When in Africa we like to seek out rock paintings. Often in remote countryside, far from any modern day villages they evoke all kinds of feelings.
I have no idea how old they are. Many depict animals that are no longer in the area. Others consist of whorls and zigzags, often looking as if they were drawn by children. But the hard calcite like deposit on the surface suggests they must be left by previous generations.
We know the last of the representative rock paintings were painted by a San artist just within the 20th century. In the Drakensberg mountains of South Africa the last known San tribesman was shot as vermin. He was carrying artist’s materials. One of the saddest stories I know.
The rock painting Chipo took us to see looked as if it was in the style of the San of the Drakensburg in South Africa. But we were near her village over the Zimbabwe highlands, two thousand miles to the north.
I taught Chipo maths and science. Ann taught her English. A lovely teenage girl who had spent some of her childhood in the guerilla camps of Mozambique.
She took us first to see her father. He was village headman and explained that the paintings belonged to their ancestors and should not be shown to strangers. We could see them, but we should not show them to other people. We could see them as he had seen us at the multi denomenational meeting to pray for rain. We should not even show them to the Roman Catholic priests or nuns who ran our school. We understood: the pictures had modern day religious importance.
The picture is a mile or two through the bush. It is on a small rock standing about ten foot high. A nearby bush ensured you could not see it until you were very close. Animals have polished the lower part of the rockface. But just above it on a gently overhanging face the picture was an exquisite representation of an eland. It is a clean and detailed image in shades of ochre, white and black. We admired and this eland. We did not take photos.
We were about to leave when Chipo said “There are more paintings”. On smaller rocks nearby were smaller, but equally detailed paintings of a gazelles like a Tommy (Thomson’s gazelles). Having seen those Chipo gently but firmly suggested we should go.
I have often wondered whether there are more rock paintings nearby. But I couldn’t find my way back even if I wanted to. I do hope the eland and gazelle can come back. Eland have not been seen in the area within living memory.