Story: Hunting with the Hadzabe

It was well before dawn when the camp sentry whispered a polite, “Wake up” through the netting of our tent. Reluctantly, I vacated my bed and groped blindly for the clothes I had laid out the night before. Still more asleep than awake, I nevertheless remembered to shake out my boots lest any spiders or scorpions had crept into them during the night. Just as I twisted the top off my deodorant, my husband, the morning person I am definitely not, reminded me of last night’s strict instructions . . . no deodorant or perfume. Suddenly I was wide-awake with recollection. We were going hunting!

Near Lake Eyasi in the great rift valley of Tanzania, lives a tribe of people known as the Hadzabe (pronounced Had-zah-be). This nomadic hunter-gather society has remained virtually unchanged for thousands of years, relying on their hunting prowess and collective knowledge of the area’s vegetation for survival. In modern times, the number of Hadzabe people has dwindled drastically due to he encroachment of agriculture and safari-tourism, forcing them to the fringes of more plentiful land. Nevertheless, they somehow manage to eke out a living. And today, we were going to join them to see how they do it.

After a bouncy half hour trip in a Land Rover over rough “roads”, we stopped at the edge of a sandy, dry riverbed and surveyed the area. It seemed completely devoid of all life. Sensing our skepticism, our guide assured us the Hadzabe people had reportedly been seen here just the day before. Sure enough, after a brief walk, we saw the smoke of a fire that led us to a well-camouflaged and basic encampment. Being nomadic people, the Hadzabe don’t have many material possessions. We observed only a few handmade weapons, some kudu antelope skins, and the clothes and jewelry that they were wearing. It was explained to us that at night, individuals slept on the animal skins surrounded by thorny acacia branches to protect them from wild animals. I vaguely wondered what they did to protect themselves from the scorpions, snakes, and spiders.

The Hadzabe women sat around one fire, while a couple hundred feet away, the men and an assortment of dogs sat around another fire. There were only about a dozen Hadzabe people in this particular group. We were met with friendly indifference by the women’s group. They acknowledged our approach to their circle with a nod and continued chatting with each other and cooing over the youngest member of the group, a healthy, happy baby boy. Attempts at communicating with the Hadzabe were labored. Our translator was a local Tanzanian who had lived with this particular group of Hadzabe people for several months the previous year. While he was able to communicate verbally with them, it was obvious he struggled to translate their unusual click language to English for us. Mostly we sat quietly and watched the group dynamics unfold. Around the men’s fire, and animated discussion was taking place, punctuated by bouts of laughter. One young man, about 15-years old, was adorned with a colorful beaded headband and necklace. Our guide speculated that this indicated he had been recently married.

Suddenly, the men alighted to their feet and the dogs began barking excitedly. A few of the younger men grabbed their bow and arrows and trotted off in the direction of the bush. Off to the hunt! Apprehensively, we followed a safe distance behind. An animal advocate, I had been wary of joining any type of hunt, but our guide had assured me that it was very unlikely that the Hadzabe hunters would actually catch anything, especially with tourists in tow.

The Hadzabe people hunt anything and everything. In fact, they are the only people in Tanzania permitted to hunt giraffe, the national animal of Tanzania. Hunting such a large animal is rare however, and requires the aid of a special poison made from the bark found on the far side of Lake Eyasi (a several days walk). More typically, they hunt smaller quarry like dik diks (small dog-sized antelopes), birds, rabbits, and even reptiles. Within a few minutes, we could hear the distant baying of the dogs. Despite being barefoot and having much of their skin was exposed to the ruthless thorns and spikes of indigenous African plants, the Hadzabe hunters crashed through the brush unreservedly. Shortly, a hunter emerged from the brush proudly toting a dead genet (a small nocturnal cat-like creature that boasts a fantastic spotted coat). Awash with sad emotion for the genet’s demise, I was also happy for the hunter who would be able to provide meat (albeit only a stringy morsel) for his friends and family tonight.

For over an hour and a half we trailed the hunters through the hot African bush as they weaved their way across one river bed and then another. At one point, we accidentally got ahead of the hunters, a nearly fatal mistake as an arrow came swooshing down just feet from where we were standing. It wasn’t clear if the hunter had mistaken us for an animal, or if the arrow had missed another mark, but we made absolute sure to keep behind them thereafter. I had drained my bottle of water some miles back and marveled at the hunters’ indefatigable endurance. I was also a little nervous I had no idea where our Land Rover was parked—we were totally at their mercy. But just as suddenly as we had stumbled into their encampment the first time, so we did again.

The women were assembled in their same spots around the fire as when we had left them. The Hadzabe women are responsible for gathering fruits, vegetables, and other roots for the group’s sustenance. We could only imagine they had already gathered a surplus of food, or that they would go out and gather later in the day. They eagerly accepted the men’s contribution of two genets (the hunter’s had managed to kill another genet during the hunt).

We finished our visit with the Hadzabe by attempting to hit a stationary target with their homemade bows and arrows. Never having done any sort of archery or target shooting before, I impressed myself (and the Hadzabe men) by only narrowly missing the mark with my first arrow. The second arrow went wide and after that, the Hadzabe men took over and began showing off, cheering and jeering each other according to a hit or missed mark. It was clear that the Hadzabe spent a lot of time play competing in this way—not unlike people playing darts in bars back in the United States.

As we left, I asked our guide how one compensates a hunter-gatherer society for welcoming tourists into their realm. He laughed. He acknowledged they don’t care much for money, but they do like other gifts like salt, clothes, and even marijuana. Again I was struck how this was not unlike some sub-cultures in the United States!

Hopefully the Tanzanian government will strive to protect the amazing Hadzabe people and their way of life by protecting their habitat and land rights before it is too late and they disappear forever.