one of the sandiest places on earth.
Immediately after leaving the road we caromed over a rut and the sand splashed up over the car, through the partly opened windows, through the ventilation system, into our lungs and over everything else.
Knowing one thing about this terrain I pushed for about 3 kms. Thankfully, the car is strong, something the crewman repeated a few times as we pressed forward.
Arriving at Sesfontein we went to the shops for cool drinks and looked for directions for diesel. No diesel was repeated a few times. The map had let us down.
Looking at a sign I felt regret as the main attraction of Sesfontein was desert elephants. I have never seen desert elephants but wanted to as soon as I knew they existed and that they were only 24 kms away. Unfortunately 24 X 2 is 48 and deep sand is not the friend of efficient fuel consumption. So it was off from Sesfontein towards Opuwo
Looking at the gas gauge I was slightly apprehensive noticing that it had declined a fair bit from where it felt comfortable.
We spotted three figures at the hiking spot leading to Opuwo. I thought with our empty back seat we could manage them and I pitied people who can wait at such places for days and days.
Well, our three Herrero friends were not traveling lightly and it took a few minutes to pack everything into the car. I noticed right away the car felt heavier. It wasn’t three people only that would weigh it down like that but nearly a full household worth of stuff.
We pushed and with worries on my mind I didn’t stop for the people who were flagging us down to give them water. I was worried myself about our litres as well.
As we climbed up and down mountain roads I noticed the temperature gauge edging upwards as the diesel engine worked hard. On the down hills things went back to normal. I thought of what first we could jettison to lighten the load and a couple of large Herrero carry bags sat at the front of my mind.
As we crested a deadly steep peak another more ominous appeared in front. I tried to gain speed to make it up as far to the next as we could. I tried to maintain RPM’s at less than 3000 and the Hilux struggled with the wait and the angle. The heat gauge started to spike about a third up and I just wanted to eek to the top before we stopped. Just before it touched red we crested again and I shut her down.
The rad boiled over and I popped the hood to let air on it and to look at it as one does in such a situation.
I wanted to calculate a new strategy and decided to look to the elder among us, the Herrero patriarch. He was more parrot than anything as he’d repeat any word I said right back. I should have just muttered the solution to our crisis so he could repeat it back to me.
The question was whether to go ahead to the unknown or back to Palmswag where there might or might not be gas. Even Sesfontein seemed better and there were elephants not so far away from there.
Nothing was going to happen until the car cooled down and it was seeming to when another car, the first we’d seen on this road during our time on it, appeared moving towards us.
The car was bound to stop seeing our car with the universal hood up signal indicating that we are cacced in some way or other. I hoped that the inhabitants of the car were not pirates or robbers. As it pulled up I noticed the sticker on the window indicating that they didn’t have guns as representatives of the Namibian Red Cross. Red Cross people are typically well prepared for emergencies, even situations that hadn’t become emergencies yet, such as ours, can be helped by their organization.
So we negotiated a jerry can full of the sweetest red-cross diesel ever poured in a tank and solved one of our potential problems.
We asked about the road ahead and were reliably informed that it was much better than the road behind. This put some wind in our sails as we enjoyed watching the landscape transform as we entered Kunene. We even passed a few Baobabs trees and indications that the rains had been here in the days before us.
All this was part of the journey to Opuwo which is where I sit now.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Flying over Johannesburg you notice a beauty in the corrugated aluminum roofs as it catches the bright African sun. Some of these buildings will be painted in vibrant colours or with slogans. It is too high up to see the people. Even the cars are ant-like and much fewer than those below on departure from Toronto.
Now it is 8:05 pm at home but unfortunately 3:05 am in Johannesburg. My internal clock is yet to catch up to my surroundings and I’m six hours away from another flight to Gaborone, the capital of Botswana. In Washington, the middle leg of my journey I’d sat immobile with my nose in the book until my name was finally paged to get onto my flight. I’d been sitting at the gate but had my back facing to the area where everyone queued and pushed onto the plane. Even with a couple reprimands from the ground staff I noticed that I was not the last to arrive for the New Years Eve flight. Better than last years early New Years day flight where I had to watch all the poor woozy saps sticking there head in the toilet (or the sink) at Pearson International Airport.
The pilot came over the loudspeaker and told us that we’d just passed into 2008 and let us know that there was extra champagne on board. My portion was a meager half of a plastic glass. A few people clapped at the announcement. It was the same noise halfheartedly splattered through a few rows as the plane touched down safely in Africa.
We all had our own reason for being on this flight. Mine was that my travel agent had told me that this was the last ticket available any time around the dates I wanted to leave. I doubted it somehow on account of the many empty seats left to us by revelers who chose to remain on the ground.
In the next three months I’ll be able to do as I’ve done the past years. Traveling through Southern Africa and buying arts from artisans throughout the region. I’ve planned out a week off in Gaborone, Botswana. Time enough to catch up with old friends and then on the 9th the plan is to collect a friend at the airport and proceed straight to the bush.
The challenges of this voyage are minimized by the fact I’ve been here before. With that in mind I hope to strike of in a few new directions to bring the adventure up a notch. Being somewhere you’ve been before feels warm but it doesn’t bring the same buzz in the pit of the stomach as even the thought of unknown.
(Written January 2, 2008 at Oliver Tambo International Airport, Johannesburg, South Africa.)
Today, it's January 5th. In a few short days I was able to get a car, replace the tires and generally organize everything that I need for the coming jump to the bush on Tuesday. More to come once something interesting happens.
Now it is 8:05 pm at home but unfortunately 3:05 am in Johannesburg. My internal clock is yet to catch up to my surroundings and I’m six hours away from another flight to Gaborone, the capital of Botswana. In Washington, the middle leg of my journey I’d sat immobile with my nose in the book until my name was finally paged to get onto my flight. I’d been sitting at the gate but had my back facing to the area where everyone queued and pushed onto the plane. Even with a couple reprimands from the ground staff I noticed that I was not the last to arrive for the New Years Eve flight. Better than last years early New Years day flight where I had to watch all the poor woozy saps sticking there head in the toilet (or the sink) at Pearson International Airport.
The pilot came over the loudspeaker and told us that we’d just passed into 2008 and let us know that there was extra champagne on board. My portion was a meager half of a plastic glass. A few people clapped at the announcement. It was the same noise halfheartedly splattered through a few rows as the plane touched down safely in Africa.
We all had our own reason for being on this flight. Mine was that my travel agent had told me that this was the last ticket available any time around the dates I wanted to leave. I doubted it somehow on account of the many empty seats left to us by revelers who chose to remain on the ground.
In the next three months I’ll be able to do as I’ve done the past years. Traveling through Southern Africa and buying arts from artisans throughout the region. I’ve planned out a week off in Gaborone, Botswana. Time enough to catch up with old friends and then on the 9th the plan is to collect a friend at the airport and proceed straight to the bush.
The challenges of this voyage are minimized by the fact I’ve been here before. With that in mind I hope to strike of in a few new directions to bring the adventure up a notch. Being somewhere you’ve been before feels warm but it doesn’t bring the same buzz in the pit of the stomach as even the thought of unknown.
(Written January 2, 2008 at Oliver Tambo International Airport, Johannesburg, South Africa.)
Today, it's January 5th. In a few short days I was able to get a car, replace the tires and generally organize everything that I need for the coming jump to the bush on Tuesday. More to come once something interesting happens.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
This blog has not been managed very well. I got locked out as Blogger migrated to Google. Yawn. Sorry to those who thought I was in trouble.
There was a lot of blog and news that was missed. But the best upcoming news is that Besa Abuse (a-boo-say) a Ju/'hoansi San from Namibia will be in Canada for a month starting June 17th. Check our events page to see what's happening.
This week there were two articles about communities that I know very well in Botswana's Daily News, the Government newspaper.
Alcohol abuse rampant at Qangwa, Dobe
10 May, 2007
MAUN - It has been confirmed that residents of Xaxa, Qangwa and Dobe in the Okavango Sub-district are abuse alcohol.
There was a lot of blog and news that was missed. But the best upcoming news is that Besa Abuse (a-boo-say) a Ju/'hoansi San from Namibia will be in Canada for a month starting June 17th. Check our events page to see what's happening.
This week there were two articles about communities that I know very well in Botswana's Daily News, the Government newspaper.
| | |
| Zutshwa: The capital that never was 09 May, 2007 | |
HUKUNSTI - About 60km west of Hukuntsi is a settlement which at one point had the potential to become the capital of Kgalagadi. This was so because of the seemingly lucrative Zutshwa salt project that supplied Livestock Advisory Centres (LAC) in most parts of the country. But that was just an illusion, probably influenced by unrealistic hopes. Most of Bakgalagadi and Basarwa who populate Zutshwa settlement are unemployed and poverty stricken. A large proportion of them are dependent on government handouts. However, they are hopeful that the situation will change for the better one day. In contrast to urban life, life in this settlement is so relaxed and laid back. It is rural in the true sense of the word. The intense summer heat keeps people inside their houses. Most residents hunt game and gather wild fruits for survival while a few work in the farms around the district. After several futile attempts to locate elders of the settlement, our team was directed to the Village Development Committee chairman who led us to Mr Taolo Gabohumisiwe, secretary of the Qhaa Qhing Conservation Trust. Qhaa Qhing has apparently since taken over the salt project following the dissolution of Maiteko Tshwaragano Trust Fund in June 2004. Without any hesitation, Mr. Gabohumisiwe said the project used to be a money-spinner. It is now a white elephant due to mismanagement by the committee that took over the running of the trust when the Germans who established it left in 2003. Inside the warehouse, are big heaps of salt, some members are accused of doing business behind the backs of others by selling salt, something that irks the secretary. Mr. Gabohumisiwe said residents used to earn a living from the project, and that most people in the village had some jobs unlike today when they do not have any reason to wake up, except to deal with poverty everyday. The project was started in the early 1990s through the assistance of some Germans of the Lutheran Church as a way of trying to help residents of Zutshwa have a source of income and it was initially a success. He said the windmills pumped water from underground into a small dam they constructed next to the salt pan. The water was, however, too salty for human consumption. A desalination project was as a result put up. He said the place was abundant with salt to an extent that they started supplying the Livestock Advisory Centres (LAC) in most parts of the country. He said around 2003, the Germans, who had solicited funds from external donors, felt that residents of Zutshwa were now competent and could run the project on their own. Little did they know that trouble was about to begin. Firstly, there was a leadership crisis with residents divided over who should coordinate the project. The disagreement was basically along tribal lines, but eventually a compromise was reached. Even after a compromise was reached, the working relationship was not good and the project declined until it collapsed and no money came from the salt project. we lost our jobs and poverty came, he said. He said as the project did not yield any income it was dissolved and incorporated into the Qhaa Qhing Trust, which dealt with a campsite and a craft shop. But that also did not solve the problem as the newly elected committee, of which he is the secretary also did not have good working relations and experience which led to the Vice chairman resigning from the board. He said there was lack of transparency in the committee and even when the new one was to be elected nothing will change unless there is an experienced and qualified coordinator who can help redeem the project. For his part, the former Kgalagadi MP, Mr. Lesedi Mothibamele who saw the project take off and helped by convincing government to buy the salt for LACs, is disappointed that the lucrative project had collapsed. I believe the project collapsed mainly due to poor coordination and management and poor working relations among the community when the project was handed to them. He said in the era of the salt project, Zutshwa was no longer just a geographical site, but a village where people worked and developments were made and they were self-reliant. The Kgalagadi North Technical Advisory Council Coordinator, Ms Masego Gabatshwane said they were aware of the problems that Qhaa Qhing Trust was experiencing. She said the trust had written to the government to be supported to revive the salt mining project. Hopefully, a positive response will bring life back to the settlement. BOPA |
Alcohol abuse rampant at Qangwa, Dobe
10 May, 2007
MAUN - It has been confirmed that residents of Xaxa, Qangwa and Dobe in the Okavango Sub-district are abuse alcohol.
The three villages, inhabited mainly by Basarwa, Baherero and Bambukushu lie about 200 km South west of Gumare towards the Namibian border.
According to a report from the Okavango sub district addressed to the districts sub management, on April 4 and 5, some Bye law and commercial affairs officers visited Qangwa, Xaxa and Dobe on an observation mission.
The report says it was observed with retrospect that indeed consumption of intoxicating liquor was consumed uncontrollably and as a result people no longer wake up in the morning sober and spend long hours of the day and night drinking alcohol.
The three-page report further reads; People no longer take care of the livestock granted by the RADP project, drought relief projects and they come to work drunk...
People come to kgotla meetings drunk, homes and children are abandoned, children are underfed and food issued to orphans and destitute is exchanged for liquor.
The report further states that efforts made by the council and the government to improve livelihood of the residents at these villages are frustrated by the abuse of alcohol.
Bye-law officers in collaboration with local police officers launched a week long raid on illegal traditional brew at the three villages and large amount of intoxicating liquor was seized from defaulters as exhibits.
Efforts to reach the sub districts assistant council secretary proved futile as he was said to be in a meeting. BOPA
Saturday, February 10, 2007
The Bushmen are famous for being short but when you meet them you'll hardly think of it. Even me when I imagine and remember my friends I don't think of them as small at all. Their large personalities make up for their stature so that they take a large place in the vision of my mind.
Only when I look at photos of me with somebody do I notice that the people are diminutive. Or sometimes, they'll remind you.
Hon. Royal Jonah Kxao /Ui/o/oo is one of those short San with a large personality. He's having the title Honorable in conjunction with his position as Member of Parliament. He is proud to say that the is the only San Member of Parliament in the SADC (Southern African Development Community). I suspect he must be the only in the world as well but since there are few San outside of SADC it goes without saying.
I've noted that all the other MPs I've met thus far are much bigger people from bigger tribes. With such a stature Royal has gotten used to fighting for respect. On his car is a VIP decal attached to the front windscreen. I take pleasure in driving with Royal and bypassing the queues at the roadblocks or parking just anywhere thanks to the sticker.
It's been noted in a number of communities that many of the successful San are those who are especially talkative. Royal is a good case in point. He is not shy to speak out and recognizes that is his job in Parliament to stand up and fight for the rights of the San.
Since I was last to Tsumkwe there were no tar roads, now there is a stretch of 500 metres of black in the village. Everyone agrees that it keeps the dust down in that area. The construction was not quick I was told by /ui Charlie that the men would work one day and then take off two for leisure.
The next question is whether it makes sense to tar the whole 300 or so kilometres from the main highway up to Tsumkwe. The cost would be high but life would be simplified. Even in the past month another car overturned on the slippery gravel. The road is not always bad but in the rainy season it is worse.
The advantage would be safer transport and increased access. Cars regularly overturn on the road. The downside would be HIV/Aids. Every decision has a tradeoff.
Even those road workers what were they doing on their days off. Were they condomizing?
HIV is there in Tsumkwe and also in Mangetti Dunes, 90 kms before Tsumkwe. Royal and I had made it to Mangetti to collect his daughter. From telephone reports we feared that she was having malaria. We drove straight on Friday and on saw she was bad but not worse.
That Saturday night I went for a short waling tour of Mangetti including the hospital. Outside there was a queue of four people waiting to see the nurse. Inside there was a slight baby with sunken eyes making horrible noises. I suspected I was seeing a baby who would soon die.
The mother lay slumped in a chair in front without the energy to reach out and comfort the child. It could have been one of those photo moments which tells the whole story but I couldn't have the heart to do that.
Even the small place of Mangetti was having an orphanage. Two women were charged with 17 children. As I entered a smell hit me and as I stepped I jumped to avoid a foul mess one of the children had left after not finding the toilet in time.
The lady was outside getting a mop, her shoulders sunken downwards. A small girl of nine or so, completely naked for some reason, came back with toilet papers and tried to help.
The other children sat watching a video. Some turned to wave and smile at me.
At Mangetti I noticed and at Tsumkwe noticed more that the pay had come recently. The drinking was too much.
Normally I'll have a beer or two or so. But watching what I was watching I stuck to water.
With money in hand it was duly invested in Tafel Lager, Old Brown Sherry, Tambo and other things which when added together would lead to a mix of passing out and fighting.
The main issue for fights seemed to be jealousy. Men for there women and vice versa. Royal was business minded and moved about consulting with Chief Bobo and others about upcoming business of the Parliament and a meeting for San leaders with the Deputy Prime Minister.
Myself, I walked about with Charlie collecting some of the crafts that I love so much.
I found one old lady, Chu!ko. She had a photo of me and her with her in her bag. I was stunned to think she'd carried it for one whole year on her person but there it was.
/i!ae was luckily in town. He and his brothers are carvers who make tortoises and other creatures out of wood. They're brilliant and this time they had a nice lizard. Often you'll see African carvings that are distorted in one way or another but everything from the brothers Komtsa, /i!ae and =Oma is too true to life.
A small crowd followed me as I was owing change to them and made for the bar to get a coke and break a 100 dollar bill.
I paid and Royal came by in the midst of his circuit. I jumped in and we made it to his house to wrap up the last few things. On the way back I drove.
Royal immediately became upset when I parked in front of the bar. I hadn't seen what was happening as he had but I pushed further ahead behind a hedge at his urging.
I got out as normal and didn't notice anything was askew until I looked at one of the ladies who'd followed me to the bar. I was not her customers but she'd been speaking English and talking with me though she was quite drunk she'd not been too annoying.
Under her eye was a gash and blood was splattered down her front.
I understood what Royal was on about now and understood his distress for the car, at any moment a rock could fly.
Royal was blaming a group of outsiders who were there. I'd noticed them but ignored as they asked me why I was giving money to the San artisans. Instead they suggested I just take the things from them. I told them that I would never go to their office if they had one and tell them how to do their business if they had any. They didn't get me and said come again. I told them I would be not to see them and left it.
I don't know why Tsumkwe would be seen as a nice place to visit but outsiders came often to do their own business, whatever it was.
Apartheid is over meaning that anyone can go anywhere in Namibia. So the choice is whether to pave the road for them.
Royal has a list of objectives that he is fighting for to achieve equality for the San. The most important issue is to minimize the existence of local shebeens with the assistance and traditional leaders and the Liquor Act 16 of 1998.
Sunday the day of rest was spent driving the 800 or so kilometres back to Windhoek. The night before, late, a friend from Tsumkwe had arrived at Mangetti with a gash behind his ear from a beer bottle. San on San violence I found out, jealousy.
We visited the hospital. The man, a good friend, had his hair partly shaved and a bandage placed over the wound. He'd passed out after the blow. The other man was in the jail. Oddly, through most of the day the police had apparently watched drunk themselves. Waiting for a most serious injury to make a move I suppose.
Half way home a call came on my cell. The baby of that sad woman at the hospital was now late. HIV is here.
Only when I look at photos of me with somebody do I notice that the people are diminutive. Or sometimes, they'll remind you.
Hon. Royal Jonah Kxao /Ui/o/oo is one of those short San with a large personality. He's having the title Honorable in conjunction with his position as Member of Parliament. He is proud to say that the is the only San Member of Parliament in the SADC (Southern African Development Community). I suspect he must be the only in the world as well but since there are few San outside of SADC it goes without saying.
I've noted that all the other MPs I've met thus far are much bigger people from bigger tribes. With such a stature Royal has gotten used to fighting for respect. On his car is a VIP decal attached to the front windscreen. I take pleasure in driving with Royal and bypassing the queues at the roadblocks or parking just anywhere thanks to the sticker.
It's been noted in a number of communities that many of the successful San are those who are especially talkative. Royal is a good case in point. He is not shy to speak out and recognizes that is his job in Parliament to stand up and fight for the rights of the San.
Since I was last to Tsumkwe there were no tar roads, now there is a stretch of 500 metres of black in the village. Everyone agrees that it keeps the dust down in that area. The construction was not quick I was told by /ui Charlie that the men would work one day and then take off two for leisure.
The next question is whether it makes sense to tar the whole 300 or so kilometres from the main highway up to Tsumkwe. The cost would be high but life would be simplified. Even in the past month another car overturned on the slippery gravel. The road is not always bad but in the rainy season it is worse.
The advantage would be safer transport and increased access. Cars regularly overturn on the road. The downside would be HIV/Aids. Every decision has a tradeoff.
Even those road workers what were they doing on their days off. Were they condomizing?
HIV is there in Tsumkwe and also in Mangetti Dunes, 90 kms before Tsumkwe. Royal and I had made it to Mangetti to collect his daughter. From telephone reports we feared that she was having malaria. We drove straight on Friday and on saw she was bad but not worse.
That Saturday night I went for a short waling tour of Mangetti including the hospital. Outside there was a queue of four people waiting to see the nurse. Inside there was a slight baby with sunken eyes making horrible noises. I suspected I was seeing a baby who would soon die.
The mother lay slumped in a chair in front without the energy to reach out and comfort the child. It could have been one of those photo moments which tells the whole story but I couldn't have the heart to do that.
Even the small place of Mangetti was having an orphanage. Two women were charged with 17 children. As I entered a smell hit me and as I stepped I jumped to avoid a foul mess one of the children had left after not finding the toilet in time.
The lady was outside getting a mop, her shoulders sunken downwards. A small girl of nine or so, completely naked for some reason, came back with toilet papers and tried to help.
The other children sat watching a video. Some turned to wave and smile at me.
At Mangetti I noticed and at Tsumkwe noticed more that the pay had come recently. The drinking was too much.
Normally I'll have a beer or two or so. But watching what I was watching I stuck to water.
With money in hand it was duly invested in Tafel Lager, Old Brown Sherry, Tambo and other things which when added together would lead to a mix of passing out and fighting.
The main issue for fights seemed to be jealousy. Men for there women and vice versa. Royal was business minded and moved about consulting with Chief Bobo and others about upcoming business of the Parliament and a meeting for San leaders with the Deputy Prime Minister.
Myself, I walked about with Charlie collecting some of the crafts that I love so much.
I found one old lady, Chu!ko. She had a photo of me and her with her in her bag. I was stunned to think she'd carried it for one whole year on her person but there it was.
/i!ae was luckily in town. He and his brothers are carvers who make tortoises and other creatures out of wood. They're brilliant and this time they had a nice lizard. Often you'll see African carvings that are distorted in one way or another but everything from the brothers Komtsa, /i!ae and =Oma is too true to life.
A small crowd followed me as I was owing change to them and made for the bar to get a coke and break a 100 dollar bill.
I paid and Royal came by in the midst of his circuit. I jumped in and we made it to his house to wrap up the last few things. On the way back I drove.
Royal immediately became upset when I parked in front of the bar. I hadn't seen what was happening as he had but I pushed further ahead behind a hedge at his urging.
I got out as normal and didn't notice anything was askew until I looked at one of the ladies who'd followed me to the bar. I was not her customers but she'd been speaking English and talking with me though she was quite drunk she'd not been too annoying.
Under her eye was a gash and blood was splattered down her front.
I understood what Royal was on about now and understood his distress for the car, at any moment a rock could fly.
Royal was blaming a group of outsiders who were there. I'd noticed them but ignored as they asked me why I was giving money to the San artisans. Instead they suggested I just take the things from them. I told them that I would never go to their office if they had one and tell them how to do their business if they had any. They didn't get me and said come again. I told them I would be not to see them and left it.
I don't know why Tsumkwe would be seen as a nice place to visit but outsiders came often to do their own business, whatever it was.
Apartheid is over meaning that anyone can go anywhere in Namibia. So the choice is whether to pave the road for them.
Royal has a list of objectives that he is fighting for to achieve equality for the San. The most important issue is to minimize the existence of local shebeens with the assistance and traditional leaders and the Liquor Act 16 of 1998.
Sunday the day of rest was spent driving the 800 or so kilometres back to Windhoek. The night before, late, a friend from Tsumkwe had arrived at Mangetti with a gash behind his ear from a beer bottle. San on San violence I found out, jealousy.
We visited the hospital. The man, a good friend, had his hair partly shaved and a bandage placed over the wound. He'd passed out after the blow. The other man was in the jail. Oddly, through most of the day the police had apparently watched drunk themselves. Waiting for a most serious injury to make a move I suppose.
Half way home a call came on my cell. The baby of that sad woman at the hospital was now late. HIV is here.
Namibia
Gobabis
The Trans-Kalahari Highway goes through the Omaheke region of Namibia. The capital for the area is Gobabis, a nice enough place. I've hiked from Windhoek through to Botswana before but never really stopped here for very long.
On the urging of a Canadian anthropologist, Renee Sylvain, from University of Guelph I wanted to take a closer look at the area. I knew there was a small craft shop a bit back from the road and checked there the frist night but it was a bit late and it looked a bit dead.
The next morning I returned. I found a bit more action. The coordinator of the Omaheke San Trust is Mary, a Kenyan lady. The number two was a Nama lady named Jacobsen and one San man called Nicky who runs a guest house at the back of office. Nicky expressed concern that he would not be long at OST as his contract was expiring this year.
Renee had given me three names to look for in Gobabis and one to avoid who shall not be mentioned.
Willem Abuse (a-boo-say, not a-buse) was contacted by phone and came to the office. He was wearing a green labourers outfit as labourers for the muicipality do. We sat and introduced ourselves and I gave him the update. Mr. Abuse was very fluent in English and very clever. I enjoy knowing him. His cell phone seemed reliable as he'd already been called on it so I took the number.
The second name on Renee's list was Rashida Tuaire. I found her at the Epako location just outside of town. Rashida is living with her two children in a hut made of corrugated iron with a couple flowers painted on the outside. There was one small tree in the yard for shade and a small garden.
Rashida is a craft expert, having worked for the OST craft centre for some years and being an ostrich eggshell artist herself we chatted about a trip to Canada among other things. I made a short video of Rashida introducing herself and talking about a decorated eggshell that she had a the house. She spoke first in Ju/'hoansi and then in English, both well.
Rashida expressed confidence about her ability to travel abroad and was interested to know if she could wear skins while she was working which seemed fine to me. I asked how confident she was in her ability to talk about culture, very. How much interest she had in going overseas, much. Also, who would look after the kids, sister.
Things seemed in order so I left her to go to the bush.
Corridor
From the guest house at the OST Maco (Ma-koo) was a tagalong for the free trip back home. About 240 kms away from Gobabis was Corridor Post Thirteen. Thirteen was in the middle between 1 and 22, all the posts. The numbers seemed to moved in sequence the way houses on a street normally do, odds on one side and evens on the other.
Thirteen was the one with the filling station, the shops and the disco so it was nice it was in the middle. Different tribes seemed to stay at different posts and San people were at Thirteen, Fifteen, Seventeen and Eighteen at least and probably more.
From Thirteen to Fifteen we picked up Maco's friend, Deacon. The girls were pretty good at jibber-jabber and entertained themselves by talking a lot and dancing if a hint of music appeared or not.
Maco liked to dance a certain way by swinging her arms and gyrating a bit.She only danced that way but since she was good at doing so it was fine.
Deacon preferred clapping her hands and making noises like "zooph". Sometimes she would go down to the ground with her arms out in front for balance.
The girls figured we'd like to make it to stay at the Saa Tago Campsite since it was built for people like us. Danny the hiker was happy to see the toilet and solar heated water for the showers. But with cloudy weather the solar wasn't heating. For me the problem was heat more than cold so I gladly stuck my head under the stream.
At Fifteen we'd found no crafts people but Seventeen and Eighteen there were many. Mainly there were some cool bow and arrow sets that I enjoy shooting, ostrich eggshell beadwork, some springbok horn containers and some really neat decorated steenbok skulls.
Omaheke is different than Tsumkwe the area I've done most of my work in Namibia in that the San here are not hunting an gathering. The land at Omaheke was at some point way back all belonging to the San. At a later point land was ceded to farmers and the San were finding the lands fenced.
Today, the San are labourers and craftspeople. Some are having cattles. Maco's family has 23. In general though the San are very poor. The San are recognized as the most marginalized community in the country owing mainly to the fact that they are landless.
As I went from place to place I noticed that the boys had been hunting small birds and ground squirrels for meat to fill the pot. I didn't get a chance to taste.
I'd been asked to do a bit of running around to do pickups from Thirteen, a drop off at Fifteen and more.
As I set off, the pickups were dropped off from a hike and fifteen.
The rain came a bit heavy that night so I overnighted in a hut at Eighteen and Danni in the Saa Tago campsite office.
The morning was spent listening to the community and talking about the future since it was my first time coming. I really liked the way the people were making the bracelets.
The community had a few complaints about the way that things were going and I vowed to come back to them with more of a plan even if it takes a little while.
The way to be in contact was to phone a certain number associated with a phone at Seventeen. Even though it wasn't working assurances has been given by Namtel that a technician would be coming in the next week to fix the phone. If I phoned that number, whoever picked up would be able to run and find someone who is speaking English. We'll see how that works.
Gobabis
The Trans-Kalahari Highway goes through the Omaheke region of Namibia. The capital for the area is Gobabis, a nice enough place. I've hiked from Windhoek through to Botswana before but never really stopped here for very long.
On the urging of a Canadian anthropologist, Renee Sylvain, from University of Guelph I wanted to take a closer look at the area. I knew there was a small craft shop a bit back from the road and checked there the frist night but it was a bit late and it looked a bit dead.
The next morning I returned. I found a bit more action. The coordinator of the Omaheke San Trust is Mary, a Kenyan lady. The number two was a Nama lady named Jacobsen and one San man called Nicky who runs a guest house at the back of office. Nicky expressed concern that he would not be long at OST as his contract was expiring this year.
Renee had given me three names to look for in Gobabis and one to avoid who shall not be mentioned.
Willem Abuse (a-boo-say, not a-buse) was contacted by phone and came to the office. He was wearing a green labourers outfit as labourers for the muicipality do. We sat and introduced ourselves and I gave him the update. Mr. Abuse was very fluent in English and very clever. I enjoy knowing him. His cell phone seemed reliable as he'd already been called on it so I took the number.
The second name on Renee's list was Rashida Tuaire. I found her at the Epako location just outside of town. Rashida is living with her two children in a hut made of corrugated iron with a couple flowers painted on the outside. There was one small tree in the yard for shade and a small garden.
Rashida is a craft expert, having worked for the OST craft centre for some years and being an ostrich eggshell artist herself we chatted about a trip to Canada among other things. I made a short video of Rashida introducing herself and talking about a decorated eggshell that she had a the house. She spoke first in Ju/'hoansi and then in English, both well.
Rashida expressed confidence about her ability to travel abroad and was interested to know if she could wear skins while she was working which seemed fine to me. I asked how confident she was in her ability to talk about culture, very. How much interest she had in going overseas, much. Also, who would look after the kids, sister.
Things seemed in order so I left her to go to the bush.
Corridor
From the guest house at the OST Maco (Ma-koo) was a tagalong for the free trip back home. About 240 kms away from Gobabis was Corridor Post Thirteen. Thirteen was in the middle between 1 and 22, all the posts. The numbers seemed to moved in sequence the way houses on a street normally do, odds on one side and evens on the other.
Thirteen was the one with the filling station, the shops and the disco so it was nice it was in the middle. Different tribes seemed to stay at different posts and San people were at Thirteen, Fifteen, Seventeen and Eighteen at least and probably more.
From Thirteen to Fifteen we picked up Maco's friend, Deacon. The girls were pretty good at jibber-jabber and entertained themselves by talking a lot and dancing if a hint of music appeared or not.
Maco liked to dance a certain way by swinging her arms and gyrating a bit.She only danced that way but since she was good at doing so it was fine.
Deacon preferred clapping her hands and making noises like "zooph". Sometimes she would go down to the ground with her arms out in front for balance.
The girls figured we'd like to make it to stay at the Saa Tago Campsite since it was built for people like us. Danny the hiker was happy to see the toilet and solar heated water for the showers. But with cloudy weather the solar wasn't heating. For me the problem was heat more than cold so I gladly stuck my head under the stream.
At Fifteen we'd found no crafts people but Seventeen and Eighteen there were many. Mainly there were some cool bow and arrow sets that I enjoy shooting, ostrich eggshell beadwork, some springbok horn containers and some really neat decorated steenbok skulls.
Omaheke is different than Tsumkwe the area I've done most of my work in Namibia in that the San here are not hunting an gathering. The land at Omaheke was at some point way back all belonging to the San. At a later point land was ceded to farmers and the San were finding the lands fenced.
Today, the San are labourers and craftspeople. Some are having cattles. Maco's family has 23. In general though the San are very poor. The San are recognized as the most marginalized community in the country owing mainly to the fact that they are landless.
As I went from place to place I noticed that the boys had been hunting small birds and ground squirrels for meat to fill the pot. I didn't get a chance to taste.
I'd been asked to do a bit of running around to do pickups from Thirteen, a drop off at Fifteen and more.
As I set off, the pickups were dropped off from a hike and fifteen.
The rain came a bit heavy that night so I overnighted in a hut at Eighteen and Danni in the Saa Tago campsite office.
The morning was spent listening to the community and talking about the future since it was my first time coming. I really liked the way the people were making the bracelets.
The community had a few complaints about the way that things were going and I vowed to come back to them with more of a plan even if it takes a little while.
The way to be in contact was to phone a certain number associated with a phone at Seventeen. Even though it wasn't working assurances has been given by Namtel that a technician would be coming in the next week to fix the phone. If I phoned that number, whoever picked up would be able to run and find someone who is speaking English. We'll see how that works.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Things are well in Namibia. More blogging tomorrow but for those who like long distance my Namibian number is +264 81 333 1883.
I'm staying with Hon. Royal J.K. /Ui/o/oo. Right now I'm in his office at Parliament relieved to find a reliable computer. Tomorrow we've booked a meeting with the Deputy Minister of Trade to discuss how Nharo can work more closely with the Namibian Government.
So far everything has been done directly with the communities but the general feeling is that since we have proven success that we should look for support to build on our successes. The rest of the week continues with meetings (boring) which will be instrumental as we move forward.
More to follow about Omaheke. It's very great there and I was able to get a lot of springbok horns.
People here love meat.
Paul
I'm staying with Hon. Royal J.K. /Ui/o/oo. Right now I'm in his office at Parliament relieved to find a reliable computer. Tomorrow we've booked a meeting with the Deputy Minister of Trade to discuss how Nharo can work more closely with the Namibian Government.
So far everything has been done directly with the communities but the general feeling is that since we have proven success that we should look for support to build on our successes. The rest of the week continues with meetings (boring) which will be instrumental as we move forward.
More to follow about Omaheke. It's very great there and I was able to get a lot of springbok horns.
People here love meat.
Paul
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Kgalagadi District
The reception at Zutshwa was warm. I'd managed to send a message ahead of me through Pedris, a man from Ngwatle the next village who works as a mechanic at Hukuntis where there's cellular network. zutshwa had not had anyone visit them to buy crafts since last year when I was around.
With Pedris acting as secretary we managed to buzz through all our agenda items in a few short hours. In contrast, in prior trips I'd been exhausted by marathon buying sessions and small squabbles that erupted. It tends that the community of Zutshwa is divided along tribal lines. The 'Basarwa' (San, Bushmen) and the 'BaKgalagadi' don't get along. The Village Development Committee, the small shops and shebeens (drinking places) are dominated by BaKgalagadi to the exclusion of the Bushmen. I became aware that some of the shebeen owners had been taking beadwork in exchange for cheap alcohol the type of which bubbles and roils in a large garbage pail under the hot sun of the desert. This is a practice I'll have to investigate. I may demand that all sellers bring their tools with them as proof understanding that some Bakgalagadi do make the beads. Otherwise I might just identify those guilty parties and bring some cheap booze to exchange, of course doing this they'd only sell it to Basarwa.
The perception of Basarwa is that they are all drunkards and certainly some are. At Zutshwa it seems that none of the prolific artists drink. This seems natural to me and even those who do drink have a choice of what to do with their money, as do I.
The last item on our agenda for the day was something I'd proposed last year that was met with a favourable response. Hon. Royal /Ui/o/oo had been to Canada in June 2005 and his visit coincided with Aboriginal Solidarity Day in late June. Anishnabeg outreach in Kitchener and Guelph made a connection with Royal and from that we have been inspired to again organize a visit to Canada for a San person, or perhaps two.
At Zutshwa a candidate was nominated with the following letter:
Zutswha Settlement
PO BOX 450
Hukuntsi
22 January 2007
Dear Sir/Madam
We as San group of Zutshwa we really thanked our creator to give power of support on exchanging our natural craft from you and paid us a good price.
Realy this method of exchanging goods of us, succed us very well as the group of San living in zutshwa. Because that money improve our life time and also improve the lack of jobs that are in Zutshwa. This exchanging of our culture and support so that we cannot forgotten our culture.
We thanked the good co-operation between Canada and our nation. The only San group of Zutshwa we voted our San lady to represent us on craft business together with sepreding our culture. We can help her the stories of our culture as the elders of the San fro Zutshwa.
We want our own lady who is twenty to work together with Mr. Pholo whom is from Canada under the help from the University of Botswana.She have two year experience on facilities of Huminities and Book keeping.
We would be pleased when our letter would be taken into consideration.
Leader of the Community:
A.B Kabatlophane
Kooka Hewa
Tantane Koto
Mmina Nai
Although it doesn't clearly mention it, the letter is meant to nominate AB's daughter, Gosaitse Kabatlophane. Gosaitse travelled out with me from Zutshwa to Hukuntsi with some other papers, a reference letter from a professor at the University of Botswana to whom she'd been a research informant and a certificate from Botswana's Department of Industrial Affairs indicating her inclusion in a course in 'Improve Your Business' for five days in June 2004.
I was a little disappointed that on the day all of our activities Gosaitse missed the 2 o'clock start of our meeting, apparently to have a nap. She did however redeem herself when she told a nice story about a lizard and a frog.
On Sunday we made it to Ngwatle. The Government of Botswana had been delivering a development which pleased the people. A road linking Ngwatle to Ukwi. As I drove on the partially completed road I found myself on one side blocked by large piles of gravel and on the other sand piled high. I looked for a spot where somebody else had made it out and 4x4'ed through it. Immediately I noticed that the steering had become tight when turning to the left. This problem progressed as we moved eventually spreading to the left.
At Ngwatle the community was pleasantly welcoming. The old ladies have taken to yelling my name and asking me questions in !Xoo. They think my name is Apollo since there's another Apollo at Zutshwa so they know that name. For me I can say that I like it.
Ngwatle was not having as much time to make ready nominations to come to Canada but they did present two Candidates and their Qualifications.
1
Name: Bontle Doreen
Surname: Lesetlhe
Age: 24 yrs
Qualifications:
*Form 5 Certificate (BACSE)
*Katatura Arts Attendance Certificate (Windhoek)
2
Name: Kaki Katji
surname: Matlakala
Age: 1971
Qualifications:
Two JC
Assistant Shop keeper / Gantsi Craft
Councillor 3 yrs
Land Board Member 3 yrs
Both candidates speak english well and are excellent crafts people. On leaving Kaki asked me if I could find her a tent for 200 pula or less that I should do so.
I was please with results at both settlements but not with the condition of my steering wheel. Things seemed very fine until I wanted to turn. I guess there was also a problem with overheating on the Zutshwa-Ngwatle road but to be honest it's normal and not a problem these days. Bring plenty of water on that road.
On arriving with in Hukuntsi we went to the MP's office to make copies but found there was no paper. So we went to the next place and found paper and a working copier. To me small things can seem like miracles.
Next stop was to my good friend Paul Cooper, mechanic and Shell filling station owner. Paul is interesting and nice but also lonely. We like each other since we have the same name. On the way in I'd told the fillers of the filling station to let Paul know that I'm around. Always when in this neighborhood something can go wrong with the car of mine.
True to form I figured I had either a problem with powersteering or perhaps alignment. Step 1, check power steering fluid. Empty. We refilled from a fresh bottle and started the engine. Power steering fluid sprayed out through a gaping hole in a calbe directly below the place we'd just replaced the fluid.
Paul went to the back, found some tube, cut the right length, and replace the rotten piece. Total fixing time, eight minutes. Another miracle.
I stayed to chat few minutes with Paul and he indicated he had a special delivery for me to make to a friend in Canada. She can't get Camphor lotion, a staple skin supplement in Botswana and Southern Africa. So I agreed to take a couple bottles with me to be sent to Edmonton upon my return home.
As was bound to happen sometimes people get fascinated by Bushmen. One lady who had an affinity was Danni Stor. In 2005, July I'd met her by getting yelled at. She was incensed that I could be exploiting the Bushmen by selling there crafts. Somedays I have time for this sort of stuff other days I want to tell them to 'f' off.
This day I had a better strategy. I told her not to talk to me. Instead I recommended that she go and address this issue to a Bushmen and to tell that person not to allow me to exploit them. She seemed put off that I would suggest this and asked where she'd be able to find such a Bushman at Queen's Park in Toront. Luckily Hon. Royal was there and I called him over leaving the rest of the matter to him.
At some point Danni contacted me via e-mail to say that she was in the negihborhood of Africa and when was I coming, etc.
We connected by text message once I got my Botswana phone. I encouraged her to go to Ghanzi and she created a sensation by aligning herself with Jumanda Gakelebone, number two at First People of the Kalahari. I may never know exactly what happened in those six days in the Central Kalahari Game Reserve but speculation is that love happened. If only someone could get a romantic photo of them together it might be sold to Botswana's national tabloid the Voice (www.thevoicebw.com or something like that, please google) who had picked Jumanda as one of Botswana's most eligible single people.
As I write this Danni has turned up the radio and is being a dancing queen to Abba's hit. Me, I'm sitting at a lodge in Gobabis, Namibia hoping to do some investigations into craft production in the Omaheke Region. Oh, now she's in the pool.
At Hukuntsi I'd left Danni to eat at Lancers, Hukuntsi's nicest (only?) restaraunt. Unfortunately, being a vegetarian and having a wheat allergy Danni is continually having trouble finding cheese and good yoghurts. I think she missed on both counts.
I was happy when I picked her up after only a couple hours having gotten three copies and fixed the power steering issue. She wasn't as impressed with this accomplishment as me but still it was pretty fantastic. Those things can take two days if luck isn't with you or if you don't know Paul Cooper.
By chance as we left Hukuntsi to Kang Jumanda was in touch on Danni's cell. He'd come out from Central Kalahari Game Reserve because the President of Botswana had called a Kgotla meeting at New Xade reservation. 40 people had returned to the CKGR after a battle. Jumanda indicated that he'd "told off" the President and had been called to his office for a meeting today (Wednesday). I was shy to take a photo as I'm not a paparazzi but perhaps there was a hug and even a cheek peck but I don't think I can substantiate any rumours at this point.
So today it's Omaheke. The OST (Omaheke San Trust) Craft Shop which had opened with a flourish a few years back has collapsed. So no one is buying anything from anyone here. I'll see what's happening today and tomorrow.
The reception at Zutshwa was warm. I'd managed to send a message ahead of me through Pedris, a man from Ngwatle the next village who works as a mechanic at Hukuntis where there's cellular network. zutshwa had not had anyone visit them to buy crafts since last year when I was around.
With Pedris acting as secretary we managed to buzz through all our agenda items in a few short hours. In contrast, in prior trips I'd been exhausted by marathon buying sessions and small squabbles that erupted. It tends that the community of Zutshwa is divided along tribal lines. The 'Basarwa' (San, Bushmen) and the 'BaKgalagadi' don't get along. The Village Development Committee, the small shops and shebeens (drinking places) are dominated by BaKgalagadi to the exclusion of the Bushmen. I became aware that some of the shebeen owners had been taking beadwork in exchange for cheap alcohol the type of which bubbles and roils in a large garbage pail under the hot sun of the desert. This is a practice I'll have to investigate. I may demand that all sellers bring their tools with them as proof understanding that some Bakgalagadi do make the beads. Otherwise I might just identify those guilty parties and bring some cheap booze to exchange, of course doing this they'd only sell it to Basarwa.
The perception of Basarwa is that they are all drunkards and certainly some are. At Zutshwa it seems that none of the prolific artists drink. This seems natural to me and even those who do drink have a choice of what to do with their money, as do I.
The last item on our agenda for the day was something I'd proposed last year that was met with a favourable response. Hon. Royal /Ui/o/oo had been to Canada in June 2005 and his visit coincided with Aboriginal Solidarity Day in late June. Anishnabeg outreach in Kitchener and Guelph made a connection with Royal and from that we have been inspired to again organize a visit to Canada for a San person, or perhaps two.
At Zutshwa a candidate was nominated with the following letter:
Zutswha Settlement
PO BOX 450
Hukuntsi
22 January 2007
Dear Sir/Madam
We as San group of Zutshwa we really thanked our creator to give power of support on exchanging our natural craft from you and paid us a good price.
Realy this method of exchanging goods of us, succed us very well as the group of San living in zutshwa. Because that money improve our life time and also improve the lack of jobs that are in Zutshwa. This exchanging of our culture and support so that we cannot forgotten our culture.
We thanked the good co-operation between Canada and our nation. The only San group of Zutshwa we voted our San lady to represent us on craft business together with sepreding our culture. We can help her the stories of our culture as the elders of the San fro Zutshwa.
We want our own lady who is twenty to work together with Mr. Pholo whom is from Canada under the help from the University of Botswana.She have two year experience on facilities of Huminities and Book keeping.
We would be pleased when our letter would be taken into consideration.
Leader of the Community:
A.B Kabatlophane
Kooka Hewa
Tantane Koto
Mmina Nai
Although it doesn't clearly mention it, the letter is meant to nominate AB's daughter, Gosaitse Kabatlophane. Gosaitse travelled out with me from Zutshwa to Hukuntsi with some other papers, a reference letter from a professor at the University of Botswana to whom she'd been a research informant and a certificate from Botswana's Department of Industrial Affairs indicating her inclusion in a course in 'Improve Your Business' for five days in June 2004.
I was a little disappointed that on the day all of our activities Gosaitse missed the 2 o'clock start of our meeting, apparently to have a nap. She did however redeem herself when she told a nice story about a lizard and a frog.
On Sunday we made it to Ngwatle. The Government of Botswana had been delivering a development which pleased the people. A road linking Ngwatle to Ukwi. As I drove on the partially completed road I found myself on one side blocked by large piles of gravel and on the other sand piled high. I looked for a spot where somebody else had made it out and 4x4'ed through it. Immediately I noticed that the steering had become tight when turning to the left. This problem progressed as we moved eventually spreading to the left.
At Ngwatle the community was pleasantly welcoming. The old ladies have taken to yelling my name and asking me questions in !Xoo. They think my name is Apollo since there's another Apollo at Zutshwa so they know that name. For me I can say that I like it.
Ngwatle was not having as much time to make ready nominations to come to Canada but they did present two Candidates and their Qualifications.
1
Name: Bontle Doreen
Surname: Lesetlhe
Age: 24 yrs
Qualifications:
*Form 5 Certificate (BACSE)
*Katatura Arts Attendance Certificate (Windhoek)
2
Name: Kaki Katji
surname: Matlakala
Age: 1971
Qualifications:
Two JC
Assistant Shop keeper / Gantsi Craft
Councillor 3 yrs
Land Board Member 3 yrs
Both candidates speak english well and are excellent crafts people. On leaving Kaki asked me if I could find her a tent for 200 pula or less that I should do so.
I was please with results at both settlements but not with the condition of my steering wheel. Things seemed very fine until I wanted to turn. I guess there was also a problem with overheating on the Zutshwa-Ngwatle road but to be honest it's normal and not a problem these days. Bring plenty of water on that road.
On arriving with in Hukuntsi we went to the MP's office to make copies but found there was no paper. So we went to the next place and found paper and a working copier. To me small things can seem like miracles.
Next stop was to my good friend Paul Cooper, mechanic and Shell filling station owner. Paul is interesting and nice but also lonely. We like each other since we have the same name. On the way in I'd told the fillers of the filling station to let Paul know that I'm around. Always when in this neighborhood something can go wrong with the car of mine.
True to form I figured I had either a problem with powersteering or perhaps alignment. Step 1, check power steering fluid. Empty. We refilled from a fresh bottle and started the engine. Power steering fluid sprayed out through a gaping hole in a calbe directly below the place we'd just replaced the fluid.
Paul went to the back, found some tube, cut the right length, and replace the rotten piece. Total fixing time, eight minutes. Another miracle.
I stayed to chat few minutes with Paul and he indicated he had a special delivery for me to make to a friend in Canada. She can't get Camphor lotion, a staple skin supplement in Botswana and Southern Africa. So I agreed to take a couple bottles with me to be sent to Edmonton upon my return home.
As was bound to happen sometimes people get fascinated by Bushmen. One lady who had an affinity was Danni Stor. In 2005, July I'd met her by getting yelled at. She was incensed that I could be exploiting the Bushmen by selling there crafts. Somedays I have time for this sort of stuff other days I want to tell them to 'f' off.
This day I had a better strategy. I told her not to talk to me. Instead I recommended that she go and address this issue to a Bushmen and to tell that person not to allow me to exploit them. She seemed put off that I would suggest this and asked where she'd be able to find such a Bushman at Queen's Park in Toront. Luckily Hon. Royal was there and I called him over leaving the rest of the matter to him.
At some point Danni contacted me via e-mail to say that she was in the negihborhood of Africa and when was I coming, etc.
We connected by text message once I got my Botswana phone. I encouraged her to go to Ghanzi and she created a sensation by aligning herself with Jumanda Gakelebone, number two at First People of the Kalahari. I may never know exactly what happened in those six days in the Central Kalahari Game Reserve but speculation is that love happened. If only someone could get a romantic photo of them together it might be sold to Botswana's national tabloid the Voice (www.thevoicebw.com or something like that, please google) who had picked Jumanda as one of Botswana's most eligible single people.
As I write this Danni has turned up the radio and is being a dancing queen to Abba's hit. Me, I'm sitting at a lodge in Gobabis, Namibia hoping to do some investigations into craft production in the Omaheke Region. Oh, now she's in the pool.
At Hukuntsi I'd left Danni to eat at Lancers, Hukuntsi's nicest (only?) restaraunt. Unfortunately, being a vegetarian and having a wheat allergy Danni is continually having trouble finding cheese and good yoghurts. I think she missed on both counts.
I was happy when I picked her up after only a couple hours having gotten three copies and fixed the power steering issue. She wasn't as impressed with this accomplishment as me but still it was pretty fantastic. Those things can take two days if luck isn't with you or if you don't know Paul Cooper.
By chance as we left Hukuntsi to Kang Jumanda was in touch on Danni's cell. He'd come out from Central Kalahari Game Reserve because the President of Botswana had called a Kgotla meeting at New Xade reservation. 40 people had returned to the CKGR after a battle. Jumanda indicated that he'd "told off" the President and had been called to his office for a meeting today (Wednesday). I was shy to take a photo as I'm not a paparazzi but perhaps there was a hug and even a cheek peck but I don't think I can substantiate any rumours at this point.
So today it's Omaheke. The OST (Omaheke San Trust) Craft Shop which had opened with a flourish a few years back has collapsed. So no one is buying anything from anyone here. I'll see what's happening today and tomorrow.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Into the Bush
I've had to deal with some usual and unusual problems to get out of Gaborone but with a little luck I'm set to do so tomorrow. Until the trial is over I won't comment further (luckily I'm not the on charged).
Pedris from Ngwatle has phoned me three times to see if I'm arriving and has asked to accompany me on my trip which is fine with me because I like that guy too much.
Danni, a lady from Toronto, has been having adventures of her own here in Botswana. She ended up hitching a lift into Central Kalahari Game Reserve on the very same day as the residents were finally returning after a drawn out court case. She's meeting me tomorrow at Kang so I'll here the news.
It's a bit sunny but the heat is under control and my tan is nicely coming along. We'll see how far I can get.
I hope to rendezvous with my old friend Royal /Ui/o/oo in Gobabis which would be fun since he's a pretty great guy.
I've had to deal with some usual and unusual problems to get out of Gaborone but with a little luck I'm set to do so tomorrow. Until the trial is over I won't comment further (luckily I'm not the on charged).
Pedris from Ngwatle has phoned me three times to see if I'm arriving and has asked to accompany me on my trip which is fine with me because I like that guy too much.
Danni, a lady from Toronto, has been having adventures of her own here in Botswana. She ended up hitching a lift into Central Kalahari Game Reserve on the very same day as the residents were finally returning after a drawn out court case. She's meeting me tomorrow at Kang so I'll here the news.
It's a bit sunny but the heat is under control and my tan is nicely coming along. We'll see how far I can get.
I hope to rendezvous with my old friend Royal /Ui/o/oo in Gobabis which would be fun since he's a pretty great guy.
