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The young man stuck his spear in the sand and with his right hand raised, palm open and fingers up, walked shyly towards us, saying in a tone I had never heard before, "Good day !, I have been dead, but now that you have come, I live again".
We had made contact at last! I was so overwhelmed by the fact that for a moment I barely knew what to do. It was the young man who, after the exchange of greetings in his own tongue, a drink of our best water and a smoke of tobacco, put us all at our ease with his command of natural manners.
He was no taller than Dabe but slighter, with fine bones, and of course, much younger. Nor was there any sign of bitterness or hurt in his eyes. His features were regular and sensitive in the classical Bushman model. His eyes were wide and large and looked steadily into mine when I asked him a question. They had the same vivid light in them which occasionally one sees in Europe on the faces of gypsies in Spain. He was naked, with a loin strap made of duiker skin around his middle, and his skin of a fresh apricot color was still stained in places with the blood of an animal recently killed. All in all he had a wonderful wild beauty about him. Even his smell was astringent with the essences of untamed earth and wild animal-being. [van der Post,L.(1958),p.225]
The melody was charged with all the inexpressible feelings that come to one at the going down of the sun over the great earth of Africa. They called the song "The Grass Song" and with the difficulty of interpretation neither Dabe nor the singers could readily explain it. I can only recall the feeling and render the words inadequately:
This grass in my hand before it was cut
Cried in the wind for the rain to come
All day my heart cries in the sun
For my hunter to come.
They would sing this over and over again, the song becoming more charged and meaningful by repetition, as if the heart, too, was enjoined to a constant act of importunity as in the New Testament injunction to prayer, in order to make life and its powers accessible to its deepest entreaties. The song put us all under a spell, so that I was not surprised that often the young men hearing its crescendo of longing could contain themselves no longer. They would drop what they were doing and come out of the bush, their feet pounding the desert like a drum, their hands stretched wide and their chests heaving with emotion, crying as if the sound had been torn alive and bleeding from the centre of their being. "Oh, look, like the eagle, I come!. [van der Post,L.(1958), p.246]
"When these people performed their pantomime of the war, they divided into two teams facing each other on their knees in the sand, about fifteen yards apart. They would then taunt one another with the challenges and battle-cries of another age, the shouts and movements getting louder and more violent until at last they were twisting and turning with thrust, parry, counter-thrust and evasive action as though indeed spears and arrows were raining down upon them. Though they never moved from their knees, the gesture of heads and bodies, the expression on their faces, and the cries of the wounded and dying, enabled me to relive vividly the atmosphere of a battle of their past". [van der Post,L.(1958), p.244]
For no sooner was Helen reclaimed and the ravishing Bushman killed than both sides were filled with fear and revulsion against their deed, as if suddenly among the acacias of their vast Kalahari garden the voice of God himself had made the leaves tremble as He reprimanded them for their mutual sin. They instantly sat down to talk to one another and resolved that it must never happen again. Accordingly they divided the desert into two zones, promising never to cross the demarcation line between them. [van der Post,L.(1958), p.243]