antipodes

The pace has slowed, but there are more posts and paintings about Botswana to come in the next few months, the first of which has been composed by Meleko Mogkosi, fellow artist, friend and traveling companion in Africa.

By Meleko Mokgosi

Rudy, our guide at Tuli Block, a game preserve on the eastern border of Botswana, took us to Solomon’s wall, a massive outcropping bisected by the Sashe River.

The ominous patch of water below the wall, according to Rudy, is the former home of the local mermaid. According to legend, she periodically captured an unsuspecting man, dragged him to the bottom of the river and had her way with him for three days, after which the spent and lifeless body of the man re-surfaced. Although unproven, the legend still persists – the last victim being an army office in the Botswana Defense Force.

One of, if not the highlight of the trip, was the time spent in Tuli Block. Although getting there was traumatic, Tuli Safari Lodge had spectacular game drives, A+ chef catering, and wonderful caretakers who were assigned to guests to facilitate activities and ensure the safety of guests. Rudy, “the people’s chief”, was our caretaker.

photo credit Meleko Mokgosi

Since Mike was engaged with his painting, I thought it best to commit to the politics of the land by talking with the locals and employees. To my amazement the good humored and humble employees reported that they had been subjected to ill treatment from visitors. Whites from neighboring South Africa were at the head of their complaint list. Many years ago the land, which was once used for farming and cattle grazing, was sold for very little to a South African businessman. And as with many lodges and safari camps in the country, the land is still owned by a contingent of South African and British “shareholders”.

Racial dynamics still plague interactions. According to the people I interviewed, many guests arrive with an assortment of liquor for relaxation, make unfair requests, and occasionally make uncouth statements. One guest, for example, aggressively demanded that his caretaker immediately take him to see the lions and their den. “How do you know there is a lions’ den?’ the caretaker inquired with caution and surprise. “Well”, said the Chinese man, “you live in the bush. Can’t you see, you live with the animals, therefore, you know where they are, so take me to them – I want to see them!” With amazement and equal disappointment, the narrator ended the story. He was obviously still affected by this exchange and could still barely believe what had happened. He capped off, “Such is the ignorance that we see here. I am sure you know what I’m talking about”.

And I did! Upon my arrival in Williams College in 2003 for a solid year , every time I opened my mouth to speak, people were startled with amazement. “Wow, you speak such good English, how come?” And “you don’t look African?” My response, just like that of the Tuli caretaker, was to smile and take it on the chin – instead of correcting these sorry stupidities or giving the speaker a fat lip! I suppose I could have just clarified that I left my loin cloth and spear in the closet that day; and as for the good English – I should have tickled their fancy and told them it only took me a year to learn the language. Before that I was speaking in Uga-Booga. Suffice it to say, I understood all too well what the caretaker had gone through, just like anyone who has been subjected to stereotypes.

A great affinity developed between the staff and me. Wherever we traveled – it was apparent to most parties that I was employed as a guide, an assistant, a translator, facilitator, travel companion etc. At times this was a disadvantage. But most of the time it was a productive advantage because as a native I was given a different price for various things; additionally, I had access to invaluable information unavailable to Mike or any other tourists and I learnt a great deal from these exchanges Although they may have been treated badly by some guests, the employees maintained their dignity and autonomy. And proof of this was exhibited on our penultimate day at Tuli Block. A big cook out, or braai, was arranged for the guests – and the food was great as always. After dinner was served and the guests had finished eating, the staff began singing and dancing to entertain the guests.

It was a bit bizarre yet acceptable. The singing was good; the dancing – not so good. It was 9pm. The employees were probably tired. I could sense, as well, a tinge of embarrassment . I cannot fault them for this because these were not young people in their glory days. They were working people with families to attend. So being the only Motswana in the crowd, and sensing their uneasiness, I politely approached one performer to ask, “Why, why do you do this?” Perhaps it is a cultural difference, but I felt that it was unfair to request a performance from these hard working people. His explanation was short and sweet, “madi ke mathata mister, a fufulelwa”. Which means in not so poetic terms, “one has to work and sweat for money”. But he went on to stress that they did somewhat enjoy performing, and that the proceeds help to pay for private health care. He explained this with such pride that I understood that any discomfort he felt on stage was insignificant compared to the value of having a good private health care plan.

It occurred to me while looking at Solomon’s wall why the legend of the Mermaid is resonant for the local people. As workers in the tourist industry the citizens of Tuli dive daily into the pool of necessity in which they may encounter a soul-killer, racism.