Flamingo - Nature - The Bushmen, bushfires and books
We're taking a leisurely drive across Western Caprivi. The sun's streaming through the windows, landing on my left ear like music. Sadly though, the sunshine begins to grow weaker and weaker as if some strange cloud is swallowing it. "Look at that!" shouts Mzie, applying brakes. "What a horrible scenario!" A cloud of smoke is billowing in a perfect column. It reaches up into the sky, dancing like a thousand serpents. "Bushfire? How dreadful!" I respond, suddenly overcome by disappointment. "We must catch those people who caused it.” Mzie’s face is burning with anger. “We have to do something!" "Like what? There's no fire brigade in Katima Mulilo." I remind him of how we watched helplessly a year ago, when a small flame sputtered and blossomed to reduce Discount Warehouse to ashes. "This doesn't need a fire brigade. There's a grocery list of options, like..." "Like calling the three mobile water tanks?" The wind whips, slicing through our clothes like a blade. It sounds like a balloon with a slow leak as it triggers the flames eastwards at five kilometres an hour. The fire sizzles and pops behind three impalas, making them flee in all directions as fast as Japanese bullet trains. Mzie removes his glasses and squeezes the bridge of his nose with all his fingers. "This is a clear violation of article 95(1) of the Namibian Constitution. I think we have to track down the perpetrators." "You must be kidding! We are neither the police nor from the conservancy. We have no authority." I shrug. "In any case, wildfires are part of the hunter-gatherers' seasonal way of life. We can’t just..." "Of course we can’t carry out illegal arrests," he nods positively. "But trust me, we can do something better. Let's look for the perpetrators." I feel the heat flush my face. "OK. Let's find them. But I'm not going to be responsible for anything that goes wrong. Deal?" "Deal," he agrees, repositioning his glasses. Armed with fire beaters, we walk a kilometre around the flames and eventually find two light-skinned teenagers, digging out bulbs. They look comfortable in their animal-skin loincloths. As we walk closer, they rocket to their feet, looking frightened. They are tall and thin, as if they've just come out of prison. The younger one gathers up courage and bends for his bow and arrow. My heart flies into my throat. "No, no, no. Hold it!" Mzie raises his arms in surrender. While he takes slow and cautious steps forward, I take several quick strides backwards. Ten minutes of clicks and comical gestures end with Mzie and the Bushmen reaching a consensus. They catch up with me on the path back to the car. "What then?" I ask, my eyes rolling upwards, following the plume. Mzie looks at me like I'm homework. "You coward!" "You can’t call me that!" I erupt. "The guy was about to attack us with a poisoned arrow and..." "Let's not fight, OK?" He pleads in the calmest voice possible. "Please meet Tchi! and his young brother, Xo." He says something in Khoe and the Bushmen extend their sweaty hands in greeting. "They're coming with us to Katima Mulilo and..." "And we'll stick to our deal. Right?" I rub my hands together like Pontius Pilate washing his hands during the trial of Jesus Christ. I become a stranger as Mzie and the Bushmen fill the car with clicking sounds that roll with clipped precision. They punctuate their stories with poems and happy songs, probably celebrating the legendary San people's culture. Remember, this culture's rich in paintings, traditional medicine and stories of San heroes like the one who fought a leopard barehanded and the other one who killed two baboons with a single arrow shot. Mzie pulls into the Community Forestry property and stops outside the office of the German lady, Britta. "I believe these young men are my new students," smiles Britta, offering the Bushmen a handshake. They hold her hand a little too long. "He's Tchi! and this one’s Xo," introduces Mzie. "...and I'll definitely include them in today's workshop on forest management." Her face breaks into a huge smile as she picks up a book with nice pictures. "This explains forest management to the illiterate. Basically, it stresses the point that forest products belong to future generations and their management is not to torture but to sustain." Back in the car, I pat Mzie on the shoulder. "Job well done, man! I'm sure the boys will enjoy the move from the bush to the books." "I count on Britta's humility and years of experience...Yeah, the boys will have fun!" "And what's the secret behind your fluency in Khoe?" He smiles. "My girlfriend's a Mbarakwengo. That’s what we call the San in Caprivi." "So, you're about to tell me that everything is learnt faster and more efficiently in the bedroom than in..." I say naughtily. "Yeah. The 'bedroom' factor's another option conservancies can use to reduce incidents like bushfires." He sounds even naughtier. "They may target Western Caprivian girls, educate them and their men would be grateful to pick it up from the bedroom." My lips break into my first smile of the day.
