ethnography in the bush

More than a handful of my preconceived notions about what a holiday in the bush should entail were jarred, or at least somewhat shaken, this past weekend. It was a long holiday weekend in Botswana (Presidents Day, I think), and I was invited by some Tanzanian friends of a friend who all now live here in Gaborone to join them on a trip to the Tuli Block, to a privately owned game ranch where they would be doing some hunting. Eager to get into the bush in the name of "research" (i.e. im contemplating conducting a comparison study of game ranching in Botswana versus South Africa), I was excited to accept the invitation. And I'm glad I did, because not only was I reminded yet again of the magic of the Botswana bush, especially those fleeting, just-before-sunset minutes when the light is just so, and everything and everyone looks golden and timeless and really, well just perfect (its true no matter how corny it sounds), but I also was also able to experience those very moments in a much different context than I have before.

To be blunt, this was the first time I went on safari with people who weren't white. This trip, I was with Tanzanians (of middle eastern origin) as well as South Africans (of Indian origin), most of whom now live in Botswana (some who have for 3 generations) and some of whom were visiting from TZ. And all of whom are Muslim. That in itself was a cultural experience (read: safari without sundowners. Not something I had ever done before...and yes, I know I'm supposed to be learning about "Motswana" culture not about Tanzanian muslims, but really who cares if you are learning something new anyways, and plus I'm learning that the term "american" is not the only one with elusive connotations, being "Motswana" isnt so straightforward either).

Apart from the lack of alcohol (which actually was fine with me because there was a copious amount of Cadburys chocolate which in my mind totally made up for it), the thing that struck me the most was the meal-time seating arrangement. I wasn't surprised that when we arrived at our campsite, the guys did the unloading and the girls got started on making lunch in the kitchen tent (that generally seems to be the gender division when you are on safari, no matter where you are from). What caught me off guard was that once the food was already, I cued up, got my plate of food, sat outside in the sun around the big outdoor table, started eating, chewed a few bites, and then suddenly realized that there was something not quite right (at least in my head at that very moment) about the picture in front of me. I was suddenly very aware that I was the only female outside. Where were all the girls/women??! I glanced back into the mess tent ( a dark tent, overly hot by this point in the day), and there they were, sitting around the indoor table, also eating their lunch, but very clearly separately from the guys. Hmm. So I moved inside and joined them, because really, what else was I going to do other than sit where I guess I was supposed to? SO that happened, and then a few other things happened throughout the day to get me really hot and bothered about what I thought must be a totally backwards gender relation set-up. Like why could a brother, who is perfectly capable of standing up and helping himself to seconds, instead ask his sister to go fetch him more food? Or when the guys went off hunting the first afternoon, why did they tell the ten year old little girl that she should stay behind for that day (when she desperately wanted to go, had been talking about it all morning), and bring instead the bratty 10 and 12 year old boys instead? I had pretty much made up my feminist mind about what I thought about all of this, when a funny thing happened. The guys came back from their first afternoon of hunting, all jocular and energized, and instead of asking, 'where's dinner?', as I had expected, told us girls to get out of the kitchen, and proceeded to plop down at the table and start peeling potatoes! It seems they were going to get dinner ready, and we were sent to go relax around the fire. Huh!! I won't go into all the details of the rest of the weekend, but suffice to say it didn't leave me with a hugely clear picture of anything. There were elements that bothered me, but then something seemed to inevitably happen that would throw my judgements off-balance.

The fact that this was a hunting trip too, and not just a photographic safari trip as I've always experienced, also made my feelings towards my fellow safari companions complicated. The thoughts that churn in my head about the relationship(s)that should/do exist between people and wildlife only got more muddled, as I tried to rationalize it all. People go hunting all the time, americans, africans, japanese, arabs, its a conservation "tool", it pays for wildlife to remain on this planet in this day and age, its been happening for eons anyways, yada yada, all these thoughts ran through my head. And yet when the truck stopped and I could see this impala, grazing so quietly and gracefully, the curve of its elegant neck, and the clean lines of its two-toned belly, I just wanted more than anything for the guys to miss the shot. Which they didn't. And regardless of everything I know about conservation, environmental management, and that at least the meat would get eaten, I still just felt...well very sad. And even sadder when everyone, including the kids, hopped down to take a look at the dead impala, all crumpled now, and to get their photo with it, its limp head jerked up by the successful hunter to show off its horns. The two year old toddler forming a gun shape with his hands, making pretend bang bang sounds, and saying "shoot pala!", everyone laughing at his antics. I mean I was forcing myself to try and be culturally relativistic, but it was hard. The crazy thought that ran through my head was, maybe its like racist grandparents. You know they are good people, it's just they were brought up so very differently. Raised in a time and place light-years away from me. Not a very good analogy, I know, but there it is.

Anyways, that was the trip. Or part of it at least. I was once again treated to the kindness and generosity of very new, unexpected friends (including so much delicious Tanzanian food, yum!), and was lucky enough get out of city life and experience the wonderfulness of the Botswana bush yet again...this time though, in a much more thought-provoking way than usual. Never a dull day in the field!