Ekoka San live the Ohangwena way
Tuyeimo Haidula - TUNOHOLE MUNGOBAEKOKAThe northern sun is merciless: A group of men, women and children, the youngest being a little more than a year old, are huddled at a shebeen to escape the baking heat. They are all indulging in the local brew, epwaka. The shebeen clearly has no shortage of customers.
We are in Ekoka village at a resettlement camp for San people, about 30 kilometres north of Okongo in the Ohangwena Region. Although we arrived at Okongo at exactly 10:00, we only got to the camp at 16:00. The unfriendly road had us driving in circles. The settlement, which is home to over 300 people, needs better road infrastructure if they are to access hospital services in Okongo. It is the new homes of the !Xun, ‡Akhoe and Hai||om San community, southern Africa’s first inhabitants. About 35 houses were built in 2005 by former deputy prime minister Libertina Amathila at Ekoka village. The two-room houses accommodate about five people per household, while some house more. At first, the group was hesitant to speak to us. They say the officials from the gender ministry visit occasionally and make empty promises. We spelled out ‘Namibian Sun’ to tell them where we are from, and they said we should replace the U with an A.
“That is how we spell our name,” they said in reference to ‘San’, to a burst of laughter. While some people find the term Bushmen offensive, this is what this group of people prefers to be called.
Changing lifestyles: Subsistence farming
Neighbours Immanuel Veiko (46) and Maria David came to our rescue, telling the angry community that we are journalists and not the people who jot down names for social grants and disappear. They usher us to a quieter shebeen where we make formal introductions.
After a few exchanges, Veiko directs us to their houses. The mahangu crops can be seen from a distance. Government -through the lands ministry - provides seeds for harvesting. When the Bushmen were relocated here, they were also given cattle to encourage them to become farmers. For a people whose ancestors spent most of their lives roaming the land freely, hunting wild animals and gathering berries and nuts for food, this place offers them a different sense of life. Their eyes fill with joy when they speak of their days here. David and Veiko speak fondly of waking up every morning to work the land. “The government provided us with a fence around our fields and seeds to sow. Some of the seeds are our own. During the ploughing season, the councillor’s office provides us with a free tractor,” he said. After harvesting, a machine separates the grains from the mahangu heads and they store their mahangu in storage containers also provided by government. He is unemployed and survives on subsistence farming as well as his backyard garden, which produces maize and traditional spinach. He sells his produce for as little as N$5 to N$15. Some months, they receive drought relief food, Veiko said, but at times it takes five months before it’s distributed at the village again.
“I want to expand my garden and add carrots, cabbage and tomatoes,” he said. At his house, he shows us his identity document. David has lost hers and guesses she is 65 years old. She receives the state’s monthly pension grant.
Donated houses falling apart
The houses have running water and electricity. They do not have toilets, though, so their inhabitants turn to the bushes when nature calls.
They appear to be made for cheap material. With little or no maintenance, the houses’ roofs are falling apart. The window and door frames, meanwhile, remain intact. Some yards are neatly raked with plants and flowers blooming.
Nambahu Shipuka’s house is one of those that has been destroyed by strong winds. He has stones tied to the roof to prevent it from blowing away.
Unemployment is high and this community has little expertise they can use in the outside world.
Shipuka, donning black boots, is seated with outstretched legs preparing spinach for himself. He was alone at home.
“I am worried that the house will one day fall [apart] while we are inside. We are grateful for the bit done by government, but perhaps they can renovate the dilapidated houses. It is not our doing; they are falling apart on their own. “Builders need to make sure they do not use cheap materials as this has now become a problem for us,” he said.
Education
Evidently, most people in this community have not seen the inside of a classroom, despite government offering free education. The same can be said for their children. Instead, they accompany their parents to sheebens.
An 11-year-old, who only identified himself as Nghilifa before running off to play, said he doesn’t go to school as he is too old to start now. His peers agree.
His mother - who refuses to go on camera - said she has tried to get her three older children to start school, but they refused. Nghilifa’s friends joke that I should take him with me to work on my farm. He simply shrugs.
The community say modern life has been a huge shift for them, especially where school is concerned. But it appears that the Bushmen have no choice but to change, to adapt - at least as far as the latest government plans reveal.
Other San people live at Oshanashiwa village. Government has built modern houses for them too. Namibia is home to about 32 000 San people, with the balance scattered elsewhere in the southern African region. Their village headman, Festus Nakale, who is also a San person refused to go on camera.
As the sun goes down, the people fill up the sheebens. Even pregnant women and those breastfeeding don’t miss out. They crack jokes while they pass the clear jug of epwaka around in circles.
There are no signs of masks in the crowd. They do not believe Covid-19 has reached their village. “In fact, it’s you visitors who bring it,” they said.
– [email protected]
We are in Ekoka village at a resettlement camp for San people, about 30 kilometres north of Okongo in the Ohangwena Region. Although we arrived at Okongo at exactly 10:00, we only got to the camp at 16:00. The unfriendly road had us driving in circles. The settlement, which is home to over 300 people, needs better road infrastructure if they are to access hospital services in Okongo. It is the new homes of the !Xun, ‡Akhoe and Hai||om San community, southern Africa’s first inhabitants. About 35 houses were built in 2005 by former deputy prime minister Libertina Amathila at Ekoka village. The two-room houses accommodate about five people per household, while some house more. At first, the group was hesitant to speak to us. They say the officials from the gender ministry visit occasionally and make empty promises. We spelled out ‘Namibian Sun’ to tell them where we are from, and they said we should replace the U with an A.
“That is how we spell our name,” they said in reference to ‘San’, to a burst of laughter. While some people find the term Bushmen offensive, this is what this group of people prefers to be called.
Changing lifestyles: Subsistence farming
Neighbours Immanuel Veiko (46) and Maria David came to our rescue, telling the angry community that we are journalists and not the people who jot down names for social grants and disappear. They usher us to a quieter shebeen where we make formal introductions.
After a few exchanges, Veiko directs us to their houses. The mahangu crops can be seen from a distance. Government -through the lands ministry - provides seeds for harvesting. When the Bushmen were relocated here, they were also given cattle to encourage them to become farmers. For a people whose ancestors spent most of their lives roaming the land freely, hunting wild animals and gathering berries and nuts for food, this place offers them a different sense of life. Their eyes fill with joy when they speak of their days here. David and Veiko speak fondly of waking up every morning to work the land. “The government provided us with a fence around our fields and seeds to sow. Some of the seeds are our own. During the ploughing season, the councillor’s office provides us with a free tractor,” he said. After harvesting, a machine separates the grains from the mahangu heads and they store their mahangu in storage containers also provided by government. He is unemployed and survives on subsistence farming as well as his backyard garden, which produces maize and traditional spinach. He sells his produce for as little as N$5 to N$15. Some months, they receive drought relief food, Veiko said, but at times it takes five months before it’s distributed at the village again.
“I want to expand my garden and add carrots, cabbage and tomatoes,” he said. At his house, he shows us his identity document. David has lost hers and guesses she is 65 years old. She receives the state’s monthly pension grant.
Donated houses falling apart
The houses have running water and electricity. They do not have toilets, though, so their inhabitants turn to the bushes when nature calls.
They appear to be made for cheap material. With little or no maintenance, the houses’ roofs are falling apart. The window and door frames, meanwhile, remain intact. Some yards are neatly raked with plants and flowers blooming.
Nambahu Shipuka’s house is one of those that has been destroyed by strong winds. He has stones tied to the roof to prevent it from blowing away.
Unemployment is high and this community has little expertise they can use in the outside world.
Shipuka, donning black boots, is seated with outstretched legs preparing spinach for himself. He was alone at home.
“I am worried that the house will one day fall [apart] while we are inside. We are grateful for the bit done by government, but perhaps they can renovate the dilapidated houses. It is not our doing; they are falling apart on their own. “Builders need to make sure they do not use cheap materials as this has now become a problem for us,” he said.
Education
Evidently, most people in this community have not seen the inside of a classroom, despite government offering free education. The same can be said for their children. Instead, they accompany their parents to sheebens.
An 11-year-old, who only identified himself as Nghilifa before running off to play, said he doesn’t go to school as he is too old to start now. His peers agree.
His mother - who refuses to go on camera - said she has tried to get her three older children to start school, but they refused. Nghilifa’s friends joke that I should take him with me to work on my farm. He simply shrugs.
The community say modern life has been a huge shift for them, especially where school is concerned. But it appears that the Bushmen have no choice but to change, to adapt - at least as far as the latest government plans reveal.
Other San people live at Oshanashiwa village. Government has built modern houses for them too. Namibia is home to about 32 000 San people, with the balance scattered elsewhere in the southern African region. Their village headman, Festus Nakale, who is also a San person refused to go on camera.
As the sun goes down, the people fill up the sheebens. Even pregnant women and those breastfeeding don’t miss out. They crack jokes while they pass the clear jug of epwaka around in circles.
There are no signs of masks in the crowd. They do not believe Covid-19 has reached their village. “In fact, it’s you visitors who bring it,” they said.
– [email protected]
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