Although the mission’s primary goal was entirely different and kept confidential due to its politically sensitive nature, Marie was sincerely concerned about the disappearance of the San language. With its extinction, a millennial culture would vanish, “depriving future generations of a scientific legacy, the extent of which we don’t even know,” Dr. Steensen had said at the final meeting with the Danish businessmen.
After securing the project financially, the next step was to persuade the linguist Edward Freeman that fieldwork, from which he had retired, was far more rewarding than his bureaucratic entanglements at Boston University. He was not immediately convinced. After the publication of his third book, the American professor believed to be at the peak of his academic career. His name in a steel frame on his office door assured him of his intellectual superiority and a retirement far from the world’s mediocrity.
It cost Marie a two-week trip to America—a journey that Andreas did not entirely approve of—to convince him otherwise. Sitting in Edward’s office, Marie sensed that Dr. Freeman’s comfort zone did not extend to his home. His desk and bookcases were meticulously kept. Every book, every notepad, had a suitable dwelling; pens and pencils were lined up like soldiers. Family pictures, on the other hand, were sparse and undoubtedly incomplete, and the room was filled with a disconcerting number of selfies in a big frame. It seemed that Edward spent more time at the gym than in the company of his three teenage children or his resilient wife, whose divorce project had been shelved for nearly a decade.
As for Jack, despite being the only researcher in the team without a solid or traditional academic background and having less than five years of experience, his holistic anthropological approach, grounded in disciplined and diligent self-study, aroused a great deal of respect among his colleagues. His work ethic was that of a monk interested in both scientific accuracy and the world beyond physical things.
Back to the road, as disjointed in the team as in his thoughts, David was still studying baobabs, palms, and mainly the bushes through the jammed car window—a knitted sweater covering his nose to protect his airways from the dust thrown up by Andreas’s car. The desolation left behind by the long dry season did not matter in his eyes. He tried to identify the local fauna through the shadows and twigs, crowding out his discomfort with excitement. Only when his gaze fell on the marks of wide tires in the bed of a dry river, did David vacillate between fascination and despair for a moment.
The fauna and flora of the Kalahari were victims of the extreme fluctuations in climate—as described in one of the travel guides David had read. Floods gave way to long droughts from one month to the next, and extreme heat gave way to sub-zero temperatures as day turned into night, continually testing life’s ability to survive and adapt. David tried to imagine once again how these unforgiving environmental conditions impacted the saga of homo sapiens.
“It’s amazing how rich this soil is,” Jack said suddenly.
“Rich?” David asked, surprised.
“You name it... uranium, copper, nickel... and diamonds, of course,” Jack went on. “Don’t be fooled by the desolate landscape, David, the greatest wealth lies beneath the ground.”
“It looks like there’s nothing, and animals seem to feed on the wind; yet, the Kalahari elephants are the largest in the world,” added Edward.
With half-open eyes and her head leaning against Jack’s shoulder, Marie whispered, “The greatest treasure on this ground walks on two legs, but don’t ask Ben if he agrees.”
“You mean the San people?” asked David. “How did they come here?”
“They lived all over Southern Africa for tens of thousands of years,” replied Jack. “There are indications that they were once the largest group of people on the planet. Many inhabited the area around Cape Town but were expelled by the Dutch settlers, first, and by Bantu tribes, later. With time, the desert became their last refuge. The fact that they made such an inhospitable land their new home is unprecedented in history.”
“Obviously, Jack is too nice referring to what happened as an expulsion. In fact, the Bushman population was practically decimated in South Africa,” Marie added without taking her head off her safe harbor.
“Yes, but can you imagine surviving here on just hunting and gathering? With only primitive Stone Age technology,” David speculated as he straightened his spine.
“It’s homo sapiens, Father. You should not underestimate their cognitive ability, here or anywhere else,” said Marie with a half-smile—her default expression during any conversation.
“And how would you underestimate them? Are they not made in the image and likeness of God?” David provoked, resenting Andreas’s absence in the vehicle.
“We were all bushmen for more than a hundred thousand years, and we only became farmers, like Ben’s people, about ten thousand years ago, a fraction of human history,” Marie went on.
Benjamin, who had until then kept his eyes on the road, suddenly raised his eyebrows and his voice, “A giraffe!”
The animal’s sudden appearance on the road forced the driver to drastically reduce his speed, bringing the dialogue to a startled halt. Andreas, driving far ahead, had not seen it. Deftly, Benjamin swerved around the animal, keeping all four wheels on the ground, seemingly in defiance of the laws of physics.
The silence lasted a few seconds less than the fright. “Wow, that giraffe is like five or six meters tall!” David shouted. His Celtic face had grown even more pale than usual, making his eyes electrifying like those of a druid. His combined expression of surprise and joy was so infectious that the other passengers, who were used to seeing animals of all kinds on the road, burst out laughing.
Benjamin, who had worked for years as a guide at safari lodges throughout the country, seized upon David’s comment and turned off the engine.
“Look at that beautiful animal, priest. It can only be a male, judging by its height and also by its horns, which are larger and thicker than those of the female,” Benjamin explained. “Look, look now; it’s crossing over to eat the foliage on that acacia.”
“I read somewhere that they only eat leaves from the top of the tree. There was even a picture of it. That’s why the treetops are all leafless,” David added to the tour guiding explanation.
As the car pulled away, David felt as if his eleven-year-old self was looking out onto the road. He remembered the savannah enclosure at the Dublin zoo—large enough to house numerous giraffes, zebras, and ostriches, but lacking the peace and serenity of this endless space, a space that evoked calm and consoled desolation.
David looked back to see the giraffe and the tree fade into a tiny spot on the horizon. Facing forward again, he stilled his mind. Dozens of miles passed until someone broke the silence.
“Half an hour and we’ll be there,” said Ben. He had undoubtedly been thinking out loud since it was not his habit to play airline captain, but soon found his announcement to be useful to everyone. The five-hour journey had exhausted the passengers, who by this time were sitting in restless silence.
“Half an hour until Tsumkwe?” asked Jack.
David had first heard the name of the place at breakfast. He had been sleepy shortly after the incident with the giraffe but was now alert and inquisitive.
“It’s considered the capital of what was formerly called Bushmanland,” Marie explained. “Today it’s called Nyae Nyae, which means ‘place without mountain’ in Ju/’hoansi.”
“You mean flat,” laughed Jack.
“And that is our destination?” David asked.
“Almost. We’ll go into the region a little further,” replied Marie. “Just don’t expect to find cavemen, David. The San community there is very modern, not because they have assimilated a Western lifestyle and technology or because they speak English or Afrikaans, but because it is a very sophisticated civilization in itself. Although Ben must have a somewhat different opinion.” She tried to catch the driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror as she baited him.
Benjamin, who had until now refused to involve himself in the discussions taking place on the back seat, thought that the repeated reference to his name freed him from his professionalism.
“Madam, I just think the Bushmen should take more responsibility and become more involved in basic things. That’s all!”
“Like what?” insisted Marie.
“Like sending their children to school and learning some work. I’m not prejudiced; I’m not… But that’s what I think,” replied Benjamin, his knuckles turning pale on the steering wheel.
“Many of them are already farmers and cattle ranchers, like your people, Ben,” interrupted Jack. “But that doesn’t seem to make them happier. Incidentally, they have also combined their age-old knowledge with this new pastoral activity. For example, the theft of cattle is almost impossible among them, because they know the footsteps and possessions of every member of the tribe.”
“Like my people? No way, sir,” said Benjamin, shaking his head like a bull in an arena being taunted with a cape. “They don’t have the skills and knowledge to farm with cattle properly. In fact, many prefer to steal livestock from my people, but maybe I should rather keep my mouth shut.”
“David, I just meant that the San culture is as sophisticated and complex as ours,” Marie said, ignoring Benjamin’s last remark. “Their traditional knowledge of plants and animals is comparable to that of Western biologists. They can identify hundreds of herbs in their language and know how to use them as food and medicine.”
“Amazing. And is this the knowledge you want to preserve?” asked David.
“Twenty thousand years of knowledge cannot end up like this, dissolved into nothingness. They’re the oldest people on the planet, our older brother; we have to take responsibility,” Marie said, raising her voice and watching Benjamin closely for any reaction. His body language showed none. Perhaps he had concluded that fixing his eyes on the road in silence was more eloquent than his excited utterances.
“I can’t wait to find out more about their religiosity. Not their relationship to the Christian faith they may now profess, but their traditional spirituality, their beliefs, gods…” David’s words tumbled out in excitement, broadening the rift in mood between the two rows of seats.
“This is Jack’s favorite subject, the first priest in our mission,” said Marie, elbowing the former seminarian.
“It’s not a complex subject, David. You’ll see that religion is a much more uniform matter among the San tribes than the material aspects of their culture,” explained Jack.
At that moment, the vehicle slowed down in anticipation of a speed bump.
Sticking his head out the window, David noticed a sign that read, ‘Tsumkwe 20km’. The information acted as a placebo, bringing immediate relief to his body. His mind felt equally unchained, as he dug deep into his memories. He particularly remembered reading a children’s version of Charles Darwin’s The Origin of Species, detailing the theory of evolution and the ramifications of beings as the branches of a great tree of life. The idea seemed perfectly sensible and logical. Only the suggestion that Africa was the cradle of humanity had been surprising to the boy. Years later he learned that the young Darwin’s father, disappointed with his son’s lack of interest in medical studies, decided to force him to become a cleric so he could have a comfortable life. Eventually, Darwin did not become a priest, but he had certainly been charmed by the wonders of God’s creation, thought David. Similarly, David himself had never given up his naturalistic passion but had restricted his dogmatically disconcerting remarks to his conversations with Father Duane.
Coincidently, David felt the bumps more intensely after the car had driven past the sign. Perhaps some critical information had escaped him while he was drifting, like delayed-effect clauses in an insurance policy. The fact of the matter was that the bumps in the road, from that point onwards, started eliciting restrained cries from Marie. David laughed in response, and it was the first time that he looked at her carefully. For a moment, he saw in the feminine and distinctly Scandinavian facial contours his childhood friend and confidant. And he would have seen more, but his heart lacked the courage to keep on looking.
Whether from anxiety or the incessant dust—ineffectively kept at bay by the sweater over his nose—his breathing suddenly felt uneven and labored. So, he thought it best to introduce a subject that would inevitably fuel conversation until the final stop. He recalled once again the ancient anthropological view that the lives of hunter-gatherers were intrinsically tricky and a continuous struggle for survival in ever precarious and arduous conditions. As he had hoped, Marie accepted the bait.
“In their natural habitat in the Kalahari, they are simple people, Father, with very few possessions, but they are not poor. As you certainly know, poverty is a cultural construct, like the idea of civilization. And they are not as dependent on hunting as you may imagine. Hunting is a major social activity, but their need for protein is largely met by the vegetables and seeds they eat. Obviously, they hunt more when resources are scarce, but you would be impressed with how little time they need to meet their daily needs.”
“And what do they do with their free time?” asked David.
“Nothing, if you want a straight answer. By Western parameters anyway,” continued Marie. “They spend their time in long conversations, storytelling, jokes, dances, and spiritual rites. They live to relate to and cooperate with one another in the present moment, without any relation between means and ends. If you measure the affluence of a people by the number of hours of leisure, and not by the acquisition of goods, then the society of hunter-gatherers may be the wealthiest on the planet.”
“What about their spiritual needs?” David encouraged her to keep speaking.
“In the present?” asked Marie with the half-smile that David had already grown accustomed to. “As Jack could explain much better, there isn’t a historical clarity about the spiritual life of the Bushmen… almost no record of artifacts used in their rituals for archaeologists to support their theories. Besides, the ancient bushmen lived on fertile lands further south. After they were expelled and almost decimated, they had to adapt to this hostile wilderness, meaning their culture certainly underwent an enormous transformation.”
“But, David, there is a permanent aspect to their religiosity: animism,” added Jack. “There is no separation between human beings and all other things. It’s a constant communication between them and the trees, animals, rivers, and so on. Even in the moment of conflict, a hunter apologizes to his prey for having to sacrifice it.”
“And the notion of God? Do they believe in a higher deity?” asked David.
“There is no such thing as a universal god,” answered Jack. “When someone is sick, for example, the healer has to communicate with the specific spirit that caused the illness. No spirit or entity that is above all things or individuals. And there is no hierarchy in all of this. According to San beliefs, things, animals, and even spiritual entities have existence and consciousness of their own; they don’t exist or shape their existence in any way to please individuals.”
“But in their own society, is there really no distinction between classes? How are leaders chosen?” David asked.
“There are no distinctions or hierarchies, if that’s what you mean,” replied Marie.
“None?” David insisted.
“On earth as in heaven, David,” said Jack, without any attempt to hide his sarcasm.
“Except the healer, for his specific role,” replied Marie. “There isn’t exactly a political boss… so the leader emerges naturally, by age and qualities, by the way in which he makes his decisions, and by his capacity for persuasion. Usually, the leadership lasts only for a specific situation where a leader is required, such as during a hunt. Even so, he must be modest; he doesn’t want to exercise leadership by whim or ego.”
“And what do they do when a conflict arises due to a shortage of goods or food? Who punishes or resolves a dispute?” asked David.
“It’s a system of natural equalization of wealth, which occurs to absolutely everything they have, whether through giving, exchanging gifts, or borrowing from one another,” Jack replied.
“So, do they ever have conflict?” asked David in disbelief.
“Are you worried the confessional will be empty, Father?” inquired Edward, who lacked Andreas’s grumpy grace. It was annoying that he always played mummy before striking, like an immobile snake hidden between rocks. David had begun to realize that Dr. Freeman’s silence was a blessing far more than a strategy of observation.
The awkward moment had at least put Father Callaghan’s long list of questions to rest.
“Marie,” irrupted Jack, “a few days ago I was trying to explain to some Ju/’hoansi children the meaning of what they had just seen on the news. It was about the war in Syria, and one of them remarked: ‘It sounds like a stupid joke; someone could get hurt.’” Jack and Marie could not restrain their laughter, although it was short-lived.
“Of course, Dr. Steensen was describing the San people in their natural habitat, Father,” interrupted Edward. “This is definitely not what happens today. Most of their people are no longer nomadic; they live in miserable conditions on farms and are exploited by a white elite; they are losing their traditional culture at an alarming pace. Many have already abandoned their native communication system and have absorbed the language of the settlers, especially Afrikaans. In fact, several dialects that use the peculiar click sounds are vanishing.”
There was nothing intrinsically wrong with Edward’s explanation, other than its narrator and the professorial tone he had delivered. Besides, depending on the speaker, David was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the evocation of his priestly title. The effect of Edward’s words was, therefore, opposite to what had been intended. Edward’s brief and dry lecture had not captured David’s attention, whose thoughts were instead abducted by the previous narrative about the original affluent society and the validation of the lost paradise.
Like David, the other passengers digested in their own way the conversation that had shortened the final phase of their journey. In one of the brief moments that Father Callaghan had full possession of his senses, he noticed how much more economical the driver had been with his words than the day before. He seemed like a different person, except for the enormous skill with which he drove the old Toyota. And David could not help noticing something else. From time to time, Benjamin sought Marie’s gaze and—at least a couple of times—their eyes married.