Although olive ridley sea turtles are still fairly common globally, they are considered to be threatened because they have few secure nesting sites left in the world.

A Yanadi fisherman paddling a log boat
A Yanadi fisherman paddling a log boat (Photo by Only the Best on NationMaster.com and copyrighted, but released for all uses without reservation)

At one of the nesting areas, the beaches of the Indian state of Andhra Pradesh along the Bay of Bengal, Yanadi fishermen have taken a strong interest in helping protect the turtles. A news report in The Hindu last week explained the conservation program and the role of the Yanadi people.

On Tuesday, April 25, a government conservation official, Mr. Ramana Reddy, released almost 800 turtle hatchlings into the sea near the Edurumondi Lighthouse in the Krishna District of the state. So far this year, he told the reporter, T. Appala Naidu, over 33,000 turtle hatchlings have been released into the bay along the state’s coastline. “All … efforts are being made to intensify conservation of the olive ridley turtles,” he said.

An olive ridley turtle hatchling at a beach in Chennai, Tamil Nadu (Photo by Thangaraj Kumaravel on Flickr, Creative Commons license)
An olive ridley turtle hatchling at a beach in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India (Photo by Thangaraj Kumaravel on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The importance of releasing sea turtles into numerous sites along the coast is that when they are grown into adults, they will return to the same beaches where they entered the sea to lay their own eggs. The propagation efforts will help reestablish the former abundance of the turtles. In return for the persistent work of government forestry officials and their volunteer helpers, about 824 adult turtles have returned to the beaches of the Krishna and Guntur districts of the state to make their own nests. In order to assist in propagating the species, over 93,000 eggs have been taken from the turtle nests, from which the hatchlings have been successfully released into the sea.

Mr. Reddy paid tribute to the Yanadi volunteers who participated this year in helping collect and protect eggs from the beach nests. They deserve a lot of credit, Mr. Naidu wrote, for the conservation of the turtles, particularly in the Krishna District. A team of Yanadi families has worked at the rookeries as part of their assistance to the project.

The Suryalanka Beach, one of the places that Andhra Pradesh officials released olive ridley turtles into the Bay of Bengal (Photo by RC Srikanth in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)
The Suryalanka Beach, one of the places that Andhra Pradesh officials have released olive ridley turtles into the Bay of Bengal (Photo by RC Srikanth in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

A news story in early May last year described the lives of the fishing Yanadi families living in the coastal beach areas of Andhra Pradesh. The same reporter, Mr. Naidu, interviewed some of them and they made it clear how comfortable they felt about living next to the sea. They were glad to be involved with collecting the turtle eggs and helping release the hatchlings.

 

A young Fipa man was punished by the women of his village for the crime of verbally, and publicly, abusing his mother. The crimes he committed violated Fipa traditions, so the women disciplined him with harsh, traditional punishments of their own. The story was reported widely in the middle of last week in such African media as Jeune Afrique, AfrikMag, and many other news sites and blogs.

A Fipa family (Detail from the cover of Fipa Families: Reproduction and Catholic Evangelization in Nkansi, Ufipa, 1880-1960, by Kathleen R. Smythe. Photo by Prof. Smythe)
A Fipa family (Detail from the cover of Fipa Families: Reproduction and Catholic Evangelization in Nkansi, Ufipa, 1880-1960, by Kathleen R. Smythe. Photo by Prof. Smythe)

On Friday morning, April 22, a 26-year old man named Vitus Nyami pushed the women of Kisungamile, located in the Kalambo District of Tanzania’s Rukwa Region, beyond the limits of their patience. Mr. Nyami had repeatedly, and quite publicly, been insulting and shaming his own mother, behavior that the Fipa women in the village could no longer tolerate. So they decided to punish him for his actions.

They tied him up and pushed him into a pit filled with cow dung. Then they forced him to eat a small amount of the manure. After that, they whipped him 15 strokes and forced him to parade around the community for the rest of the morning, stripped of all his clothing except for a bit of cloth to cover his genitals. A few of the news stories indicated that some of the village men assisted. As they forced him to parade about, the women sang songs that mocked him. And finally, they required him to pay a traditional fine of a goat, a liter of cooking oil, and a bag of cornmeal, which they subsequently divided.

Some critics condemned the traditional punishments but the chief of the village, Dida Musa, didn’t mind being quoted in the media expressing his approval for the justice meted out by the women. A resident of the village, Obed Mwanakatwe, also was willing to be quoted in at least one news report as saying that Mr. Nyami had been abusing his mother regularly.

Tanzanian women working in a garden (Photo by tpsdave on Pixabay, Creative Commons license)
Tanzanian women working in a garden (Photo by tpsdave on Pixabay, Creative Commons license)

The news report in AfrikMag and several others emphasized that a large part of the outrage in the village was due to the fact that, according to Fipa customary law, a mother deserves respect. The young man was clearly violating that local belief so he needed to be punished. The scholarly literature about the Fipa provides more information about their beliefs in punishment—and about the importance of respect for women in their society.

Willis (1981) made it clear that the Fipa did not shy away from punishing crimes as they saw them. He wrote that the primary basis for their law was that “every wrong should be righted by payment of compensation (p.176).” But he went on to qualify that generalization by citing several examples of how punishments varied depending on the crimes committed. For instance, when a man could identify a thief who had stolen from him, he had the right to go to the culprit’s hut and take some of his things in return.

The concept of respect, especially for women, is closely related to the famed peacefulness of the society. Smythe, in her book Fipa Families (2006), explained how the Fipa developed inter-generational responsibility and respect by encouraging the young people of both sexes to move out of their parents’ or grandparents’ houses—wherever they were being raised—and into adjacent buildings in the family compounds called intuli. Youngsters, especially teenagers, of both sexes slept in those dormitory-like buildings until they were ready to pair off and form their own marital unions.

A schoolgirl relaxing on a beach in Karema, Tanzania
A schoolgirl relaxing on a beach in Karema, Tanzania, part of the traditional Fipa territory (Photo by Dietmar Temps on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

Both the adults and the young people felt that this strategy helped develop a strong sense of responsibility on the part of the young person to make good decisions. They believed that the practice of living in the intuli fostered more freedom and respect for older generations than would be likely if the young people continued living in their homes.

The news accounts last week emphasized the gender relationships in the Fipa village. The women were the ones who demanded that the young man be brought to justice for his crimes, and they were the ones who carried out the punishment. Furthermore, they clearly had the support of the village chief in handling the discipline. Smythe (2006) and Willis (1980) both provided background on male/female relationships in Fipa society that provide a context to what happened.

Smythe wrote that although traditionally boys handled farm chores such as caring for livestock and collecting wood, and the work of girls normally included such things as caring for younger children, cooking, and carrying water, those roles were not rigid. Boys would sometimes help girls with their work if needed and at times girls would help the boys with the livestock.

Willis (1980) extended that gender relationship analysis even farther. He maintained that women in the pre-colonial period of their society had separate but nearly equal roles to play in the Fipa states. The men controlled the agricultural economy and the executive aspects of the states, but the women controlled the judiciaries. Their magistrates, usually older women, would handle such problems as sex crimes in the villages. They would place heavy fines on offenders, whether male or female. The women magistrates were able to keep one-third of any fine money.

The upshot of the Fipa gender relationships, according to Willis (1989a), was that they had a nearly gender-equal society. His argument helps explain the news reports last week. The response by the Fipa women of Kisungamile to the crime of publicly harassing one’s own mother, and the support provided by the village chief, were simply expressions of cherished Fipa traditions.

 

On Friday April 14, 90 mm of rain (about 3 and 1/2 inches) fell on Tristan da Cunha, causing minor flooding. According to a news post on the Tristan website by the Administrator, Sean Burns, the storm cut an important roadway.

Inside St. Joseph’s Catholic Church on Tristan (Photo by Brian Gratwicke on Flickr, Creative Commons license)
Inside St. Joseph’s Catholic Church on Tristan (Photo by Brian Gratwicke on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The storm evidently surprised some Tristan Islanders, who told Mr. Burns that they had never seen so much rain coming down in such a short period of time. During the Good Friday services that day, people in one of the churches could hear the rumble of rocks up on the volcano being washed down the slopes.

One of the streambeds, Big Watron, overflowed, some houses were threatened with being flooded, and the road to the west out of the Settlement that provides access to gardens in a relatively flat area a couple miles away called the “Potato Patches” was completely cut. The road slopes down and across a normally dry wash called Hottentot Gulch, which was blocked by the rocks and debris that had come down off the mountain.

Hottentot Gulch on Tristan (A photo appearing in Katherine Mary Barrow, Three Years in Tristan da Cunha, 1910, following page 252, in the public domain)
Hottentot Gulch on Tristan (A photo appearing in Katherine Mary Barrow, Three Years in Tristan da Cunha, 1910, following page 252, in the public domain)

Work crews were called out to help clear Big Watron, keep drains open in the Settlement, and seek to prevent houses from being flooded. Mr. Burns included in his report a couple photos of the road where it crosses Hottentot Gulch. One showed two large track hoes—what he called “diggers”— working to clear the mud, rocks, and debris from the road crossing. Two other men continued to work all day Saturday the 15th to clear the road to the Potato Patches.

Serious storms are not uncommon on Tristan. Their website has a page called “Tristan da Cunha News of Storms and the Community’s Response.” It describes, with numerous photos, a storm that battered the harbor in May 2014. On August 5th, 2015, a twister roared in from the sea and across the Potato Patches, damaging some of the huts that Islanders maintain there for their gardening needs.

Some of the storms in Tristan history have been far more serious.  The Presswire service, in a report that may not be available any longer on the open web, indicated on June 5, 2001, that winds of 120 miles per hour on May 23rd had destroyed the hospital and the community center. The storm also caused major damage to many homes. Fortunately, there were no deaths nor serious injuries. A news report from the Daily Telegraph dated June 5, 2001, which also appears to no longer be available on the web, indicated that the only pub on the island was destroyed, as were a lot of cattle. News about the storm was delayed in reaching London because power on the island had been cut and radio communications were severed for days.

The Potato Patches is a favorite destination of the Tristan Islanders (Photo by Brian Gratwicke on Flickr, Creative Commons license)
The Potato Patches is a favorite destination for the Tristan Islanders (Photo by Brian Gratwicke on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The most devastating storm in Tristan history occurred in late November 1885. As Munch (1971) told the story in his book Crisis in Utopia, pages 141-143, accounts of that storm and the disaster it caused varied. The basic fact was that a lifeboat with 15 men aboard, many of the adult men of the island, disappeared at sea one day. An account of the tragedy appeared in an Australian newspaper, written by a ship’s captain who told of a lifeboat pulling out of the island as if to meet his ship at sea several miles from Tristan. He wrote that the lifeboat disappeared in the waves of a serious storm: “strong squalls with a heavy sea,” the captain wrote (p.143). He indicated that he and his shipmates searched for survivors of the lifeboat for several hours before giving up and sailing away.

But accounts from the few men left alive on Tristan, and the women who were left on shore watching, varied considerably. In their accounts, the lifeboat filled with the 15 Tristan men went out carrying some trade goods to visit an unknown ship, hoping to secure some supplies, as they had done numerous times with other ships that visited. The surviving Islanders said that the weather was fair that day with moderate winds and they claimed their lifeboat met up with the unknown ship. When the ship left, it appeared to be towing the lifeboat. The 15 Tristan men never returned—kidnapped, the remaining islanders believed.

The numerous storms that have roared over Tristan since then have not been cloaked in such ambiguity—they have just tested the mettle of the Islanders.

 

The Orang Asli Crafts Museum in Kuala Lumpur recently featured the cultures and the history of the Semai and the Mah Meri societies of Malaysia in a special, two-day event. According to an article last week in The Star, a Malaysian newspaper, visitors learned about the traditional beliefs, tools, and clothing of the two Orang Asli (Original People) groups.

Semai young people in Kampung Rening, Pahang state, wearing normal Western clothing (Photo by tian yake on Flickr, Creative Commons license)
Semai young people in Kampung Rening, Pahang state, wearing normal western clothing (Photo by tian yake on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The museum, organizing the exhibition under the theme “The Lively Museum” (Semarak Muzium), included for visitors such activities and interactive displays as Orang Asli cultural performances and cooking demonstrations. Visitors were allowed to use blowpipes to shoot darts at balloons–a popular feature of the exhibition.

One display featured the fabrication of traditional clothing from tree bark. It showed how the Semai stripped bark and pounded it on a hard surface in order to soften it and make it more flexible. The bark was then left to dry before being made into articles of clothing such as capes and skirts. Most photos of the Semai taken today show them wearing standard western clothing.

Robert Dentan, an expert on Semai society, mentioned traditional clothing in a journal article (2001) that is available as a PDF in the Archive of this website. Dentan wrote that Islam in Malaysia, the dominating state religion, has had a tendency to try and assimilate the entire cultural world of the minority, indigenous people.

Semai children crowd around Robert Knox Dentan to grill him about proper English usage (Photo in an article by Dentan with a Creative Commons license)
Semai children crowd around Robert Knox Dentan to grill him about proper English usage (Photo in an article by Dentan amd Juli Edo with a Creative Commons license)

That tendency shows up in the Malay domination of Semai clothing choices, he said. He wrote that Islamic dominance is manifest in the lives of the Semai primarily “as deprivation: food taboos, fasting, circumcision, prudery, heavy clothing, and subjection of women and girls (p.95).” Dentan continued by quoting some Semai people as saying, “’It’s more than we can stand.’” However, neither the article in The Star, nor the website of the museum itself, commented on those issues.

The Star reporter also described the Mah Meri dancing performances and the hand-carved wooden masks that they use, which were also part of the cultural festival.

Since the Ju/’hoansi have become mostly settled farmers and herders, they need access to reliable water for their own uses and for their livestock. In the past, when they used to move about from place to place in the Kalahari Desert, their movements were often dictated by access to water, both for themselves and for the game that they hunted.

A Ju/’hoansi woman in Tsumkwe (Screenshot from the video “The Ostrich Eggshell-beads Craft of the Kalahari People,” by Amit Zoran on Vimeo, Creative Commons license)
A Ju/’hoansi woman in Tsumkwe (Screenshot from the video “The Ostrich Eggshell-beads Craft of the Kalahari People,” by Amit Zoran on Vimeo, Creative Commons license)

Articles last week in two different Namibian news sources, the New Era and the Namibia Economist, explained how the Nyae Nyae Conservancy, with support from the Nyae Nyae Development Foundation of Namibia (NNDFN), has been developing the physical infrastructure to ensure reliable sources of water in the Ju/’hoan communities.

The conservancy takes charge of over 20 sources of water in the desert region of northeastern Namibia where the Ju/’hoansi settlements are located, about half the number used by both the human and the animal inhabitants of the region. The articles refer to those water facilities as “waterpoints.” The essence of the two reports is that those facilities result from careful, long-term planning, investments in training, and of course the construction of the physical facilities themselves.

African elephants rushing for water in Namibia (Photo by Hans Hillewaert in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)
African elephants rushing for water in Namibia (Photo by Hans Hillewaert in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

The facilities include boreholes, which must be kept functioning. The elephant herds in the conservancy present a special challenge—over 1000 animals that frequently try to break down barriers to get to water. The solution has been to try and prevent them from approaching the human facilities and to provide water for them in hopes that they will be less inclined to destroy the waterpoints in the villages.

As waterpoints became available in the villages, the Ju/’hoansi were able to start keeping livestock and growing gardens. Then, the communities needed facilities to store water so the conservancy began providing 5,000 or 10,000 liter tanks to the villages, depending on the local populations and the agricultural activities they’ve been pursuing in the past couple of years.

The NNDFN is pleased with the success so far in providing permanent water to the Ju/’hoansi. “Water gives the Nyae Nyae Conservancy inhabitants an opportunity to see their hard work flourish and they are reaping the rewards,” someone commented at NNDFN. For their part, the villagers are happy with the latest development. Glao Lamacea commented, “Livestock and people can go days longer if the pump breaks and maintenance is in progress, since the tanks can store enough water for them to keep on with their activities.” Another Ju/’hoan said that secure water now allows the people to keep themselves clean and healthy.

Not much of the rain falling over the Kalahari Desert of Namibia is actually reaching the ground since most of it evaporates first (Photo by Alastair Rae on Flickr, Creative Commons license)
Not much of the rain falling over the Kalahari Desert of Namibia is actually reaching the ground since most of it evaporates first (Photo by Alastair Rae on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

Before they had permanent sources of water, the Ju/’hoansi—then called the !Kung—moved about from one spot in the desert to another, depending in large part on local rainfall events. One result of living in an area with uncertain water was that the different bands did not stay attached to exclusive, fixed territories. They had to move in order to survive. As a result, according to Lee (1972), their camp compositions were quite flexible—people visited other camps frequently and shared their food resources. Territorial boundaries were defined vaguely and not defended.

In other words, the reason for the flexibility was the unpredictability of water in the form of rain. Annual rainfall varies by as much as 300 percent from one year to the next in any given spot. The people survived in part because they could easily move from an area that lacked water to another area which had had greater rainfall. The culture they developed of fostering flexible living areas and reciprocal uses of resources allowed individuals to avoid violence by separating: by moving away from one another and settling into different camps. In essence, access to water, or lack thereof, had enormous social implications in a very dry region.

 

A Muslim man and his Christian bride, both Nubians, were married at night recently to avoid upsetting too many people, but they had a traditional ceremony nonetheless. Nicola Kelly described the events that took place in the Aswan area for the BBC last week.

Nubian woman in West Aswan (Photo by Anne Jennings in the Nubian Image Archive in Flickr, Creative Commons license)
Nubian woman in West Aswan (Photo by Anne Jennings in the Nubian Image Archive in Flickr, Creative Commons license)

Akram, the groom, told the reporter on the morning of the wedding the circumstances of the romance. He was advised by many Muslim Nubians to marry within their community, “but it was impossible. I couldn’t stay away from her,” he said, referring to his betrothed, Sally, the Christian girl. But it would not be a traditional wedding ceremony: he would go to the mosque and say his vows alone, while she would stay at home and recite her prayers.

Although Muslim and Christian Nubians have mostly gotten along, this romance has been quite unusual and difficult. The man and woman are both from Shadeed, a village that is part of the Aswan metropolitan area located on the west bank of the Nile. They met seven years ago across the river in the city of Aswan. They were hanging out in a spot where young people eat ice cream. They flirted; she enjoyed his jokes; he looked forward to seeing her. But as things became serious, both families tried to keep them from seeing one another. For seven years they only met sporadically. Although marrying someone from the other community is not absolutely forbidden, it is highly frowned upon.

A Nubian bride (Photo by Ernle R in Flickr, Creative Commons license)
A Nubian bride (Photo by Ernle R in Flickr, Creative Commons license)

During the week before the marriage, Akram has gone from door to door in his community issuing oral invitations to his evening wedding. It’s a Nubian tradition, Kelly writes, since people would feel insulted if they only received written invitations. “Speaking to our neighbours, singing songs, eating and dancing. That’s more important to us grooms than the religious part of the day, anyway!” he told the BBC.

Heading into the mosque, he pointed out to the reporter the ruins of some Christian buildings that were destroyed by outsiders. Christian facilities have been attacked by the majority Muslims in Egypt in recent years, but the Nubians apparently wouldn’t allow any more. They drove the outsiders away, he told the Ms. Kelly.

The reporter found the imam to be a humble, scholarly man; he told her that marrying someone of the other faith was no big deal. “I want people to accept each other. Muslims and Christians, we can live in peace,” he said. He went on to say that Christianity in the Nubian community has had a very positive effect on the young Muslim men.

Nubian women waiting for the ferry across the Nile (Photo by Anne Jennings in the Nubian Image Archive in Flickr, Creative Commons license)
Nubian women waiting for the ferry across the Nile (Photo by Anne Jennings in the Nubian Image Archive in Flickr, Creative Commons license)

Sally spent most of the day in her home on the other side of Shadeed preparing herself for the wedding. There was a cross above each doorway in the house and she had a rosary necklace around her neck. She needed the time to settle her nerves and get the traditional henna painted on her hands and arms so she would be beautiful. As evening approached, she and the other women took a ferry across the river to a hairdresser, emerging a couple hours later looking much different than she did as an 18-year old girl that same afternoon. “I feel very confident. I am very beautiful now,” she told the reporter with a lot of self-assurance. The photos that accompany the BBC story confirm her opinion.

She told Ms. Kelly that it had taken years of quiet discussions with her husband to be—and many not-so-quiet conversations with her father. He had sternly forbade the marriage until both the imam of Akram’s mosque and their own pastor had agreed, and he finally relented.

At the salon where the ceremony would take place, Akram arrived, hours late, shortly before midnight. Goatskin drums were distributed among the guests as he entered the salon—and then ululations and applause when the happy couple emerged with their arms linked. But the important part of the event was the dance. At first, the women danced separately from the men. They danced in a circle around the bride.

Hoisting the groom in the air at a Nubian wedding Photo by Hossam el-Hamalawy on Flickr, Creative Commons license)
Hoisting the groom in the air at a Nubian wedding (Photo by Hossam el-Hamalawy on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

Then, Akram’s relatives and friends raised him up onto their shoulders and they threw him into the air in time with the beating of the drums. He hollered that that was the best part of the evening so far. Next, the crowd parted to allow the bride and groom to face each other and dance around one another, though still not touching. After five minutes of that, the drumming stopped and the husband and wife stood beaming at each other.

Akram exclaimed that now they could go home, eat, and begin living together. The reporter asked Sally if she was looking forward to the next phase of her married life. She replied that she was certainly eager to have lots of children, and added, “I hope now everyone will accept our marriage and it will become easier for us.”

In her book Nubian Women of West Aswan, Jennings (2009) provided a recent ethnographic analysis of the situation that women in communities such as Shadeed face when they contemplate marriage. A lot of her descriptions of the typical Nubian courtship customs clearly didn’t apply to the interfaith romance between Akram and Sally—the BBC account supplements her engaging stories and scholarship—but the anthropologist provided useful background information. She wrote, for instance, that “Nubians tend to be intensely romantic, and young men in love press their suit with poetry, songs, and beautifully worded compliments (p.59).”

She wrote, however, that it is the Nubian woman who establishes the nature of the courtship rather than the man. In that vein, it is clear from the BBC article that it was Sally who had to win over her father, with the help of the imam and the pastor, not Akram. But Jennings emphasized that the family, especially the father, usually has the final say about the man that his daughter will be allowed to marry.

But the anthropologist discovered many shades of permissiveness in the West Aswan Nubian fathers. Some were skeptical of their daughters’ abilities to choose a man who would be a stable, reliable provider over the long term. Older heads are wiser. Other parents that Jennings spoke with told her that they felt that romantic love was a really essential component of successful marriages. People she interviewed pointed to examples of successful marriages in the village that had been based on love matches—but others pointed to unsuccessful matches to support their opinions.

If Jennings returns to the West Aswan area to work on a third edition of her book, one can hope she will be able to locate Akram and Sally in order to find out how their marriage has been working out.

 

The San living in their traditional settlements in the Kalahari Desert were shaken last week by a diamond mine being closed and, two days later, by an earthquake. A variety of news sources covered both events.

A San family in the bush in the Ghanzi District (Photo by Petr Kosina on Flickr, Creative Commons license)
A San family in the bush in the Ghanzi District (Photo by Petr Kosina on Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The Botswana Daily News on April 2 reported on a presentation about the mine to the Ghanzi District Council, which includes much of the Central Kalahari Game Reserve (CKGR) and its San residents. At the meeting, Mr. Haile Mphusu, the Managing Director of the Ghaghoo Diamond Mine, owned by Gem Diamonds, announced that effective April 1 mining operations for diamonds had ceased. The mine is located near Gope, one of the traditional villages of the G/wi and the G//ana San people in the CKGR. Employment at the mine was reduced from 183 people to 25 maintenance workers at the beginning of the month.

The company, based in London, had actually announced the closing on February 16, citing as its reason the falling prices for diamonds. Development of the mine, according to the February news stories, had started in 2011. It had not, as yet, reached a level of commercial production, though it was nearly at that point. The mine will be placed on a “care and maintenance” status in case the prices of diamonds go back up and it can resume operations. Even though the mine is near a San settlement, the company did not say how many of the 158 workers sent home on April 1 were in fact San.

A review of the coming of the diamond mine to the CKGR will suggest its close connections with the San people living in the Kalahari. In 2007, De Beers sold its diamond exploration concession in Botswana to Gem Diamonds, which maintained that the gems were potentially worth over U.S. $2.2 billion.

Aerial view of the Ghaghoo mine (Photo from the media pages of the Gem Diamonds website)
Aerial view of the Ghaghoo mine (Photo from the media pages of the Gem Diamonds website)

In December 2008, the Botswana government announced that it had approved an environmental impact statement that Gem Diamonds had prepared for the planned opening of its controversial operation in the CKGR. One of the conditions that the government attached to its approval was that the company was not allowed to share any water with the neighboring San communities, even though it would have to sink boreholes and provide water for its own operations.

Government hostility to the G/wi and G//ana people persisted until 2011 when Gem Diamonds was allowed to announce that it would, in fact, help finance the drilling of boreholes for four of the major San settlements in the CKGR. The company finally held its opening ceremony for the Ghaghoo underground diamond mine in September 2014.

Mr. Mphusu, in announcing the closing of the mine to the Ghanzi District Council last week, said that the company would be suspending most of its corporate social responsibilities for the next two years. The exceptions: it would continue to provide water to the nearby residents of Gope and it would continue to maintain the boreholes it had financed at Mothomelo and Molapo, two of the other San settlements. The company would also continue to provide limited assistance to some schools.

As if to punctuate the dramatic closing of the huge mine, two days later, on April 3, at 7:40 p.m. local time, a large, 6.5 magnitude earthquake struck Botswana. The epicenter of the quake was 142 miles northwest of the national capital, Gaborone, and only 44 km. (27 miles) east of Gope. One news report indicated that it was probably the largest earthquake ever recorded in that country. Another news story announced that injuries were reported from a community 132 km. west of the epicenter—much farther away than Gope—with several people treated in a local hospital. News from the San communities was not immediately available.

Two days after the quake, a major Botswana newspaper reported that officials had inspected the mine and had found no significant damage, other than toppled fixtures in buildings. Mr. Mphusu, the manager, told the press, “We are lucky that we are currently not operating, so we had no workers underground but as of now we have sent a team down to assess if there could have been [any] major damage.” In other words, the workers were lucky they had been dismissed from their jobs.

Sunrise over the Kalahari Desert (Photo from Max Pixel FreeGreatPictures.com, Creative Commons Zero license)
Sunrise over the Kalahari Desert (Photo from Max Pixel FreeGreatPictures.com, Creative Commons Zero license)

We don’t know as yet how the San living in Gope and the nearby CKGR settlements have reacted to this unusual chain of events, but Silberbauer (1981) provided clues as to how their traditional beliefs might have been challenged by the earthquake. In an informative section of his book (p. 51-57), he wrote that N!adima, the supreme being, often manipulates natural phenomena. The deity created the basis of the universe and set everything in motion. Sunrises and sunsets over the Kalahari, the courses of the moon, stars, and seasons all result from his activities. He creates the weather patterns and, though Silberbauer doesn’t mention it, he also presumably has a hand in the occasional earthquakes.

More than that, the anthropologist made it clear that N!adima employs natural phenomena to show his displeasure about the courses of human events. Unfortunate occurrences are most likely caused by N!adima. “Singular misfortune … [is] attributed to N!adima having intervened in the operation of natural systems and deflected them to serve his purpose …,” the anthropologist wrote (p.53). Like the G/wi that Silberbauer worked with more than 50 years ago, the people of Gope and the other CKGR settlements today might well wonder at the motives of their supreme being. Silberbauer indicated that the G/wi loved to sit around and discuss the ways of their deity and they are probably still doing that, inspired by the strange circumstances of last week.

 

The Challa Yanadi living in the Nellore District of Andhra Pradesh have requested a seat on India’s National Scheduled Tribes Commission. According to a news story in The Hindu last week, their leaders are arguing that, since their population in southeastern India is now estimated at about 900,000, they are entitled to better services. Having a representative on the commission could help a lot.

Two Yanadi men making fire in front of one of their huts (Photo from Edgar Thurston, Castes and Tribes of Southern India, Madras Government Press, 1909, vol. 7, p.418. In the public domain)
Two Yanadi men making fire in front of one of their huts (Photo from Edgar Thurston, Castes and Tribes of Southern India, Madras Government Press, 1909, vol. 7, p.418. In the public domain)

Despite the existence of several welfare schemes that the government makes available to the Yanadi, they still lag far behind other communities. They are not much better off than they were when they still lived as nomads in the forests. Gandhalla Sreeramulu, President of an organization called Yanadi Samakhya and Sk Basheer, the honorary president of the group, approached Mr. Muppavarapu Venkaiah Naidu, the Minister for Urban Development in the national government, during his recent visit to the city of Nellore.

The Yanadi leaders asked the minister for his support in getting representation on the national panel. They were specifically recommending the appointment of Mr. Buduru Srinivasulu to relay their issues and concerns to the Scheduled Tribes Commission.

M. Venkaiah Naidu, Minister of Housing and Urban Poverty Alleviation in the national government of India (Photo by Shaik Mydeen in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)
M. Venkaiah Naidu, Minister of Housing and Urban Poverty Alleviation in the national government of India (Photo by Shaik Mydeen in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

The two leaders also asked Mr. Naidu to explore the idea of forming a special corporation that would extend financial help to the Yanadi, much like the corporations formed to benefit other communities. That proposal would need the support of the state and federal governments in order to go forward.

This development suggests that the Yanadi may, of necessity, be accepting some changes in their society. When Raghaviah (1962) wrote his ethnography of the people, he remarked on how incredibly accommodating they were. Their peacefulness, the anthropologist argued, was due in large part to their passiveness. Furthermore, the Yanadi lacked any binding group feelings and did not take any group actions. “They lack the tribal or clan control exercised by a few nominated or elected heads as is done among the majority of Indian tribes” he wrote (p.120).

The fact that they now have leaders who are trying to take action on their behalf is especially interesting. Raghaviah wrote that they did not take any collective actions such as join strikes. They did not seek or accept leadership positions, and they considered elections to be irrelevant. To judge by the news story last week, Gandhalla Sreeramulu and his associates are challenging some Yanadi ways in order to improve their living conditions.

 

Ju/’hoansi women have been making high-quality jewelry for ages, but over the past 30 years they have gradually developed their traditional craft into a viable, and profitable, export business. A news report last week from the New Era, a Namibian daily newspaper, displayed an understandable pride in the accomplishments of the women.

Jewelry on display at the Living Museum in //Xa/oba, Nyae Nyae Conservancy (All screenshots in this news story were taken from the video “The Ostrich Eggshell-beads Craft of the Kalahari People,” by Amit Zoran on Vimeo, Creative Commons license)
White beads made from ostrich eggshells, plus colorful, purchased beads, are used to make jewelry that is on display at the Living Museum in //Xa/oba, Nyae Nyae Conservancy (All screenshots in this news story were taken from the video “The Ostrich Eggshell-beads Craft of the Kalahari People,” by Amit Zoran on Vimeo, Creative Commons license)

According to the reporter, the women sold more jewelry in 2016 than ever before. With their earnings, they are increasingly able to purchase outside goods and products for their families that would otherwise be unobtainable. While the women in the Nyae Nyae Conservancy have made jewelry out of bits of ostrich eggshells for 30 years now, the newspaper indicated that they have been making and wearing it for centuries. The difference is that the women have changed and updated their designs and added modern twists.

Major NGOs such as the Nyae Nyae Development Foundation of Namibia (NNDFN) and the Omba Arts Trust have supported the women by linking them to regional, national, and international buyers. The jewelry is being worn by Namibians and increasingly by Europeans. The jewelry makers are hoping that their sales will increase in 2017 to half a million dollars.

Two Ju/’hoansi women making ostrich eggshell beads
Two Ju/’hoansi women making ostrich eggshell beads

Lara Diez, from the NNDFN, told the New Era that increasing the cash sales has not been the only goal for the Ju/’hoansi. She identified such other benefits from the growing sales as spreading the fame of the traditional jewelry and increasing appreciation for the intrinsic beauty of the pieces. She also said that the jewelry business was an important way to help “empower communities to be able to take care of themselves and not depend on handouts.”

It is interesting to note that the Ju/’hoansi women today are committed to making their jewelry at least partly out of the traditional source material—ostrich eggshells. Anthropologist Polly Wiessner (1984) noted that when she did her research among several San societies from 1973 to 1977, headbands, the traditional form of jewelry they wore, were being made by the women out of beads which they were able to purchase at a couple local stores. In earlier years, before the availability of manufactured beads, they had used bits of ostrich eggshells to make them. The beads were then used for making jewelry, particularly headbands, Wiessner wrote.

A Ju/’hoansi woman wearing a beautiful headband that includes store-bought beads as well as traditional ones
A Ju/’hoansi woman wearing a beautiful headband that includes store-bought beads as well as traditional ones

In the 1970s, the headbands helped the Ju/’hoansi preserve their peacefulness. They were carefully sewed using a variety of patterns that were used with several different background designs. Since making them consumed a considerable amount of time, the headbands were among their most prized possessions. The Ju/’hoansi associated their headbands with beauty, plenty, festivity, and happiness, and the people told Wiessner that one should wear them “when one’s heart soars.”

Even though they were (and presumably still are) very personal and prized, a major function of the headband was as an item of exchange, to be given to another after one has enjoyed it for a few months. After a headband had changed hands several times and the threads were becoming worn, they would be unraveled so the beads could be woven again into another headband. Wiessner (1982) explored in detail the importance of gift exchanges of bead headbands for fostering Ju/’hoansi peacefulness.

A headband made out of leather plus ostrich eggshell and glass beads preserves the traditional wandering pattern beloved by Ju/’hoansi jewelry makers
A headband made out of leather plus ostrich eggshell and glass beads preserves the traditional wandering pattern beloved by Ju/’hoansi jewelry makers

The ideal headband consisted of a design that wandered along a background and reminded the wearer of the way a person should walk quietly back to camp through the bush. The headband design often suggested, for instance, the desired modesty of the successful hunter when he returned to camp and left his kill at the edge of the clearing without speaking a word of self-congratulation to anyone. It should evoke the discretion of interpersonal relations which, ideally, maintained social harmony.

Wiessner (1984) wrote that when she asked the Ju/’hoansi women why they made their headband jewelry so beautiful, 77 percent replied that they did so to promote reciprocal relations, 48 percent did so for self-satisfaction, and 88 percent gave as their reason a desire to impress the men.

However, while the women were clearly aware of the positive values that everyone attached to giving and receiving beautiful, hand-made jewelry, they also were conscious of the possible negative implications of manipulating people and arousing jealousies about the prized possessions. Conversations among the people about their bead-work were usually positive in tone, a contrast to their normal, everyday style of complaining and refraining from complimenting each other.

Four adults making traditional ostrich eggshell beads
Four adults making traditional ostrich eggshell beads

Thus, the headbands represented enduring social commitments that should be above the frequent bickering about minor issues that plagued their camps. Furthermore, the headband jewelry was useful to the Ju/’hoansi for defining personal identity as well as for supporting interpersonal relationships. Designs were shared across a wide expanse of territory, which allowed the people to express their affiliations with kin in distant as well as in nearby settlements.

But to judge by last week’s news report, those cultural associations have weakened. The jewelry makers of the 1970s may have admired new designs, but Wiessner (1984) made it clear that they resisted incorporating changes into their own work. It was important for them to be able to tell who had designed the pieces. “We do not want to copy these designs [by outsiders] as we do not know the people who made them,” they told her (p.211). The Ju/’hoansi women have evidently become far more flexible over the last four decades, as they now make changes that will help them sell their products. It is not clear, however, if the jewelry still plays much of a role in helping them remain a peaceful society.

 

The village of Gharb Sohail, located a few miles south of Aswan, is a good example of a community where the old Nubian culture survives, at least for tourists. A travel article containing several interesting observations about the village and the Nubians appeared last week in an English-language newspaper from the UAE.

Aya Nader, the writer, observed that while the ancient kingdoms of Old Nubia are long gone, the village of Gharb Sohail retains some of its traditions and has changed into a prominent tourist attraction. Many people in the village have opened their homes as guest houses. Those houses feature such traditional attractions as big halls, benches built into the walls called mastabas, tea areas, and rooms where the women gather after sundown. The walls are typically painted with nature scenes or images of daily life.

Ms. Nader reached the community from Aswan by ferry, which took her across the river and a few miles south toward the Aswan High Dam. She described it as a colorful place with houses that were painted in reds, greens, and blues. An Egyptian woman commented on how much she enjoyed visiting Gharb Sohail because the residents offered tea and henna to their visitors. They also were willing to tell stories to the tourists.

The village of Gharb Sohail, on the Nile south of Aswan (Photo by Marc Ryckaert in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)
The village of Gharb Sohail, on the Nile south of Aswan (Photo by Marc Ryckaert in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

Applying henna to the body is an important decorative art in Old Nubia which has survived in traditional communities such as this one. These temporary tattoos decorate the arms of many tourists who visit the place. Gharb Sohail has a narrow marketplace where spices, perfumes, incense, and baskets can be purchased and weavers make clothing for sale. The village also offers entertaining shows. A visitor from Cairo told the writer, “The people there are very kind and very hospitable.”

Another tourist called the village “a place of inner peace.” She enjoyed experiencing the ancient Nubian traditions, their history and their homes. The floors in the homes, particularly the entry ways, are coated with fine sand, a traditional way of tracking the possible entry of Nile crocodiles and snakes. Today, some houses still have crocodiles—as a lure for tourists. Ms. Nader saw one in a cage in one house.

The village of Gharb Sohail, on the west bank of the Nile (Photo by Hatem Moushir in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)
The village of Gharb Sohail, on the west bank of the Nile (Photo by Hatem Moushir in Wikimedia, Creative Commons license)

Since the economy of the area is heavily dependent on tourism, the Nubians have developed a range of promotional approaches to bringing in more visitors. They have created a YouTube channel called “Nuba Tube” to spread the word about their region; they work with the social media in order to market their products, cherish their heritage, and keep their language alive. An Argentine travel blogger named Valentina Primo told Ms. Nader that Gharb Sohail is a special place. It is not only colorful, it has such “a surreal sense of community that you won’t feel [like] a stranger.”