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.

The irony of this image was fabulous, even more so since visual art in Botswana is very sincere, which is not a bad thing, but sincerity can accommodate humor and that element is often lacking. For example, the art work in the National Invitational Art Exhibition currently on view at the museum in the capitol, Gaborone, is damned by good intentions.
There are proficient paintings of history as collage.
Dramatizations of traditional culture…

and virtueless abstract paintings which give truth to the cliché, “painting is dead.” The fashion, however, was good.
There are a few moments of beauty,and one comic assemblage of a goat transformed into a traffic light. Goats are prolific in Botswana and freely roam the roads, making highway driving a contact sport, a fact of life that provides the back story for this bit of sculptural humor. Some of the art works are comic, but unintentionally so. A favorite with tourists and locals alike, celebratory images of the wild animals of Southern Africa are ubiquitous, which makes sense since the animals are a source of national pride, cultural identity and income. This hyperbolic painting of an ostrich on amphetamines is typical of the genre, and it prompts one to ask, “what do people want from pictures of wild animals?” This question has been on my mind a lot, since I’ve been trekking through game parks for a couple of weeks and I find it impossible to see the animals without being reminded of professional photographs and videos that I have seen on the subject. Is it possible that African animal pictures are the third most popular photographic subject after fashion and disaster? To understand the desire for animal pictures, I thought it might be useful to review the criteria I would use to edit photographs if I wanted them to be mainstream.Nxai Pan in north central Botswana was the first game reserve on the itinerary and ostriches were plentiful. The following four photos are of one bird as it pecked and strutted across the grassy stage. Moving clockwise from the upper left, the first ostrich picture is the worst. The legs and neck are straight and the body is strictly aligned on the axis of the spine. As a result the image is static, which would be fine in a portrait of a hod carrier by August Sander, but not for a wild animal. Picture two has more potential, since the neck is curved and the balance has shifted to one leg. But the loose skin under the neck is disturbing for older viewers. A better choice is image three, in which the neck flap is hidden, the weight turns on a single, balletic point and the turn of the head suggests that the bird is enjoying a commanding view. But that scrawny bird neck is not in proportion to the body. The problems of the first three images are resolved in ostrich four and its “quality” reveals my prejudice for a certain type of picture. Loose skin obscured, the neck in this image is pulled close to the body and tensed into a graceful S, ready to strike at prey. Like number three, the body is poised for action and the gaze is intensely focused. This is a bird of purpose. This “best” image emphasizes action, poise, physical beauty and self confidence. These virtues are not only attributes of health but also of vigorous agency. I seem to want an ostrich that is authoritative. Although dialed down a notch, my preference for the dynamic is disturbingly similar to the ostrich on amphetamine painting I ridiculed. I wonder if I want the same from giraffes? At Nxai Pan there were also a pair of giraffes. The male was enormous and he followed the smaller female closely, seeming to hurry her along. Trotting away from my approaching truck, they came in and out of view, sometimes only heads visible, bobbing above the bush. They descended into a dry river bed which was significantly lower then the road, providing an aerial perspective on their escape. Although they covered ground quickly, they seemed to be moving in slow motion like an astronaut who gives a little leap to sail across the moon.

A few days later on a game drive in Tuli, a wonderful park on the border of South Africa and Zimbabwe, I saw zebras grazing with giraffes. Zebras like to hang with giraffes to take advantage or their superior point of view which provides early warning of advancing predators. I grabbed my camera as we approached the group, snapping a shot every second. Later, when I reviewed the sequence, the animals seemed to pose as we got closer. Compare the following pictures, which are the first and last in the sequence. It’s as if I said, “OK, time for the group portrait. Short ones in the front. You, the tall fella, stop eating and get in the back. Turn toward the camera, please. Stand up straight. Everyone ready? Smile!”Of course the zebras and giraffe are not posing for the camera, but only orienting themselves to assess the nature of something new in their environment. It’s clear, however, that the presence of a photographer effects the animals movement in a very particular way, a fact that challenges the assumption that wild life photos are by nature candid. Still, when judging the worth of the four giraffe photos above, I prefer that the subject seem to be unaware of me. Since I wish to portray the giraffe as wild, the animal must appear innocent of my presence. At first it seems counterintuitive to link innocence and wildness, but access to the original wilderness, Eden, depended on innocence and was lost with knowledge. The fantasy of finding Eden is strong in people and can be capitalized upon when choosing an image for popular consumption. The first and second images are decidedly not Edenic, since the giraffe stares quizzically out of the picture. So these images can be eliminated. The third picture has potential. The animal is walking and looking away from the camera, so it seems uncontrived. It also has the advantage of illustrating the effectiveness of protective coloration and pattern in shadow. But popular pictures are not educational; popular pictures are entertaining. Muted color harmony is no match for the vividness of strong contrast, so number three is out. Which leaves picture number four, which is a good one, but for the unfortunate placement of the thorn tree under the chin of the giraffe. But Photoshop can remove the tree to create the perfect silhouette. This pose reminds me of a pretty woman who, interested in someone across the room, turns her back to the love object but flirtatiously sets her head and neck in profile. Like the winning ostrich, I’ve chosen a giraffe picture that highlights poise and beauty. But unlike the ostrich image which emphasizes agency, the giraffe selection promotes the fantasy of original innocence. But maybe a formal portrait of the giraffe would be more winning. Like a Baroque painting of a king on horse back, the giraffe in this photo looks down from above. The body is turned sideways to give full effect to the heroic torso, finely turned legs and richly patterned coat. The horizontal format sets the subject in its estate, like a landowner painted by Gainsborough. But there is yet another option from which to choose.The “portrait” format uses the visual liveliness of a vertical rectangle to reiterate the vitality of the living subject. At twenty feet tall, the giraffe is a natural for the vertical. Both of these pictures successfully ennoble the giraffe and I find this appealing, but I wonder why? Having watched giraffes a bit in the last few weeks I can testify to the fact that they are awkward as often as they are composed. I think it might have to do with making myself feel better. Maybe the reverential image is a way of making amends for taking the majority of the giraffe’s habitat. Too bad the apology is lost on the giraffe.

What at first seemed like simple choices of color, light and composition now seem complicated. Is a picture of an animal more about the person who selected it then it is about the animal? And do people look at pictures of wildlife to be reassured that a robust Eden is still possible? If I want to represent the wild animal free of human interference, maybe I should choose a bad picture.

Any better?