Scorpions, Survival, and San Wisdom
Learning the Secrets of the Bush with the Zu/’hoasi
The wriggling scorpion dangled an inch or two above Ben’s palm, but his eyes stayed steady. He didn’t hesitate. This creature didn’t look calm and relaxed—its pincers twitched, its tail curled in a way that gave us a jolt of uncertainty.
"Hold out your hand," our guide said, gesturing toward the creature. The words slipped through the translated clicks and rhythms of the Zu/’hoasi language, leaving us momentarily questioning if we’d heard right.
This scorpion, freshly unearthed from its sandy hiding place, was surely not in the mood for a peaceful meet-and-greet. Was it about to demonstrate the raw power of its defense?
Just moments earlier, we had set out on a trek across the vast, cracked salt flats of the Makgadikgadi Pans with a small group of Zu/’hoasi guides to learn about the delicate balance between survival and nature in the bush. Their quiet confidence and intricate knowledge of this land seemed timeless, as if they could pull the desert itself into their palms and explain all of its mysteries.
Learning the Secrets of the Bush with the Zu/’hoasi
The Zu/’hoasi are part of the San people, one of the oldest continuous cultures on Earth. For at least 20,000 years, they have roamed the wilds of Southern Africa, adapting to an environment that offers both harsh extremes and quiet abundance. While early colonists coined the term "Bushmen"—a name that carried a colonial sting—many San have since reclaimed the word.
Their rich history as hunter-gatherers, dependent on the land and the knowledge passed down through generations, offers a glimpse into a world where survival is a daily rhythm, deeply in tune with nature.
Here, in the heart of Botswana, the Zu/’hoasi continue to live in symbiosis with this untamed expanse, showing us that what might seem hostile, like the scorpion Ben was about to hold, is often just another thread in the intricate web of life in the bush.
In Zu/’hoasi culture, scorpion handling is far from a novelty—it’s a rite of passage for the youth, a lesson in bravery and respect for nature. While most outsiders see it as a heart-stopping dare, for the tribe we were told it’s an essential part of growing up.
The act teaches courage and a calm mind in the face of fear, reminding the young that danger, like the scorpion, is best managed with understanding and respect.
I tried to imagine something equivalent in American childhood—burning ants with a magnifying glass or daring someone to eat a worm—but those acts felt trivial compared to this. Once Ben showed his bravery, the rest of us couldn’t back down!
As our walk continued, so did the lessons. We learned that what might appear useless or unpleasant at first glance often has a purpose here. For instance, zebra dung, dry and fibrous, makes for an excellent firestarter, its composition perfect for catching a spark and sustaining a flame in a landscape where kindling is scarce.
Elephant dung, on the other hand, has surprising medicinal properties—when mixed with water, it becomes a remedy for painful joints, a kind of bush version of a natural balm.
And then there were the roots and tubers, vital sources of hydration in this arid land. Our guides expertly dug them up, showing us how the San have relied on these underground reservoirs for centuries, drawing life from the most unexpected places.
In every lesson, the Zu/’hoasi demonstrated not just survival, but an intimate knowledge of the land—an understanding built over millennia. To them, every plant, every pile of dung, and every animal, no matter how small, plays a crucial role in the balance of life here.
Struggles of the San: Fighting for Land and Identity in Modern Southern Africa
The Zu/’hoasi, like other San groups, face immense challenges today. These are the oldest known inhabitants of Southern Africa, with evidence suggesting they may be humanity’s earliest ancestors.
Once, they roamed freely across vast territories, living in harmony with the land through a hunter-gatherer lifestyle. But colonialism brought dramatic changes. As European settlers expanded, the San were forcibly displaced from their ancestral lands.
Today, only a fraction of their population, around 100,000 spread across Botswana, Namibia, and Angola, continues to live in pockets of the region.
In Botswana, where over half of the San population resides, their challenges persist. Many were resettled from the Central Kalahari Game Reserve (CKGR) in the 1990s under the guise of conservation and development. But some say the discovery of diamonds in the area raised suspicions that economic interests may have been the true driving force behind these relocations.
Many San found themselves cut off from the resources and environment that had sustained their culture for ages. Today, they continue to fight for their rights to land and cultural preservation.
Joining in on indigenous activities while traveling can be an incredible, eye-opening experience, offering a unique peek into ancient traditions. Learning how the Zu/’hoasi survive in the desert felt like the best kind of education— an experiential journey that sparked a curiosity to more deeply understand their world and the challenges that come with it.
Yet there's an uneasy line between genuine cultural exchange and exploitation. Are we truly sharing in their culture or is it just being packaged for tourists? It’s a fine line, and made me think how important it is to be mindful of how we engage, making sure our curiosity doesn’t end up taking away from their heritage but helps to sustain it.
A Fireside Farewell
We ended our time with the Zu/’hoasi gathered around a crackling fire, its flames fed by zebra dung, of course.
The desert air quickly filled with laughter as they introduced us to a new game—a bush version of rock, paper, scissors, but with far more creativity and movement.
The game requires quick thinking and even quicker hands, mimicking animals and elements of nature, turning a simple child’s play into an energetic performance. It was a playful yet profound way to end our journey, a reminder of how, even in the harshest environments, joy and ingenuity can thrive.
Echoes of the Past: Listening to the San Language
The San languages, marked by their unique click sounds, are some of the oldest spoken languages on Earth. These clicks, known as "implosive consonants," are woven into the fabric of the language, giving it a melodic and rhythmic quality. Unfortunately, many of the San dialects were never recorded, leaving much of this linguistic heritage lost to time.
