GOATS AND THORN-TREES
There’s a river beneath the river
Sings a hidden song
And the white goats eat the thorn trees
All day long
Red sand, blue sky
Sing a desert song
And the white goats eat the thorn trees
All day long
Where does the wind go?
Where does the wind belong?
And the white goats eat the thorn trees
All day long
There’s a naked boy weaves a hat
Sings a goatherd song
And the white goats eat the thorn trees
All day long
There’s a river beneath the river
Sings a hidden song
And the white goats eat the thorn trees
All day long
All day long …
Where does the wind go?
Where does the wind belong?
And the white goats eat the thorn trees all day long
GOATS AND THORN TREES
On my second visit to the Skeleton Coast we visited a small Himba Ozonganda (homestead) built solely of dry sticks and mud. I seem to remember only women and children. Time and life appear to be enviably slow but in fact the Himba people live close to the edge of survival. There is a strict order nevertheless as to where the chief’s wives and the goats are allowed. A line drawn in the red desert sand about twenty meters from the entrance to the chief’s hut marked a boundary. This area is sacrosanct. No one steps over this line. The Holy fire is kept burning, watched by one of the elders who communicates with the Ancestors. A small naked boy stared at us curiously. I imagined him herding the goats.
- Barbara Fairhead