The thirsty Basarwa children

THALEFANG CHARLES | Friday August 6, 2010 00:00

I leave for an assignment with the Good Samaritans of Botswana Council of Churches (BCC) to deliver donations to Basarwa communities inside the CKGR. I am part of an entourage of 13 people comprising Reverends, church elders and NGO staff travelling in three 4X4 vehicles, which leave Gaborone for Khutse on a Monday afternoon.  The plan is to spend a night at Khutse Lodge and get into the reserve early morning of Tuesday.  Gugamma, at approximately 300 kilometres from Gaborone is the nearest Basarwa settlement inside the CKGR. 

Our entourage checks into Khutse Game Reserve Tuesday morning just before seven o'clock. Before long we are on the soft but mean sand of the Kalahari snaking our way deep into arid l andscape on the strictly 4X4 trails, with deliveries of basic necessities to the people inside the reserve. 

After one hour and 42 minutes' drive there is general concern that we are heading the wrong direction and are probably lost. Surprisingly, all 13 of us are failing to read the map we received at the gate.  In my mind I push out my somewhat crazy thoughts of 'what if this is a deliberate design by authorities to make tourists miss a chance to meet the stubborn settlement dwellers that have refused to leave the reserve'. Two hours since our entrance into Khutse Game Reserve we get to some cleared land stretching from east to west. Sign on the other side says 'CKGR' announcing our entrance to the place the locals call Tc'amnqoo.

We trail deep into the vast game reserve without any sign of animals in the vicinity. After three hours' drive and getting stuck twice, we arrive at the first settlement called Gugamma. My expectation of 'settlement' was a small village with a few homesteads, but Gugamma turns out to be just one big homestead with huts scattered around.  Inside the big homestead there are about 40 people, children outnumbering adults. Expectant stares. It is a perfect picture for a portrait photographer.  After brief introductions I am shown the water tank bought by the BCC. The green Jojo tank stands out significantly in this dull looking yard. We gather outside to present the donations.  My eyes and the camera lens are on the children. The eyes on their little faces keep their expectant stares on the speakers. The Reverends deliver few words from the Bible in the language that these children do not seem to really understand, but their eyes do not wonder. Like kids from a disciplined day-care school, they watch the gesticulations from these foreign men with impressive attention. These are the innocent children, victims caught in the conflict they do not understand and collateral damage to a struggle for land, preservation of Stone Age culture, wildlife conservation, prospect of continued source of funds between the giants that are the government, the Basarwa elders and the opportunistic donor agencies. These hapless young mortals sit there seemingly listening, while they patiently wait for the cloak men to finish talking and deliver the material goods they brought to this cruel world they call home.   The next settlement called Kikao is about 40 kilometres away. Concerned about the fuel in one of the vehicles, we leave it at Gugamma as we all squeeze into the other two cars. Two members of our entourage also stay behind to help 'distribute' the donations. We later hear that this was a great idea to quell fighting over the donations. We are joined by one local resident who will guide us to Kikao.

Our guide, who identifies himself as Segootsane seems different from his people. He owns a 4X4 truck, satellite phone and is wearing betterlooking denim jeans. Segootsane is not the kind of man you would expect in this deep jungle. In our car, we try to unlock the mystery of why a man with clear signs of progressive civilisation choose to live in such dire conditions. 

Segootsane is at ease fielding our questions.  He narrates the story of the day the 'soldiers, SSG, Police, and Wildlife officials came to remove them from their land'. He is a good narrator. He adds humour to the sad incident of forced removals as he describes how the police brutalised and shot them with rubber bullets. On why they came back to such a wretched land, while they had a choice of being closer to medical care, educational facilities for their children and government welfare rations, Segootsane curtly tells us that they need those facilities inside the reserve, 'on their land'. Before he can convince us of this stubborn stand to remain in the reserve we arrive at Kikao. 

It is another big homestead with approximately 35 people with children and women in the majority as the case with Gugamma. In Kikao most of the structures appear new and still under construction. Segootsane tells us that unlike in Gugamma, the people of Kikao are re-settling after succumbing to government forced removals. These are the people that left the health, educational facilities and other government welfare services at places like New Xade and Kaudwane to come back to a 'tough' life inside the reserve. Life inside the reserve means they are cut off from government welfare services like food rations and worse, the area does not have any supply of water for people. After the presentation of donations, our entourage shares snacks and drinks.  We then hear how the water tanks brought by BCC are always empty. BCC hired people to keep fetching clean water from outside CKGR and filling the tanks on their behalf, but in Kikao we learn that the contracted people do not deliver as agreed.  It seems these men are pocketing the donor's money and not assisting these poor thirsty people.

On the way back from the reserve, my mind is abused and traumatised by the appalling living conditions and dire need for water by our fellow countrymen. Images of poor CKGR faces and the men in white wigs from Lobatse courts, who a couple of weeks earlier reasoned by the law books to deny these vulnerable people boreholes, races back and forth in my head.  It dawns on me that the Basarwa-Government conflict is deep and more complex than most of us think. 

As we approach Gaborone we try to disabuse our minds by playing some soothing melodies inside our car. This brings to mind a picture of the big black Omega radio photographed at Kikao with Vee's latest ZAZA 2010 original cassette (complete with its security hologram sticker) inside. Since we have left happy faces pleased with their new clothes, food and water, I quietly smile as I imagine the impending night of celebration, envisioning ZAZA blaring from the Omega speakers and everyone getting down as they get lost in the music, temporarily forgetting their abject destitution.