Marking 20 years
of bold journalism,
reader supported.
Photo Essay

'I Took a New Name'

Two B.C. journalists feel the pull of past war, and future development, on an African tribe.

Sandra Shields 30 Apr 2004TheTyee.ca
image atom

Editor's note: "The Himba are a tribal group whose lands lie in northern Namibia, a region of arid scrub, sands, thinly wooded hills and the fertile edges of the Kunene River," writes Hugh Brody in his forward to Where Fire Speaks, A Visit With the Himba, written by  Sandra Shields and photographed by David Campion.

 

"The Himba have been among the most successful of African pastoralists, with large herds of animals and a secure economy in all but the worst periods of drought. . . .David Campion and Sandra Shields … traveled to Namibia together in 1995, impelled to go when they learned about the possibility of the Epupa dam being built and reading the words of a Namibian official: 'The Himbas don't want to stay like baboons. They also want television and lights in their homes.'

 

"The power of this book lies in its plea on behalf of the Himba, on behalf of all such peoples who are attracted to development, and yet threatened by it at the heart of who they have been in the past and need to be in the future. "

 

Excerpted here, images and a passage from Where Fire Speaks.

She arrived after supper, pulled up a stone and sat down, settling her young daughter between her knees. "The men have no respect for the old ways," she said through Jackson. "My husband should have stayed to greet you but he has gone drinking at Epupa Falls so I have come instead." She wouldn't give us her Himba name. "I took a new name," she said, "a better name," and insisted we call her Maria.

We had met her earlier that afternoon, sitting silently beside her husband, staring at us and pulling hard on a pipe. Her husband had rejected our initial offer, saying that the sacks of ground corn we had were only little ones and he had many people to feed. We had been embarrassed and also worried; so far everything had cost more than we expected. We added a sack of sugar, a pouch of coarse black tobacco, and got his grudging acceptance.

Now it was night and his wife was sitting at our fire, stretching her legs, and reaching out her bare arms to embrace the warmth of the flames. "Why haven't you got a baby?" she asked me, and I struggled to describe how the birth control pill works. It came out sounding more like magic than medicine. "Babies are a problem," she said. "You get them from the man, they hurt and then you must always carry them around." Maria said she had already decided that her daughter would go to school to learn English so that she could go to the tourist camp to get things from the white people.

David asked if Maria remembered the war and she responded with, "Tat tat tat tat tat." We all laughed and when David made the boom boom boom of shelling, she nodded vigorously.

The coiled copper bracelet on her forearm glinted in the fire light. "Do you ever take the bracelet off?" I said. "No," she said, "it is for hitting my husband if he tries to hurt me." She laughed and demonstrated with a swift smacking motion.

She asked where our plane was and I explained that the plane that brought us to Africa did not belong to us, that it was like the train, something you bought a ticket for and rode in with many other people. She knew about the train, she said; she had taken it to the capital last year. We had passed through Windhoek ourselves only a week earlier, where the sidewalks were crowded with businessmen and tourists, the stores were full of safari gear, and people talked on cell phones while sipping espresso. Maria had gone with friends and said that it had been good to see the city but not to stay there. The traffic lights had confused her and she had stood on the street corner for a long time, not knowing when to cross.

I asked her how old she was, but she didn't know and said we should ask her husband. He had not yet returned when Maria bid us good night and went back to the little hut. During the night we heard people passing, and early next morning one of the boys left herding six goats down the path towards Epupa Falls. Jackson said the animals were being sent to pay for what Maria's husband and his friends had drunk the night before.


Writer Sandra Shields and photographer David Campion live in Deroche, B.C. and have collaborated for over a decade. Where Fire Speaks, published by Arsenal Pulp Press, won the 2003 Hubert Evans Award for Non-Fiction at the BC Book Prizes. Shields and Campion are working on a cross-country project called No One Alone which looks at support for people with disabilities. See more of their work at http://www.notebooknine.com/  [Tyee]

  • Share:

Facts matter. Get The Tyee's in-depth journalism delivered to your inbox for free

Tyee Commenting Guidelines

Comments that violate guidelines risk being deleted, and violations may result in a temporary or permanent user ban. Maintain the spirit of good conversation to stay in the discussion.
*Please note The Tyee is not a forum for spreading misinformation about COVID-19, denying its existence or minimizing its risk to public health.

Do:

  • Be thoughtful about how your words may affect the communities you are addressing. Language matters
  • Challenge arguments, not commenters
  • Flag trolls and guideline violations
  • Treat all with respect and curiosity, learn from differences of opinion
  • Verify facts, debunk rumours, point out logical fallacies
  • Add context and background
  • Note typos and reporting blind spots
  • Stay on topic

Do not:

  • Use sexist, classist, racist, homophobic or transphobic language
  • Ridicule, misgender, bully, threaten, name call, troll or wish harm on others
  • Personally attack authors or contributors
  • Spread misinformation or perpetuate conspiracies
  • Libel, defame or publish falsehoods
  • Attempt to guess other commenters’ real-life identities
  • Post links without providing context

LATEST STORIES

The Barometer

Do You Think Naheed Nenshi Will Win the Alberta NDP Leadership Race?

Take this week's poll