Trip
to Africa.
Tsodilo Hills, Botswanna.
Indigenous Heritage sponsored a presentation by Dean
Liprini, author of the book “Pathways of the Sun” (www.sunpath.co.za)
in East Hampton New York in Dec. 2007. Dean has
discovered remarkable sites along the Cape Peninsula
at the tip of Africa, and to the east beyond, in the
mountains that follow the coastline of South Africa.
Rock formations of guardian faces and manmade marker
stones, some with holes, which mark the equinox and
solstice sunrises and sunsets. I spent my childhood
and early adulthood within a few yards of the
westernmost point of the Cape Peninsula, where Dean
regularly leads groups to these amazing sites. So
when I heard of Dean’s work, I knew exactly what he
was talking about.
Early 2008 Credo Mutwe, the eminent Zulu medicine
man and keeper of ancient artifacts, gave Dean the
task of leading a pilgrimage to the Tsodillo Hills
in Botswanna, now identified as the oldest
ceremonial site discovered to date on planet earth.
This fits right in with recent DNA studies linking
the origin of our ancestry to an African Eve from
the Kalahari. We were to investigate the extent of
the excavations there by a Swedish archeologist, and
to inform the people who live in the area and work
at the existing (free) campsite there of the plans
being made by DeBeers to build 3 Hotels of various
status in the vicinity, and their rights to the
participation in the project.
I decided to join forces with the group and asked
them to add a visit with the San healing dancers to
the itinerary. With the help of Belinda Kruiper it
was arranged that the group stop off at Andrea
Hardbattle’s farm at Ghanzi on the way to Tsodillo
Hills for an overnight stay and what turned out to
be an orientation into the healing practices of the
bushmen residents of the farm, the descendants of
the original people who worshipped and practiced
their healing and art at Tsodillo Hills, the oldest
ceremonial site on planet earth.
Our group, consisting of 2 4x4s with four women and
one man in each, had met at the boarder, Andy drove
Susan, Karin, Jan and Val in his extremely well
equipped 4x4 from Cape Town and Dean driving a
rented 4x4 with Dianne, Lynne, Stella and Marta from
Johannesburg. After we crossed over and drove for a
while we stopped for a picnic lunch and Dean told us
of the request from Credo to place stones from
Kuruman into the Mother cave where archeological dig
had just been finished so as to protect it from the
approaching scavengers.
We arrived at Andrea Hardbattle’s farm outside
Ghanzi about 10 p.m. Ten weary souls exhausted and
ready for refreshment had driven all day, the last ½
hour of which was along a bumpy, single-file dirt
road in the pitch dark. Nothing could have prepared
us for what awaited us. Andrea and her sister Polly
welcomed us with open arms and a wonderful meal kept
hot by the fire of their boma (outdoor kitchen).
There was no electricity at this camp. We sat down
to a well-prepared candlelight meal consisting of
succulent lamb and enough variety of vegetables to
satisfy the several vegans that made up our group.
We were watched by the small group of Bushmen seated
around a fire a few feet from the dining area. We
were told that most of the resident Bushmen had been
picked up by a local politician to take them to
vote, and one young male dancer and a few women
musicians remained behind to treat the weary
travelers to a mini version of their healing
dance.
After dinner, it must have been past midnight, the
chairs we had used were moved to form a semi-circle
about 10 feet from the fire, while the bushmen
women, one with a small, nursing baby on her lap,
seated themselves around the other side of the fire
on the soft, red earth. I, too, sat down on the red
sand and waited for the action to begin.
Rhythmic clapping and then voices started the songs
of healing as the women settled into the soft red
sand of this ancient land of our forebears. One of
the young women was dressed in traditional gemsbok
hide, as was the young man who had appeared after
the women started their singing, stamping his feet
into the sand, with snake like rattles twined around
his legs, creating the swishing sound that underlies
their singing voices and clapping hands. The
intention of the people from whom this expression
emanates is the healing and wellbeing of the group
involved. It is performed as a prayer for the
highest good for all. A creation of energy and the
sharing of that energy that has been going on since
modern humans began populating this planet. At one
point the baby, now sitting upright in a caretaker’s
lap was clapping along with all the others.
Dean got up and danced and beckoned to me to join in
so I leaped up and danced a few rounds with the
young healer who then began to approach each
individual in turn practicing a form of hands on
healing energy work, transformative and shamanic. He
danced towards me and it was my turn to experience
his skill. He touched my solar plexus lightly and
pulled back abruptly with his hand as if he were
grasping something and it had the effect of
loosening and clearing energy that had been stuck
there, it would seem, a long time. In a lightning
flash I felt a bolt of vital energy charge through
my body, making my movements free and as light as
air! The feeling took me back to a childhood memory
when at about 7 years old, outside in our yard I
remember flapping my arms like wings and having the
sensation of rising above the ground about 6 or 7
feet in the air and hovering there for a few magical
moments! I could never quite figure out whether this
was an
actual levitation or my vivid imagination! Now I
felt that same lightness of sensation that feels
like flying. My spirit soaring, we danced until 3
a.m. when we all finally retired to our respective
sleeping huts.
We awoke early and gathered around the table in the
boma that was already set with a bountiful
breakfast. I joined Dean and Andrea in conversation
and learned that the process of mastering the
healing dance takes about 20 years, and that the two
who are learning here started late. Better late than
never! What wonderful news that the knowledge is
being passed on. Andrea also advised us as to how to
approach Tsodillo Hills: leave nothing there and
take nothing away with you. A principal usually
observed by all indigenous people all over the
planet.
After leisurely goodbyes we climbed into the 2 4x4’s
and were on our way, only to have Dean’s vehicle
break down a few hundred yards down the dirt road.
Fortunately, Andy’s vehicle was very well equipped
for just such a possibility, and he towed him out to
Ghanzi where we had a picnic lunch while the vehicle
was being fixed. We also revised our plan to
ceremoniously place stones brought from Kuruman for
a protection, out of deference for the Bushman way,
we would bring no foreign matter or outer ceremony
to their sacred site. We would each one of us decide
how we wanted to honor our pilgrimage to Tsodillo,
and what our reasons were for coming on such a
pilgrimage.
We arrived late that night and miraculously were
able to set up camp in the dark. Karin was my tent
mate. We awoke to the twitter and song of the local
bird population and sunlight streaking into our
tent. We arose and I poked my head out of the tent,
to the breathtaking sight of the Mother Mountain as
she towered over us.
What unfolded for me over the next 4 days was a
gentle bonding of souls living and passed, deep and
personal healing for me as my brothers and sisters
participating in and supportive of each other to the
best of our abilities and creating trust in a
healing process orchestrated by the spirits of our
ancient ancestors, and the animal creatures of the
place.
Coming on the heels of the healing dance I
experienced it opened me to a flow of fresh energy
and awareness of possibilities that has stood me in
good stead to face the challenging times we are all
confronted with in the here and now.
After returning to Cape Town, meeting with Sally and
Jen at Auburn House and traveling with Jen to !Kwa
ttu near Darling in the Southwestern Cape, to
investigate the possibility of bringing San to be
trained as teachers there, (which turned out to be
impractical at this point) I took a bus ride to
Uppington and was met by Belinda. I waited for her
at the Protea Hotel where I met with Abrahim
Meintjies to give him the bag of leather Jen had
sent from Auburn House. (Abrahim written the letter
to Auburn House requesting the school back in 2003).
He told of his desire to film the old people telling
the stories and practicing the old ways before they
die out. He needs a camera.
Belinda picked me up and we were off to Welkom. What
transpired in the next few days was pure magic for
me. The children on the dunes pointing out plants
showing they the people are still passing on that
piece of the knowledge. Sitting around the fire
talking with Belinda to discover her grandmother and
my father both came over to South Africa on the
Royal Tour. Living in the little house with Vetkat
paintings all over the walls.
Sitting in her boma kitchen with Nicholas and Lena
telling her stories of her real experiences with
Lions while pregnant and accompanied by little
children, of miraculous escapes!
Belinda and I talked and kept the image and dream of
the school alive by planning an after school arts
program for the kids when they came back from school
and when I got back to the US I sent her some funds
that IH had been given as a grant by the Holly
Peterson Foundation. Belinda has taken Oom Dawid and
a group of young people on several trips into the
park onto ancestral land where he is teaching them
the knowledge of the old ways, the wisdom of the
bush and the animals.
IH continues to raise small amounts of money to keep
funding these trips until the !Khomani get their
school.
