Christmas in the Kalahari

and another chapter

There is an amusing article^[1], well-known in ethnographic circles, written by eminent anthropologist, Richard B. Lee called “Eating Christmas in the Kalahari”

It depicts the cultural minefield that even the well-intentioned step into when trying to apply their social mores among The Other. Is this case, Lee, a Canadian, bought a huge ox to slaughter for his !Xun (formerly spelled !Kung, San/Bushmen) hosts at Christmas time. His gesture of goodwill earned him nothing but mockery and grief. You can read why here:

Image by Bruce Parcher, Kalahari Xmas, 2016

Getting it wrong

This reminds me of the Christmas song I most dislike: “Feed the World” by BandAid. You remember the one? with that patronising lyric: “Do they know it’s Christmas, at all?” Bob Geldof and Midge Ure put it together to raise funds for famine relief in Ethiopia in 1984. And it did. £8 million in under a year in the UK alone. But Africans across the continent objected to the stereotypes and inaccuracies in the lyrics. Ethiopians pointed out that of course they knew it was Christmas – Christianity has existed in their part of the world for longer than it has in the UK.

Geldof admitted: "I am responsible for two of the worst songs in history", (the other being "We Are the World”.)^[2] About the former he also said: "this little pop song has kept hundreds of thousands if not millions of people alive.”

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^[1] * From Richard Borshay Lee, “Eating Christmas in the Kalahari,” Natural History , December 1969, pp. 14–22, 60–64.

^[2] Australia's Daily Telegraph, 2010

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Thanks for listening:

The feedback on my book narration was encouraging. I clearly need better equipment, so I’ve told Santa. Meanwhile I’m saving all our cardboard boxes in case I need to build myself a booth to sit in while I read Koba book 2, Kalahari Passage. If you missed the free sample, it’s here.

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Back to my fictional Kalahari, circa 1960s, and Koba consults her oracle discs to divine her future. She encounters a strange admirer. Mannie’s trip nears an end and he begins to fret that Koba won’t be there to meet him.

Chapter 21

A red moon rose over the mangetti grove that night. ‘A great meat animal has died somewhere,’ people exclaimed. ‘We could find the body and feast.’ Tsamkxao and Gxao Monkey Orange determined they would go and search for it. Everyone urged them on; it had been a long-long meat fast.

‘Take along the two grooms who sit around my fire,’ Old Dabe said, indicating |Ui Beard and Bo Fingers. ‘These two have sat so long not doing their bride-service, their testicles have grown into the sand.’ Old Dabe’s son- and grandson-in-law did not demur. They had a duty to the family pot and vowed not to return until they had fulfilled it.

‘I won’t sharpen my meat-tearing tooth yet,’ Old Zuma quipped. ‘Grandmother doesn’t believe they’ll find a carcass,’ |Kuni whispered to Koba, ‘not because she does not think them good hunters.’ Koba nodded, straight-faced. ‘Old Zuma thinks redness in a moon is blood from someone who has died,’ |Kuni explained. Koba hoped it didn’t signify the blood N!ai had warned her of if she took the pregnancy cure.

Koba had been glad to hear Tsamkxao was leaving the camp. His now blatant ardour for her was flattering but confusing. She wanted to make the decision about drinking N!ai’s potion without considering him. She didn’t yet know whether or not she’d still have Little Fists growing inside her when she left. N!ai’s account of the abortion pain – ‘pain that will make you writhe like a snake in the teeth of a mongoose’– terrified her. ‘Aie, it is the same if you carry the child until the end,’ N!ai had said. ‘Most women survive; Real women bear it alone. They give birth in silence behind a bush. It is the Ju|’hoan way. We use things to stop from crying out.’

This didn’t allay Koba’s fears and she was anxious to learn more about these things before she had to face her ordeal, whatever it was. She felt a few more days among the women, to soak up their wisdom and lean against their hearts, would serve her well. There was time; her tappings were still, which meant neither she nor the band were in any imminent danger.

Nevertheless, in the morning, she would take herself off somewhere private to consult her oracle discs. They might also help her decide on her direction when she left the camp.

She sat with Bo Fingers and |Kuni long after most people had gone to their mats to dream of meat. Bo took out his lute and tried to teach them a tune, but it was so mournful that for different reasons neither girl could bear it.