Oh Give Me Land, Lots of Land…
Some of the words in the title to that old cowboy ode are being re-echoed in the South African parliament. The issue goes back 400 years to when explorers from the Netherlands arrived in the southern tip of the continent. They (and other Europeans) began to occupy and develop relatively “uninhabited” land. There was little to no consideration given then to the rights, there, of the then indigenous inhabit-ants of that land.
The Europeans worked hard, experimented creatively and in-vested capital. Over the centuries their farms became an important factor in the South African economy.
Recently a bill in the SA parliament would have expropriated those farms. The bill failed mainly because of two words “without compensation.”
That moral issue (“Who’s Land?”) is alive around the world. My sister Ruth married a coffee farmer, Gordon Johansen. His ancestors had, in good faith bought and developed land otherwise “belonging” to the Kamba or the Maasai people. As “Uhuru” (Independence) approached, the British government (then exiting control) bought out the Johansen’s and other “settlers.” I have no idea of how “valuation” was calculated. Gordon and Ruth and family moved to US. Gordon, instead of raising coffee, helped machine parts for space vehicles.
“Oh give me land, lots of land…” The song, and the issue, endures.
Invasive Species
Botanically, “Jacaranda” and “Flamboyant” trees are not “African.” They are very old imports from other continents. Thus they are attractive “markers” of past development in Africa. Wherever there grew up plantations there was need for demarcation of estate boundaries whether for coffee, sisal, wheat, or flowers. Hence the planting of roadside-miles of these trees, starting at the turn of the century.
Jacaranda blossoms are a distinctive mauve color. When dropped they create a beautiful “carpeting” of the roads which they demarcate. So on our visit to Monduli we enjoyed the memories the coloring evoked.
“Flamboyant” trees produce a brilliant scarlet bloom. Its blooming time is closely coincident with the onset of the rainy season. So in the past two weeks the Olasiti driveway has become florid with these blossoms.
Tribalism
When I was a youngster in Kenya, in all inter-personal relation-ships one of the most important considerations was one’s TRIBE. That was a “given,” like ones sex or height.
Nowadays (2021) in urban East Africa (Nairobi or Arusha) in every-day life, such tribal identity has become for the most part “in-visible.” That is a welcome change. (Of course some politicians continue to stir their witches brew of old antagonisms). But urban “de-tribalization” is a welcome growing reality.
To my great dismay I perceive a reverse trend in USA. Politically influential people (including clerics) are drawing their constituencies backward into dungeons of disinformation. This is a malignant form of “tribalism.” It is not hard to imagine a “Mau-Mau” - like situation erupting, catalyzed by gun-fetishism.
It is not Valley Forge or Pearl Harbor, but it is a dire moment.
Appropriate Technology
My favorite recent acquisition has been a traditional Maasai elder’s staff “ngudi.” It serves as a third leg and/or like the out-rigger of a canoe.
For me it has been a nice bit of very appropriate technology.
Trade in the early 1900s, when calico and cowrie shells were the common currency, was slowed down by measuring and counting piece by piece. Today’s trade technology is mediated largely be-tween smartphones, and the pace of trade is limited only by the digital dexterity of traders. The problem is, my brain neural network is not “5G.”
Shikamuu
Greetings from Olasiti, Tanzania, where we are anxiously awaiting the arrival of the rainy season.
“SHIKAMUU” Tanzanian social culture reflects much Arabic influence, due to trade and settlement between Arabia and East Africa over centuries. An important facet of that influence is a strong emphasis upon respect for those older than oneself, especially the elderly.
Whenever there is a social encounter, the younger is expected to initiate dialogue with the expression “Shikamuu.” The older one then replies “Marahaba.” It would be considered very rude for the younger NOT to initiate the exchange.
We have lost much of such ethos in the west.
I have greatly enjoyed getting back into the rhythm of this social norm. It is triggered by my white hair and the Maasai elder’s cane I carry.
I have also been enjoying the return of fluency in the Maasai tongue. Such fluency imparts an extra warmth to inter-personal chats. It’s almost as though it reduces my “whiteness.”
