​Come with me. 

I’ll take you on a journey with Robert Slingsby, 

through the twists and turns of his art career,

into his art, into his obsession with the Richtersveld,

the rock art, the Nama people, their future, his future,

to the place where Robert's art & the rock art cohabit,

a place of profound pleasure and pain, a place which found him

inadvertently caught in crossfire with a target on his back.

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By Janis Slingsby

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Introduction - The past determines the future

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Politics, crime, buying security, how to survive poverty, 70 people murdered in SA every day, pitiful health services, exorbitant education, how to pay the bills. These are the headlines of our day to day lives, in the name of shaping our future. Today, we are so consumed with the immediacy of our future, our future survival, it leaves little to no space for a future big picture. Climate change? Micro-plastics? Endangered species? Come on! 

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But yes, these and other realities make our problems pale into insignificance wrt that which our children’s children, will confront in the future.

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The future, our individual futures, a universal right, a common truth of our shared humanity……

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I’m standing on a dolomite platform. Other than my footsteps, it’s quiet. I can do a 360 degree turn and I’m seemingly surrounded by an ‘as nature intended’ landscape. In the distance, lies the Gariep, or Orange River, and the gravel road we came on, lined with mile upon miles of farms; all sorts going on, loads of vines, and the ubiquitous camp sites, some with names like Valhalla, and the promise of a pizza and a cold beer in this remote desert.

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Between the river and the road, are farms, the camp sites, gravel plains, and scrub where Nama shepherd’s crisscross with their goats, eking out survival. On the other side of the road, dolomitic platforms pave the way to wonderlands of rocky cliffs, lunar landscapes on higher ground and a floral biodiversity which has earned a section of this region, UNESCO World Heritage recognition. When we first started coming to the Richtersveld, we’d sleep under the stars, make a campsite wherever we wanted. We’d see the evidence of goats and shepherds. Lives lived, lives lost, the unrustable enamel cups, bits and pieces of matjies skerms and goat droppings. 

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Today, we are restricted to campsites. This is in the name of nature conservation. We’re also restricted where we can drive. This too, is in the name of nature conservation. We are also restricted where we can drive, not by nature conservation, but by mining. These are strictly forbidden areas, where even archaeologists have limited access.

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The sweat is beginning to bead on my forehead, but it’s not that bad. Also, we don’t have that much more time, before the heat of the day, depleted sugar levels and the weight of our cameras becoming heavier and heavier with each step, will force us to retreat into the shade. As I look around, there is not another human in sight. Or is there? The quietude is misleading. Because we are not alone. If we contemplate the quietude, we can hear the voices of the ancient artists, whose art has survived the millennia, in a manner that few contemporary artists will ever achieve. For under my feet lies their art on the rocks, some artists going back as long as 2000 years ago, some 200. 

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This rock art was made by the descendants of the Nama, a people who had the wisdom to live in this hostile desert, leaving little else but their art, as evidence that they were there. Their art is scattered in an abundance over a vast area; a spectacular art gallery, some recorded, some seen, and no doubt, much to be discovered. And it is these aspects which lures Robert to the Richtersveld, the mystery of the art on these rocks, their uncoded beauty, the enticement and curiosity which drives discovery, and the spirit of the fearless adventurer, to stand where few have been. 

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Our daily lives in the Richtervseld very quickly fall in line with nature, waking up to the pre-dawn bird song, preparing breakfast and hiking needs, as the sun makes its first appearance, painting an orange streak across the orange river. There’s always a sense of purpose, anticipation and the unknown as we climb in the Landy. 

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What sets Robert apart, are his 'gifts' - his ability to find and his tireless focus, which together, serves as a formidable freedom, fuelling his determination to go further, for longer, to push on round yet another corner into a ravine, to another rocky outcrop higher up, taking him to where only Nama have been.

 

For him, there’s no challenge of confronting fear; instead, a sense of urgency, a single-minded quest, where nobody, nor nothing else exists. He’s tapping into some other realm which guides him, shares with him, to discover, to capture, the beauty of the ancient artists, amassing a record of this fragile, vulnerable and utterly finite legacy. He grasps the value of this ancient rock art which bonds the Nama to their land. 

 

The art is the Nama’s right to the land. The Nama’s land claim. The art is their future. And right now, their future is bleak.

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It’s with a heavy heart we’re rattling our way down the gravel road towards Vioolsdrif. It’s an easy morning’s photography, no walking except on the rock art site itself. But it’s also going to be the most difficult mornings photography; it's a bit like a detective called out to a death, a murder scene. We know it’s going to be ugly. We know it’s going to be shattering. We know it’s going to call into question what we understand as humanity. 

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And the ugliness of the death is magnified, having taken place in a rubbish dump in plain sight of a military base. How can this be? How brazen is the criminal? We park at the military base, a single lane, gravel road width away from the crime scene. It’s incredibly tense. We’ve been stopped by military staff for taking photographs. Our anger levels at their ignorance of the crime scene in plain sight is boiling over. 

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Ultimately, they acknowledge the place is a rubbish dump and they can’t restrict us. We are issued with the threat that the military base, cannot be in any of the photographs. None of the military personnel are even aware that a few meters away lie dolomite platforms, engraved with some of the Richtersveld’s most beautiful rock art, now obscured or hidden by rubbish. 

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The works of art beneath my feet, beneath the trash, are part of my life. They feature in my archives, as original field trip images and of course, in Robert’s art. They are part of my family, loved, respected, treasured like a loved one. Now the art, out of sight, out of mind, defaecated on, defaced, destroyed, unmarked, unloved, under a pile of rubbish, feels like we're witnessing a 'Doe' family murder. I’m not usually given to great extremes of emotion, but the pain, the shame, the emptiness, the grief, the loss I feel, is unspeakably heart breaking. Overwhelming. Silencing.​​

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What has happened? After all, while we’re consumed with our future, we’re assuming, surely, somebody somewhere, is preserving the rock art, caring for the future of the Nama's cultural heritage & identity? Surely?

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I’m back in my office. I’m drawing air after one of the deepest and darkest dives into understanding the extensive destruction of this ancient rock art. Who failed? On whose watch? Why has it happened? How has it happened when ther're laws, agencies and people tasked to protect rock art? Is the system at fault or are there individuals who should be held accountable? What questions should be asked?

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Which custodians of our collective cultural heritage, as South African’s, have granted the value of a black stone or diamond mine over the Nama’s cultural heritage, cultural identity, acting as judge and jury wrt cultural value? On whose watch have the custodians of the Nama’s cultural heritage in the Richtersveld, failed them? On whose watch have their rights been minimized, their cultural heritage dismissed in categories of moderate to highly significant, even though, neither ensure protection? On whose watch, has the failure to protect highly significant categorised rock art, resulted in their defacing, rendering a rock art site no longer significant, paving the way for mining activities, and ultimately, their destruction.

 

In forthcoming chapters, I'll reference material which has shaped my understanding wrt how the custodians of the Richtersveld rock art have miserably failed,  in so doing undermining the Nama people’s future.

 

To be continued.