Forest
dwellers under a plastic canopy |
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“I fear the white man, but I do not run,” the little Twa woman sings next to our hostel in Kisoro. She stamps her feet in time on the wooden floar boards, raising her hands up in a supplicating gesture. It’s the first time I encounter a Twa person, and the image of the woman is etched on my retina. “Ai ai, ai ai”, she sings, looking at my companion Penninah, who she seems to know. Penninah shakes her head. “I don’t give her money,” she says. “She needs an incentive to work. This woman just got a job cleaning a shop in the neighbourhood. That’s much better than singing and begging for a living.” Penninah Zaninka was born in Uganda and has been working for the British organization Forest Peoples Project (FPP) since 2000, which supports the Batwa pygmies in Uganda (Twa is the name of the people, Ba- is a plural prefix). She assisted them in creating the first organization in Uganda run by Batwa themselves: the United Organisation for Batwa Development in Uganda (UOBDU). It
is one of the few organizations in Central Africa consisting almost
entirely (except for Penninah herself) of Batwa. Sitting on the sunny
porch, we talk about the situation of the Batwa in Uganda. Will it
improve now that they have their own organization? “To really know
how the Batwa are doing, we should visit them in the mountains,” she
says. She looks at the woman while she sings the last verse of her
song. Then she decides to give her some money after all.
Collective
cold Within twenty minutes there are about 50 to 60 Batwa sitting around us. They don’t seem shy: women are sitting in front, behind and to the side of me, and their babies are peering at me curiously from the folds of the carrying cloths. When introductions have been made, I ask them how their situation is, and what is their biggest problem. Their biggest problem, they tell me, is their lack of land since they were driven from their ancestral woods to make room for national parks. Without land, many Batwa were forced to work as day labourer on land owned by Bantu. They manage to scrape together a living, but they are still just vagrants on somebody else’s land. Recently, the Adventist Development and Relief Agency (ADRA) has acquired some pieces of land for the Batwa in Busanza and other places. ADRA manages the land for them, but neglected to have a document drawn up which legally establishes the Batwa as tenants. This has been cause of confusion, and Penninah promises to contact ADRA on the matter. After a couple more bush trails, roads and hilltops, we find ourselves sitting with a second group of Batwa on a steep slope in the evening twilight. The wind rises, and I shiver while I wrap myself in my red and blue kanga (African cloth). The Batwa in the village, which is called Kateriteri, applaude Penninah’s introduction: “How good of you to come all this way to visit us!” The mood is optimistic, which is remarkable when you take a look at the shacks they live in. They have been put together from sticks, pieces of wood and orange plastic sheeting, all in short supply by witness of the holes in the construction where the wind blows through, the plastic sheets flapping in the wind. “These people must have a collective cold”, I cannot help thinking. The
group’s leader informs us of the living conditions. “We got the material
to build huts one month ago from ADRA, together with the small parcel
of land around us. It isn’t much, but it is ours. This gives us courage
to work hard. If we strengthen the doors of our new dwellings with
clay and straw, and work the land of our neighbours, and buy seeds
with the extra income, and then sow that seed on our own land…” They
just need a few suggestions to help them along, I’m impressed. No
overdependence on foreign aid here.
Laughing
at your brothers Achille had brought an impressive book: Efe Pygmies, Archers of the African Rain Forest (see the end of this article). It contains lots of large close-up photos of Bambuti pygmies in the Ituri forest. Part of the 60.000 pygmies there still live as their ancestors did, hunting and gathering. The Batwa at UOBDU office were quite astonished. A Twa man came into the office and saw the pictures of almost naked pygmies walking through the forest carrying bow and arrow. Hee hee, he sniggered, while pointing somewhat embarrasedly at his brothers. “They are worse off than we: they’re not even wearing any clothes!” I ask Achille if he can explain this reaction. He figures that it must be the influence of non-Batwa. That sounds probable: in Central Africa, most people still think that you can see by the way someone’s dressed how civilized they are.
Banana
beer Today Stephen takes us to his own community. The four wheel drive takes us part of the way, but after that we have to climb on foot. We go higher and higher, until we can see the Rwandese border. The view over the green mountains and lakes is spectacular. A few Batwa gather round us on top of the mountain. Stephen’s community is divided into several smaller groups. They too have recently gotten land from ADRA, but their houses look more solid than the ones I saw in Kateriteri. In contrast, their engagement seems much less. The men remain at a distance. When Penninah invites them to come closer, I notice that most of them are drunk. They all stare into nothing, a bottle of banana beer in their hand. A small, grizzled muzee (old man) stands up and beats his walking stick on the ground. “What a bunch of drunks you are!”, he scolds them. “Is it too hard for you to work and support your family?” His words echo between the mountain tops. The women look timid, just make an occasional remark. It is hard to have a real conversation. When
we drive back in the evening, Penninah explains that it is mostly
the lack of confidence in Stephen’s abilities as a leader which causes
the apathy. I think of the words of the muzee, who was the only one
with the courage to speak up. “People think that UOBDU office only
benefits the people who are employed there.” A good education doesn’t
necessarily make someone a good leader.
Unexpected
guest Forced to live outside the forests, the Batwa have switched to agriculture, mostly working for their Bantu neighbours. In the cities, Batwa keep themselves alive by begging, making music and doing all sorts of chores. Their way of life, in the city aswell as in the mountains, has increasingly come under Bantu influence. As a consequence, their material culture and oral traditions, song, dance and knowledge of traditional medicine, are all in decline. Although the Batwa still remain a separate ethnic and social group, because Bantu and Batwa hardly ever intermarry. The Batwa organization UOBDU is of crucial importance.It is taking the first steps toward self-organization for the Batwa, in a time when it is mostly others in Africa who speak for the pygmies. How hard that is, becomes clear in the last conversation we have at the UOBDU office. When Achille asks about theUOBDU programme, there is no immediate response. Achille then tries a different approach, and asks them: “Suppose you are home alone one evening, and an unexpected guest turns up. The
guest is hungry and asks for food. What do you do?” After a brief
silence, John Rwubaka answers: “If there is any food in the house,
I prepare a meal. Otherwise I have to venture out to look for food.”
Achille uses this as an example for the Batwa to be better prepared:
“Good preparation is important,” he says, “so that next time when
an unexpected guest turns up at UOBDU office, you will be able to
explain what UOBDU does for the Batwa.”
Ruth
Jansen is regional coordinator for Central, Eastern and Southern Africa
for NCIV. The photos with this article were made by her, unless otherwise
stated. English
translation by David van Eijndhoven of the main article of the July/August
2005 issue of Indigo, |
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Netherlands
Centre for Indigenous Peoples
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