It was at an environmental fair in Durban, South Africa, where I first met the !Xuu and Khwe Bushmen. They had a display booth incongruously positioned between a swimming pool display and a cotton candy stand, selling bowls, bow and arrows, and other folk crafts in order to engender cash economy skills. Amid the slick displays for water filters and game reserves, and under the stark florescent lighting of the cavernous convention center, the Bushmen were both a curiosity and a sudden, unexpected glimpse into an ancient past. At the display booth was Catherina Meyer, the Afrikaans director of !Xuu and Khwe Cultural Project. Catherina had worked previously and successfully with the !Kung Bushmen in Botswana, establishing a similar cultural project to preserve cultural identity as it assisted in the social and economic integration of the Bushmen. After two meetings with her I made a proposal to come to the !Xuu and Khwe refugee camp to conduct theatre workshops.

Though a theatre director trained in Western methodologies my work over the last several years has been primarily with indigenous people. Work with the Yup'ik and Inupiat Eskimos and Athabaskan Indians at the University of Alaska, where I presently teach, has evolved wondrously to include performance work with a variety of other indigenous people. Performance projects with other indigenous groups have include the Sakha of central Siberia, Greenland Inuit, Tamils, and a St. Petersburg group dedicated to pre-Christian, Slavic rituals. I had been in Durban developing an outdoor touring performance dealing with voter registration with a Zulu group, my second performance project with them. After work with the Zulu I would travel to Zambia to develop a first ever national performance project with members of several tribal groups there. While in Zambia, several months after meeting the Bushmen, I received a telephone call from Catherina telling me the !Xuu and Khwe Cultural Trust had accepted my proposal and invited me to conduct a theatre workshop. I was asked to begin as soon as possible.

If my work with indigenous people has taught me anything it is that performance is both a code and a pathway to an ancient way of living with a specific place. Performance is a means by which to reaffirm place, continuity and community. Ritual, ceremonial, and social performance is a practical, interactive way of expressing place and being. It is both a code evolved from and reflective of a place. In this way performance is a sort of synapse to a greater, if not altered, reality. A reality where nature and the human, animal, spiritual, ancestral worlds can find contact, affirmation, and balance. The methods, function, and objectives of indigenous performance is similar, if not parallel, to that of a traditional shaman. What the traditional shaman/healer/doctor addresses as a specialist, the performance of indigenous people address in lay and communal terms. Though the means applied by the traditional shaman and community may differ, the performance models and objectives are similar.

In the morning after a successful healing, Khwe healer Manfred Kapinga leads people in a joutcay or "cooling down" dance.

!Xuu healer Machai Mbande chants and rattles during a healing for a woman who is lying covered by a military blanket.

At the heart of my work the need to assist indigenous groups to express themselves on their own terms. The stronger their voice and the more variety of voices heard the greater the dialog of world cultures and the prospect of brighter future. The stronger the parts the greater the whole. However, because of the ever increasing influence of Western culture, small and often challenged indigenous groups are finding it difficult to resist the ever increasing encroachment of Western values, economics, politics, and culture. As a consequence maginalized indigenous groups tend to devalue their own traditions and values, including their performance expressions. As a consequence the wisdom and unique worldview of indigenous people, and in turn their relationship with their part of the earth, is threatened with loss. Performance for indigenous people is a practical, integrative, problem solving tool, an expression of way of seeing and being in the world that the Western worldview has overlooked or misunderstood.

Being an outsider, a white male from the dominate culture is problematic and provides both advantage and disadvantage simultaneously. The issue of who I am and what I represent and how I interact with a group is always with me. I cannot resolve the issue intellectually, I have however, resolved it within my heart. And my heart tells me I cannot stand by and watch when I have the advantage of education and privilege. Always conscious of the delicacy of my interaction with often fragile indigenous groups, I endeavor to first and foremost to learn. It is in teaching me that the indigenous groups I have worked with in turn learn again about the wealth they possess and who they are. The work is guided by my establishing personal contact with the groups I work with and then asking them how best I can be of assistance. My interaction with any group of people is person to person with all else evolving from there. The theatre workshops and the resulting performance is only a form by which to contain and shape the multi-various issues and emotions given rise by my interaction. Performance, true to its ancient origins and needs, becomes a practical means of reaffirmation, re-evaluation, and reimagining.

The theatre workshops I conducted with the !Xuu and Khwe Bushmen were sponsored by the Trust and the South African Defense Forces (SADF) who managed the Schmidtsdrift refugee camp located about seventy miles north of Kimberly and at the lower edge of the Kalahari desert. Direct funding for my work with the Bushmen came from a grant from the Northern Cape Tourist Association, however, with the grant came the expectation of developing a Bushmen "tourist" show. The motive behind the grant was both altruistic and self-serving: to help the Bushmen, but just as importantly, to draw tourist to the economically stagnant Northern Cape region. The onus of creating a "tourist show" wasn't ideal, but if I have learned anything from my work in Africa, it is that everything is negotiable. I arrived at the isolated desert camp in late April 1994.

Both the !Xuu and Khwe are small bans, and unlike the better known !Kung Bushmen of Botswana, little has been recorded or written about them. Until the early 1970s two Bushmen groups !Xuu (pronounced with a prefix click then 'kone') and Khwe had essentially lived unmolested by the outside world in the south eastern part of Angola along the Namibia and Botswana boarder. Unlike the well documented !Kung Bushmen, who are primarily desert nomads, their habitat had included semi-desert, forest, and river terrain. Both the !Xuu and Khwe were previously semi-nomadic horticulturist and often referred to as "river" or "forest" Bushmen.

The !Xuu and Khwe did not speak each others language and had no contact with one another prior to the 1970s. Unlike the !Xuu, the Khwe historically had more contact with the black Bantu tribes and consequently intermarried, were linguistically influenced, and adopted some Bantu customs. At the Schmidtsdrift camp the !Xuu numbered about 2,000, the Khwe about 2,500. Both groups had their own areas which were separated by an open area for the clinic, community hall, school (a series of trailers), store, a military administration building, and the cultural project's two trailers. Bowing to the wishes of the two groups, the army kept them physically separated.

There was some social and ceremonial interaction between the !Xuu and Khwe, they were essentially two different groups--together by force of circumstances rather than choice. Though both groups shared a similar predicament and culture, there existed a tension between them. The tension was due, in part, to the difficulty of the situation, but historical, racial and, cultural differences also played a role. The !Xuu considered themselves 'Bushmen' while they looked at the Khwe, because of their intermarriage, as 'blacks.' Physically the !Xuu were generally smaller in stature and had characteristically Bushmen yellow-brown skin and almost Asiatic facial features. The !Xuu were physically and culturally similar to their better known desert counterparts in Botswana, the !Kung.

The Khwe, (or Barquana as they are also called), though having the suggestion of Bushmen features, were larger with darker skin and more pronounced Negro features. The Khwe however, considered themselves Bushmen owing to the fact that both blacks and whites referred to them as such. Both groups were referred to as "Bushmen" by anthropologist and governments. The !Xuu however, considered the Khwe "Black" or Bantu, Both groups despised the term "San" or "San People", (a term given them by anthropologist), preferring "Bushmen" because, as Fernando, one of the translators said: 'We live in the bush!.'

To an outsider such racial and cultural distinctions may seem minor, however for the Bushmen, who were historically long suffering victims of both blacks and whites, it was of profound importance. In southern Africa the difference between black and Bushmen is an important distinction. The migrating black Bantu tribes (the Tswana and Zulu among them) from the North, like subsequent white settlers, considered the Bushmen inferior and little more than a type of animal because of their stone-age life styles. The Bushmen's relative passivity also made them easy targets for expansion into their lands (white governments paid bounties for their corpses until the late 19th century). Successive invasions of Bantu tribes from the North, then colonializing whites from the west and south had pushed them into the remotest areas of their once large hunting areas. Today there is no place left to push them.

With the tensions between the two groups in mind, Catherina, the Cultural Project director, deliberately chose an equal number of !Xuu and Khwe to participate in the workshop. While still in Zambia, and at my request, she organized eight of the 'Best performers from each group to participate in the theatre workshop. Each participant would be paid equally (about $35 per week) and in the interest of camp politics she had the workshop meet at a neutral location between the two groups, inside one of the two Cultural project trailers, where with the !Xuu sitting on one side as the Khwe sat on the other, the workshop began.

The first day of interviewing was filled with many traditional stories, social dances, and explaining of the old ways. It also told me much about camp life and the toll it had taken on the people. All of the participants wore oversized or misfitting clothes donated by either international aid agencies or the South African Army. These Bushmen had been self-sufficient hunters and gatherers living on and with the land until they were forced by circumstances, after thousands of years of independence, into the food chain of modern civilization and capitalism . They have become like others around the world, who for different but similar reasons, are likewise dressed and homeless.

That we had two translators, one for each of the languages, did not do much to help promote collective sharing. Though those assembled were curious a sense of defeat and fatigue surrounded them. Many talked about how they missed their homeland and the old ways, others talked about their frustration being in a camp, others about how they are always hungry and helpless. There were a few outburst by men gesturing wildly with quick, frustrated clicks. But despite their frustrations they demonstrated numerous dances and sang songs. The stories, songs and dances were about a wide variety of things, including: a clumsy monkey fetching water, a young woman laughing at an older man's awkward advances, and a lion following an unsuspecting man. The dances, songs, and traditional stories became a respite, and a way of forgetting their present troubles.

The interviews went far to established a rapport with he Bushmen and in turn set the tone for my participation (role) in the unfolding of events. Who was I to them and how best could we benefit from our interaction was the first and foremost question. In practical terms the interview sessions were a way to access and assess the community and formulate with them an understanding, purpose, and strategy for creating performance together. The interviews also provided indispensable research, teaching me about their culture, how they use their bodies, voices and imaginations. Getting them to show me their dances and their cultural rhythms were just as important as the information conveyed by their personal and traditional stories. Watching how they moved performing animals, as a group, and with what rhythms spoke volumes about how they lived and experience their part of the earth.

Unlike other indigenous performance projects this project had little pre-site preparation. My work with the Zulu, the Sakha, the Yup'ik and Inuit, was prefaced and prepared by anthropological record and oral history transcriptions which gave me at least an inkling into the cosmology, history, geography, ritual/ceremonial beliefs, and current political/economic predicament. Pre-site preparation for the !Xuu and Khwe however, was impossible due to the scarcity of written material on these small bans of Bushmen. Though they share similarities with the !Kung and other desert Bushmen, their traditions and histories were unique.

It was not until the second day of interviewing the group that I realized seven of the fifteen workshop participants were healers with the other eight being their assistants. Up to that point they were simply the 'best performers' I had asked Catherina to chose for the workshop. It was only when they requested to take a mid-day break to get things for showing me "special dances" that I sensed they were something more than simply 'the best performers.' When they returned to the trailer they were accompanied by many relatives and friends, wanting to be included in the anticipated action. However, the trailer was small and numbers had to be limited for fear things would become unmanageable. Those from the earlier interview session had returned with rattles and small drums. The rattles were made from cans for beer, soda pop, automotive fluids, and orange juice, and filled with desert pebbles. Several participants put on elaborately beaded belts attached with knives and pouches and colorful beaded head pieces. A !Xuu named Machai, a rattle in each hand, started dancing and singing to himself.

Spontaneously and without announcement the trailer filled with the music of the special dances. Drums and several sets of rattles combined to create a complex polyrhythmic texture joined by three levels of women clapping counter rhythms (some clapped on the down beat with others clapping on up or off-beat.) Machai led the song with others singing chorus and with a few women adding sporadic, high pitched bird calls. Machai rattled strongly while shaking his shoulders, hips, and head. Soon others joined with their individualized version of the same dancing--shaking with a shuffle step--across the floor. As the dance and song cycle continued the dancers weaved and mingled around the room. Soon all but a few joined in. Those dancing were likewise shaking at the shoulders and hips quickly to "create heat." Machai later explained to me that shaking the hips, head, and shoulders activates the spinal fluids and nerves and in turn releases "heat" to the rest of the body inducing a "good feeling."

The dance and song had many spontaneous swells of emotion and energy that pleased the group. The dances took them to some other place--a place deep within their cultural identity--it was a place where they were happy. Then the singing suddenly stopped with a signal from Machai. One small, older woman, Silenga, who also wore a beaded head piece was still dancing, her eyes closed, her face relaxed, and singing. She had entered into an altered state of consciousness. Machai and George, a !Xuu and Khwe healer respectively, gave the other women instructions to bring Silenga "back." Older women gathered around her and held her as she shook. Though a small woman, Silenga resisted the women with some strength. Meanwhile others shifted outside the trailer to take a smoke from their homemade pipe. It was a half hour before Silenga stopped dancing. Others told me that she once she begins dancing it is difficult to stop. "Sometimes she dances until the next day with only her inside music" said one of the translators, Fernando. I realized then and there that I involved in much more than a theatre workshop.

Workshop participants demonstrate traditional songs inside the cultural project trailer

The interviews on the third day became an outpouring of their plight. Their sad stories were about how one day, both !Xuu and Khwe, were shot by soldiers and how they fought back. How the bombs came. How they felt the camp was a prison and wanted only to return to their land in Namibia and Angola. "The father knows everything and we must just sit here" the !Xuu, Alouis Sijaja informed the group. The savvy Alouis, who had a limp left leg and got around with a large stick, told us: "With the ANC in power I have many worries about the future. We will never go back home."

The atmosphere was heavy so I suggested we return to showing some dances and sharing some stories like we had the day before. Suddenly a man who was not part of the invited group stood up: "I have no time for stories I want to go and drink." And with that he left with two other men. George spoke saying he was hesitant about singing his songs because the !Xuu did not know his language or style of clapping even though he and the other Khwe had made attempts to learn the !Xuu style. The !Xuu responded that they were too shy to learn. It was then our discussion, which started with their common plight, turned to the issues between the two groups.

Without prodding the gathering became an informational sharing, a kind of town hall, where the spiritual leaders of the two groups gathered, discussed, and exchanged thoughts and shared concerns for the first time. With frustration the !Xuu, Ndala Mutenya told how "We do not feel happy about being here and we do not feel welcome in South Africa." The Khwe, Mohera Kuwiq concurred: "In Namibia we could eat, but here only the ones that have jobs can eat and survive." "We don't eat enough" said Nyama Mokuke an alert and animated !Xuu. "We feel like we need a lot of help here and we want to take care of ourselves. In Namibia we could hunt. There were all kinds of food in Namibia and Angola, but there is nothing here," added the sad voice of George Dikosi. "When we came here and looked for food we were caught and arrested. Where must we find food? We are hungry and the Army does nothing!" Alouis spit out his words then stood-up with his crutch-stick in anger. "Our hearts are not happy here and we do not know who will help us" said Machai Mbande. There were many long pauses with people sitting silently without expression as others talked about their predicament. Despite their anger there was a general sense of acceptance. A passive acceptance that is the Bushmen way and how they have survived for so long as hunter-gathers, accepting and moving with change rather than resisting. The interviewing captivated, overwhelmed, frustrated, and deeply disturbed me. Before me were the remnants of a proud and ancient culture and I was a helpless witness to its breakdown and slow, ignoble dissolution. It was like watching a fire slowly burn through a library of invaluable knowledge.

Nomads caught in a Harsh Political Landscape In the early 1970s UNITA, the socialist, Cuban backed freedom fighters of Angola, entered the !Xuu and Khwe areas and suddenly the Bushmen found themselves in the middle of the Angola bush war. After UNITA came to power in 1975 the Bushmen became the target of a clandestine operation to "remove" them from their lands. The !Xuu and Khwe were easy targets and so their lands became a part of a haphazard land re-distribution program. The !Xuu and Khwe numbering only a few thousand, fought AK 47s and mortar attacks with spears and poison arrows. Their knowledge of their land and inveterate sense of survival was more resistance than the UNITA soldiers expected. In Pretoria at about the same time, the apartheid and communist paranoid South African government was mounting a secret guerrilla war against UNITA. Within a sort time the !Xuu and Khwe, with little option, found themselves in alliance with the South African Defense Forces. The Bushmen's knowledge of their land soon proved them excellent trackers and scouts. Recruited and trained the !Xuu and Khwe became the fabled "Bushmen Battalion." In battle they were able and brave fighters and indispensable to the South African clandestine war effort. The South African army moved their families to S.W.A. (Southwest Africa), then a protectorate of South Africa. By 1990, however, international criticism and mounting internal political pressures, forced South Africa to cease their secret war against communist Angola. The independence movement in Southwest Africa, led by SWAPO (a socialist inspired political party), soon won independent nationhood as Namibia and the !Xuu and Khwe found themselves unwelcome in either Angola or Namibia. Association with the apartheid-tainted SADF did not make them welcomed in South Africa either. The SADF settled the Bushmen Battalion and the !Xuu and Khwe "temporarily" at Schmidtsdrift, a military reserve on the lower edge of the Kalahari desert, during the fall of 1990. The refugee camp became the home of the Bushmen soldiers, their immediate and extended families--meaning the rest of the !Xuu and Khwe. The camp was a sea of army issue brown tents in the shadeless hot sun. Except for the store and school (a series of trailers) the camp had no electricity. Water and sewage were inadequate and overtaxed. Dysentery, skin rashes, TB, and a variety of other aliments came with the close quarter living. Families received a small monthly allowance (about $90 US) to live on. The limbo they found themselves in created a current of underlying anxiety, uncertainty, and depression. Alcohol and its attendant issues of abuse, disintegration of family, culture, and values spread like cancer. The !Xuu and Khwe Trust was established to facilitate autonomy and cultural adjustment. 2 With little funding and increasing pressure from the Tswana people of South Africa--who claim the Schmidtsdrift camp as part of their ancestral land-- the !Xuu and Khwe people found themselves unwanted even at the camp. The influential Tswana were unflinching supporters of Nelson Mandela and with his election pressured him to return their land, removing both the military and the Bushmen. The Bushmen wanted only to return to their ancestral homes, but the post-civil war chaos of Angola and ill-will between South Africa and Namibia made an amicable return unlikely. The !Xuu and Khwe were nomads on a political and cultural landscape they had little understanding of. Prohibited from hunting or cultivating on the surrounding desert lands, the !Xuu and Khwe became partners in misery and reduced to the ignoble status of refugees and poachers who risked arrest by either the SADF or conservation rangers for hunting Kudu (a large, deer-like animal) on local ranches. Ironically, after four years of being in the same camp together there had been no effort to bring the two groups into interaction. The theatre workshop was one of the first attempts at the two groups together in a joint project.

On the fourth day of interviews we lost Fernando our able translator. Being adept in languages he accepted more lucrative employment as a crew boss for laborers on a local ranch. We used most of the morning to find a replacement. It was impossible to find someone who spoke English and the native tongues so we settled on two translators. Each of the new translators spoke only Afrikaans and their respective native tongues fluently; neither spoke English. As a consequence the interviews became absurdly torturous. Asking my questions in English, Catherina would translate into Afrikaans, passing it on to Luis who translated it into !Xuu, and to Lerrato who translated into Khwe. The respective group members would then discuss the question amongst themselves, with their answers translated into Afrikaans then into English. Sometimes the space between my question and their reply was so long I had forgotten what I asked. It was nearly impossible to keep a train of thought, sense of momentum or ask for clarification and detail. It was absurdly comic, but there was no other option. Group concentration and interest waned quickly. Aggravating the situation further was our new translator Luis, a !Xuu man educated by the Catholic missionaries. Like the other Bushmen he was given a name reflective of a missionary and Portuguese interaction. Unlike the others, however, he had abandoned his !Xuu name and traditional culture, holding himself aloof and looking disdainfully upon the others. A deacon with the local church, his education and Christianity had set him apart. For Luis, the other !Xuu were "heathens" in need of salvation. On more than one occasion I witnessed the !Xuu healers demonstrating and explaining to Luis at great length, an answer to my question. A short sentence and a disapproving shake of the head is what Luis would in turn translate into Afrikaans to Catherina. Lerrato, who spoke some !Xuu, confirmed my suspicion--Luis was censoring whatever he found un-Christian and, as he later described, "The savage ways." A further complication was the lack of young people participating in the workshop. When I mention this fact I could see that it troubled those gathered for the interview sessions. Their young people, having no experience or knowledge of the old ways, and having been born and reared either in conflict or camps, despised the old people and the old ways they hung on to. In a sense they blamed the old people and the old ways for the difficulty they had found themselves in. The young people, too, embodied the ever pragmatic and adapting Bushmen instinct by moving headlong into the modern, Western ways and wanted nothing to do with the old ways. It was disheartening to see the lack of respect shown by the younger people for their elders in the camp. Within the group (which ranged in ages 35 to 70 years old) none of the !Xuu and Khwe could read or write--only a few had learned to write their name--and many signed their name with a 'X.' The antagonism between young and old was so extreme, that at times, I had to keep the young people separated from the group members. Often times the young would ignore or taunt their elders, making faces and laughing at them through the trailer windows. The healers I worked with sensed their cultural traditions were fading with them and that there was no going back to the "Old ways before the war." However, the interviews and eventual theatre workshop went far to gain a trust and friendship with them. Soon, with the urging and encouragement of the workshop members, I was invited to attend their healing rituals and so embarked on an extensive interview and research study of their performance and healing traditions. The evolution of my involvement was natural, for the !Xuu and Khwe viewed performance and healing as linked, if not one in the same. By day we met to do theatre in the attempt to step outside of their predicament to observe, understand and adjust to the traumatizing events that had occurred. By night I attended a number of their healing rituals, observing and documenting. For me the two activities became one in the same, each informing the other. The objective of my work had become clear. As Machai Mbande put it: "To tell the Bushmen way for the young people who today do not understand the importance."

My work and interaction with the Bushmen had defined itself. Gaining their trust they became comfortable showing me dances and rituals they did not show other outsiders. One day in an Army barracks a South African anthropologist, along with several healers, viewed some video of healing rituals I had recorded. It was an exciting and telling moment for all of us. For the healers it was the first time they had seen themselves recorded and they were delighted the knowledge would be passed on. The anthropologist, who knew and had studied the !Xuu and Khwe for some time was both dumfounded and upset "I didn't know they still did that!" I felt privileged and gratified by their trust and friendship.

Though funded to develop a "Tourist Show" I later convinced the Trust to abandon the idea. It was my belief that the socially and culturally traumatized Bushmen needed to take stock of themselves and it was to this end the group worked. There were so many fundamental issues to deal with that the presentation of a show would have been ill-advised and exploitative. The Trust, to their credit, agreed. I thought I would be on a bus to Johannesburg in short order but the Trust continued funding the workshop and my research. Without much difficulty the workshop shifted gears from performance to development with a 'possible future performance' in mind. The workshop focused on the telling of an origin myth (telling of how the Bushmen emerged from two stones) and culminated in an informal performance before a small group. Though the story of the workshop and the healers are connected they are too large to encompass within a single essay. Recognizing the constraints of space and to better address the interests of this publication, this essay has chosen to focus on issues relating to the healers and their practice.

Luis Samba translated as Machai Mbande and Thomas Riccio talk during an interview

Activating the Healing Heat: George Dikosi's Ceremony

The first healing ceremony I was invited to was conducted by George, a member of the theatre workshop and a Khwe healer. I arrived at the ceremony at about 10 PM to find about forty people gathered in a large tent. This ceremony, like all others I observed, were attended mostly by women. Why women participated so broadly, though the majority of the healers were men, in the ceremonies was never clear. When I asked George about the preponderance of women at the ceremony he responded as if I had asked an obvious question saying: "Women carry life."

At the ceremony most were seated on blankets and sitting in a circle rattling and singing in support of George who was at the center next to the fire and his patient. As soon as I entered the tent George welcomed me by anointing my brow with his red powder medicine. He did the same for everyone entering the ceremony. The anointing was referred to as "wiping" which served to make me a part of the group and also protected me from any sickness that may 'jump' from the patient. I went with no translator and simply observed, taking notes for questions to be asked later. And though attracting much attention the group made me feel welcomed giving me a place at the inner circle. It felt comfortable immediately, as if being with family and sharing something, huddled close together against the cold desert night. There were no drums, only rattles, hand clapping, and singing, and like the singing during our interview sessions the emotion ran deep. Rhythms and counter rhythms were dense and complex, creating a comforting atmosphere. The voices of the women laid a vocal and rhythmic bottom while the voices of the few men and George sang counter and over the women's voices.

Each healer had their own style and method of healing. The songs and progression George used were unique to his way of doing things. He wore a t-shirt and torn dark pants, no shoes, and no other special regalia. The sick woman lay wrapped in a blanket with her naked back to the fire. Near her back was a covered plate with the "red" medicine in it. Next to the plate was a home made knife (shaped from an automobile brake shoe) about ten inches long. An open area around the fire allowed George some movement for dancing and healing. He was also healing two infants, the grandchildren of the woman, who were sick because they ate from the same bowl as their grandmother.

The healing became hypnotic. The rhythmic pattern of the music, the unity of voices, combined with the flickering light of the fire and the focused attentions of all those gathered transported me to a place between realties. The overwhelming sensation was of losing self in the event--my individuality was secondary to the collective event that surrounded. The cyclical music spun and distorted time--yet somehow the events of the healing progressed subtly forward in well-measured steps. There was an underlying sense of a slow, inexorable accumulation--as if everything within the event was building to something and all of us were part of that build. Somehow songs would stop in unison--a testament to the relaxed yet highly sensitized focus of the group. Then after a brief pause, or sometimes seemlessly, another voice would begin another song--and the song cycle continued. Throughout the healing George would go to the sick woman listening to her back, then massaging her with his red powder medicine mixed with cooking oil. With the tip of his wooden stick and tin can rattle he found the point of her illness and pressed into the woman. Slowly pulling the rattle away from her he looked at the tip of the rattle intently, then took the invisible "illness" from it and putting it into the plate of medicine that he quickly covered with a white cloth.

The woman began breathing deeply and then he turned the woman over to feel her neck, head and stomach pausing with absolute stillness over something only he saw. The singers were witness to his every movement and gesture and the intensity of their singing, seemed to rise in support. After working with the patient he would sit and sing as if calling on powers within himself to address the sickness. His eyes rolled white and his body shook as he bolted to standing and danced around the fire. Like the dance he and the others showed during the interview sessions, his shoulders and hips shook back and forth quickly and sharply, activating the 'heat' necessary for healing.

Later, a calmer George, attended to the two infant grandchildren who were cradled calmly in their mother's arms. In a similar fashion he felt their necks and heads, then chased away some invisible something surrounding them. With his red medicine he massaged their stomachs pausing occasionally to "see" into their body.

The healing took several short breaks that lasted two to five minutes. During these breaks they lit cigarettes and pipes by fire embers and passed them around. The break time was a sort of release during which the group would converse and laugh among themselves. George talked to some and would sometimes tell what seemed to be jokes. Beer cans went around and each person took enough of a drink to satisfy their thirst, something they had adopted since coming to the camp. Feeling like a family gathering, the healing ceremony was as much social as it was spiritual event. For Bushmen, like other indigenous people, the two spheres of human endeavor are not mutually exclusive. The healing was as much for the well-being of the community as it is for the sick person--social interaction is a healing, too. Each break however, also served as a necessary release for the building of the "heat" used for the healing. The creating of heat enabled George to hear the spirits and see the sickness better. However, too much heat could over power George and be harmful. The breaks served to allow for the controlling of the heat that, throughout the night, would accumulate. George told me that too much heat could make the healer "get lost", cause illness, and render him useless as a healer. He never elaborated on the condition of too much heat, but George, like the other healers all mentioned their concern. The taking of breaks occurred during all of the healings I witnessed.

After the break the singing resumed, however George sat very still. A young man, about twenty years old, George's assistant, sat next to him and began to massage George's neck. Soon George stood, talking to something only he could see, his body shaking with dance. Going to the plate, removing the white cloth and taking the knife, he went to the woman. Kneeling next to her he lifted his shirt, exposing his stomach, then pounded the knife into his stomach with the rattle. It was hard to believe what I was seeing amidst the whirl of the singing's rising energy, the flickering light of the fire, and the thick smoke. Was it a sleight of hand trick or something I had imagined?

Taking the knife out of himself left no scar nor blood. He dipped the knife into the plate of red powder medicine and then wiped the knife on the woman's neck. Then, using his rattle as a hammer, he pounded an inch or so of the knife into her chest. The singing was like a sea of aural ebb and flow, embodying, surrounding and supporting an emotional wave of human energy. It was unlike anything I had ever known. Going to the infants with the plate and kneeling in front of them George again lifted his shirt and pounded the knife into his stomach. Getting a second and closer look he again pulled several inches of the knife out without a wound or blood. As with the old woman, he wiped their necks with the knife and tapped the medicine tipped knife into the infant's stomachs.

The Interview with George Dikosi

The day after the healing I was able to interview George, through a translator, about the healing ceremony. George, his hair combed back and wearing an oversized dark suit (clothing donated by international aid groups) said he was tired but "Felt very happy because woman and children were healed." He was quick to add that the healers had been very busy because the number of healing ceremonies had increased significantly since coming to Schmidtsdrift "because there is much sickness in the camp." Emotional stress caused by uncertainty and poor sanitation accounted for the increase of illness at the camp. The numerous latrine and water stations throughout the camp were in disrepair. It was common for people to wander off into the nearby bush to relieve themselves, which, over time created significant sanitation problems.

Yacho was the name given to him by his mother. George was the name he adopted since coming to the camp in order to "fit in." His South African ID card read simply "Name: George Dikosi; Place of Birth: Angola; Date of Birth: 1946." For the sake of this article I have incorporated, condensed, and organized several conversations and interviews to create a more cohesive response to the questions below. Over the period of eight weeks I was able to interview and informally talk to George and the other healers on a daily basis. Many times issues brought up during the theatre workshop would illuminate aspects of their healing practice.

How did you become a healer?
When I was a boy I dreamt many times of red powder that comes from the palm tree. In the dream I go to a man that is sick and give it to him and he became healthy. After the dream my mother's brother, my uncle, taught me how to be a doctor. He still comes into my dreams to show me how to use the powder. In the dream he came to me and said: "George, George, wake up!" And he gave me the red powder. I took it and my Uncle took some and rubbed it on his own eyes and I did the same and now I can see. When a person becomes sick I rub the red powder on them and they become well. I rub it on the part of the body that has the sickness then I can see the sickness. If the person is mad I rub it on their forehead. If the person has spirit illness I rub it on a mirror and then rub the powder on my eyelids for the ability to see into the person's spirit illness. I see the illness in the mirror. After the first dream I went into the bush and made a rattle. Inside the rattle there is a lucky bead given to me in my dream. In the bush the song and dances of the old people came to me. After some time I returned to the village and gathered people to sing. Since then my uncle taught me more in my dreams and now people call on me to be a healer.

How do you pull the sickness out?
I pull out the sickness with the point of the rattle then I pull the sickness from the tip and throw it away. The disease taken out is like a glass or a bead. Then I put it into a plate of red powder and hide the plate. But if you go to that plate you will become sick. Last month I cured a man who was lame and he can walk now. After all night of singing and healing. At dawn I told him to stand and walk and he did.

Do songs help the healing?
The community helps me and the healing to be successful by singing. There are old song and new songs and they must be used for specific purposes. I listen to the songs and the community. When singing is nice my heart is happy and it makes the healing good. If the singing is not good I will go slowly. But some songs are meant to be sung slowly, other's quickly. Songs tell me their will. They direct what I should do.

How did you learn to sing and dance for healing?
I learned how to sing and dance by watching my uncle dance. I learned to sing his songs. A word for a song is given to me by my uncle's spirit: "People should come to me if they are sick." It is a song calling people to come to me. Sometimes I get a new song when healing. I hear a song if the man dies, too. Sometimes I will hear a new song and teach the others the song they will use in the future. That dead man's spirit gives them the song when he goes to heaven and they sing it in the future and remember that man's gift when they sing that song. The spirit of the man who gave the song will hear it if he sings it. Sometimes people hear that new song and if they like they take it and sing it.

We asked George to sing the song in question for the tape player but he refused unless he was paid 50 Rand. "Because those songs do not come cheaply." He then revealed it was his Brother-in-law's song. He sang the song for us and then a few other songs given to him by his dead children. He said he had a song for each of his dead children. "All I have left of them are their songs."

How do you heal?
The healing ceremony is inside the tent. And the sick person comes and sits anywhere or outside. This is different from what the other healers do. Every healer heals differently. The sick person comes to me, but if invited I will go to them. When the person is lying there sick and the people are singing I can hear god who guides me how to help the sick person. It is with the support of god that I heal. The voice of god comes with the singing and tells me what to do and how to make the healing. The women assist me with their clapping. It starts feeling nice hearing this and then I begin singing and dancing and can see the sickness of the person through the dark.

Who comes to the healing?
Not always the same people come to the healing. Generally it is the family or those concerned for the person that is sick. Each person that comes sacrifices their light and voice for the sick.

Do your ancestors come to the healing?
The ancestors help me. I call on them and they come to help. But it is not always the same ancestors. They tell me what to do and how to heal the person. No other spirits come except the ancestors and it is these spirits that help me with everything I know. They are the ones that help me to remember and see. Sometimes they can sit near me and I will spin in my hearing and know they are talking to me. Then they will go away. Ancestors will help me to find an animal when hunting because I cannot see the animal's spirit. Animals do not have spirits to help in healing.

How do you know a person is healed?
I will see the person healed and they will (the people) take my word for it. If the person is not healed my reputation will suffer. I will see spiritually or physically if the person is healed or will not stop unless the person gives up. The person or the family of the sick person will pay me 200 Rand ($55 USD) When the person is healed.

Do you do anything special to prepare for a healing? Wear anything special?
I do not prepare. I put on old clothes so the red powder will not soil my new clothes. Only pants and no shirt. Any pants will do. Last night it was cold so I wore a shirt. I use to wear beads with fringes that use to move when I dance, but I do not have them anymore, so I do not use them. My work is just as effective.

Where does your healing tradition come from?
My healing tradition is Bushmen in origin. It is given by God. Like white doctors were given their way by their God. It is for me the same way as it was in the old and traditional times.

Are you a Christian?
No, I am not a Christian, but I have been washed with the red powder. It is like the blood of Christ.

What is the medicine you use?
I only use two kinds of root for healing, one is the red powder, the other is what I found by the river near here. Red powder is from the stem of palm leaves and pounded and mixed with oil. Then the powder is massaged on to a wound and the rattle is used to extract the sickness. If there is somebody not serious sick I get a tree root. Boil it and put the sick person over the boiling pot with a blanket to sweat cure them. Each healer has their own specialty medicine. Each develops their own way of working with it. Some doctors have many kinds of medicine and prescribe according to the specific need. I use the root for headaches, running stomach and heart ailments. The root is called: DO G.

Does a person need to believe in the medicine in order to work?
It will also help sometimes if the person does not believe. But if that person is not healed and does not believe, I will decide whether to help the person or not to help again if I feel like it next time.
(Note: The suggestion that his healing might not work hurt his pride. George seemed to think his healing will work regardless of what the person believes.)

Is there a difference between good bad doctors?
Yes. The Good doctors are called 'Jouk-au.' The bad doctors are called 'Tsok-au.' I do not practice bad medicine. There was a bad doctor here but he is gone now. That is why you must never travel the same road twice because the bad doctors are like predators. They will become aware of your pattern and hunt you.

How do you heal someone bewitched by a bad doctor?
Using a mirror (i.e., old car mirror) I rub the red powder on it and put a coin underneath the mirror to "pay the mirror." A father or mother, relative will come to me to say someone is ill and asks him for help. Then I use the mirror to see the person's whole body. I breathe on the mirror. Sometimes I see a bad doctor in the mirror. See them taking the patient's spirit and putting it into a tin can. Sometimes I see the bad doctor saying: "Ah, I'm hungry, I don't want to eat pap, I want meat. I see that man has a nice wife--I want to eat her!" The bad doctor stores his medicine in a tin. There is bad powder in the tin. Then the bad doctor puts his finger in the tin and stirs it, calling that person's name and then leaves the tin open. The next day that person is dead. When the person gets buried the witch doctor digs her up and eats her. He likes human meat. I did not know why. When such things happen I need to do a "big sing" all night until the sun comes up then I can point and say she is bewitched and know by whom. Because that witch doctor will have come into the circle. I will point him out then he will begin to shake because he has been found out.

Do you know anyone that has died because they were bewitched?
Many people. My great uncle was bewitched. He climbed a tree like an ape one day then came down and died the next day.

Can you divine the future?
The ancestor spirits can warn me what to avoid and what to tell people. When it occurs to me I tell them. But such things are unpredictable and happen when it will happen. Sometimes when people sit and clap I will tell them what the spirits are saying. Divining is something I can do. Also, sometimes it happens in my dreams when sleeping.

Whose house was last night's healing in?
It was my elder sister's house.

What happened to her?
She had illness in the chest. A witch doctor bewitched her. Someone from around here. Her physical sickness was because of spirit sickness.

Did you see the witch doctor in your mirror?
I did not see the witch doctor's face. In the mirror I just saw him from the back.

Does bewitching happen often?
It happens often that people are bewitched. They bewitched people because they like to eat their meat. They wanted her to die and be buried and then to dig her up and eat her.

Did the witch doctor come to the healing?
Yes. The witch doctor came just like in the mirror. He did not speak.

Do you know him?
Yes.

Explain how you used the knife. Was it to 'pull out' the sickness?
I used the knife point for that illness that I could not pull out. I had to kill it with the knife. I killed it then she went into the bush to vomit out the sickness. The knife was pounded in with the rattle in order to go in.

Why did you wipe the knife point on the neck?
There is a real string around the neck that I can see. The string of sickness. The knife point was wiped in order to cut it because it was a witch doctor that put the string there. That sting can make you die. If I did not cut the string the woman could not breathe.

Why did you pound the knife into yourself?
To take my own blood and give it to my sister and her grandchildren. God told me that my own blood has power. (He then lifted his shirt and showed me when on his body the knife when in. There were no scars or markings.)

Who was the young man assisting you?
He is a friend I have known since he was young and still a child. If god wants him to be a doctor, he will let him know. If I die god can decide to give his medicine over to the boy in a dream.

Did you get all of the sickness out?
I sucked it from her ears and nose and blew it out. Then she got up at sunrise. The sickness is killed and there is no chance of entering me because by the time I threw it there was nothing left.

Why do you drink beer and smoke during the healing?
Beer and cigarettes are just for the thirst and to keep warm. We like warm beer. But we do not eat during the ceremony or god will be angry. All night we do not eat. I must take breaks to cool down because I do not want "aa-tshj" (pronounced: aah choe) a madness that will make me sick. It happens after much dancing and makes the mind goes crazy.

Do you find it exhausting to heal?
I am tired but happy that she is healed. God gives me power to stay awake. He gave out power so you could stay awake.

Did you sing any special songs because she was bewitched?
All the songs were for healing. Many were old songs. Songs from the old people. Great and big people's songs from the grandfathers. Only a few songs were for a witch doctor killing somebody.

Shaking his rattles, Manfred Kapinga leads a "cooling down" following a healing.

Cooling Down the Healing Energy: Manfred Kapinga's Joucatay Dance

Towards the end of our interview the wind started blowing in our direction, carrying with it the distant sound of drumming. When I asked George who was drumming he informed me it was the end of Manfred's healing ceremony. It was mid-day with a high, hot sun for the ceremony begun about 9pm the night before. George took us to the ceremony fenced in by brown tent tarp and we were granted permission to observe over one hundred people gathered inside for the 'cooling down.' There were several drummers, many children, and much excitement. The healing begun the night before, having culminated at day break, had been successful but very difficult. It was said the man had nearly died, but Manfred had brought him back to health. Because the healing was especially difficult Manfred was assisted by another Khwe healer, Ngando. Manfred, unlike George, was known for his highly physical style which created a great deal of 'heat' during the ceremony. It was because of the excessive "heat" a long "cooling down" was necessary.

From what I could understand, during a healing ceremony not only did the healer create heat, but to a lesser degree, so did the healing ceremony participants. As a consequence a cooling down was necessary to dissipate the heat and return to the participants to normal. The cooling down was a sort of unwinding after a focused collective event and also provided the community an opportunity to socialize. However, the healer, or their assistant(s) always conducted the cooling down. The length of cooling down dances would vary according to how much heat was generated and who the healer was. Manfred, known for his highly physical style, which included several drums, created much community heat and so had the longest cooling down dances. George's ceremonies were less physical (generally only George moved while participants sat) and without drums making for less collective heat and consequently less need for a cooling down period. His cooling down dances would generally last only a few hours at the most.

At the center of the 'Jou-tcay' (meaning literally 'today we sing' and implying the healing circle) was a vibrant and indefatigable dancer, Mbûto, (who later became a member of our theatre workshop.) The eighteen year old Mbûto wore a black bra and kakoi wrap around skirt, holding the attention and propelling the energy of the crowd. She was a healer in training and to celebrate the successful healing she danced in a state of ecstasy, entertaining the audience with her fluid, uninhibited and almost erotic dancing. Dancing at the center of the group, Mbûto was the focal point and pace setter, her actions cheerleading the group with her indefatigable energy and antics. Ngando, Mbûto's mother, was always at the circle clapping and singing in support of her daughter. When Mbûto was a child she decided to follow her mother's profession and become a healer. In our conversations it was unclear whether the decision was a conscious choice or a calling. Within the Bushmen's worldview the difference between conscious choice and calling is blurred if not irrelevant. The quiet and ever watchful Ngando later told me that "Mbûto always works with her."

She cannot heal because she is still learning. When she dances her heart is very strong and so is her head because she is willing. She got her dancing from me. When she slept my "thing" (soul) came into her. Before that Mbûto was shy in her heart and body. Her brother gave her a little buck and she was fine. She drank the blood and ate the meat, now she is no longer shy when she dances.

During her dancing Mbûto would variously make faces, teasing people, and administer 'blessings' from a heated powder pot by swiping medicine across a child's forehead or wrist. Her dances were both social and ceremonial in intent and went far to amuse the onlookers who variously clapped, sang, danced, drummed or rattled in accompaniment. As she danced Manfred attended to the patient to assure that the sickness would not return.

A goat had been sacrificed just prior to dawn, the time when the spirits are closest to humans. Each healer has a special song for sacrifices which gives thanks to the spirits. During the song the healer slices the squirming goat which is then flayed and hung upside down, its blood drained into a bowl and drunk by the healer first with an offering to the earth following. This practice however, varied from healer to healer. Manfred, a Khwe, freely acknowledged the influence of Bantu healing practices. Machai, a !Xuu, would put the blood in his mouth and spit it onto the fire in order to feed the spirits. Chickens were likewise sacrificed. The use of domestic animals for sacrifice is a practice that evolved since the "war" started in the mid-1970s with the expense of the animal being borne by the patient's family. Prior to that bucks and other wild animals were captured and sacrificed according to the requirements of the spirits. The more severe the illness the larger the animal. The requirements of the sprits were determined by the healers in their dreams prior to the healing ceremony. After the sacrifice all of the meat was eaten, the patient's immediate family came first with the other participant sharing what remained.

In the tents surrounding the cooling down dancing the family of the sick man rested. Along the perimeter of the dancing some people sat, however the majority of people in attendance participated directly in the cooling down by either dancing, singing, drumming or clapping. Children would alternate by participating and then running off to play. Ngando, a respected healer in her own right, comments:

If the sickness is not finished it will start again. The person will die if the singing does not work. If the person doesn't get well after all night they must find a buck, cattle, or dog to sacrifice. If they cannot find these animals then they must buy a goat and make a sacrifice of the blood. The healer must take out the heart and they must take the blood out of the heart. There is power in the heart--much power. Then the sick person and their family must eat the meat afterwards. They eat all of the heart, everything. The meat is then shared with everyone that comes to the ceremony.

I was not a known figure in the community and stuck out, and of course, I became the focus of Mbûto's attention. She first took my baseball cap and danced mocking me. Later she took my watch and danced defiantly inches away from my face. Making faces, going cross eyed, acting arrogant, sticking out her tongue, and rolling her eyes up to the great amusement of those gathered. My accepting response went far to familiarize the Khwe community to my presence and personality, breaking down many social and cultural barriers.

The joviality of the dancing shattered momentarily when a woman carrying a stick entered the compound. Suddenly people scattered and screamed. The woman was middle-aged and swinging her stick at anyone who got in her way. At first I thought it was a domestic squabble and she was after someone in particular, soon however the dancing resumed with Mbûto leading the way. George later told me that every month she and a few of the other women became 'moon sick' a few days before the full moon. Attracted by the drumming, the woman came to be cured. "She is a bit mad like some other people. It is normal for them. When the moon is full they go mad. So they let them stand inside the circle to feel better. Five days before the moon is full is when it is especially bad for them." George later explained that "moon sickness" was particular to only a few women who also suffered from severe menstrual bleeding and cramps. Without much perturbation one assistant healer, a woman, from inside the circle went to the sick woman, took her stick and embraced her reassuringly. Within a few minutes the "Moon sick woman" began shaking. Others held her as they removed her outer clothing, shoes, and jewelry to make her more comfortable. When they brought her into the circle she began to shake and dance convulsively in the arms of an assistant healer who held and comforted her as she lapsed into a trance and danced until she became calm. Within an hour the circle had healed her and the "cooling down" had come to an end.

Shortly after I began attending healing rituals a Khwe solider, just returning from boarder patrol duty, was assigned to be my translator. After much initial difficult with translators it was a stroke of remarkalbe good fortune to have Wentzel Katjara, who spoke English, Khwe, and !Xuu assigned to me as my assistant and liason. His father, since deseased, had been a well respected Khwe healer, and Katjara's (which means 'season of hunger' and notes the year of his birth) knowledge of healing practice was a incredible boon to the interviewing process. He was like an informed set of extra eyes. As the interviews progressed Katjara himself become increaingly interesed in the process and methods of healing he grew up with and often qualifiied and probed more deeply into the inteview inquiry. His being both a Bushmen and a soldier, someone familiar with both cultures, made him an ideal translator and interpreter. I am deeply indebted to his assistance and insight.

The Interview with Manfred

Though I had attended several of his healing rituals it was a few weeks before I would interview the elusive Manfred about his healing work. He, like the other healers in the camp, were very busy because there was much sickness, and did not have the time to join our theatre workshop. I was able, however, to watch him conduct a ceremony that lasted sixteen hours, during which he cured a man and his son of Tuberculosis. The man had been diagnosed by the clinic as having TB. Suspicious of Western medical treatment he sought Manfred out to cure himself and his son who was also feeling "sick in the lungs." The man was weak and so sickly he could barely sit up prior to the ceremony. His son seemed less severely affected. Remarkably, during the course of the ceremony both the man and his son gained strength. At first Manfred lifted them to a seated position to massage them and pull the invisible illness from them. Then, as the ceremony progressed, the man and his son were able to sit up on their own for treatment. With each successive ministration the two began to visibly breath more deeply. At one point Manfred pulled the invisible illness from the man's chest and he shuttered. After the sacrifice of the goat and chicken both were able to stand and even smiled to the delight of the participants. Though declared cured by both Manfred and to the satisfaction of the family, I was not able to determine if they were cured by Western medical criteria. For the man, his family, and Manfred, such confirmation was unnecessary.

Unlike his previous 'cooling down' (when Mbûto danced) this time Manfred danced nonstop for six hours, to celebrate and to dissipate the "heat" created from the healing. Manfred took his calling as a healer very seriously. A former soldier, the twenty-eight year old man would run along the desert roads in order to keep in shape. I interview him at his camp after he had returned from a 20K run.

His traditional name was Kapinga, which means 'one that has been taken.' The name was given to him when, at a very young age his father died and his mother married another man. He preferred being called Manfred. He told me he had been a healer for twenty years, since he was a baby. He did not know how, but his being a healer started with a song that he heard in a dream. The song told him how to sing and dance and that he must become a healer. It was through dreams he learned exactly how to do things. He knew healing was a good thing since he was a boy.

When my dreams started I saw a man and he gave me something. It was a spirit man, like an angel, and he gave me everything I needed to use. In the dream I saw a sick man and the angel gave him medicine and then showed me what plants and roots to use. Which roots to boil and steam.

Do the spirits come to you today to help you in your work?
When I need to heal someone I ask the spirits to tell me what to do, what medicines to use, and whether the person must be healed or not. The spirits tell me.

Who are these spirits?
They are the spirits of God. There are two kinds that I can see. There are two different kinds of spirits. One good and one bad. When I see the bad spirit I am not afraid, but when I see the bad spirit I know that person is bewitched. I ask the bad spirit what he wants. The bad person wants to make the person sick, that is what the bad spirit tells me. The bad spirit makes me sick so I sometimes must stop and ask god and the good spirit to protect me. God tells me how to protect myself or gives me things to wear to protect myself. These are gifts from god.

Did god give you what you wear for healing?
Yes, what I must wear when I heal came to me in a dream. I was told what to do and how to use the costume. The dream told me everything. Now when I heal the costume knows everything that is happening. The Zebra I wear for my chest is nice, it is the horse of the spirits and a beautiful thing. The zebra must not be killed but must die in its own way, that is its lesson. The jackal and bush cat are for my hat. The jackal is an important spirit. When the jackal sleeps you hear where they are and they come to you. They give me the ability to speak to things. That is what the jackal spirit gives me. The bush cat has a beautiful color and gives me the ability to find things. The skirt I wear is from our tradition, but it makes a nice color and sound that pleases the spirits. It is made from a reed that is only found in my homeland in Namibia.

Do you see sickness in people?
The color of the bad spirit is very dark and like a cloud. The color of the good spirit is like the wind and from the world side. It is white and feels very good like a sign. I see now the cloud everywhere. In my sleep, in my tent. It tells me about the sickness at the camp and in the world. The spirits say to me everyday who is sick, the children are sick, caught here. My dream tells me about what is going to happen.

How do singing and dancing help the healing?
The songs do not make the people heal, they must also dance. The songs make me happy and call the spirits to come and talk to him. It is very nice for the spirits to hear the song and see the dance. The spirits teach me new songs and how to make the words and use them. What they are used for. During the healing it is important to have sounds that are pleasing. Our tradition of healing dance is to shake and to make heat for healing. If the people want to dance they do.

How do you heal?
A sick person comes to me in a dream, then the next day they will come to me. My dream tells me what has happened and how to help the person. When the person comes they tell what is wrong. Then I tell the family they must help me because I cannot do it by myself. They must do the ceremony the same day with the family's help. Sometimes I must start that night to help and the sick person's family must get the wood for the fire immediately. Sometimes it takes two for three days before a healing, but this depends on what the spirits say is wrong with the sick person.

Why was the man and his son sick?
The sick man's dead uncle was angry with him and cursed him from the deal world (note: the uncle had been dead for some time.) The dead uncle cursed the man and his son for treating the father, his brother, poorly. The sick man did not bring the father food or treat him nice. The man and his son were healed, but the father would not talk to them. This happens often with other people. There are many like this man.

How did the spirits help you with this healing?
When I started the songs the spirits took their time. We sang many different songs until god gave us the spirit. 12 Then we knew which songs to sing to heal the person. When the songs come from god you see the man getting better and so you sing more. God comes to you in the songs and you keep singing until the man gets better. For the man I made up songs and the spirits were happy and told me that I must use them again to heal the sick people. Everything you do comes from the spirits. They tell you if a person will die or not.

How did you know what to sacrifice?
The spirits told me to sacrifice a goat and chicken. The spirits say chicken, cow, sheep, goat, dog, buck, whatever. They tell me. But the sick person must not drink the blood of the sacrificed animal. Instead I wipe the blood over the bridge of the nose and across the cheek to the ears and the throat. 13 I do this because it is tradition. They others that come eat the chicken and goat, everyone, including the family eat it.

Why must you dance and sing after the healing is over and has been successful?
The sick man and his son were healed and resting in their tent. We continued dancing to finish and to describe and celebrate the success of the night. 14 We danced to hear from the sick man's family. If the family is happy with the healing then the sick man will drink which is a sign he is better. The family tests the patient and was satisfied with the results.

Do you like being a healer?
I enjoy being a healer. I feel that I learning more and know how to be better. It is how I make my living. It is my life.

How and what are you paid?
When I start the family gives me money to prepare. I tell them what I will do. During the evening they give me more money. When the healing is complete they pay me the rest, 400 rand (approximately $110). But before they pay me the rest they want a report that the person is well. Sometimes, through the night they give me a little money at a time.

Machai uses his hands and a tail whisk to treat a woman during a healing.

Pulling Out the Sickness: Machai Mbande's Healing Style

During my eight weeks at Schmidtsdrift the healer I befriended and knew best was Machai Mbande, !Xuu Bushmen in his fifties. Machai's style of healing was, of all the healings I had witnessed, the most heartfelt. This is not to say the other healers were not compassionate and emotionally involved. Machai's style, however, seemed much more personally involved. At his ceremonies I felt much more a part of a family and that he was more acutely aware of every person, every coming and going. Machai would often leave the center of the circle and the patient area to greet or wipe people. Somehow he seemed less aloof and more approachable. His method of healing were less formal, more personal, and at times almost casual, which helped to create a relaxed and welcome atmosphere. Compared to the other healers he was more spontaneous, less self-conscious, at times more demonstrative, and always emotionally revealing. By watching him you could, in his face and body, see and feel the progress of the ceremony. His style seemed to be a necessary paradox that afforded an intensity and depth of feeling the other healers did not have. His ceremonies moved me emotionally the most.

At first Machai was hesitant about me and my interest in healing, but as we got to know each other a trust and friendship developed. When I first asked about attending healing ceremonies, not wanting to say no, he gave me wrong directions or nights. Frustrated, I then thought what a Bushmen would do in such a predicament. So thinking, I went to his part of the large camp for three nights listening for hours in the desert darkness for a ceremonial music. Nothing. On the forth night I heard the songs of a ceremony. Walking in the dark amongst the tents I entered into the tent and sat down. Machai was dancing to heal a young boy, when he turned to me he smiled broadly and anointed me on the forehead with his medicine. Later he said: "I Wanted to know if you were serious about healing." Thereafter I was given an honored seat within the healing circle and even invited to pick roots and herbal medicines with him and his assistants. 15 Machai had great patience with me, explaining the details of his healing process in elemental terms that must have been frustrating for him. I will forever be thankful to him and his generosity of heart and spirit.

Once god told Machai that he must become a healer the old doctors knew and agreed to teach him the ways of healing. 16 Machai was seven or eight years old when he became a student of healing and one of the old doctors was his uncle. He gave his present age as "Maybe fifty or sixty." His South African identification book, like that of other Bushmen, often left the birth date blank. The old doctors taught him until he was a man and when his uncle lead him to a sick person and said: 'Take the sickness out of him, you are ready.' When his uncle died he took over for him. (Note: often times 'uncle' refers not to a blood relative but rather to someone who is like a relative. I could not discern whether the uncle Machai referred to was an actual relative or not.)

What did your uncle teach you?
When I was a boy the old men and my uncle told me everything. My uncle went to my house and wanted me to go with him to learn how to heal and learn about medicines. That was when I was eight. I lived with my uncle for nine years and he taught me. He taught me what to use and not to use and what was good and what is bad. I lived with him and was his apprentice. How to go into the bush and look for plants how to put the plants into water and give it to people. There is one tree by the river, a small tree called !ngoeng, about a meter high. By the river is where the most useful medicine grows. You put the leaves in the cup and drink it. But you can not find that tree here, only where we come from. Also you take the bark of the tree and use it to heal wounds. The old doctor taught him how to "see" the sickness--it looks like a stone. It takes a long time before you can see it. I must get have much heat before I can see it.

How do you get heat?
By singing and dancing. The people help me with their songs to get enough heat. I make heat when I shake. The dances make it happen and it just comes and you cannot predict it. When the heat comes I see where the sickness is in the person, in the stomach, back, throat, wherever and I must take out the thing out of the sick person. When I see it in the body I massage around it until it is ready to pull out. Sometimes I must mix oil with the medicine and rub it on the wound before the stone will come out. The stone can be any color, red, green, blue, black, or white. If it is red the person is close to death. White is around the person's heart and means the heart is weak. I can see the disease, see it moving around the heart. I can see the heart and pull out the sickness. Sometimes I massage the heart. White doctors put things in their ears to hear (stethoscope) but Bushmen doctors can see.

Who did you heal the night before?
The corporal that works at the clinic had a child that was sick. The mother brought the child to me and I took the sickness out of him. When I take out the sickness my hands feel cold. It sickness makes it cold. When I throw it away my hands get warm again.

What sickness do you see the most?
Ordinary sickness, sore eyes, leprosy, diarrhea, TB, colds. Some are bewitched sickness. If the person becomes suddenly ill it is witchcraft. Then I look into the mirror and determine whether it is witch craft or regular disease. The healer will see it. Today many people are bewitched.

How is a person bewitched?
To cast a spell a bad doctor goes to a man's house that he wants to bewitch and places a stone in the ground and mentions that person's name. The bad doctor puts medicine on the stone and then throws that medicine into the direction of the man's house.

Are there bad doctors in the camp?
There is no longer any bad witch doctors in the camp--they got rid of the bad witch doctor and now there is no more bewitching. There were two witch doctors. One killed himself in Namibia. The other died at the camp.

In another interview the camp's white medical doctor told me how in 1991 and shortly after the Bushmen came to the camp, a man was killed after being accused of being a witch doctor. Several healers accused the man of killing a young boy in order to eat him. Attention was drawn to the suspected witch doctor because of his words suggesting he was doing the bewitching. Several healers also identified the man in their mirrors; one healer saw the man in a dream. The man accused of being a witch doctor disappeared and after a long torturous ordeal, killed. I could never ascertain if the man ever had the opportunity to defend himself. According to the autopsy and military investigation the man was first tied up and exposed to the desert sun for several days. Then stones were piled on him to crush his chest, the "seat" of his bewitching powers. The suspected witch doctor was eventually found in the desert hanging upside down with his arms and legs tied behind him to a pole. It was the Bushmen style of carrying a killed impala. The murderers were never found.

If the witch doctor is dead how are people still bewitched?
Maybe some people know and some people don't know about the spirits and what they are thinking. The spirits are working through them. All the people here don't know, only the old people know about the good and bad spirits.

How does a healing begin?
If a man is sick they come to me. But you must give me something to begin then I give the person some medicine and tell them to come back tomorrow to see the reaction. This is called doemoe, the taking of the medicine. I mix the medicine with oil and rub it in the shape of the cross anywhere where it hurts. 17 If somebody tries to bewitch the patient I can chase it away. I rub the powder on the face in line from the upper lip to the ear and from tip of nose to bridge to forehead. Sometimes when the sick person comes I can see it the sickness in them and I tell the them, "Why didn't you come yesterday? Go back to your house and get your family to come to me tonight and we will dance all night until the sickness is away in the morning.

When you heal the sick person are you healing the family, too?

The family brings the wood and makes the fire. At least two fires, a male and a female fire. The best is to make five fires. When there is two one is in the middle near the sick person who is at the center. I sit with them Then the family begin singing and clapping around other fires. If I see they have sickness I will see it and I will heal the other people too. Anyone that has illness. But not everybody is sick. I heal the one in the middle then the others that have come. I pick them out of the circle and heal them. Anyone can come to see the person healed. People are glad to heal and people want to see and be a part of it. School boys and girls come to learn and to see so one day some will heal others.

What do you do with the sickness?
I see the sickness as a black stone and it is very heavy. Everyone sees it once I pulls it out. Then I throw it into the fire and only I can see it shooting away. It looks like a glowing beam of light flying away. The glow is red. I can see the sickness with my eyes. By the time sun comes I can see the disease around the person's body, moving around it looks like a breath. Like steam. When the person is healed they will get up and eat something, go to work, walk. I put the medicine in his neck on either side of the throat for protection. A tiny bit is put on a cloth and I wipe it on. This is the small piece of cloth I wear (as a pendant.)

Are there any special songs or music for healing?
Not just one song but many songs. The group decides what songs. Some songs tell me what is wrong with the person. The people must help and it must be a happy feeling for me to be able to see what is wrong with the person. The people chose what songs they must use. It just happens. I dance around to take out the disease. Any man will play the drum until he is tired then another will take over and drum until he is tired and so on. But when the sun comes up it is a special song. Then everyone sings to tell the disease to "Come, come, leave, leave." I start this song for the healing.

Do the beads you wear for healing have power?
I wear a beaded hat and when I wear it I am ready to dance. God has told me to wear the beads when I am ready to heal other people.

You had difficulty with the infant I saw you with at a healing, what was wrong with the boy?
The stomach was very sore and I looked to see how I could heal him. I saw into the stomach but could not find out how to heal the boy. Maybe the baby has TB. When the baby eats and drinks the stomach gets sore. I said I cannot cure him and they must take the baby to the hospital. But the family did not want to go to the hospital. So I danced with the baby, holding the baby to treat it with my love. I wiped the medicine across the chest. {note: two diagonal lines pointing to the base of the throat with a straight line across the top of the torso} By the end of the night, with the sun, I made the baby all right by massaging the baby's stomach and putting the baby into the right position. It is something my uncle taught me to do. I can massage any part of the body for any problem.

What happens when you see the sickness in a person?
When I find out I tell the people. Then I put oil and medicine on the body where the illness lives and massage it until I can pull it out. Sometimes the sickness in like sand. If it is like a stone I pull it out at dawn. When I finish I can tell the people if the person is healed or is going to die. Sometimes when I do not know I tell them in song because I do not know. At the end of the ceremony I feel very tired. It takes all of my strength to heal. But I enjoy being a doctor.

Machai Mbande

Machai's Ecstatic States of Healing

The last time I saw Machai was at the conclusion of particularly difficult healing where he had done something I had never seen him or any of the other healers do. He was healing two women; one woman had scabs on her body and was visibly in pain. He sat the woman up in the fire light and massaged her with his medicine. Then, laying the woman down, he saw something in the air and addressed it as if talking to a person. With this the singing and clapping of the women became more intense as if by spontaneous instinct. Machai, putting his rattle to his forehead, then collapsed among the women clapping and singing. He sat as if transfixed on something opposite him and he seemed very afraid. The clapping and singing intensified and I felt my heart go out to my friend. The entire tent was focused intently on supporting Machai. He was confronting something that he alone saw but all of us felt.

He then went limp with exhaustion and incredibly the intensity and complexity of the polyrhythmic clapping and multi-layered singing and cross-singing increased. Two women, his wife and an assistant moved to him and rubbed his face and torso as he lay helpless. Then he shocked to sitting and stiffness as if being held by something that pulled every nerve ending. His body went stiff and he went in a transfixed state of shock. The shock of his sitting up ripped immediately through the entire group. The singing and clapping stopped abruptly and everyone paused motionless. Something unexpected and powerful had run through all of us and I was overwhelmed, almost dizzy with emotions of fear, concern, and expectation I began to cry, holding back sobs, my throat thick with emotion. Others in the group seemed similarly effected. Those that were standing staggered to a seated position. With Machai's shock it seemed as if I had left myself and somehow was part of the group, feeling, thinking and being with them. This was something out of the ordinary and both Machai's wife and assistant went to him and held him tightly as if to protect and save him. Machai's body and face went limp. For several long minutes the crowd was absolutely quiet with anxiousness.

Then slowly, as if coming from death or another place, Machai softly began to rattled and sing to himself. He stopped suddenly as if holding his head in pain. His wife and assistant unbent and massaged his legs, and still seated, Machai began to shake for heat. The assistant and wife continued to work his body by stretching his legs and rubbing him with their eyes tightly shut as if to protect themselves from whatever it was assailing Machai. Finally, after several anxious moments, Machai began to sing more confidently, and with his eyes still closed, stretching himself.

The group began to sing, joining Machai's singing; something that visibly helped to revive him. Then the woman who had been drumming went to him suddenly and forcibly lifted him to standing. It was a spontaneous, unexpected, and powerful moment. Machai struggled to stay standing, shaking and convulsing as the group sang and clapped in encouragement. All I could think and feel was that he had been raised from the dead. He had been somewhere else and in danger for the sake of the community. Machai had returned. The singing and clapping was hopeful, encouraging, and with much joy. Machai was back in business. With his hips and shoulders shaking with heat he danced over to an opening in the tent and threw out something visible only to his sight.

Machai and the other doctors I interviewed thought their healings were as effective as they had been on their homelands, even though they had to apply 'substitute' medicines. Manfred credited the effectiveness to the increase of knowledge he had gained as a healer. George said more people, like Mbûto, were becoming healers in response to their present condition and need. The Bushmen were, in a sense, rising to the occasion. At stake was nothing less than their survival.

The Future if !Xuu and Khwe Medicine

For over twenty years, beginning with the trauma of war then loss and upheaval into the constant uncertainty of being a refugee, the !Xuu and Khwe had suffered greatly. Two small bans of Bushmen with little previous exposure or knowledge of outside ways had suddenly found their ancient ways overrun by a complex political reality they had little control or understanding of. The illness brought by their plight was emotional, physical, and spiritual, for the Bushmen healers they are all connected if not one in the same. They responded to the repeated shocks of change and turmoil in the only way they knew how. Following the pathways of their ancestors, they referred to the accumulated cultural knowledge and they sought to heal themselves.

For further information about Litooma and its programs contact: LITOOMA PO Box 83498 Fairbanks, Alaska 99709 USA Telephone/Fax: 907/474.8721 email: fftpr@aurora.alaska.edu