Narro and his clan, by Fritz Metzger

Narro and his clan, by Fritz Metzger. John Meinert Ltd. & S.W.A. Scientific Society. Windhoek; South West Africa, 1950

As a farmer at the edge of the Kalahari, Fritz Metzger (1911-1999) succeeded, after a number of vain efforts, to get the extremely shy Bushmen, who live outside the farmlands, to come to work for him; at first only for a day, then for weeks and months, till at last, for a matter of about ten years. During that time, I had sufficient opportunity to get an insight into their life.

Fritz Metzger  

Lean Times

Drought lies over the land like a blight. Narro, the Bushman chief, has his cares. Most of the game has moved away to better pastures. Almost all the water-holes have given in or are on the point of drying up. If only one could follow the game at will! The terrible thirstlands are ah effective barrier, however, and the boundaries of the tribes which are inimical to his own, may not be crossed under pain of death. Silently the ancients sit round the glimmering fire. Once again the hunters have returned without meat. Only Narro had been lucky enough to find the bones and bits of hide of a koodoo calf which a leopard had killed. This pitiful remnant is all the Bushmen have to eat today. The thigh-bones will be heated and the marrow sucked out of them. The pieces of hide, after being roasted, will be beaten and ground with stones. With these they have to still the pangs of hunger. "Naua schitgna ahoa mi!" (Yes, Fate curses us). Narro rises from his sitting posture and stares into the distance. Black and bleak lies the land in front of him. In vain did he hope that by burning the old grass he could make the fresh grass grow more speedily. It is long since any rain has fallen on the thirsty earth and still the sun burns mercilessly scorching, destroying. Narro looks up to the sky, for the vulture-announcer sounds his call, "fiuu-fiuuu-fiuuu-fiuu". Only a Bushman's eye can recognise the lone vulture on a westward course. He too, is hungry, but he, at least, is not barred by any boundaries. He can even enter the white man's country. The vulture is wise. He knows that, since the drought, he can find many a dead cow on the farms. Narro gazes after the bird, as it passes from view. He is not envious, for the vulture has shown the Bushman many a bit of food. Were it not better to follow the bird - simply to wander westwards? The White man has plenty of cattle within his fences, meat in superabundance, even if it is in poor condition now. Narro knows of a water-hole not far from such a fenced-in farm, but the White man has pushed him out, driven him from the hunting-grounds of his ancestors. "Naua schitgna ahoa mi!" What good is it to us that our fathers told us of the ancient tradition that the wilderness and all the game in it belongs to us, that it is our very life, appointed to us by Fate itself? Fate gave easy meat to the White man; it gave him herds of cattle. Thus it took care that everyone has his own share. But how now? It is not enough that the White man has the easy meat! No, he even comes and pushes us away, by taking away our game with his weapons that speak far, the game that Naua had given to us. Narro reasons with himself: if Fate allows the White man to take away his meat, his game, then the Bushman may also live on cattle? (....)

This is an excerpt from the book: Narro and his clan, by Fritz Metzger.

Book title: Narro and his clan
Author: Fritz Metzger
Publisher: John Meinert Ltd. & S.W.A. Scientific Society
Windhoek; South West Africa, 1950
Original cloth, original dust cover, 15 x 23 cm, 93 pages, several b/w photos