Damaraland

By Colin Valentine

The former Damaraland, Namibia, and the people and wildlife inhabiting the area, are the main themes of this book.

At times light-hearted, and at times giving cause for thought, this collection of essays gives a flavour of what it's like to live and work in a desert environment where human/wildlife conflict remains an ongoing problem.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Colin Valentine
• Release date: Mar 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393575085

Colin Valentine

Raised in rural Scotland Colin Valentine developed a keen interest in wild places and wild animals from a young age. These have been constants throughout his life and are now main themes in his writing. He’s a firm believer that the only way to truly experience anywhere is by travelling slowly, on foot. For the past two decades he’s split most of his time between Australia where he’s lived out of the back of a Subaru, and southern Africa where he lives out of a Land Rover. During these decades he’s indulged his interests while attempting to give something back through commitment to wildlife conservation projects and working as a field guide. He has no official home of his own, relying on the generosity of friends and family when he needs a roof over his head and somewhere to write. Colin also believes we should be here for a good time as it’s unlikely to be for a long time; and nobody should have to work for more than six months in any one year. He’s made it a personal goal to prove this is possible. So far so good.

Book preview

Dedication

To all those I lived with and worked alongside in Damaraland. Thank you for sharing your time, knowledge, and friendship.

And to all those, from all spheres of life, who try to make things better.

Thanks to Helene, Linds, and Rachel for being first readers.

Introduction

Around ten years ago I volunteered with a small project trying to mitigate human/elephant conflict in Damaraland, Namibia.

I must have done something right because I was invited back the following year on a no-fee basis. I continued to return for the next seven seasons, spending three to six months of each year doing what I could, where I could, on behalf of the project. Those seasons spent in the semi-arid deserts of Damaraland form the basis of this book.

I first went to Namibia with only two real aims. Why stretch for more?

The first was to enjoy myself and by that I mean derive pleasure and gain in knowledge from all I encountered and experienced.

The second was to contribute, perhaps to make one tiny brushstroke no matter how small, one that would add value and colour and beauty to the great picture of life, one that would be of benefit to current and future wildlife and community; possibly to future generations.

I feel I achieved both aims.

Voluntourism is today a competitive industry, the good the bad and the ugly all vying for your time and money, the path to finding a project with integrity often fraught with pitfalls and lined by highwaymen. The project I chose was EHRA (Elephant Human Relations Aid) and though I found it by no means perfect the balance between good and bad encouraged me to return and contribute as best I could.

The name 'Damaraland' is no longer officially recognised, the area now consumed into the Kunene and Erongo districts. I have chosen to use this old name throughout. Many of the people I mixed with are Damara. The colloquial language is Damara. Several of the plants, animals and birds common to the area have names preceded by Damara. It seems only fair and good to allow the place, the people, and the creatures inhabiting it their identity. And besides, I plain like the name.

Damaraland is a semi-arid region; a place of rugged bare rock mountains, vast plains studded with euphorbia and camel thorn and scattered with koppies of smoothly weathered house-sized boulders, open woodlands of mopani trees and bushman grass, sinuous veins of lush green where ephemeral rivers snake between hills baked brown by the sun. It's a place of space and depth and heat shimmering horizons, of days when the sun beats you breathless and nights can be brittle cold, a place where you can see until next Tuesday and the silence can be deafening. More than all this the deserts of Damaraland are fifty-million years old, a depth of time I struggle to comprehend, yet when I stand on top of a koppie and view that vast emptiness, hear that silence, I can almost feel the age and dignity of it all, the maturity.

But Damaraland is not empty. As with most deserts growth is sparse and singular, every plant requiring space enough to sustain itself with nutrients and water. The animals too, both large and small and everything between, are scattered in singles, pairs, sometimes small groups–but seldom in quantity. They too need space.

In much of Damaraland–as in much of northwest Namibia–most of these animals are free-roaming. No fences, no enclosures, no real boundaries–only vast areas where wildlife and people share the same space, the same resources, and where they often interact. This is how I always felt things could be, should be. It's one of the things that drew me back year after year. Today it's unique and to me–as it should be to all–very, very precious.

Inevitably, in this world of ever-growing population and our encroachment on wild habitat, even harsh and unproductive places like Damaraland are under pressure. Every year more water points are established, more people encouraged to pursue a rural lifestyle rather than migrating to the cities in the hope of work and a better life. Agricultural practises are changing, farmers adopting more sedentary systems. Competition for sparse resources increases and conflicts arise.

Though some of this book centres on human/elephant problems these are not the only desert inhabitants vying for resources. Ungulates like springbok and gemsbok compete for grazing and browse. Cheetah, hyena, leopard and lion sometimes consider farm livestock fair game. Even zebra and baboon can jeopardise the productivity of both subsistence and commercial farmers.

There are many good people and good projects in both government and private sectors all trying to find solutions to these problems of conflict, trying to find a balance and make space for all, to find a happy medium. It's an uphill struggle and the problems are manifold, none of them can be sorted overnight, mistakes are sometimes made and setbacks seem constant. At times it feels like 'one step forwards, two steps back,' but people and generous funding and projects and government departments are all trying and trying hard.

More importantly, many of the rural dwellers, those in the front line of conflict, are accommodating and supportive of these efforts, as keen to see an equitable solution as those initiating them.

On sitting to write these essays I found myself questioning how straightforward and accurate I should be about some of the events I've experienced, and some of those I've met and worked alongside.

In these days of social media, there are some, particularly in the first world, who feel entitled to pass comment on, and attempt to influence decision making in far-flung countries. Some of this comment stems from emotion and here-say, often fuelled by those with as little first-hand experience or true understanding of the problems as their acolytes. This adds insult to injury for those on the receiving end. Some criticism is constructive, some serves only to undermine, frustrate and anger. I had no desire to provide gasoline for these social media Molotov cocktails hurled from behind the safety of computer screen or cell phone in countries where these problems no longer exist.

In the area of individuals and political correctness, I again paused to think. The majority of those I worked alongside are black. Colour these days seems to be a major bone of contention, a taboo, almost unmentionable, a fact I find laughable. How can you deny what you see? I am white, some people are black, others a mix of the two or yellow or brown. What does it matter? Colour may be the most obvious feature, the first noticed, but at end of day, it's the smallest differential. We all have two eyes, two ears, a nose and a mouth. We all have arms and legs and hearts and lungs, all in the same physical location. We all feel emotions, enjoy love, get angry or grumpy, suffer mood changes, and we all enjoy a good party. We are human beings, but to say we are all the same is ridiculous and insults our individuality and renders us homogenous. It's not colour or facial features that make us different. It's thousands of generations of a different culture, history, climate, circumstance, religion and belief. It's nature and nurture. To put me next to a born and bred Namibian and say we think the same, view the world through the same eyes, is ridiculous. We don't. Does accepting this fact and having the temerity to state it make me racist? I don't think so. A realist yes, a racist no.

When I first began spending time in Africa I tried very hard to understand trains of thought, tried to look at the world through the same eyes those I worked with did. I failed. I concluded the gulf between cultures was too vast. Though I may gain some understanding I never could or would think in the same way and it was unlikely those I worked with would ever think in the same way I do, see things as I do, react in the way I do. We are not hard-wired the same. Simple as that.

With this in mind, I chose to settle in and accept our differences, to go with the flow. These differences don't make any of us better or worse than the other, they show different background and history. For me, much of the allure of Africa is the fact things are so different. I don’t believe I have any right to change them. I have no desire to.

Regrettably, there are a couple of occasions I make harsh comment about certain individuals employed by the MET. This is not a reflection on the ministry as a whole. There are many well-meaning, hard-working and very capable people within the MET, but as in most spheres of life there is also a degree of mediocrity, complacency and inefficiency.

In the pursuit of honesty, I have recorded people and events as I saw them, as I remember them, as my scribbled notes suggest. Should this cause offence then so be it. I make no apologies for stating things as they are. Though all the events recorded here did take place there may be times where I have changed names or used embellishment. This is not done to mislead but to either protect or enhance.

I will add everything recorded here is my personal view, memory or opinion, and in no way reflects those of others present or involved.

CV

My sister's sun lounge

Eastern Cape

South Africa.

February 2021

Background Information

For those unfamiliar with Damaraland and Namibia, I’ve detailed below a few things which will allow for better understanding in the following accounts.

Damaraland:

Though the name Damaraland is no longer officially used, I have chosen to retain this name.

Damaraland ranges from Sesfontein in the north to almost Swakopmund in the south. The western border is the Skeleton Coast National Park, the true desert with an average annual rainfall of less than 50 mm. From there Damaraland extends east onto the high inland plateau of savannah woodlands where the rainfall averages around 250 mm.

Other than a few tenuous springs in the dry river-beds Damaraland has little permanent surface water. Most rural dwellers rely on wells and boreholes for human and domestic stock needs. Human population density is very low, this partially due to the lack of water and the resulting limitations on plant and animal life the area is capable of supporting.

Damaraland is a mix of commercial farms and conservancy land. Commercial farms are privately owned and contribute food to the nation. Conservancies have communal grazing with little need for fencing. Most of the communal farming is subsistence, producing for the family with little excess.

Due to environment few crops are grown in Damaraland, the area best suited to livestock production.

Namibia, like much of Africa, suffers education and employment problems. In an effort to stem migration to the cities and encourage rural development the government install water points providing continuous and reliable sources of water.

Nomadic practices are being replaced by more sedentary ways of farming, this leading to further problems with land degradation and overgrazing along with human/wildlife conflict.

Desert Adapted Elephants:

The area I’m most familiar with in Damaraland is home to three family groups of desert adapted elephants currently totalling 26 animals. When I first joined the project in 2011 the same three groups totalled 32 animals.

The whole of northwest Namibia holds an estimated 150 desert adapted elephants.

Rather like our inversely proportional selves, the elephant population of Damaraland has reached tipping point. Things could go either way.

So what’s special about desert adapted elephants?

Exactly that; they are desert adapted. Though not genetically distinct from other elephant populations found in southern Africa they have adapted to the desert environment, learned how to survive in it.

I’ve read desert adapted elephants have larger feet and longer legs than other southern African populations, this because of the distances walked and the ground covered. I’ve also read their trunks tend to be longer and slimmer to aid with the digging for water in dry river beds.

From limited experience I’d say desert adapted elephants tend to be slighter in build than those living in lusher areas and attribute this to environment inhabited, nutrition available, and distances walked in search of that nutrition. This same slight build may