Documente Academic
Documente Profesional
Documente Cultură
Siyakha Mguni
Johannesburg 2002
ii
Declaration
being submitted for the degree of Master of Arts in the University of the
Witwatersrand, Johannesburg. It has not been submitted before for any degree or
Preface
Voyage of discovery
This study was motivated by a personal revelatory experience I had when, in April
1995 shortly after I joined the National Museums and Monuments of Zimbabwe as
most spectacular rock art sites in Matopo Hills (hereafter called Matopo 1), and,
perhaps, in southern Africa. And little did I realize that this experience heralded
my future career. This site is Nanke Cave on the eastern part of Matobo National
Park. Ironically, although I had read about the Drakensberg paintings as part of
It was a two-hour walk to the site, but one filled with surprises as we strolled
Ndebele word for bare granite domes, Plate 1) typical of this landscape. Located in
Zimbabwe (Map 1), Matopo (Appendix 1 Map 1) comprises 3, 000 million years
old granites. These are interspersed with intrusions of other rocks, such as quartz,
dolerite veins and dykes. Altitudes range generally between 1 200 m and 1 500 m
(Moger, no date). This hilly landscape covers an area of 2 180 km². They spread
from the Mangwe River in the west to Mbalabala in the east. It contains a
1
The origin of the word ‘Matopo’ (Anglicised version ‘Matopos’) is obscure. Some argue that it is a
corruption of a Kalanga word ‘Matombo’ (stones), referring to rock outcrops. Others say it derives
from se-Sotho, meaning ‘bald heads’. Legend has it that Mzilikazi (Ama-Ndebele King ca. 1830-
1868), used an analogy of bald heads of his indunas (council of advisors and military commanders),
in astonishment at the jumbled mass of bare domes and balancing rocks, to describe this landscape.
iv
Along the way we inspected a few smaller overhangs and shelters with small but
valley scenery is difficult. It requires negotiating one’s way along these valleys to
Within this hill-and-valley landscape is a wide variety of flora and faunal species.
markedly over short distances. Open woodland areas on the valley sides and
mopane species while localised thickets and forests make up valley vegetation.
Every so often we would spot plains game that dominate the area and diverse bird
species, but the more specialised fauna that live in circumscribed environments are
not easy to spot. The Matopo climate, conducive to this species diversity, is argued
to have remained relatively unaltered since the Last Glacial Maximum (ca. 13, 000
years BP, Walker 1995; Cooke 1964c). This environment has provided sanctuary for
human habitation for, at least, the last 100, 000 years (Walker 1987, 1995). We
assume that people have been painting in the hills for most of this period of
habitation, but our direct dating evidence shows that most or all of the surviving
art dates from the Holocene period (Walker 1987, 1996) to about 1, 500 BP.
Occupation evidence and painting is abundant in sites such as Nanke Cave. Tens
The District is now called Matobo. I have chosen ‘Matopo’ because this is how the locals today call
their area.
v
and 12 m deep. It is situated high up, about 50 m above a small river at the bottom,
dense thicket of vegetation masks the shelter such that only the lip forming the
drip line can be seen from a distance. An ashy deposit that bears evidence of
prehistoric occupation covers the floor. Potsherds and ostrich eggshell beads are
Looking up on to the painted surface, I was struck by the amount of imagery and
the level of over painting covering an area of about 30 square metres. But even
beauty and exceptional complexity (Plates 3, 3a). Not far from it are three paintings
Ncube and Edward Sibindi, who took me to the site, they admitted to not having
Matopo is profuse with these paintings of curious ovoid or oblong designs called
formlings, which I define in Chapter One. Nicholas Walker (1996: 32) notes that the
care and detail lavished on formlings is unsurpassed anywhere in the rock art of
Zimbabwe, suggesting that, for these painters, this was a very significant class of
imagery. Peter Garlake (1990: 17) estimates that the whole of Zimbabwe (Map 1)
formlings are trees and plants, also abundant in Matopo. The abundance of these
motifs and the greater archaeological visibility of the area (Walker 1996: 13)
vi
resulted in researchers concentrating their work in Matopo. Yet, despite the great
attention and interest these motifs have held for many writers, they remain,
One of the pioneers in the interpretation of formlings, Leo Frobenius (1929: 333),
wrote, “…oddities occur which are completely outside our understanding. There
are large forms, shaped like galls or livers, into which human figures are
painted…” Thirty years later, his student and assistant, Elizabeth Goodall (1959:
62), remarked that formlings are “not easily explained”. Recently, Walker (1996:
73) wrote, “It is impossible to be certain what they represent” while Garlake (1995:
96) argues that within the range of these motifs “none has easy visual equivalents.”
Uneasiness and pessimism concerning the interpretation of these images has thus
lingered into the present. Some writers still hold that formlings are mysterious.
By comparison, trees and plant motifs have been uncontroversial in that it is clear
what they depict. But, these motifs have been superficially explained as depictions
of landscape features (Frobenius 1931; Breuil 1966). This view has not taken us
anywhere nearer to their symbolism and meaning. Some writers have elided these
evident that while writers have noted the frequent co-occurrence of formlings and
trees and other plants, none has examined closely this association and its
association of formlings and trees holds the key to the unpacking of the complex
2. To show that this art fits well within the wider southern African context of
I show that these images are explicable through the analysis of their painted
contexts and San ethnography, which provides fruitful insights into this art. I
detailed explanation of, first, what formlings depict and, secondly, what they
symbolised for the Matopo San. Formlings and trees may be a peculiar feature of
rock art in Zimbabwe, but they embody core concepts within the broad San belief
system, shown to exist in southern African San rock art. I examine these motifs
within the framework of our understanding that the Matopo art tradition is very
old and possibly indicating the antiquity of the San belief system. While it is true
that specific details and nuances vary in different regions, I show, using formlings
and tree motifs in Matopo art as an example, that there are more commonalities
between San art in South Africa and Zimbabwe than has been allowed.
Acknowledgements
I thank the University of the Witwatersrand for its support in various ways, and especially
the Rock Art Research Institute for placing resources at my disposal. The Swan Fund,
Oxford University, funded my fieldwork and research. Their generosity is gratefully
acknowledged. I am especially indebted to Professor David Lewis-Williams, former
Director of the, then, Rock Art Research Centre, for supporting my study proposals and
the project from its inception. His inspiration and advice has been instrumental in the
success of this project. I also gratefully thank my supervisor, Dr Benjamin Smith, for very
insightful advice, encouragement and support. Professors T.N. Huffman and L. Wadley in
the Archaeology Department (University of the Witwatersrand) have also been very
supportive, and I thank them sincerely. My colleagues, Jeremy Hollmann and Geoffrey
Blundell, whom I have had useful discussions on rock art in general are also sincerely
thanked. Other members of the Institute namely, William Challis, Jamie Hampson and
Ghilraen Laue are also thanked for their help during fiekdwork and in other ways. I am
also grateful to visiting scholars I have discussed rock art issues with, namely Dr Patricia
Vinnicombe (Australia) and Professor Patricia Bass (Texas).
Contents Page
Preface Voyage of discovery iii-vii
Acknowledgements viii
Contents ix
List of illustrations ix-xi
Chapter One San rock art in Matopo Hills 1-34
Chapter Two Searching for ‘meaning’ in San rock art 35-58
Chapter Three San notions of potency and trance dance 59-81
Chapter Four Representation and ‘abstraction’ in San rock art 82-102
Chapter Five Formlings and their ‘natural models’ 103-123
Chapter Six Painted contexts and ethnographic information 124-149
Chapter Seven Trees and plants in Matopo 150-185
Chapter Eight God’s House: nuances, subtleties and symbolism 186-196
Bibliography 197-218
Appendix I 219-236
Illustrations
List of figures
Fig. 1. Trees or possibly mushrooms grow on an oval formling 7
Fig. 2. A tree next to a circular motif enclosing flecks and two fish 9
Fig. 3. A formling with villiform shaped cores 25
x
Chapter One
Rock art in Matopo drew the attention of writers from the early 1900s (White
1905; Hall 1911, 1912; Arnold & Jones 1919; Jones 1926; Armstrong 1931;
Frobenius 1930, 1931; Tredgold 1968; Cooke 1969). The research interest was
fuelled by the profusion of rock art sites in the area, most of which are easily
accessible. Terence Ranger (1999) suggests that it is the special ambience of the
rocks that drew early European travellers, missionaries, hunters and even the
prehistoric populations who, for millennia, made ‘pilgrimages’ to the area and
painted in many of the shelters. Matopo is estimated to contain around 100, 000
images (Walker 1996: 60). Although southern African San rock art is broadly
similar, Matopo abounds with peculiarities that are rare in other areas. These
motifs, formlings, trees and plants, are more concentrated in Zimbabwe (Cooke
1969, 1983; Willcox 1984; Walker 1987, 1996; Garlake 1995) than in other art
regions.
Aside from these unusual motifs, the numerically dominant subjects in Matopo
art include: human figures, giraffe and large antelope, such as, kudu, tsessebe
(usually indistinguishable from hartebeest, e.g., Fig. 6), and smaller antelope,
such as, impala and duiker (Walker 1996: 31). Less frequently depicted species
include: zebra, sable/roan, warthog, hares and baboons (or monkeys). Buffalo,
waterbuck and elephant are rare, but their representation increases farther to the
north. Eland, unlike the position in South Africa, are also rare in Zimbabwe.
Only a few shelters in Matopo, such as Gumali and World’s View, contain eland
2
very rare. One exception, Nanke1 Cave2, shows a procession of eland below a
large formling. These exhibit very similar colour combinations to the formling.
Plate 1. Silozwane dome viewed from Pomongwe Hill and the intervening rugged
landscape of hill-and-valley portions
1
The Anglicised versions ‘Inanke’ or ‘Inanki’ arose from a misunderstanding of local isi-Ndebele
phonology where the reference to place names entails prefixing ‘e-’, such as in, ‘e-Nanke’ (at
Nanke).
2 Matopo does not have underground caverns such as the Franco-Cantabrian karst landscapes
famous for their Palaeolithic art. Cave here refers to huge and deep hemispheroidal shelters.
3
Matopo also has a range of unusual painted species that include insects, birds,
reptiles and amphibians. While Zimbabwean rock art exhibits bi-chromes, tri-
yellow. Formlings stand out in this respect because they are often depicted in
multiple pigments, such as the polychromatic Nanke Cave motif (Plate 3).
4
Formlings and their associated tree motifs are the most striking and vexing of the
rock art motifs in Zimbabwe (Frobenius 1931; Goodall 1959; Walker 1996). From
formlings appear to have been a significant feature for Matopo San artists.
Despite many publications on Matopo and its art, these images have remained,
by and large, superficially studied. One reason for this lacuna in research is that
most of the archaeologists who have worked in the area have been lithic
specialists (e.g., Armstrong 1930; Jones 1931, 1949; Robinson & Cooke 1950;
Walker 1996). They have thus focused on excavated Stone Age sequences. No
dedicated rock art specialists have spent extended research periods here. The
In 1999 I began field research into formlings and botanical motifs in Matopo.
Informed by three strands of evidence, which have hitherto not been considered
3. An analysis of the San symbolic system and relevant beliefs, rituals and
myths1.
1
Other Khoekhoe-speaking groups also share some of the San beliefs, myths and rituals
5
This approach is informed by Alison Wylie’s (1989, drawn from Bernstein 1983)
towards a conclusion. Its weakness, however, is that when one link fails, the
entire argument does not stand. A cable-like argument, on the other hand, works
strands in a cable. Being distinct strands, each one may lead independently to a
confidence to the conclusions that are drawn in this way. The advantage of this
type of argumentation is that when one strand breaks, the argument will stand if
analysis of formlings and trees from a natural history perspective, their painted
contexts and San ethnography as three strands that reveal the symbolic
Figure 1.1. This panel exhibits many fundamental features useful in explaining
formlings and trees. I draw attention to the repeated association of formlings and
indeterminate tree species are painted on the left side of the formling while
another plant form grows on its right edge. Additional features include large
antelope (mainly kudu cows) superimposed on the formling. Above the formling
6
there is a large fantastic animal (‘rain creature’) that has exudations from its
snout. I discuss these features in detail later as I adduce similar painted contexts
several thousands (Garlake 1990: 17), many of the most detailed examples are
found in Matopo (Walker 1996: 32, 60). They have also been found less
frequently as far afield as the northern parts of South Africa (Fig. 3; Hampson et
al. 2002) and the Brandberg in Namibia (Mason 1958: 357-368; Lenssen-Erz & Erz
2000). Henri Breuil (1944: 4) claimed that formlings occur in the Eastern Free
State of South Africa although he did not illustrate any examples. He might have
been referring to the Khoekhoe herder geometric motifs, some of which were
copied by George Stow (Stow & D.F. Bleek 1930: plates 25, 43; see new research
on these motifs by Benjamin Smith & Sven Ouzman, in press). Numerous sites
are now known in the Free State, but no formlings have yet been reported. The
have equally fascinated rock art researchers. Tree motifs are common in
Zimbabwe, but they constitute a small percentage of the subject matter (Breuil
1944: 4; Garlake 1987d: 60). While it has been claimed that south of “Southern
Rhodesia [Zimbabwe] …we do not find paintings of trees” (Goodwin 1946: 16), I
have recorded three motifs in northern South Africa (see also Van Riet Lowe
1949; Mason 1958). A few trees are also found in South African rock engravings
pictures” (South Africa, Lesotho). He compared these rock art regions thus,
artists knew how to use subjects from the vegetable kingdom. This is one
of the features that completely separate them from the other African and
Fig. 1. Trees or mushrooms atop a formling with crenellations and associated with oval
flecks (redrawn from Garlake 1995)
8
Map 1. The granite belt of Zimbabwe and rock art concentrations (adapted from
Garlake 1995)
Frobenius (1931: 338) also wrote, “…in the northern pictures the representation
of trees and plants is almost as frequent and varied as that of animals in the
Trees and formlings occur in exactly the same restricted painting zones. As well
Pager 1989; Lenssen-Erz & Erz 2000). Although botanical motifs are generally
scarce in southern African rock art (Willcox 1956: 48, 1984: 142; Woodhouse 1979;
insignificance. These motifs fall within San art and are an example of regionality
in that art. Most can be explained within the context of San beliefs or at least
Fig. 2. A tree, an infibulated man, a circular motif enclosing fish and flecks and a
woman kneeling on outlines of formling caps (redrawn from Frobenius 1963)
10
Although often schematised, tree and plant motifs are immediately recognisable
because of their diagnostic features (Figs 5, 6, 15, 17-20, 26). This quality has,
The original term ‘formlinge’ coined by Frobenius (1931) is not a German word,
but a nominalisation of the English word ‘form’ using regular German grammar
(Lenssen-Erz, pers. comm.). While ‘form’ is abstract, the suffix ‘-ling(e)’ means a
(1931) used this term to describe a specific range of ‘composite motifs’, which are
to clarify definitive variables that qualify an image for inclusion in this category.
recurrence of their basic formal elements. I group their variations under two
headings:
• Shape
• Decoration
Shape and decoration are essential defining variables that can enable the
(in press) points out, the shape is primary among several observable
rules of depiction within a particular cultural setting that help in discerning these
Formling shapes
Formlings are varied, but they fall within a limited range of shapes (Appendix 1
Fig. 1.2). It is not difficult to identify them because their basic forms are
consistent (Garlake 1995: 92). Although some motifs carry most or all of the basic
omission at the time of painting. The list below contains the most commonly
sometimes oblong shapes (Appendix 1 Fig. 1.2). As a result of fading, most motifs
today can only be inferred from the arrangement of their features to have
conformed to these basic forms. Because of these shapes and the tendency
towards symmetry in most motifs, formlings have also been seen as abstract
geometric motifs (Garlake 1995: 91, 93). Although not all formlings carry outlines,
these basic shapes, distinct and distinctive, are often defined by outlines.
12
2. Outlines of formlings
occasionally multiple lines were drawn (Fig. 21). These perimeter lines enclose
they were never painted at all. But their distinctive internal features remain in
positions that give an idea of how the outline would have looked around them.
That is, the arrangement of the cores is in a similar manner to the way they are
usually curved or tucked to fit into the spaces defined by the outlines in better
cases where they are invisible, were executed in fugitive pigments, which have
now faded.
3. Formling cores
Discrete cores (Fig. 4, Appendix 1 Fig. 1.2) are the basic internal ‘building blocks’
(Cooke 1964c: 5) to ‘cigars’ (Holm 1957). They are sometimes painted in different
sizes and colours. Although cores are usually ovoid-shaped, they may be closer to
oblong or elliptical shapes, and depending on type, with their longitudinal sides
running nearly parallel (Figs 4, 9-13, Plate 3, Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1). Because of this,
and that the extremities of most cores are faded, some writers describe cores as
Rather than subsume various core types under ‘ovoid’ or ‘oval’, I refer to them as
‘formling cores’ or ‘cores’ in order to avoid confusion when they assume shapes
that are not oval. Cores rarely occur singularly, but are found in groups. A single
formling can carry as many as ten cores. A few have even more. Cores are
13
Indeed, as Goodall (1959: 62) stated, Frobenius coined this term to “denote this
is only a constituent part or unit of the formling motif in isolation. I use the term
Sets or stacks of formling cores are often separated by narrow spaces (Walker
1996: 32) that I term interstices. There is an attempt to keep cores as distinct units,
are usually very narrow, the merging of cores may occur as a result of fading over
time thereby blurring their edges and their pigments washing into each other. Yet
in some motifs, the bases of the cores are clearly merged, without interstices (Fig.
3), but they become distinct as they rise to the top giving an appearance of
Formling decorations
decorations are evidence that they form a distinct category. Not all formlings
14
carry all of the possible decorative features, but there are some decorations, such
The outlines that enclose formling cores sometimes have a single orifice or
opening (Figs 1, 9-12, Plate 7) that projects outwards. These features are
distinctive and in some motifs they are protrusive in the manner of a nozzle or
the spout of a teapot (Fig. 13). This feature is found in more elaborately painted
6. Crenellations
spiked crenellations on the outer outline edges (Figs 1, 10-12, Plates 6, 7; also
Garlake 1987d: 52, 1990: 17, 1995: figs 33, 102, 103, plate XXIII). In Figure 3, these
crenellations occur on the tops of some cores while some of them grow from the
base of the formling. From the peripheral portions of formlings into their bodies
7. Microdots on formlings
Formlings are commonly depicted with decoration throughout their cores in the
(Figs 9, 11-13, 21, Plates 3, 7, 8; also colour plates XXI, XXIII in Garlake 1995).
Sometimes they appear in dark red as well, particularly where the background
cores are of a lighter shade of red (or white). Perhaps white microdots were
15
meant to contrast with the red background of the cores. White colour may not be
they are found with a range of images, such as the ‘thin red line’ motif (Lewis-
therianthropes, human figures, trance buck, animals, and also some types of
8. Fields of flecks
Flecks found in formling contexts are of two different kinds. While they vary in
covering wider areas that are not confined within the cores. The other kind is
oval-shaped (Figs 1, 4, 9, 13, 15, Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1), often clustering on parts of
trident motifs (Plate 7) or winged forms (Figs 9, 13, 15). I consider this type of
Ordinary flecks are not restricted to the formling contexts, but also occur with a
range of other subjects, including trees and plants (Fig. 15). Although oval-
shaped flecks, ordinary flecks and microdots are allied in formling contexts, I
argue that they connote different phenomena. Flecks and microdots found in
these contexts have not been defined clearly, as many writers tend to group them
in one category.
16
because of the caps on one or both of their ends (Figs 9, 11, 12). Garlake (1987b:
semicircular caps at both ends.” Sometimes these caps appear in the same
result from the fading of these caps, which are usually depicted in lighter
Caps are also repeated as a series of domed or rounded tops (Plates 3, 3a, Fig. 3,
Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1; see Garlake 1995 for what he interprets as cusps of ovals)
from the Northern Province of South Africa. Its vertical cores merge into one
another from the base to the middle and then divide at the top to form irregular,
villiform shapes. A few similar motifs have been found in parts of Zimbabwe
(Garlake 1992: 534, 1995: fig. 127) and also in the Brandberg (Pager 2000: Naib 5
plate 1 fix A 13). On some of these villiform shaped cores in Figure 3 there are
small crenellations (tapering linear spikes and on others taking the form of
conical appendages) growing on the edges. These features also appear at the base
of this formling. Such variations are common in San rock art; animals, for
their contexts in different regions could suggest spatial and temporal continuities
in the associations these motifs had for the artists in the southern Africa.
17
Other variables
Colour and size are less useful in the analysis of a subject such as formlings. In
San depictions these variables are often less naturalistic and hence are difficult to
use in defining subject matter. While microdots on formling cores are usually
painted in white (Garlake 1987d: 23), this may be because the artists contrasted
them with the commonly darker (red) cores over which they are painted. I treat
issues of San colour symbolism. Some writers have stated that colour seems to
have carried no significance in San art (Garlake 1987d: 10). This seeming
might be emphasised by making them very large or very small. The previous
rock art research as whole. I consider, first, at a general level, rock art studies in
Matopo and Zimbabwe within the wider southern African research context.
Rock art studies in Zimbabwe prior to the 1980s belong to a phase in southern
1999: vi). The explanations (Lewis-Williams 1985: 51) of this period were largely
aesthetic and narrative in nature. Many writers believed that the art was a direct
response of the San artistic desire or what Miles Burkitt (1928: 110) called “an
innate artistic tendency” to recreate objects or things they saw in nature. In this
view, San artists were motivated by a wish to paint for the pleasure of it (Cooke
1969: 25-27, 148-150). Researchers also believed that images merely constituted
literal and anecdotal documents of reality, or were direct and simple depictions
of material phenomena (Goodall 1959; Cooke 1969: 150; Willcox 1963, 1984; Lee &
Woodhouse 1970; Woodhouse 1979). Writers did not expect San art to be
metaphoric allusions beyond the obvious. Views in this early paradigm hinged
Many writers focused on the obvious motifs, often defined in terms of hunting,
archery, fighting, weapons, dancing, domestic scenes, and so forth (Cooke 1964b,
1969; Willcox 1978). Hence, they looked for “straightforward, simple, explicit and
general observations” (Lewis-Williams 1990b: 64). Along with this interest was
matter and categories of San depictions (e.g., Cooke 1964c; Lee & Woodhouse
1971). This approach gave precedence to subjects (e.g., humans, kudu, giraffe,
birds, bow and arrow, flutes, etc.) and, therefore, stifled, albeit unconsciously, the
19
search for meaning beyond the ordinary or identifiable subjects. Few even
pictorial ‘themes’ and ‘scenes’, themselves defined in ways that are no longer
acceptable.
The recycling of the same sites further exacerbated the cursory nature of these
studies. This practice did not permit exploration of ‘new’ imagery and novel
ways of appraising more complex panels. Among current writers, Garlake has
been criticised for this practice. David Erwee (1999: 57) notes that Garlake bases
tended to select only the biggest and best.” The implications of such practices are
because they did not fit the perceptions the writers had about the San. Two
panels (Fig. 4, Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1) from one site in Matopo can be used to
illustrate this debilitating practice. Writers have used repeatedly the less complex
Figure 4 to infer apiary activities in San art. The nearby panel, (Appendix 1 Fig.
1.1), which, as we shall see later, exhibits greater complexity, with trees and a
potential for the interpretation of formlings has always been completely ignored.
Figure 4 was recently argued to depict two human figures dipping arrows of
potency into flecks (Garlake 1995: 155). No evidence is adduced to support this
inference and whether or not it is based on San beliefs. While San beliefs about
‘arrows of potency’ are numerous there is no mention of their use in this manner.
Without a direct tie to San ethnography this, seemingly more plausible, view
20
caries many of the same methodological flaws as the older explanations. This
guess’ paradigm. Inevitably, the outsider’s view failed to penetrate the true
Richard Hall (1912) wrote the first description of paintings in Matopo. He started
research on San art following strong criticism from the academic community of
his racist theories on Great Zimbabwe (Garlake 1992). That it was Hall, after a
the first description of these paintings betrays the perceptions of the San, their
culture and rock art prevalent at the time. The ‘primitive’ stereotype of the San as
amongst the most primitive of cultures upon earth. Breuil (1955: 14-15) made
of the San was carried even into later writings (e.g., Willcox 1956; Pearse 1973).
Because the San were relegated to evolutionary infancy, their ethnography was
seen as not worthy of detailed analysis. The lack of interest in San ethnography
Lewis-Williams (1983: 3) contends that such prejudicial views were implicit even
in disciplinary attitudes in the 1970s and 1980s, hence the emphasis on San
subsistence practices rather than on their rituals, belief and symbolic systems.
This view explains why San rock art studies have long occupied the periphery of
the mainstream archaeology (ibid.: 3). Because of the perceived unscientific status
study; rigour was not essential. Anyone could make unsubstantiated inferences
about the art with impunity. Therefore, in the early years of Zimbabwean
archaeology, rock art studies provided solace for Hall, since it was conceived as
unsurprising then that Hall’s writings, and indeed those of many of his
contemporaries, although they pioneered the field and stirred interest in the
The marginality of rock art was still apparent in later studies. Burkitt (1928), the
study of rock art in Zimbabwe and South Africa. He set out a view of San art as
little more than wallpaper, “something intensely personal and, as it were, extra
and not essentially necessary to the business of living” (Burkitt 1928: 110). Yet, in
remarking that rock art was “one of the most fascinating branches of prehistoric
value in studying sequence and chronology in rock art. In his view, such studies
seriation of stone tool industries (Burkitt 1928: 111). The idea of sequencing rock
art in its various forms grew from these views and has remained a strong
component in Zimbabwean rock art studies (Armstrong 1931; Cooke 1963, 1969;
Walker 1987, 1994). Even in South Africa, Burkitt’s influence lasted a long time.
Breuil (who was Burkitt’s mentor and friend, Garlake 1992), and Van Riet Lowe
had a similar persuasion. Their view was that an understanding of San rock art
would only result from the most careful study of superpositions and regional
distributions of colour and styles. Concluding his analysis of Pelzer Rust in South
Africa, Van Riet Lowe (1932, in a letter of 22 February to D.F. Bleek, RARI
Archives) further suggested that it could be said with certainty that from the
22
Zambezi to the Cape, yellow is older than red and that yellow was first used by a
Middle Stone Age cultures while red was first used by early Later Stone Age
people. This shows how far southern African writers were willing to advocate
the broad sweep of Burkitt’s ideas of sequencing rock art colours/pigments in the
region.
and ‘stylistic’ schemes. As D.F. Bleek stated, “I have seen so many caves full of
paintings and watched their sequence without finding any definite order that I
am a bit sceptical of Abbé Breuil and Burkitt” (D.F. Bleek in a letter of 09/02/1932
to Van Riet Lowe, RARI Archives). In accord, Garlake (1995) rightly stresses that
such studies have not, as yet, been productive in interpreting San rock art. While
and ‘stylistic’ sequences (Lorblanchet & Bahn 1993), some have been more
African research now employs new ideas of sequencing rock art stratigraphy
(Loubser 1993; Mguni 1997; Russell 2000; Pearce 2000), problems have been
Following Burkitt, from 1928 until the early 1930s, Frobenius made comparative
studies of rock art in Zimbabwe, South Africa and Namibia. He considered the
In this view, formlings and plant motifs were static landscapes. Employing an
more rigorous than most contemporary studies. Frobenius believed that some of
the art could be linked to local Shona folklore and mythology in spite of the fact
23
that Margaret Taylor (1927) had earlier cautioned against the usefulness of
discounted the possibility of there being any connection between the art and
legends. He also defined the “Wedge Style” figures common in Zimbabwean art
as associated with formlings. Frobenius (1929, 1931) argued that these figures
African rock art. Drawing largely on earlier studies (Balfour 1909; Obermaier &
Kühn 1930), Breuil perceived San rock art as motivated largely by ‘sympathetic
magic’ and ‘art pour l’art’. In the former view, rock art was said to be a product of
rituals associated with hunting magic while the latter view was that it was done
for the pleasure of the artist and his contemporaries. Although these ideas
lingered until the 1970s, other writers refuted them right from their inception
(Stow & D.F. Bleek 1930: xxiv). Breuil (1948, 1952) also corroborated Frobenius’s
views on exotic influences of Egyptian and Cretan origin in San art. Although
these studies publicised San art, they took us no nearer to its meaning; rather
Many later writers were, however, inspired by, and in some ways extended,
these early views. In the 1950s and 1960s Lionel Cripps (1941), Elizabeth Goodall
(1959) and Cranmer Cooke (1959, 1969) recycled and further propagated the
narrative landscape and funerary readings of San art. Some writings entrenched
the aesthetic view (Willcox 1956). The tenacity of these far-fetched and subjective
24
explanations lasted until the 1970s and 1980s, and indeed into the 1990s (Willcox
1982, 1984, 1990; Lee & Woodhouse 1970; Woodhouse, pers. comm.). As some
writers have rightly argued (Vinnicombe 1967, 1972a: 132; Maggs 1967; Lewis-
Williams 1972: 60-64, 1985: 50) these views were completely out of keeping with
San imagery and ethnography, which has now allowed more profound
The tenacity of superficial views on San art probably stemmed from the absence
writers occasionally stated that San art was symbolic (Frobenius 1931) and not
symbolic nature of San art and explaining it simplistically persists today. One
problem is that, as Chippindale (in press) points out, there is “no collected frame
of thinking and working archaeologically with the images.” This assessment that
rock art lacks an accepted methodology is true, but some regions have
rock arts are not only spatially separated, but are also temporally diverse.
Equally, they derive from diverse social and cultural contexts and have endured
might not be possible. Specific approaches in those areas for which they are
Fig. 3. Formling with villiform-shaped cores that are merged at the base and split
towards the top from a site from the Northern Province of South Africa (overleaf)
26
Interpretations of formlings
The early studies of southern African San rock art concealed productive avenues
towards the meaning of this art. Writers sought explanations from their own
preconceived and prejudiced ideas about this art and the artists’ culture. Art
motifs were perceived literally and meaning seen in narrative terms. The fatality
now turn.
Landscapes
The first landscape suggestion was by Hall (1912: 595) who said one formling
“streams of white water falling over red cliffs, the sides of the Devil’s cauldron,
and a pillar of spray rising from the foot of the falls to two feet higher than the
top, and blowing off the west.” This view shows a writer’s fantasy without any
basis. The comment, however, captivated research interest on the subject, but it
was not until the 1920s that more detailed research on formlings was initiated.
Coining the term ‘formling’ in the 1920s Frobenius (1929: 333) interpreted this
1966: 115, 116, 119). While arguing that some formlings departed from
naturalistic figuration, Revil Mason (1958: 363) endorsed these views that some
prevailed as dogma in many later writings (Goodall 1959: 41, 60-66; Cooke 1959,
1969; Lee & Woodhouse 1970: 140-142). Some writers, however, maintained that
San art showed “little interest in depicting plant life and almost none in scenery”
(Willcox 1984: 255). Perhaps the reputation of Frobenius and Breuil had a bearing
on the perpetuation of their views. In Garlake’s (1992: 15) words, Breuil’s work in
unchallenged authority”.
Even within the new understanding that physical features of rock shelters were
significant in San cosmology (Deacon 1988) as contact zones between the natural
and the spirit realms (Lewis-Williams & Dowson 1990; Lewis-Williams 1998b:
A few early explanations went a little beyond simplistic assertions and allowed a
symbolic element in the art. Frobenius (1931) considered that formlings were
symbolic and that ethnological studies would aid their interpretation. But, he
mistakenly associated the art with burials that he found within painted shelters.
decorated the ancient tombs of dead kings or chiefs. He suggested that the
Frobenius (1931: 28) concluded that these depicted the exequies or burial rites of
the dead royals. Later, in the 1950s, Goodall (1959: 98, 100-101) followed
Frobenius, her mentor, and interpreted some panels as depicting “ceremonies for
the dead”. Cripps (1941: 35) also employed this explanation when he suggested
that this art was a kind of memorabilia for the artists’ “leaders and great men
inherently flawed. The burials in question are Iron Age in date and, therefore,
were not contemporary with the bulk of the paintings. Even if some art was
made during the Iron Age, the painters were San (Walker 1996: 64) and not
Shona (Garlake 1992: 58). Frobenius’s use of Shona myths to interpret the art is
thus a red herring. Taylor (1927) saw this incompatibility very early. Whereas
his explanations were little more than a recital of local funerary myths with
Material representations
phenomena. Formlings were read as: grain bins (Holm 1957: 69), cornfields,
quivers, mats, xylophones (Cooke 1959: 145, 1969: 42), mud huts and a stockaded
village being set on fire (Rudner & Rudner 1970: 86, 87). In the 1940s Goodwin
29
were a “painting of skins sewn together to form a hanging kaross.” The same
paintings were later inferred by Breuil (1966: 115, 116) to symbolise pools of
water or rain clouds; the associated flecks were said to indicate rain or water. Yet,
other formlings were seen as thunderclouds (Rudner & Rudner 1970: 87) or,
“whatever conclusion the imagination leads the observer” (Cooke 1969: 42).
More than 30 years after Cooke’s remark, this unfortunate view has resurfaced in
a new publication on the art in Matopo (Parry 2000). It is understandable, for the
reasons already stated, that Cooke in the 1960s would have entertained such a
Matopo San art is open to any interpretation, then its meaning is, for certain,
unknowable. This relativist view ignores the corpus of knowledge on San art that
we have gained over the last 20 years. While all agree that many elements in San
art are far from fully understood, the idea that ‘anything goes’ in San art
Apiculture
writers saw them as depicting apiculture. Cooke (1959: 146) suggested that a
bark beehives, whilst dots coming out of holes may be bees” (Cooke 1964c: 5).
30
Writers in South Africa took this view further and provided more plausible
Fig. 4. Three people with equipment, oval flecks and two animals juxtaposed with a
formling (Matopo)
Harald Pager (1971, 1973) identified apiary practices in rock art from Zimbabwe,
South Africa and as far afield as Spain. He argued that out of a large sample from
swarms, nests and honey gatherers using ladders. The flecks or dots associated
with formlings were then argued to be bees (Pager 1973: figs 1, 4, 7; see also Fig.
4, Plate 7). This interpretation became entrenched in later writings (Crane 1982:
22-25; Huffman 1983: 51; Woodhouse 1994: 98-99; Gould & Gould 1995). The
31
imagery explained in this light exhibits close correspondence with bees’ nests
and honeycombs. As Lewis-Williams (1983: 6) points out for specific motifs in the
that they depict hives or nests of bees.” Some of these motifs carry features that
closely resemble typical formlings in Matopo. But, this insight was “nonetheless
still no more than description or re-description” (ibid.: 6). As my study shows, the
nests and honeycombs. San art transcends simple narratives and is rich in
Despite early reports about trees and plants in southern African San art (Hall
1912: 594; Stow & D.F. Bleek 1930: plate 51; Frobenius 1931; Van der Riet & D.F.
Bleek 1940: plate 24; Van Riet Lowe 1949: 37), they have remained largely
honey from their nests cannot be taken prima facie as a record of apiary practices,
hunters pursuing prey are not simple depictions of actual hunting events, as
earlier writers supposed. These paintings are structured on a deeper level and
contain complex symbolic messages. The early writings of Hall (1912: 594)
described trees and plant motifs in Matopo in the light of a fantasyland. Later, in
32
depicting a bulb with four roots at the base. Above it is a short trunk furcating
into several branches supporting an umbrella tree crown. Identifying this motif
as a msasa tree growing from an anthill, Frobenius (1929: 335) argued that it
and oils for embalming corpses of kings before burial (Frobenius 1931: 338). San
ethnography contains no allusion to such practices and this inference falls away
with the collapse of the funerary explanation. Later, Eric Holm (1957: 68)
plant), with six vertical oval shapes and human forms, as “succulents rather than
rocks” (ibid.: 68). A tree is depicted immediately to the left of this image, but it is
speculated later that tree motifs laden with fruit in the Brandberg suggested
fertility (Mason 1958: 364). As with all other contemporary views there was no
Writing much later, Cooke (1971: 19) said tree motifs represented medicinal
herbal plants of importance to the artists. This view is narrative and it is based on
the same flawed premise that eland paintings represented an economical source
of protein or “the favourite animal on the Bushman menu” (Lee & Woodhouse
1970: 27). Cooke (1971: 19) suggested that a panel (Fig. 23) with two
therianthropes and a tree indicated “tree worship”. San ethnography does not
33
support this assertion. Such views are no longer tenable, as it is now clear that
San art is deeply symbolic and inextricably interwoven with San religious beliefs
Fig. 5. A typical tree motif depicting branch forms, trunk but without roots, possibly
faded (Matopo)
280) recognised the possibility of there being “great religious significance” for
trees and plants in the art. Van Riet Lowe (1949: 37) suggested symbolic
significance for a specific tree motif said to be a baobab in the Limpopo Valley.
For Van Riet Lowe, this identification and symbolism derived from large
women in this area. Later I argue that the symbolism of tree and plant motifs is
While the legacy of the former descriptive studies prevailed until recently, it is
apparent that they did not advance our understanding of the coded symbolic
meanings in San art. Apart from leading us away from the true significance of
this art, major discoveries in terms of site locations, content and general
distributions were made during the early phase of rock art research. Early
writers also created public awareness about San art. Aside from the positive
aspects of the early writings, their haphazard manner of guessing was soon to be
replaced in the late 1960s, as a new generation of researchers began to seek new
and objective scientific ways of studying San rock art. New approaches
Chapter Two
began to look for new ways of reading and explaining San rock art. In order to
place in the late 1960s to the 1980s. It was in the context of these new studies that
more rigorous and sensitive ways of analysing and interpreting San art emerged.
One of the advantages of the greater scientific rigour was that, in the
in the choice and combinations of painted subject matter. Eland, for example,
were confirmed to be the dominant antelope species in the art and this realisation
led to a closer examination of this subject. This was the foundation that led, over
More specifically for formlings, it contributed insights that have opened up new
In the 1960s and 1970s, the humanities and social sciences sought a more
objective and scientific basis (Lewis-Williams 1983, 1990b: 128). In rock art
studies, Timothy Maggs (1967) and Vinnicombe (1967) began to place emphasis
numerical analyses of rock art were initiated in the 1970s (Smits 1971; Lewis-
Williams 1972; Pager 1976) and emphasis was placed on numerical databases
(Pager 1971). These studies demonstrated patterns in San art from different
regions and pointed to new directions in research. They also eliminated the
36
preceding era and showed old assertions to be untrue. But empiricism, as these
scientific studies are called, introduced a set of problems that had to be dealt
with in order to penetrate the true symbolic meaning of San rock art.
symbolism, ritual and belief were seen as secondarily derived aspects of human
(Whitley 1998: 3-5). Active concerns then were subsistence strategies, seasonal
obsession with settlement and economy, the 1970s saw a gradual change of
earlier negative attitudes towards San art. A paradigmatic shift towards post-
processual studies paved the way for a deeper appreciation of human cognition
favour of historical particularistic approaches (Shanks & Hodder 1998: 70). In the
sum up the art in many sites to a more particularist position” that considers
panels in their own right. Some writers now argue that cognitive processes are
adds that rock art, previously seen as an obscure source of ideological data, is
37
studies led to the recognition of new problems and a new theoretical orientation
The understanding of San rock art as being religious in nature and redolent with
symbolism derived largely from two major contributions to the study in the mid
1970s. These were Vinnicombe’s People of the eland (1976), and in 1977, Lewis-
seeing (1981a). It was from the latter work that the now dominant ‘shamanistic
the features of San art and imagery in other geographical areas, such as
Zimbabwe and the Western Cape of South Africa, interpretations under the
ambit of this explanation subsequently explored and elucidated the nuances and
subtleties of San art (Lewis-Williams 1983, 1984; Huffman 1983; Maggs & Sealy
1983; Yates et al. 1985; Manhire et al. 1986; Parkington 1989; Garlake 1987a, 1987b,
1987c, 1987d, 1990, 1995; Walker 1987, 1994, 1996; A. Smith 1994; Mguni 2001).
These research projects offered key insights in explaining aspects of San art in
San ethnographic corpora, and its deeply symbolic structure relegates, or even
apparent that formlings and trees must have multiple and complex richly
nuanced symbolic meanings. As Walker (1996: 27) notes, San art “deals with
symbols and concepts rather than reality”, and icons, or subject matter, are often
easily identifiable (ibid.: 31). Present interpretations work within this framework
and, in particular, draw upon San notions of supernatural potency. New work
shows that spirit world metaphors and other San sublunary experiences are as
central to Zimbabwean rock art as they are to that of South Africa. I now discuss,
first, formling interpretations and then end with those of tree and plant motifs.
With the new realisation and understanding of the symbolic essence of writers
on San rock art have reinterpreted formlings in this new light. Three researchers
have defined our current understanding of formlings in recent years. I now turn
of space” (1994) and then discuss Garlake’s “symbols of potency” (1987d, 1990,
1992, 1995). I end the discussion with Walker’s (1994, 1996) views, again dealing
Metaphors of space
metaphorical level. He argues that, just as animals or other images drawn from
Smith (1994: 378, 384) proceeds to argue that formlings were “elaborations of
set of San conceptual ideas on how they identify with specific localities and
resources therein. These areas are known to the Ju/’hoansi as n!ore (n!oresi pl.).
including water, plant foods and animals, which are the mainstay of San groups
in areas where the traditional foraging economy still operates. While the rights to
n!oresi do not have strict boundaries, the exploitation ranges overlap. Some
groups, like the G/wi and the !Kõ (Silberbauer 1981: 191-198), are more territorial
kinship and residence (Silberbauer 1981: 142). In formlings, A. Smith (1994: 378)
concludes that, “the idea of n!ore [is] transferred from the ‘real’ or exploitative
world to that of the metaphorical world of the trance.” Formlings are therefore
The Ju/’hoan concept of xaro (or, hxaro, Wiessener 1977, 1982), a system of
hunters and gatherers in many parts of the world (Hayden 1987: 83-86).
Therefore, individuals can have multiple sharing or xaro partners from other
n!oresi, thereby allowing for a wider access to resources beyond their own areas.
40
Nanke Cave in Matopo (Plates 3, 3a). He argued that this image is reminiscent of
the open-endedness and non-restrictive nature of n!oresi. In this view the various
Plate 3. A large and most elaborate formling hailed previously as San artists’ attempt to
depict perspective (Matopo)
41
Plate 3a. A black and white rendition of Plate 3 (Pager copy - RARI Archives)
This panel requires closer examination. The animals in question are three giraffes
the cores of the formling. Below this procession is another line of three animals,
one is a kudu cow with large ears and a long neck, and another is, possibly, an
eland because of its pronounced dewlap. The indeterminate animal in the middle
may be another kudu cow. A human figure in an oval is depicted above the kudu
cow. On the top right of the formling is an eland with what may be a calf; below
the right are images of an elephant, a tsessebe, elands and human figures facing
the formling. A polychrome giraffe, also on the right, gallops away from the
42
formling. Above left of the formling is a roan/sable antelope, below which are
several oval flecks. Farther down from these flecks is a line of seven fish, painted
in the same pigments as the oval cores of the formling (orange, red and white).
They swim following the curves and convolutions of the formling outline, the
Another panel that A. Smith uses to show the symbolic exploitation territory of
the trance world is from a site called Snake Rock, in Namibia. Various animals
crane, trees and human figures, as well as some ‘non-representational’ motifs, are
These contexts are charged with symbols of potency. The animals associated
with these motifs have special symbolic status in San religious beliefs and
cosmology. The eland, giraffe, kudu and elephant are believed to possess
particularly powerful potency (Marshall 1969: 351-352; Katz 1982; Biesele 1980:
58-59, 1993: 94-95; Katz et al. 1997, on K”xau’ account of a giraffe that came and
“took” him). Megan Biesele (1993: 95) points out that among the Ju/’hoansi, “The
boundaries.” This point explains their symbolic significance and, as I argue later,
they were carefully chosen from a range of possible subjects because of their
The associated fish in the Nanke formling (also commonly painted in various
(Lewis-Williams 1988a: 8, 1988b: 142; Lewis-Williams & Dowson 1999: 57; Walker
1996: 90; Ouzman 1995). They evoke the “underwater experience of trance”, the
feeling of drowning: shortage of breath and altered vision and hearing (Lewis-
43
Williams 1984, 1988a: 8; Walker 1996: 70). In addition to being aquatic trance
turtles, some of which are painted in Matopo, are said to be the Rain’s ‘things’
(D.F. Bleek 1933: 301; L.V.6. 4385 rev., in Lewis-Williams 1980: 470) or
personifications of the rain divinity, !Khwa (Hewitt 1976: 91-92, 1986: 78) in San
creatures are connected with “rain symbolism”. Among the /Xam they were
avoided as food especially by girls and young bachelors (D.F. Bleek 1933: 303;
L.VII.16. 7431 rev.). Painted contexts of formlings with these creatures suggest
these key aspects of the painted contexts. It also applies an idea, that of n!oresi,
formlings and which seems out of keeping with other parts of our knowledge of
San life and rock art. For example, although territoriality is argued to exist
n!oresi and xaro to the San notions of the spirit world, as experienced in trance, is
not clearly shown in this explanation. Even considering that the spirit and
Furthermore, this interpretation does not clarify how the formal attributes of
begs the question as to why the painters chose to represent a not-so-well defined
concept, such as territoriality, by way of formling shapes. San territories are not
44
clearly marked or bounded tracts of land. Even among the more territorial
groups (e.g., G/wi or the !Kõ) it is only general areas around particular
landforms that serve as boundary markers (Silberbauer 1981: 193). Richard Lee
(1968) noted that the Ju/’hoan territories are always blurred and it is uncertain
where they begin and end. It appears that n!oresi do not actually exist as defined
territories. Indeed, the term ‘territory’ itself, with its connotations, is unsuitable
for the traditional San concept. Ideas of territoriality are a Western concept of
system.
repeated in many motifs. With this point in mind it is unclear why San artists
shapes in consistent forms. We also do not know how the San themselves
conceive of the shapes of their n!oresi, if at all they are conceived to have any
particular shapes. Walker (1996: 60) notes that in Matopo “there are no
then such social group divisions or boundaries must be identifiable from specific
inferences on the art to identify, specifically, the supernatural realm as one aspect
and mentions the harnessing of power (A. Smith 1994: 377), it is Garlake’s
Garlake (1987d, 1990, 1995) considers concepts that, as he argues, are beyond
realistic depiction of something ‘out there’ in the physical world, or, ‘in there’ in
the stimulations of the central nervous system.” In his argument formlings are
this view, and quoting extensively from Katz’s (1982) material on Ju/’hoan trance
organs. Having declared that, he proceeds to say the art is “an exploration of a
rather than of things seen” (ibid.: 150) and that “references to the invisible,
In the conclusion of The hunter’s vision (Garlake 1995: 166) these pronouncements
are reversed as he claims that Zimbabwean San art was not “primarily or even
Viewers who can think of no familiar iconic referents to formlings necessarily see
them in abstract terms. This view, however, suggests the presence of an element
(apparently from Western art) in San art the evidence for which is very slight. It
that San art must, like Western art, have an abstract element for it to qualify as a
high or developed art form. Earlier, Mason (1958: 363) held a similar, and in
forms which do not appear to be based on nature” and invoked the twentieth
At a different level of analysis, Garlake (1990: 19) argues that formlings have a
by these terms. He proceeds to say that they embody the realm of supernatural
potency and represent aspects of it. Key to this argument is the Ju/’hoan concept
of the gebesi (the pit of the stomach in human beings, Katz 1982: 45), which they
believe is the main source of potency in the human body. In this view the
iconicity of formlings and their outlines represents the abdomen and the internal
organs, especially the liver and spleen (Garlake 1987d: 52-53, 1990: 19, 1995: 94,
96, 154). Within Garlake’s own analytical framework formlings are, therefore, not
represent the seat of potency, the pit of the stomach (Garlake 1995: 154). This
internal contradiction in the argument shows that Garlake himself is uneasy with
Trident shapes that appear to go in and out of the orifices on outlines of some
formlings are argued to represent the release of active potency. Garlake does not
however say what those orifices could represent in the material world or indeed
if there is any allusion in the San ethnography, that he draws upon, to the release
of potency through such phenomena. The associated fleck or dot motifs covering
the formling cores are said to represent latent, but controlled, potency. Spiked
crenellations on the outer edges of some formlings are said to depict ‘arrows of
how this conclusion is derived. Since he sees the trident shapes in Figure 13 or
47
argument, contrary to his claim that Zimbabwean rock art is not related to trance,
trance and potency. He even sees ‘trancers’ in this art (Garlake 1990: 19).
19) further argues that an oval could be a dancer or trancer himself, full of latent
represent a community of trancers (Garlake 1995: 97). The Diana’s Vow panel,
with two recumbent human figures integrated with ovals, is used to support this
argument (Garlake 1987d: plate VIII). A third image used as additional evidence
for this explanation from the Lake Chivero area (formerly Lake McIlwaine) is
argued to be an oval that has transformed into a human being (Garlake 1987d:
52). With the Chapter One definition of formlings in mind, Garlake considers
generality of these motifs. Single ovals, or any other core type painted singly, are
One point needs mentioning in as far as the Lake Chivero image is concerned.
For a nearby crocodile painting, Garlake (1995: fig. 139) points out that “its
unfinished red painting of a tsessebe shown in Garlake (1995: plate VII). A few of
these hollow-bodied figures also occur in Matopo, and elsewhere in the northern
parts of South Africa (Hampson et al. 2002). I contend that these images are no
different from the Chivero human figure and can, similarly, be argued to be
ovals that have transformed into those animals or creatures they appear to be.
48
Garlake selects only one image from a range of similar occurrences—the human
significance on one image that fits an explanation and the omission of other
omits many repeated features in the painted contexts of formlings and therefore
does not cater for their richness. The contexts are more complex and diverse than
insubstantial number), a point that some writers have also noted. Walker (1996:
73) says that formlings frequently conflate with other objects (e.g., trees) and
formlings and their conflations with trees or plants is common (Figs 1, 13, 21,
explanation.
Although Garlake himself notes these associations (Garlake 1987d: 52, 49, 1995:
155, figs 104, 121), he does not say what they might mean. It is, therefore, unclear
how these conflations of formlings and vegetal forms fit the explanation that they
the gebesi explanation (Figs 1, 9-13, 21; also Goodall 1959: plate 8). Again, the
symbolic focus.
the light of San notions of potency. In contrast to Garlake, Walker (1987: 141)
notes that “abstract signs are very rare” in Matopo art. Arguing that formlings
and trident signs “can be interpreted in terms of real phenomena”. He views the
potency symbols. Walker (1996: 73) extends the idea of potency to other insect
forms, such as, cocoons (poison grubs) or paper wasp nests, which he suggests
that formlings might depict inanimate subjects that include cultural objects, such
as: huts, ostrich egg shell containers and leather bags (Walker 1996: 11). Walker
Walker’s studies show formlings to occur mostly in large living sites and what he
calls ‘ceremonial centres’. The bigger (in size and number of ovals) and more
1996: 32). In these large sites, more ovals per cluster were recorded showing a
50
mean of eight-plus ovals at big sites compared to a mean of five at small living
sites and about three at special work sites (Walker 1996: 73). Walker notes that
giraffe and formlings are often central in these shelters, with large and complex
analysis showed, on the one hand, giraffe and formlings to co-vary significantly,
while on the other hand, birds and plants occur together. All this, Walker argues,
suggests some relationship with the social group, as formling ovals range from
one to 20 or more, numbers similar to some painted human group sizes at these
sites. Similar to Garlake’s view, he suggests that the number of ovals may have
correlated with the number of trancers or site occupants at the time of painting,
relating to “the group potency needs” (Walker 1996: 74). While both writers’
allows that the art in Zimbabwe is shamanistic. But, as he correctly notes there
Studies in the 1990s reassessed, albeit cursorily, tree and other plant motifs in San
rock art. A common conclusion is that these motifs are not simple pictures of
One such explanation argues for a strong association between trees and flecks.
These flecks are sometimes painted to look like insect forms (Fig. 13, Plate 7).
Garlake (1990: 17, 22, 1995: 103), drawing on Dowson’s (1989) view that dots and
51
dashes are linked to potency, argues that flecks represent the “release of active,
powerful and dangerous potency”. He says that flecks focused attention on the
“inherent in a situation” (Garlake 1995: 103). The association of flecks with trees
(e.g., Fig. 15), therefore, represents a particular kind of “potency that acts
that of man and animals” (ibid.: 105). In this interpretation, flecks are not a part of
landscape representation, but are part of influencing it, as “a force that permeates
nature and landscape” (Garlake 1995: 105). It must be noted that flecks also occur
(Frobenius 1963: tafels 10, 11, 20, 38; Goodall 1959; Garlake 1995: figs 8, 9, 152,
179, 180). Garlake (1995: 156) notes this point although he maintains that flecks
would act primarily on trees and not people or animals, San ethnography
suggests that man, animal and plant worlds interdigitate. Sometimes human
beings become animals or plants and vice-versa, and as the next chapter shows,
fluidity between these subjects is not restricted to the San folkloric or mythical
past (Bleek 1875: 11; Bleek & Lloyd 1911: 5, 107, 163, 187, 216; D.F. Bleek 1932: 48,
1935: 18), it is believed to occur also in the present. For instance, Biesele (1976:
310) was told by “one reliable informant” that “she was not a person or an
animal at all, but an edible root called ≠ dwa !k∂ma”. Some medicine specialists
are believed to have powers to transform into leonine or other bestial forms (Lee
1967: 35; Heinz 1975: 29; Lewis-Williams 1981a, 1985: 55; Katz 1982: 227; Katz et
al. 1997: 24; Keeney 1999: 73, 81, 93, 100). There is no reason, therefore, to argue
52
for an opposition between these entities, so that some ‘special’ potency, said to be
represented by fields of flecks, acts only on one of them—the trees, and not on
Walker (1996: 71) suggests that, “branches of tree-like motifs also recall forked
arrows and often an animal stands or rests quietly or a shaman kneels near one
and so they are more probably depicting concepts concerning potency than real
argued to symbolise potency (ibid.: 71). Hence, in Walker’s view, the focus of
meaning in trees derives from their association with another motif that is argued
to symbolise potency. However, neither Garlake nor Walker say why trees were
between motifs: ‘flecks and trees’ and ‘arrows and trees’. They do not clarify the
themselves, trees, and only then do I consider other motifs in the painted
Garlake’s and Walker’s observations show that trees occur in contexts that are
rich with metaphors of potency, but are not in themselves interpreted for their
concerning potency has thus been derived from the associated motifs, not from
the trees themselves. It is not enough to say that eland possess supernatural
potency because they are depicted in association with elements, such as, for
53
example, bees and beehives at Botha’s Shelter or the thin red line in many
Drakensberg panels, that suggest strong potency. It should be asked why are
eland, and not other animals, shown in these contexts. And at that, Lewis-
Williams (1992: 14) showed that San “artists were principally concerned with [the
a number of ritual contexts.” Those various contexts were investigated and their
Williams 1981a). The eland was highly esteemed as a powerful animal in San
thought (Biesele 1993), not from a random association but because of its special
intrinsic attributes.
Eland, especially bulls are endowed with great amounts of fat, far more than any
antelope. Fat (Chapter Six) is a substance the San believe to possess strong
potency, the behaviour of eland mirrors that of San trancers and other ritual
their natural behaviour and their symbolic associations in San thought. Equally,
their intrinsic symbolic associations in San thought and then proceed to their
they should not, in themselves, be final. The unifying factor in the new
Apart from the two recent explanations of trees that I have discussed, there are
some views that depart from ideas of supernatural potency as an element for the
significance of these motifs among San people. These views consider the
chemical properties of plants that the San are said to have valued.
The significance of botanical subjects among southern African San has recently
been explored in a new light. One view is that San medicine specialists used the
bleeding (Butler 1997: 83, 85). Although theoretically sound, the validity of this
among the extant San groups. Nasal haemorrhage was however a significant
feature (but not induced in the suggested way) of San curing rituals. It appears to
have been more common among the nineteenth century Southern San (see
Arbousset & Daumas 1846: 246-247; D.F. Bleek 1935: 20, 34; Orpen 1874: 10) than
it is presently in the Kalahari (Lewis-Williams & Blundell 1999: 17). There is also
1978b; Harner 1982; Dobkin de Rios 1989; Drury 1991), writers have explored
possible similar plant uses among San groups (Schultes 1976; Dobkin de Rios
1986; Winkelman & Dobkin de Rios 1989). The G/wi are said to have used
indigenous hemp to induce trance (Eibl-Eibesfeldt 1980: 68), a point which the
55
G/wi themselves refuted (Silberbauer 1981: 203). The Hei//om are argued to use a
kind of hallucinogen to trance (Schatz 1993: 12). Still others argue that the
Rios 1989). In this understanding, some rock art imagery is now suggested to be
evidence that Maluti San used a certain aloe-like plant to induce trance visions
(Loubser & Zietsman 1994). These authors identify the Caledon Valley plant
motif as Brunsvigia radulosa (Loubser & Zietsman 1994: fig. 1), which they note
contains alkaloids known to stimulate the central nervous system. They argue
that Maluti San valued B. radulosa for its psychotropic qualities to induce trance
The psychotropic elements of such plants are contained in the alkaloids, resins,
glucosides and essential oils found in the leaves, bark, stem, flowers, sap, roots
or seeds of the plants (Drury 1991: 40). These plants, often called ‘sacred plants’,
where they are valued as transformative agents for trancers to gain access into
the spirit realm, for example, among the Shipibo, the Cashivo and other Peruvian
Amazon Indians (Dobkin de Rios 1989), the Mazatecs and Zapotecs of Oaxaca,
the Nahua Indians of Puebla and the Tarascana of Michoacan, to name a few
(Drury 1991: 50, 52). It has been observed that the regions richest in naturally
occurring psychotropic plants are Mexico and South America. In these regions
such plants are used extensively in shamanic rituals (Drury 1991: 45). Although a
few cases have been documented, psychotropic plants do not appear to be used
shamanically to any great extent in Africa and Australia (Schultes 1976; Drury
1991: 41). Reasons for such disparities are not clear, but one explanation might be
that there are research imparities in these continents compared to the Americas
and northern Europe. In the Kalahari, however, the San themselves deny that
56
they use hallucinogens. Many anthropologists working in this region have also
not observed uses of such plants in spite of the claims to the contrary.
While the plausibility of hallucinogenic use by the San cannot be discounted, the
specific contexts in which these substances are (or were) used must be provided.
It has been suggested that the sniffing of smoke from medicine men’s tortoise-
shell boxes during dances was the ingestion of hallucinogens (Winkelman &
Dobkin de Rios 1989). Although Marshall (1969) is cited in support of this view,
(Marshall’s 1962, 1969: 360). Whereas sniffing can be one way of ingesting
(cf. Steyn 1981: 10, on the Nharo), or to trancers to help them control violent
resuscitate them and not to induce trance. To let the “unconscious man” breathe
in the smoke was “not to transfer n/um1 to him, but to give him physical care…”
(Marshall 1969: 378). She also discounted the use of dagga or similar substances
for trancing (Marshall 1969: 372, see her footnote 2 on the same page).
Later, Katz (1982: 280-294) and Kinachau, a Ju/’hoan healer, discussed a root
effects and occasional use in the past as a teaching aid for novices to attain
trance. Yet, even in the past, he argued, it was not used to “do num for healing”.
In his own words, “This gaise noru noru is powerful…but the num of healing,
the num that boils in our stomachs, is really powerful” (Katz 1982: 293, original
1Ju/’hoan word for supernatural potency. Formerly transcribed as n/um (Marshall 1969) and num
(Katz 1982) and, currently, n/om (Biesele 1993)
57
emphasis). In accord, a Kalahari healer said recently, “We do not use any
medicines to help us see the light or feel the spirit. The spirit [n/om] brings all the
Saboabue, says, “I do no drink any medicine to enhance the spirits [n/om]. I only
San medicine specialists believe in the efficacy of the trance dance to activate and
generate supernatural potency, which facilitates trance and access to God’s house
in the spirit world (Marshall 1999: 133). Trance was achieved through rhythmic
(Lee 1967: 33; Lewis-Williams 1981a: 5, 1984: 226, 1988b: 135). Medicine
specialists also rubbed their stomachs, the source of this energy, repeatedly in
what Kinachau called “gebesi work” (Katz 1982: 284). In contrast to suggestions
that Dobe San used the psychoactive properties of Pancratium orianthum (locally
called kwashi), to hallucinate (Schultes 1976), most writers note the dearth of
evidence that San rituals rely on these plants (Lee 1967: 33; Lewis-Williams
1981a: 5, 1984: 226, 1997: 817). Marshall (1969: 372) wrote, “The men induce
trance in themselves with apparent ease and without the use of material
Equally, Silberbauer (1981: 203) notes that for the G/wi “No intoxicants or
narcotics are used.” In this light (and our knowledge of the non-esoteric nature of
San religion) it seems that psychotropic plants may not, for the San, have been as
significant as some writers argue. Because the evidence for the use of psychedelic
and they show that San art is subtler and structured at a deeper level than can be
San art from the cultural perspective of the artists, their contemporaries and their
twentieth centuries preserves a myriad of aspects on San life, their beliefs, rituals
and mythology. With this evidence, they have been able to link formlings to San
motifs and their repeated painted contexts in order to penetrate their symbolism.
To set the ethnographic platform for my explanation, I first discuss the core
Chapter Three
In this chapter I set forth the foundation for my interpretation of formlings and
trees within San beliefs and cosmology, principally their notions of supernatural
potency and its manipulation through trance dances. The centrality of religion
and trance for the San is attested in the ethnographies of the nineteenth-century
Southern San from the Cape and Maluti regions (Bleek & Lloyd 1911; Orpen
1874) and the twentieth century northern San from the Kalahari (e.g., Marshall
1969; Lee 1968; Katz 1982; Biesele 1993; Guenther 1999). Similarities have been
African San rock art and they correspond with San religion, rituals and attendant
1983; Manhire et al. 1986). Zimbabwean San art is not isolated from this complex
60
and it exhibits underlying concerns that are similar to those known to exist in
San art traditions throughout southern Africa (Huffman 1983; Garlake 1987d,
1995; Walker 1996). Walker (1994) has demonstrated that similar religious beliefs
and practices were central to the lives of prehistoric San groups in Matopo, a
Most writers agree today that the social and economic relations at the heart of
San existence (past and present) are inextricably intertwined with San religious
beliefs (see Lewis-Williams 1982). It is even argued that, “Their economy, social
system, and religion were an integrated whole which could not be dissected
without tragic results” (Lewis-Williams 1976: 33). Richard Katz (1982: 28) points
out explicitly that the Ju/’hoansi consider religion as their way of life. Today
many San in the Kalahari say the trance dance, a central religious institution and
the numinous vehicle for the experience of the spirit world, is “the quintessential
show that the central notions of San supernaturalism—potency and the trance
Religious beliefs occur in all known human societies (Hayden 1987), and they
vary widely. This is true for the San of southern Africa. Many writers have
observed that there are variations of religious beliefs amongst different San
groups (Heinz 1975; Guenther 1981; Barnard 1988), although they all adhere to
among the San, one needs to understand the concept of religion, which,
On the basis of this definition it can be argued that the locus of San religion and
cosmology concerns the nexus between the natural and the supernatural realms.
1999: 7) are the principal mediators of the enmeshed San cosmos. In this
Guenther 1986, 1999), play a significant part, hence the argument that San
religion is shamanic (Lewis-Williams 1981a, 1992, 1994). The San believe that
their ritual specialists are able to transcend these inseparable realities. Their
and trance experiences” (Lewis-Williams 1992: 57), since they “see both worlds
rituals. Dances are spontaneous, often initiated for play and amusement by
children and adolescents, then joined later by adults (Walker 1996: 66; Marshall
of supernatural potency, its activation during trance dances and the spirit world
and trees with potency. Indeed, potency appears to be the unifying concept in
62
San religious beliefs and many subjects depicted in San rock art. To understand
formlings and tree motifs I begin with a discussion of potency, and then show
invisible, and powerful” (Marshall 1969: 351-352, 1999: xxxii) is a part of its
elusiveness and essence. Marshall (1969: 351) employed the analogy of electricity:
like electricity n/om is an invisible powerful force with manifestations in the form
of light, heat and kinetic energies. N/om is not diffuse in the universe, nor loose in
the air (Marshall 1969: 351); it exists in both animate and inanimate objects.
Subjects holding n/om include humans, particularly the ritual specialists (n/om
gemsbok) and other species such as giraffe, buffalo and elephant. Insects like
honeybees and termites contain very strong potency, as do the honey and fat
they produce. Obscure species such as aardvarks, mambas, and the redwing
partridge also possess potency, albeit to a lesser intensity (Marshall 1969: 351,
1999: xxxii). Medicine plants possess particularly strong n/om and so do the
medicine songs and the medicine dances at which the songs are sung (Lewis-
Williams 1987: 166). Each song and dance evokes a particular subject known to
be rich in potency. The list is long, things as diverse as the sun, moon, falling
stars, rain, water, fire, ostrich eggs, menstrual blood and women’s breast milk
could also be added. Indeed, n/om appears to embody nature itself and defies a
63
conclusive definition. What appears to matter most to the San is not its presence,
asked to explain n/om and its operation people simply say, “it is strong.” Recent
testimonies from the Kalahari explain that n/om “means spirit…It is [the] spirit of
the Big god” (Keeney 1999: 115, 105, 107, 109). However, the understandings of
the concept are varied and there seems to be no definitive answer as to whether
n/om is differentiated, since “…we were told that the Gautscha people possessed
the [n/om] of the medicine songs called Giraffe, but not the [n/om] of the medicine
song called Honey” (Marshall 1969: 351, 1999: xxxii). She adds further that the
Ju/’hoansi believe that ≠Gao N!a (Great God) has n/om that no one else
possesses—the strongest n/om of all (Marshall 1999: xxxiii). Equally this belief
camp and its people (Marshall 1969: 351, 1999: 21, 22; Katz 1982: 92).
variable force. Marshall’s own electricity analogy becomes useful here; the use of
different bulbs does not mean that the electricity they use is different. I, therefore,
objects. The effects of potency can be diverse, both beneficent and maleficent
(Katz 1982: 92). The more strong potency becomes, the less easy it is to control
and, when out of control, it can be harmful and hazardous (Marshall 1999:
64
xxxiv). With a great amount of potency comes the potential for greater good,
such as great healing power. N/om must be controlled and contained, otherwise a
such as a lion.
(Katz 1982: 44-49). A healer may struggle to control his potency, but other people
present at a dance, both women and men, help to calm or cool down the high
potency levels (Marshall 1969: 377-378; Barnard 1988; Biesele 1993: 83-84). All
know the dangers of extreme n/om. The word itself is so strong that its utterance
may be hazardous (Marshall 1969: 351; Katz 1982: 92). The Ju/’hoan respect word
shibi is used to describe strong potency, as it is less likely to conduct harm. The
Drum and others, are equally potent and dangerous. Similar avoidance rules are
applied to powerful dances and the Ju/’hoan use a pacifying word n!a (‘big’), as
in “the dance is n!a” (Marshall 1969: 352, 1999: xxxiv) referring to its great
potency. That n/om is the spirit of the Big God (Keeney 1999: 115) provides clues
to the San beliefs concerning the origination of this pervasive supernatural force.
Despite regional variations in San beliefs (Heinz 1975; Barnard 1988), they exhibit
unity and coherence in their conceptual structure. Concerning n/om, most San say
that it is linked with the existence of the Great or High God (≠Gao N!a), the lesser
god or deity (//gauwa) and the spirits of the dead (//gauwasi). The Great God,
living in the sky, is neither intrinsically good nor evil. He is believed to be the
65
source of all potency (Marshall 1969: 352; Keeney 1999: 107). One of his Ju/’hoan
names, Goaxa, also refers to his power to create (Marshall 1962: 223, 248, 1999: 8;
Katz 1982: 245). It is this power that he used to create n/om. Similarly, the !Ko
great god, Gu/e, has a kind of power to create called ‘/oa’, which is also the name
of their lesser god, whom Gu/e created (Heinz 1975: 20). The Great God is “the
great owner of n/om” (Marshall 1999: 20) or, as some point out, “the ultimate
source of all [n/om]” (Biesele 1978: 933; Marshall 1962: 235, 238, 1969: 351-352;
originates from the highest divinity in San belief and cosmology whose residence
is in the sky.
Medicine specialists receive their n/om from the Great God, who gives very
strong potency to those whom he especially favours and gives less to others
(Marshall 1969: 351, 1999: 8). He does this by sending //gauwa with n/om to put
into medicine specialists through their backs. Some potency remains in the back,
but most goes into the stomach, which the Ju/’hoansi call the gebesi, a little
continues up to the head and hair (Katz 1982: 45, 98; Garlake 1995). //Gauwa
(also the trickster) is intrinsically ambiguous—good and evil are crucial to his
nature. Spirits of the dead are invariably associated with evil, as agents of death
(Marshall 1969: 373; Barnard 1979: 71), though their supernatural abilities are not
insurmountable. These spirits can also be made to comply with good causes for
the benefit of the living people, such as bringing potency and helping healers to
cure the sick. Among the Nharo these spirits also help healers to enter trance.
Novices receive their potency from experienced ritual specialists who shoot
‘arrows-of-potency’ into their stomachs, thereby transferring n/om (Katz 1982: 44,
168). Their teachers can also take them to the Great God in the sky who then
66
teaches them the techniques of harnessing potency (see Old K”xau’s testimony in
Biesele 1975: 151-174). Once put in a person, potency remains in that person for
all their life (Marshall 1969: 351). However, potency may lose its strength, or
under certain circumstances, it can wane from a person (Katz 1982: 239; also
testimonies to that effect in Keeney 1999). Hence, one of the reasons trancers visit
the Great God’s house is to replenish and harness more n/om (Keeney 1999: 59,
62, 107). As one healer said, “It [n/om] takes me up to a sacred place where I am
“death-thing” (Marshall 1999: xxxiv), meaning that it causes trance or ‘kw !i’
(‘half-death’, Marshall 1962: 250, 1969: 377; Lee 1968: 40; Lewis-Williams 1981a,
1988b: 137-138) and its visions. Generally, trance visionary experiences (see
either to encounter and remonstrate the spirits of the dead (Marshall 1969: 378) in
the spirit world or to visit God’s house to intervene and ameliorate the
66). Some healers believe that in trance they are able to transform into bestial and
avian forms (D.F. Bleek 1933; Katz 1982: 100-101, 115-116; Biesele 1993: 94-98;
activities or to visit distant camps and villages (Keeney 1999: 61; also Lewis-
Williams 1982). Although such preternatural activities and access to the spirit
circumstances (Biesele 1975b: 173, 1993: 67-70), the trance dance (see epigraphs to
67
this chapter), perhaps due to its communal nature that creates a ‘pool’ of
The trance dance is a key San ritual (Guenther 1999: 181) in which medicine
1979: 72). Marshall (1969: 349; also Lewis-Williams 1976: 40) noted that, “The
Marshall’s (1969: 379-380) view, reiterated by Guenther (1981: 21), the dance
works at both “psychological and sociological levels” (see Barnard 1979: 68) to
enhance cohesion among individuals and groups. Some authors argue that the
dance and its songs are “the basic vehicles of transcendence, enabling curers to
achieve trance” (Biesele 1975b: 6). Similarly, Guenther (1999: 182) argues that,
“The objective of the curing dance is to achieve the state of trance (or !kia in
Ju/’hoan, Katz 1982) and thereby transcend ordinary life and reality.” He notes
that the explicit purpose of the trance dance is to heal (Guenther 1981: 21-22,
1986: 253), or as Lee (1984: 103) puts it, “healers enter trance to be able to heal the
sick.” Some shamanic rituals other than healing or curing, such as rainmaking
among the /Xam, would also have drawn potency from the dance. These key San
I argue in this chapter that since n/om is activated at the dance, the dance is
therefore primary for varied spiritual ends. The Ju/’hoan ritual specialists say
that they dance n/om, suggesting that it is the object of the dance, which then
allows them communion with the supernatural. The synergy (Katz 1982: 197-201)
of potent elements in the dance, such as the fire, medicine songs, and women’s
rhythmic clapping (Marshall 1969: 374) are all geared to activate or cause n/om to
boil in the stomachs of medicine specialists (Katz 1982; Barnard 1979: 73-75;
Marshall 1999: 68). Singing medicine songs is said to “awaken n/om” (Keeney
1999: 38, 41, 47, 60). In Ju/’hoan, ‘gam’ (‘to get up in the morning’) describes the
The dance context is very rich in potency, it is here that the concentration of n/om
is stronger than in any other situation in San life (Marshall 1969: 352). Even
women sitting around the central dance fire, singing and clapping the rhythm of
69
the medicine songs are sometimes affected by the saturation of n/om to the extent
Fig. 7. A group with a central shaman, people clapping and ‘prowling’ spirit creatures
around (Drakensberg)
The dance is also a context in which the “The activation of num in one person
1982: 198). Medicine specialists in such situations are able to enter trance and
healers can then cure other people, or can ‘see’ supernatural elements, such as
‘arrows of sickness’, invisible sickness in people and related mystic features not
The efficacy of the dance can be explained further by reference to some San
beliefs. Its importance does not only lie in allowing the generation and
manipulation of n/om, but it also is a context that attracts spirit beings since they
70
love music and enjoy watching good dancing (Marshall 1969: 349). The Great
God, or his agents (the lesser god and the spirits of the dead) may avail
themselves at dances to dispense more n/om to the healers (Marshall 1965: 271) or
just to witness the proceedings (Fig. 7). For the Nharo, the spirits of the dead
(g//ãũa sg., g//ãũa-ne pl.) present at the dance may enter into a temporary union
with healers to effect trance (Barnard 1979: 72, 75). The spiritual power animals
of healers may also emerge during dances (Keeney 1999: 71, 91). It is therefore
unsurprising that the trance dance remains the locus of San supernaturalism. The
dance draws many people together and thereby concentrating potency (Marshall
potency in order to enter the spirit world, I do not rehearse its morphology and
Marshall 1962, 1969; Barnard 1979; Katz 1976, 1982). Instead, I attend to elements
in the art that have relevance to my explanation of formlings, tree and plant
motifs. Although the San social and economic life is inseparable from San
religion (all of which feature in rock art, Vinnicombe 1976; Lewis-Williams 1981a;
Maggs & Sealy 1983; Huffman 1983; Garlake 1995; Walker 1996), religion seems
to be central. Matopo rock art reveals diverse elements that link it with well
understood San religious beliefs and practices (Walker 1994, 1996). This body of
art exhibits San notions of potency and trance experiences as strongly as it does
with other southern African San arts. It depicts metaphors and symbols that
1981a) relies mainly on the identification of specific features in the art and tying
these to San ethnography. Zimbabwean rock art falls within this corpus of San
art tradition. While it exhibits similar manners of depiction to the other southern
Africa San arts, it contains regional variations in subjects and use of colour. This
diversity does not entail incompatibility with the broad San belief system.
geographical areas. The Matopo art thus has its own distinctive characteristics.
powerful animals, such as giraffe and kudu. Depictions of eland and rain
smaller and rarely painted species, such as, insects, fish, eels, turtles and snakes
are also present. Walker (1996: 90) has identified many features in Matopo art
Among the trance related depictions with ethnographic support are paintings of
various dancing postures and features. Diagnostic postures include: arms behind
the back, hand(s) on head or hip, bending over, squatting and kneeling on all
fours. Some of these postures have been widely described and explained from
the Drakensberg rock art. Trance related features include: nasal hemorrhage,
lines from the top of heads, necks and armpits, extra limbs, hooves on human
conflations, infibulation and others. These postures and features are also found
72
in Matopo and cannot be explained in simplistic and narrative terms. Nor can the
‘anything goes’ approach help us understand them. These are better understood
as metaphors and symbols deriving from the San religious beliefs rather than
These features and postures inextricably tie the art to San beliefs and symbolism
concerning potency and trance. Garlake (1995: 199) showed recently that
related to trance (ibid.: 199). Walker (1996: 77) concludes that the Matopo art is
religious symbolism. The existence of these features in Matopo art, which has
religious ideology and demonstrates continuities into the present San beliefs
(Lewis-Williams 1984).
ethnographic present comes from the dating evidence. Walker (1987, 1994, 1996)
dated the Matopo archaeological record and showed that rock art dates between
at least 10, 000 BP and 1, 500 BP. It is therefore probably older than the well
studied and well understood South African rock art and even the ethnographic
corpus that has informed our understanding of the art. During this time span San
religious beliefs would not have remained a static and monolithic ideology.
Archaeological evidence shows that the contact period, which in South Africa is
and more recently the European settlement in the seventeenth century, became a
73
force that impinged on the San way of life. In the Drakensberg, Colin Campbell
(1986, 1987) demonstrated how the arrival of new people transformed Bushman
South African art. In Matopo, Walker argues that the Khoekhoe herders arrived
around 2, 000 BP. Later, around 1, 500 BP, the Iron Age Bantu-speaking agro-
(Walker 1987: 146). The bulk of San art was executed prior to this contact phase
(Walker 1987: 143), which marked the end of the Matopo San art tradition.
Contact therefore appears to have had an insignificant impact on the bulk of the
Matopo art. In spite of the claims that Matopo art also depicts Iron Age material
cultural objects (Cooke 1963, 1964a, 1964b, 1965), this art is largely devoid of
contact imagery. San art is not simply a record of objects or mundane events, but
elements of contact are depicted in some areas where the San experienced
groups and European settlers. Contact imagery in South Africa includes, sheep,
cattle, shields, horses, wagons, ships, guns and other introduced material objects
(Huffman 1983; Parkington et al. 1986; Yates et al. 1993; Campbell 1987; Anderson
Even where San rock art does depict introduced subjects, this need not imply
fundamental changes in the San ideology and belief systems. Symbolic and
Thomas Huffman (1983) has shown how sheep in Zimbabwean rock art, like
the Drakensberg, herds of cattle are depicted with eland in their midst (Campbell
1987; Hall 1994: 75-80) and they were placed within a similar conceptual
framework as eland. As cattle became increasingly important for the San, they
74
with the San depicts incidents of the late nineteenth-century (Dowson 1993).
the details show that this, and similar ‘historical scenes,’ are also set within a
influenced by ritual, belief and symbolism as other parts of the San art tradition.
With the introduction of new subjects, the painted contexts appear to have
Formlings are one subject whose manner of depiction has remained fairly
constant over time. They also ‘chart’ aspects of the San religious ideology that
have remained broadly similar over time and great distances. I argue that their
formal and contextual coherence implies that they are based on physical world
subjects. Like antelope, because they were based on a natural form, their shape
time. However, slight variations occur in their painted contexts and associations,
In order to consider the symbolism of formlings, one must understand the San
but were created following rules and conventions, which I discuss in the next
myths and testimonies. Studies must demonstrate clearly the links and
connections between the ethnographic data and individual features from the
painted contexts.
In this same spirit, Lewis-Williams (1972) used concepts of syntax and grammar
in the early 1970s to discern rules that structured San art. He argued that the
the art. Rather than generating meaning from left (initial element) to right
images on painted surfaces was at right angles to the rock face. The initial
element, directly on the rock, determined what went above and around it. The
the problems of discerning which images are uppermost or lowermost and the
time lapse between different layers, a significant realization was that, rather than
statements. He employed criteria of; shared action, linking action, similar paint,
similar ‘style,’ and similar subject matter to conceptualise sets of imagery (Lewis-
Williams 1992: 9). Specific features such as lines also linked the seemingly
the consideration of what constitutes the painted contexts of formlings and trees.
These relationships and the connections they have with the ethnographic data
The observation that meaning was constructed in a structured manner was thus
made possible. But to tease out metaphors and symbols contained in this
structure required more than mere observation. Each must be examined within
its context and explained by reference to San ethnography. A part of this process
that has attracted criticism has been the way images and image clusters have
been chosen for analysis and interpretation. The criticism is that researchers
define their sets or ‘units of analysis’ in a piecemeal manner, which then renders
their conclusions biased and inadequate. I now turn to this criticism and I show
understood, can guide us into what contexts and associations were intended by
is the way writers define their ‘units of analysis’ (Nettleton 1985 conference
paper), that is, the manner in which specific images or image clusters are
conceptualized and extracted from their original panels for analysis. I accept that
this can be a problem, for example, many early writers and copyists were
captivated by the unusual, the well preserved and the beautiful paintings in the
art and this created a serious and detrimental bias within their observations. For
example, when Cooke (1971: 19) explained a panel depicting a tree and two
The omission of fine details either in copying the art or in interpretation can
indeed have a serious negative impact on the value of research, but all current
researchers accept and work within this knowledge. Our current understanding
of San rock art is such that we recognise that it is often detailed features, such as,
1984: 227).
Observing features carefully is clearly key, but does this mean we must examine
elements within a panel for the purposes of analysis? At times, this can also be a
problem. A case in point is Pager’s use of a formling from Mutoko to argue that
formlings represented “combs of bees’ nests” (Pager 1973: 5, fig. 5). Three years
later, Pager (1976: 3, fig. 2) used the same image to suggest that southern African
“four scutiforms” from the cave of Altamira, in Spain. In this later use of the
motif, Pager deliberately omitted the outline that encloses the four oval-shaped
cores of the Mutoko motif to make it resemble the Spanish “four scutiforms.”
Yet, outlines are one of the crucial identifying features of the subject matter of
formlings and, when examined closely, they rule out the beehive explanation for
interpretation.
And yet, almost all writers today work from single figures and single contexts to
complex panels and multiple associations. In this, they are consciously selecting
explication. Unlike earlier studies (Cooke 1964; Lee & Woodhouse 1970), such
78
selection is not random, but is guided by what questions are being asked by
depictions most often have complex contexts, but complexity of context must not
this regard, Stone Age and Iron Age studies provide a simple analogy; if a site
yields two stone flints or potsherds, it is often not as informative as one yielding
large amounts of the same material. Many kinds of analyses are possible in larger
contexts, as these offer far more information in their varied associations. Put
simply, complex sites are better for the purposes of analysis. If one or two
scrapers or potsherds are encountered at a single component site, one can only
make informed surmises based on the knowledge learned from their occurrence
in other more complex contexts and sequences. In the same way we can hope to
interpret small simple rock art sites on the basis of knowledge we gain at larger
more complex ones. Layers upon layers of archaeological deposit thus constitute
‘layers of meaning’. In rock art, more complex panels and their varied ‘layers of
meaning’ have a firmer chance of interpretation than less complex ones, or single
took into account the works of their predecessors (see Lewis-Williams 1972) and
their own work was conditioned by what had gone before. It is therefore
pertinent that I anaylse and tease out ‘layers of meaning’ in the more complex
In this approach, complex panels and contexts are conceived differently from the
Nettleton (1985: 50-53) criticises some rock art research for being superficial
carelessness”. Such criticisms are valid if levelled against earlier descriptive rock
art studies. Considering the proficiency of current recording and field methods
(Loubser & den Hoed 1991), this inveigh against rock art researchers is
To underscore her point, she selects clusters (not the totality) of imagery from
Pager’s copies of Sebaaieni Shelter in Ndedema Gorge. This was based on the
the meaning of the whole. We therefore must not see San paintings as completed
and ‘packaged’ products (cf. a framed artwork in any modern building) waiting
imagery, such as of formlings and trees, in the case of the present study, cannot
benefit from an attempt to explain every image at sites in which these images
Analysing defined image clusters and in some cases individual images in their
contexts, reveals underlying conceptual principles and how these can be fitted
into the larger conceptual framework of San rock art. In this process an attempt
to explain the totality of imagery at sites is not an imperative. One simply applies
that need explanation. To achieve this, contrary to Nettleton’s proposal, one need
not examine or study every single image at a site. Even modern archaeological
excavations hardly ever exhume whole sites in their totality, except under special
closer to Nettleton’s background, art history does not look at all Western art to
explain cubism. Nor does an art historian deal with every detail in a painting.
should be, divides what she calls “panoramas” into “four sections” (Nettleton
appear to be kept quite distinct from each other” (ibid.: 54). The perception of
such categories evidently hinges upon the same archaeological principles that
rock art researchers use to conceptualise their ‘analytical units’. Her own
groupings of Sebaaeini Shelter panels are no different from what she argues to be
reinscribes in her own platform the very weaknesses she means to transcend as
her “zones” or “groups” are essentially defined the same way that archaeologists
questions and, in this, they do not set out to find answers for, or to explain,
that deals with one image cluster or one type of image at a time. The flaws come
In this study, I therefore focus on formlings and botanical motifs and clusters of
imagery associated with them, as collected from my study area, the Matopo
Hills. I attend closely to the painted contexts, an element in which many previous
studies have not given adequate attention. I use images found in richer contexts
and which are therefore more readily understood to offer insights into even
those isolated formlings and botanical motifs that are difficult to interpret as
is in its context (Lewis-Williams 1972: 53). Venturing into discerning contexts and
what subject matter is depicted in formlings, requires familiarity with the artistic
conventions of San rock art. I therefore move on to a brief formal analysis of the
San manner of depiction and the way San artists represent subjects in their art.
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Chapter Four
Early researchers, schooled mostly in Western art traditions, viewed San art with
the expectation that the pictures should convey subject matter and expected that
abstract image can only be penetrated through direct comment from the artist
was therefore unknowable because the San artists and their contemporaries had
long since disappeared. Early studies of formlings, trees and plants operated
remarked that “Perhaps it is best to assume that the artists intended nothing
figures.” As I have shown, even recently it has been restated that formlings are
“abstract designs” (Garlake 1987d, 1995). Equally, the fact that trees and plants
are usually schematized beyond the possibility of species recognition has led to
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superficial interpretations, with suppositions that their meaning has been lost in
not a necessary condition for representation and also discard the notion of
abstraction in San art. I suggest a useful approach that foregrounds San picture-
making conventions, specifically for images with subject matter that appears
cultural apprehension of their art is the necessary starting point for any reading
of San rock art subject matter. Picturing conventions are the principles
concerning the logical choices that artists make in turning a subject into a picture.
transform a shape that has volume into one that does not have volume is
necessarily reductive. Some elements of the subject must be lost in the picture.
The artist’s choice then concerns what information to retain and what to lose.
However, depiction also allows the addition or emphasis of features. Small but
significant subjects can be made bigger, while powerful things can be omitted or
dealt with in a special way. In this enterprise, artists of different cultures deal
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intended to show. Some writers argue rightly that the choice of how depictions
are executed is dictated by the need to achieve purpose (B. Smith 1998: 213).
one way of getting to the subject matter and symbolism (B. Smith 1998: 219).
Formal analysis in A-B-C formalism is ideal for pictures whose subject matter is
known or self-evident, in which case, B can be recovered by seeing how (A) was
adapted to make (C). Formlings present a special case for this analysis in that
they stand as (C), our archaeological given picture, and (A), the subject matter, is
unknown. (B) can be discovered by(A). For formlings we have (C), we can work
out (B) (based on our knowledge of principles used for subjects such as, for
example, kudu and eland and other common subjects in the art) and thereby
discover (A).
To consider the (B) of San rock art, I begin with a consideration of Jan
Deregowski’s (1995, but see reviews by Clegg 1995b; Halverson 1995; also B.
on the subject. Corners of a triangle, for example, are points of rapid change in
the direction of its perimeter and they define, geometrically, the shape of the
surface at that point” (Deregowski 1995: 5). Outlines passing through such points
those passing through other less informative points. Hence, their transfer onto a
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flat surface makes a better picture. While the subject orientation in familiar
aspects may be essential for its recognition in a depiction, the more of these
points are in a depiction, the more typical and recognisable the subject becomes
in a depiction. I argue that picture making is more complicated than this, and
Deregowski also argues that the frequent viewpoints of reptiles and amphibians
depicted from above can be explained in the same way. Some might say that
such small creatures are painted from above because they are often viewed from
above, but this does not hold for all things seen from above. Cats and fish are
seen from above but are painted side-on. Although very often, Deregowski’s
predicted planes are those depicted, this is not always the case. These planes are
‘normal’ (Clegg 1987; B. Smith 1998) and not universal. In fact there are many
examples of arts around the world that do not use the normal plane. As
Halverson (1995: 14) points out what constitutes a good picture depends on what
involves mimicking “as closely as possible” the subject. This may be true for
planes. But, the picturing purpose is rarely as simple as a wish for mere
depiction. Other factors are at play and these can have a strong influence on
which aspects of the subject are chosen for depiction. Sometimes subject
recognition is not desired, such as in Cheŵa Nyau or Chinamwali rock art where
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the messages are secret and the art is designed so that it cannot be read by
outsiders (B. Smith 1998, 2001). Our (B) can therefore hide as well as reveal. As
well as superficial subject matter, most subjects carry multiple levels of deeper
hidden. (B) can thus be a complex process full of choices conditioned by the
conventions.
With this mind, let us now look at the (B) of San rock art. With the understanding
of symbolism in San art came the realisation that San depictions are contorted in
value. Features are painted to look odd because they are being emphasised. One
dewlap is a distinctive feature of eland, but it was also important because of its
large amounts of fat, hence it was emphasised visually. The large dewlap also
(Dowson 1988: 122-124); eland are the only antelope where bulls possess more fat
In the same way that all great symbolic mediators in San cosmology the eland is
an ambiguous animal, and its symbolism did not lie with how naturalistic the
significance. In addition, Thomas Dowson (1988) noted that other features in the
depictions of eland, albeit less commonly painted, relate to the dying metaphor
of trance. These include the extended hind leg, lifted tail and defecation (Dowson
1988: 118). These behavioural traits are known zoologically (Pager 1971: 18) to
accompany the death of an eland. These variations would have been well
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understood, as they are congruent with the San cognitive system and the artistic
conventions.
rock art. Kudu are largely conventionalized through depictions of large near-
rhombic ears and elongated necks for cows while bulls carry twisted horns and
southern parts of Zimbabwe and northern parts of South Africa specific and
Artists used colour to draw attention to features that carried symbolic meaning.
The inner parts of the ears are often accentuated with red pigment while the
genital areas of kudu cows (Appendix 1 Fig. 1.3) are emphasised in red pigment
(Eastwood & Cnoops 1999: 114). During oestrus, the vulvas of real kudu cows
become slightly swollen and acquire a reddish tinge (ibid.: 114). Artists therefore
exaggerated this feature and painted over areas that exceed the confines of the
vulvas. These features, together with some diagnostic postures, such as the
lowered heads for females, add to the conventions used by the artists to
(1995) has suggested that an exaggerated mane on kudu bulls connotes a quality
n/om, since their large twisted horns, primary male sex markers, are also shown.
elements) are exaggerated (Figs 22, 23). Details of leaves and flowers are seldom
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painted, but the accuracy to species exhibited in one motif (Kirkia acuminata, see
Coulson & Campbell 2000: fig. 91) shows that artists were capable of rendering
such detail with precision. So, the emphasis of some elements of the subject, and
addition to the presence and absence in San art that can aid subject recognition
plants. Perhaps this motif, dividing the root forms from the trunk and branches,
The embellishment of images shows that the repertoire of San artistic skills was
salient subject features that would not normally be visible from the plane of
observation used in the rest of the picture. Moreover, some of these features were
and the line motif, now understood to depict the commonly held San beliefs
about “threads of light” and shamanic journeys (Lewis-Williams et al. 2000: 131).
In the south-eastern mountains this motif is embellished with white dots on the
chains of brilliant white dots” (ibid.: 133) that are integral to these shamanic
pathways. In the Western Cape and parts of Zimbabwe (but see Garlake 1995: fig
Similarly, in the Drakensberg and some parts of the Eastern Cape, paintings of
cattle snouts embellished with small projections have been observed (Hall 1994:
80). While these could be thongs or similar attachments, our knowledge of San
reveals that these represent concepts relating to rain-making (ibid.: 81). Similarly,
lines emanating from the mouths or snouts of antelope, human figures and a
dying antelope-eared snake in the Linton Panel would have been understood in
terms of the non-ordinary reality of trance. Indeed, more examples of San ways
picture making. This case reveals that in order to understand San depictions such
In the 1960s some !Kõ boys were asked to draw plants, and as it was during a
drought they drew from memory (Heinz & Maguire 1974: 18). Their drawings
were assessed as “vaguely resembl[ing] the intended subjects”, and that they
representation.” They were thus unable specifically to interpret the figures. But,
upon showing the drawings to other !Kõ for comments in the absence of the
drawers, in every case they were specifically identified and immediately related
Maguire, had (on a separate instance in 1963), requested some !Kõ people to
draw a bulbous plant (Dipcadi sp.) and a finger drawing on the soft sand was
promptly made. It comprised a “circle, and surmounting the circle but clearly
unconnected with it, three equally spaced short, vertical and parallel lines”
(Heinz & Maguire 1974: 19). Later still, on another occasion the same drawer was
asked to illustrate the same plant, as her earlier “coarse illustration” markedly
repeated exactly her earlier illustration of the plant” (ibid.: 19). In the light of my
opening sentence to this chapter, these observations are interesting. The despair
of these researchers was borne out of their expectations that San picture-making
uses principles that are similar to Western depiction; hence their repeated phrase
“conventional representation.”
these authors, their folks recognized the intended subjects immediately. This
point reinforces the idea that San artistic conventions structured depictions in
without first examining the principles of this art and their conclusions were
accordingly flawed.
depiction was conditioned less by the desire to produce facsimile copies of the
subject of than by the wish to capture those elements of the subject that had
Two points arise from this consideration of Deregowski’s ideas that require
further discussion. These are notions of, a. aesthetics and, b. abstraction. Early
writers fore-grounded aesthetics in southern African San rock art. Even as late as
the 1990s some writers argued that the finesse and detail in the art meant that it
could not have been executed for anything other than pure pleasure (Willcox
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1984, 1990). The beauty of this art is beyond dispute, but its beauty does not
explain its meaning and purpose. The aesthetic view presents a twofold problem.
motifs retain fidelity to nature. Again, because finesse was measured against
‘unrealistic’, the implication was that it was subject-less. Although unstated, this
the complex set of picturing choices that operate in San art. This view left most
early research inevitably superficial. In contrast to this reading, I argue that, for
the San, images meant what they meant whether or not they possessed
Subjects
From our current understanding of San rock art it is evident that subject matter
between these two worlds for the San. Even in instances where depicted subjects
can be discerned as evidently non-physical (e.g., fantastic creatures), there still is,
to some extent, adherence to the material world in the sense that the forms are
visions of the spirit world seen by San trancers, just like our dreams, are derived
from every-day experiences. Like physical world depictions, spirit world images
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conventions.
An example is a motif in San art that is, for want of a better term, called
‘infibulation’ (Fig. 8, Breuil 1948; Willcox 1978, 1984: 142, 260) or the ‘penis
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emblem’ (Garlake 1995: 49-50, 58, 82, 136), or penis additament (Willcox 1978;
Walker 1996: 89, 90). Although their shapes and embellishments vary widely,
these motifs are usually depicted as bars across or appendages on the penises of
human figures. In spite of the allusions these terms suggest, this varied motif
does not have natural or cultural material correlates amongst San communities.
informed subject, as real to the San as the kudu (Appendix 1 Fig. 1.3), termites
(Figs 13, 15), bees, therianthropes (Fig. 8), rain creatures (Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1)
and trance buck that are common in the San art of southern Africa. This
art values. In San beliefs, tales, cosmology and iconography, the visionary and
the physical clearly interdigitate. ‘Infibulation’ is one case where caution must be
wrong and the subject may have a non-physical origin or context and special
significant element in San art, the use of geometric designs. Formlings have been
read as “geometric designs” (Garlake 1995: 32) and, therefore, as abstract. I now
turn to consider the use of geometric forms and abstraction in San rock art. Those
geometric forms that occur in the art have mostly been shown to be entoptic
designs. B. Smith and Ouzman (in press) have recently shown that Khoekhoe
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groups made those geometric designs that do not fit into the entoptic repertoire,
they argue that other than entoptics, San art does not have a geometric
component.
Entoptics are mental images generated by the human central nervous system
include zigzags, dots, grids, lines (meandering or sets) and catenary U-shapes.
The range of these forms has been established in laboratory experiments, and all
people are capable of perceiving these forms. In San art, both in engravings and
the paintings, geometric motifs have been identified that follow these mental
geometric forms (ibid.: 205). B. Smith and Ouzman note that although entoptics
are found throughout the San rock art distribution they are not numerous.
Although entoptics are geometric they are not in the true sense of the word
abstract, like other things in San art they were ‘seen’ by the painter. For the San
Formlings do not appear to follow any of the six key forms that are known as
in their form that enclose or resemble entoptics as there are in many subjects
(e.g., beehives, giraffe markings etc.), but these are not pure representations of
entoptic forms. Even if one accepts that formlings comprise geometric elements,
such as, oval, elliptical or oblong cores these are not entoptics.
To the entoptic repertoire Dowson (1989: 91-92) added some dot and fleck motifs.
represent potency. About these dots and flecks, Dowson (1989: 92) states, “there
example of how San art motifs are comprised of entoptic and natural forms and
natural and the spirit realms. Many spirit world creatures look the same as
creatures as found in this world (Biesele 1993: 94). Spirit eland and other
supernatural creatures are said to come to the dances (Beisele 1975a: 170; Lewis-
Williams 1981a: 52) and the trancers, or at times even ordinary people present at
Ritual specialists believe that they can also ‘see’ the animals after which their
n/om is named lurking in the darkness beyond the dance firelight (Lewis-
Williams 1980: 472). Even the gods and the spirits of the dead come to witness
the dance proceedings and trancers can see them. With this intermingling of
‘spirit world’ and ‘material world’ beings and creatures, it should be no surprise
that the artists juxtaposed imagery from both realms in their depictions (Figs 7,
8). San paintings therefore do not show abstract designs. Although visionary
things may appear ‘abstract’ or ‘non-realistic’ to outsiders, to the San these were
San rock art is now understood largely to concern religious metaphors and
symbolism. And symbols are not arbitrary in San art (and many other art
based on the natural properties of those physical subjects chosen by the artists.
Although we do not fully understand the nature of how symbolism and related
natural models operate in San art, more knowledge has been gained in recent
years. Faunal species are symbols in San beliefs (Lewis-Williams & Biesele 1978;
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Biesele 1993) and have been shown to be powerful graphic metaphors and
In rock art animals are often attended by diagnostic characteristics that derive
depictions of antelope, birds, snakes and other animals with features such as:
lowered or raised heads, raised tails, crossed legs, hairs standing on end, entoptic
Natural models
In explaining how formlings and trees are vehicles of symbolism, I advocate the
One researcher who has linked symbolism with natural models is David Whitley
(2000). Whitley and his colleagues (1999: 223) argue that ‘natural models’ provide
The properties of these phenomena model societal values and ritual processes.
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The notion of ‘natural models’ has long been accepted in archaeological thought
have not explicitly defined this notion. It is only in the recent work of Whitley
and his colleagues in Mojave Desert that the idea has been formulated so that its
true value is revealed. Whitley and colleagues offer a key insight that religion
but instead on logic that is based on the observation of the operation of natural
systems. In this section I explore the derivation of symbolism from nature and
their encoding in the cosmology and belief systems of societies including the
rituals have their origin in observations of the physical properties of the ‘natural
world’” (Whitley et al. 1999: 222). These studies discard the belief within the
and ritual, were sterile grounds for research. On the contrary, the logic upon
palpable physical properties. Therefore these cultural systems are “as logical as
al. 1999: 222). Where symbolic art traditions have developed, as amongst the San,
Artists were not working within a naturalism in which mimicking the natural
form was the end point; yet they were not free and unconstrained. Rather, they
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were working within a different, but also strong, defining and robust natural
The southern African San chose subjects from natural phenomena—animals and
cosmology, and therefore of San perceptions about animals, trees and plants and
their ecology, it is important to examine the way the San interpreted their
universe. For the San, not only were the animals and plants important
economically as sources of food, water and other secondary resources; they were
also spiritually significant subjects. Even the various by-products from these
natural subjects are conceived in ways that far transcend material functions.
Recently, Biesele (1993: 94-95) noted that amongst the Ju/’hoansi, “The attitudes
general Ju/’hoan attitudes toward animals.” The list of “animal materials” used
in ritual contexts includes “fat, marrow, certain bones, certain muscles, horns,
tails, blood and urine.” It is also noted that a “particular species of animal
has much to do with connection to the power of a metaphor” (ibid.: 96). The San
attitudes to animals and natural phenomena around them are borne out of close
attention to the properties and behavioural traits of the object selected. San “use
they regard their environment and their relationship to it” (Biesele 1993: 96).
Their knowledge of varied ecologies and the biological forms they contain has
been commented upon frequently (Stow 1905: 78; Huffman 1983: 49). For
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example, the G/wi are noted for their depth and accuracy of knowledge of the
Heinz and Maguire (1974) come to the same conclusion regarding the !Kõ ethno-
botanical knowledge. The San themselves tell us that they observe survival
Shikwe, a Ju/’hoan healer, stated the relationship between people and animal
stomach contents and watch what plants they eat. Then we try them
world. The gemsbok and other wild animals have taught us many things
Even the insects are conceptualised in a similar manner and related to people
nature, which in turn inform belief systems and symbolism, is not unique to the
San. Other small-scale societies make similar observations of and place values on
organisms and, in some of these groups, symbolism so derived also finds itself
Panamanian provinces, Linares (1977, in Flannery & Marcus 1996: 358-360) found
that Panamanian chiefdoms had a rich symbolic system that drew on bestial
humid tropical species to use as metaphors, and ignored others. Humid tropical
species have evolved a set of complex and varied inter-specific and intra-specific
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material for use as symbols and iconographic expression (ibid.). Species that
people ate (these are well represented in middens) are notably absent in the
man-eaters, predators, raptors, aggressive fighters and species with effective and
artistic precision showing body parts, such as teeth, claws, spines, pincers and
other organs, used in fighting, defensive and predatory habits in each animal.
provide a case for the use of serpentine ‘natural models’ in their cosmological
conceptions. Among these people, the anaconda, which lives in water and
tunnel imagery (Wilbert 1997: 317-318). The logic of their beliefs is based on the
fact that this gigantic serpent can swallow a fairly big animal or even a person.
The Waroa thus imagine themselves wedged inside its bowels floating on water.
The Warao cosmos comprises the earth, which is imagined as a disk anchored
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and kept afloat in the middle of a world ocean by the curls of a serpentine
large boa constrictors found in the Orinoco Delta form secondary models of
hallucinated and they evoke serpentine symbolism that allows exploration of the
gods and goddesses occupying various cosmic realms. This symbolic logic is
It is evident from these studies that symbolic and religious systems operate not
on “irrational or psychologistic impulses” (Whitley et al. 1999: 222). But, the laws
the Mojave Desert Indian (Numic) religious beliefs and practices. These beliefs
are shown to be associated with the iconography of the engravings in the same
region where quartz was also used as a tool to engrave shamanic imagery. The
which causes it to glow when struck or abraded. The Numic believe that this is
the visible release of supernatural power; their shamanic rituals and production
the use of these so-called “lighting stones” (Whitley et al. 1999: 236) also shows
that beliefs and rituals are based on logic that is neither random nor irrational. It
Characteristically, then, the physical objects and creatures, which carry these
the bestiary and physical objects available to the society from its ecological
settings. Examples of these include: quartz for the Numic of North America;
eland, giraffe and kudu for some San people, elephants for others; predators and
and boa constrictors for the Warao Indians; beaver for some indigenous North
American societies; dingoes and crocodiles for some north Australian Aboriginal
peoples and whales, it is now proposed, for some Neolithic people of Western
The concept of ‘natural models’ reveals that a system of symbols and metaphors
informed by the natural subjects they depict. Although formlings might appear
prima facie to be non-iconic I postulate here that, like all other San art motifs, they
have a natural correlate and that they carry symbolism that is based on their
Chapter Five
In the previous chapter I argued that a reconsideration of San painting rules and
not a feature of San rock art. San depictions as vehicles of symbolism invariably
derive from creatures or physical phenomena which act as their ‘natural models’.
fantastic creatures like trance buck, therianthropes (Fig. 8) and rain creatures
(Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1) each element depicted derives from natural phenomena.
The same should be true for formlings. Although some features in San art appear
appear to lack natural correlates, they are in fact aspects ‘seen’ in altered states of
the mind. These include lines emanating from the top of human heads or the
figures and animals that naturally do not have tusks, and infibulation (Fig. 8).
San rock art is not concerned with simply iconic depiction of subjects, but
Williams 1981a).
San rock art images served different purposes, and the artists’ interest to
(B. Smith 1998) of features and their angles of projection on depictions that the
implies that they derive from a physical constant in the natural world. A crucial
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question is, therefore, what is the ‘natural model’ in formlings and which
features of that subject were chosen for depiction and from what perspective? It
between the shape of the subject and the shape of the picture is complex. Even
the way a figure is oriented may make it look odd. I approach formlings with
their origin (what they, as pictures, depict) and, secondly, their symbolism. And
another” (Harris 1995: 5). This is equally true for formlings. Formlings are
have approached this complication in two different ways. Formlings have, on the
one hand, been interpreted as “decorative abstract motifs” (Mason 1958: 362-363)
formling contexts and the corroborative San ethnography. The second approach
studies this approach ended with identifying somewhat impossible subjects that
iconic correspondence between formlings and what they were asserted to depict.
Garlake (1990, 1995), for example, apart from seeing formlings as abstract
designs, also infers that their iconic referents are the human liver and spleen.
formlings and their subjects. I hasten to note that we must attune ourselves to
formlings, such as microdots, oval flecks, orifices, overall ovoid shapes, and
crenellations are distinctive features that need to be accounted for in their subject
matter. In this analysis one must consider different possibilities and, through
elimination, retain one subject that fits closely the morphology of formlings.
much as I was vexed because these formling features stood out in contrast to
of the book Ndedema (Pager 1971) in 1993, I became fascinated with the idea of
the existence of rock paintings of bees, their nests and honeycombs. This interest
culminated in my 1997 summer visit to nearly all the sites in the Ndedema Gorge
that Pager copied in the late 1960s. Most paintings interpreted as honeycombs or
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conducted my own research, there are no such motifs and few formlings are
associated with clearly depicted winged insects. The differences in the range of
these motifs from these regions are clear. Yet, Pager grouped beehive motifs from
South Africa and formlings from Zimbabwe under one over-arching apiary
smoke bees out of their nest (Pager 1973: 6-7, 1976: 1).
Fig.9. A human figure with a formling and insects (Pager copy – RARI Archives)
Having seen this panel before and having examined Pager’s copy, I was
skeptical, initially, that he had observed correctly the fleck motifs as having
wings. I wanted to re-visit this site and examine the details of the original against
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Pager’s copy in order to verify whether these supposed bees are indeed bees or
some other insect form. The year 1999 provided this opportunity as I was part of
a group that visited Maholoholo Shelter and Nanke Cave sites. The group
comprised experienced researchers and people who have observed San rock art
for many years. These were Drs Janette Deacon and Benjamin Smith, Geoffrey
Blundell, Alec Campbell, David Coulson and Marcus Peters. Some had seen
On our return from Nanke Cave, I guided the group to the small site of
Toghwana where the panel shown in Figure 9 may be found. Standing a few tens
of metres from the Nanke path, it is shielded by trees and boulders that easily
study and felt it was imperative that I discuss some of its features with
experienced people. Using a magnifying glass I was able to confirm the accuracy
of Pager’s copy: first, indeed these motifs have wings, and, secondly, they are
painted up-side down. A question that had bothered me for a long time was
why, if these are wings, were the creatures painted up-side down? Bees and
flying insects cannot fly up-side down. I drew this to the attention of my
colleagues and we debated it. Dr. Deacon observed that one motif had
downward-facing appendages that resembled legs (cf. Fig. 15). So, were these
In the Drakensberg bees are depicted with wings only, never with legs. So, if the
Toghwana creatures were bees, one would expect them to either have both wings
and legs or wings only without legs. These motifs are therefore something other
than bees. Pager (1976: 6) had previously also suggested that formlings could be
(1996: 73) speculated invertebrate forms, such as wasps. Could they be these
forms? Or are they locusts? But locusts, with their pronounced back legs and
large heads do not correspond with these motifs. However, if the appendages on
some motifs are legs, then a possible insect form that I had been using as a
working premise for some time appears to be confirmed. Are these motifs flying
termites? My conjecture of a link between formlings and termite nests came from
studying Garlake’s copies, shown in this thesis as Figures 1 and 13, and the
motifs in Matopo appear to confirm this. Unequivocal flying termites are painted
in at least four known sites in Matopo (Figs 15, 16, Plate 3a; Cooke 1964c)
including Nanke Cave that we had visited earlier. We had discussed the Nanke
termites and the topic was still in the air. Could formlings therefore be
Orifice/opening
Fig. 10. A formling with horizontal cores and seven crenellations on its outline and a
poorly preserved orifice, northern Zimbabwe (redrawn from Garlake 1995)
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Fig. 11. A formling with microdots and three crenellations (redrawn from Garlake 1995)
Micro-dots
Crenellations
and their painting contexts (Mguni 2001). Such an analysis is useful in cases
formal analysis to identify the subject matter of formlings with the rich San
termitaria and flying termites, then what features of these biological edifices are
Crenellations
Interstices
Outline
Oval flecks
Fig. 12. A formling (similar to Figs 10, 11) comprises five prominent crenellations at the
top end and a combination of dots and flecks placed on the cores (redrawn
from Garlake 1995)
require very close attention (Figs 1, 9-13, 21, Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1). Many termite
species (Isoptera), which build both epigeous and subterranean nests, occur
widely in southern Africa. The most architecturally refined and delicate of all
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nests are those build by Apicotermes, a fairly widespread genus in Africa (Howse
1970: 97, 113). While most genera construct irregular nest forms, those of
Apicotermes are often egg-shaped (or ovoid), with well-defined internal galleries
that are also more regular and symmetrical in structure. One species, Apicotermes
narrow galleries, although these are often irregular. Two other genera, Amitermes
structure, even among the same species (Noirot 1970: 110; Howse 1970: 82;
Naude 1934), but their basic elements remain constant. While no nest is a replica
of another even within the same species, they always possess distinctive features
that assist precise identifications. Plate 5 shows the common shapes of termitaria.
given formling. This would not be expected, as San art images do not usually
carry all the features of their ‘natural models’. Most often only features essential
to the picturing purpose were depicted. Some features were omitted while some
the co-variation of selected and omitted features and which ones went together is
not certain. What is clear in San art is that significant features were chosen and
A B
Plate 5. Termites nests are usually oval, ovoid, or spherical in shape (A, reproduced
after Howse 1970, and B, after Krishna & Weesner 1970)
copularium. These contain the habitacle, which is the actual nest. The habitacle is
correspondence, I now turn to other aspects of this feature, which are also
distinguishable in formlings.
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2. Outlines of formlings
A line feature often defines the general shape of formlings. It is this feature that
has been interpreted as the stomach wall in human beings (Garlake 1995: 96).
New evidence here suggests otherwise, and points to termitaria for an answer.
The habitacles of termitaria carry protective outer clayey shells or walls, known as
natalensis build thick and massive outer walls, whereas other species in genera,
such as Microceretermes and Amitermes construct very thin walls. These walls
enclose a much lighter clayish structure comprising the royal cell, fungus
gardens and other chambers (Plate 5). In the paintings, the habitacle is depicted as
outlines of formlings. Single openings are often closely associated with this
Orifices (or openings), which are sometimes protuberant and elaborately painted
interpretations these have generally been ignored. Even the view that formling
the top, which also connect the cellar near the base (Noirot 1970: 97). In
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Odontotermes transvalensis, these chimneys project above ground level and can
attain heights of 1.3 m or more (Coaton 1947). These features have been
nests (Howse 1970: 107), but they also serve as exit ramps of termites or as
emergence towers for winged termites (alates) in their nuptial flights (Howse
spires (Howse 1970: 96). This could be another feature informing the pronounced
Fig. 13. An anthill showing a pronounced chimney and has a tree next to it, northern
Zimbabwe (redrawn from Garlake 1995)
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exit ramps are not independent of mounds and therefore the San may not have
cross-section. Note that the opening connects with the ‘internal’ cores inside the
body of the formling. Winged insects, which could be alates, are shown flowing
inside the projecting orifice and in the interior. Plate 7, although with a less
of a tree, with two perched birds, next to the ‘chimney’ further supports the view
termitaria as well as the epigeous chimney in its usual natural setting. This
4. Formling cores
termitaria presents very similar features to these cores. To explain these cores, I
a generally horizontal aspect (as in Figs 9, 10, 13). These partitions are joined
towards the axial part by a complex system of ramps (Appendix 1 Fig. 1.5) that
Apicotermes lamani, simple pillars with short ramps unite these partitions. In
Macrotermes, the chambers formed by these partitions contain the fungus gardens
and, near the centre, the royal cell. As a result of their fungus gardens, the
called Termitomyces (Howse 1970: 19). This is also commonly referred to as ‘beef
The formling cores are therefore depictions of chambers or cells that are found in
the interior of termites’ nests. Their typical shapes are also very similar.
termites’ nests, also exhibit features that need explanation. These features, the
Formling interstices strongly resemble the walls, often thin, which separate
These walls are generally horizontally aligned, but sometimes they are vertical
nests.
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6. Formling crenellations
Formlings often carry features on their outside that further support the
The exterior of the habitacle of termitaria carries a variety of features that differ in
details of shape in various species, but are generally similar. The habitacle is
supported at the base (sometimes also on the sides and at the top as well) inside
the underground cavities (copularium) on conical pillars, which are often regular
with points directed away from it [habitacle]. In aged nests of B. natalensis, the
peripheral ones at the bottom of the habitacle remain suspended. These features
can “extend into the cave by very thin and fragile filaments” (Noirot 1970: 101) to
(Appendix 1 Fig. 1.6). On formlings, this feature is shown fringing the edges of
their outlines. There is also another possible derivation, particularly from the
species Macrotermes natalensis termitaria. Their nests are heavily fluted on the
outer walls of habitacles and often carry prominently projecting ‘ribs’ or pinnacles
(Noirot 1970: 108). The exterior features of habitacles are thus replicated on the
formling outlines.
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Plate 7. A formling with triangular crenellations, insects flowing out of the orifice,
northern Zimbabwe (reproduced after Coulson & Campbell 2000)
119
Regularly patterned lines or grids of microdots very often cover formling cores.
Their form/shape and arrangement, however, points to what they depict. While
they could represent nymphs, as some have argued before, these microdots are
often well rounded to take a form that evokes the pore or slit structures on the
aligned openings in the wall that are sometimes slit-like (Howse 1970: 50). This
system of regularly arranged rows of openings, either pores or slits on outer walls
(Plate 5), may indirectly open into the inner chambers. These serve to facilitate
Plate 8. Formling with vertical cores, one of which has reticulated giraffe decorations
(Matopo)
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Oval-shaped flecks have been noted as one feature of formling contexts. They
also appear in contexts where unequivocal flying termites, winged and legged
insects, are depicted (Figs 9, 13, 15). From this association it can be inferred that
they are part of these insect forms, now recognised as termites. In addition, their
shape follows the natural form of wingless nymphs and the nymphs of termites,
which have barely visible wing-pads. I argue that these motifs depict these
where the caps on their cores are followed closely by the formling outlines. This
At Nanke Cave (Plates 3, 3a) a swarm of termites surrounds a very similar motif
(but, with only two domes), which may actually depict a mound. The shape of
from a lateral viewpoint. This feature can be striking in formlings with edges of
unbounded oval caps or where curves and convolutions of the edge are simply
delicately outlined (Fig. 3). Yet in others, only repetitive semicircular outlines of
oval caps remain (Fig. 2; also Garlake 1987d: 52), as the rest of the motif has now
faded.
similar domed structures above ground (prior to nuptial swarming) from which
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alates launch themselves (Howse 1970: 92). Even subterranean nests often end up
diameter (Howse 1970: 94). These domes can cluster above ground around the
accessory nests (Noirot 1970: 91). This termite behaviour results in the ‘jumbled’
appearance of domed nest structures. And when viewed from the side, one gets
formlings tops.
Termitaria are not static structures (Noirot 1970: 91), but their growth is an ever-
active process. They constantly enlarge and alter in shape and form (Howse 1970:
111) according to the age and size of the colonies. Formlings, too, vary in scale
from as small as a few centimetres to several metres in length and width. This
perhaps captures one of the striking features of termitaria, which, unlike other
subjects that have static forms and shapes, constantly alters form and renews
itself.
In all these features that I have discussed so far one aspect might be coincidental,
but for all repeated features to have natural correlates with formlings gives
some respects to typical formlings, falls outside of the termitaria category. This
group, to which I now turn, although less frequent in Matopo, was also
Some formlings vary from the typical motifs that depict termitaria, but a
common feature for both is their oblong- or ovoid-shaped cores. These forms
(Fig. 14) resemble formlings that comprise rows of elongated ovals or segments
hanging down within beehives (Pager 1971: 151, 347-352). These images, found
Pager (1976: 2) invoked the apiary explanation for the horizontal cores (Fig. 9),
arguing that honeycombs are aligned in beehives this manner. He described the
alignment as a “worm’s eye view” of parallel sets of combs seen from beneath.
He noted that honeycombs are built vertically (Pager 1973, 1976). These are very
panel in Lewis-Williams (1995: fig. 3b) shows a set of curved motifs, covered in
flecks, merged at the top of an inverted catenary form (Fig. 14). This panel, like
Figure 9, juxtaposes a human figure on the right side above whose head are lines
(Appendix 1 Fig. 1.7, Fig. 14). Depictions of small insect forms, usually minutely
painted in red (bodies) and white (pairs of wings (see Fig. 8), sometimes faded
This chapter demonstrated that termitaria and flying termites are the primary
models of formlings and that a few motifs overlap with beehives or honeycombs.
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Fig. 14. A variation of the honeycomb motif without insects, but the microdots are
similar to formling microdots, S. Africa (redrawn from Lewis-Williams 1986a)
depicted, the emphasis was primarily on the interior aspect, shown in cross
formlings. I argue in the next chapter that the artists’ choice of the internal
symbolism that the apiary subject matter shares with termites and termitaria.
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Chapter Six
I have demonstrated the subject matter of formlings, first, through defining the
the analysis showed that formling depictions are structured in a manner that
some motifs, honeybees’ nests and honeycombs. I now discuss the varied
significances of these insect forms and suggest why they, and not other insects,
were chosen for depiction. I also discuss the mundane and supernatural values
(as honey-fat creatures, see Lewis-Williams 1998a) these insects have in San
honeybees. Since “religious statements are symbolic, not iconic, because they
Williams 1981a: 3-7), I also suggest a San concept that formlings might have
iconic representation.
symbolic focus. As Lewis-Williams and his colleagues (2000: 123) argue, well-
life and belief. I therefore examine the images which are associated repeatedly
Although formlings are occasionally painted singly, they more often exhibit
(Willcox 1984: 142) and human figures. Formlings are also found with fleck
motifs and microdots. Complex contexts combine formlings with tree or plant
motifs growing from their edges or on top (Figs 1, 21, Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1, see
also Goodall 1959: plate 8; Garlake 1995: fig. 179). As some have noted, “Trees
and animals stand on ovals” (Garlake 1987a: 24). More intriguing conflations are
of ovals that are enclosed in corms of plant forms (Fig. 21; also Garlake 1987d:
fig. 67). About these contexts, Garlake (1987a: 52) remarks, “examples of ovoids
[are] enclosed in long lozenges with lines or tufts at one end which look like
bulbs, plants or roots.” But, he does not discuss the possible meaning of this
association. Yet, such complexities imply rich symbolic meanings. The meanings
were not random, but as Chapter Four shows, they were informed by
assess these meanings I now describe specific panels that exhibit contexts which
The formling shown in Appendix 1 (Fig. 1.1) carries much information because of
its particular complexity. The motif comprises eleven vertical oval cores placed
nearly symmetrically. The cores on either side are larger than the nine middle
ones. These middle cores are darker and merge with one another in parts. At the
base of the right-most core emerges a plant stem; it then branches into five clear
shoots. Superimposed over the same core towards the top is a blue wildebeest
(Gorgon taurinus) and under its forelegs are twenty oval flecks. The wildebeest
has eight legs, one set of which could be a vestige of another wildebeest that has
now faded. But, this feature of multiple legged animals or several legs emanating
from motifs is common in San art, more occur in the Drakensberg (see Lewis-
Williams 1995: 13-14). On the left of the formling, two leafless trees are painted
on a line or ‘ground level’ that connects with the formling. This line branches
into five root-like appendages, where it passes the edge (outline) of the formling,
then continues inside and fades below the snout of a superimposed antelope.
Another partially faded line continues from outside the formling and goes over
the same formling in the middle of its body. Three more giraffe are painted to the
left, two facing away and one towards the formling. In between two giraffe that
face each other there are two vertical distinctive rope-like lines extending above
and below the ‘ground level’ line. Five clear kudu cows superimpose the
formling. Five other antelope, also on top of the formling, are probably kudu
cows as well because of their distinctive long slender necks and, on one of them,
very large ears. Painted a little below the formling is a tsessebe (Damaliscus
partially faded line descends from the formling, and then goes behind the leg of
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one kudu cow and a partial human figure to link the tsessebe. A final, but
notable feature on the panel is a partial, large and turgid outlined zoomorphic
creature placed on top and extending well above the formling. Although
unidentifiable its ears are rhino-like and the body is hippo-shaped. Because of its
Similar paintings of fantastic creatures, called rain animals, are found throughout
southern Africa (Stow & D.F. Bleek 1930; Woodhouse & Lee 1971; Pager 1971;
creatures fit well with beliefs recorded from the /Xam about rain creatures. In
and felines. They are linked to rain and water and are controlled by the rain
specialists caused the rain to fall by capturing the rain-animal (!khwa-ka xoro)
(Lewis-Williams 1981a: 103-116) at the pool or well where it lived. The animal
was then led across the veld and killed. /Xam informants said that it was “cut” so
that its blood or milk spilt and became rain (D.F. Bleek 1933).
Four lines exude from the snout of the rain animal in Appendix 1 (Fig. 1.1).
Similar lines are found on people and animals in San art, often from the mouth or
nose. These lines are argued to indicate the nasal bleeding experienced by ritual
specialists or shamans in trance (Lewis-Williams 1981a: figs 19, 20, 21, 23, 1985:
51; Walker 1996: 90). These features link the imagery in Appendix 1 (Fig. 1.1) to
non-ordinary reality or spiritual experiences of the San. Note the two trees on the
left and the plant form growing on the formling to the right. Trees are a key part
of this spirit world symbolism. In the next chapter I explore the detailed
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symbolism of botanical subjects. For now I merely note their important and
From the same shelter with the panel shown in Appendix 1 (Fig. 1.1) is a well
outlined slanting cores, all merged together. Seven of these, in the middle, are
filled in with dark red ochre. It appears that these cores originally had white
caps, now barely visible. The dark red outline, which appears originally to have
followed closely the rounded ends of the now disappeared cores, is still visible.
formling cores on the lower right hand side. Farther below is another well
recumbent man, raising one knee with the other leg stretched out, reaches out to
the faded antelope with one hand while the other hand holds a stick pointing it
towards the animal’s snout. His equipment is depicted besides him. There is
another man above, kneeling on one knee and stretching out the other leg. His
equipment lies next to him. He holds an indeterminate object (NB. This object is
similar to the ones held by human figures in similar contexts in Figures 9, 16, 19),
the front of which is surrounded by oval flecks. Covered within these flecks is a
formling, the head of the faded antelope and the recumbent man thereby
Appendix 1 (Fig. 1.1) and Figure 4, there is a similar formling (Fig. 9). This one
comprises eight concave horizontal (or sausage-shaped) cores, the middle six of
which are painted in red with faded lighter-coloured caps at the ends. On the
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right, near the orifice of the enclosing line, these are covered in grids of
microdots. All around, on the inside of the outline, there is a lining of oval flecks.
At the orifice, these flecks transform into a row of a mixture of legged and
winged insect forms. The row then branches into four separate rows. Below the
three upper rows a kneeling human figure holds an object towards the orifice of
the formling. This object has lines that flow in the direction of the holding hand1
in the manner of a mop brush. Similar objects occur in some panels in Matopo
(Fig. 15) and in two instances are associated with what I have argued in Chapter
Five to be termites’ nymphs (or “Bushman rice”, Fig. 4) and unequivocal flying
termites (Fig. 16). I therefore suggest that these objects depict the bundles of
grass which the San use as plugs to block alates from escaping their termitaria
horizontal or vertical cores. In these examples, the cores comprise red middle
sections with white (or lighter pigment) caps on both ends. A consistent feature
in these formlings is the bounding outline. Microdots cover part of or the entire
surface of some of them. Another element is that of oval flecks, which also take
on other notable features that suggest insects. Of these contexts, Plate 7 shows
trident motifs flowing in and out of the orifice on the formling. Similarly, Figure
13 depicts winged trident or bird-foot motifs associated with oval flecks entering
and exiting a protuberant orifice on the formling. A tree, on which two birds are
perched, is positioned next to the orifice. Above the tree is a poorly preserved
tasselled bag. A vestigial human figure is visible on the lower most core of this
motif. On the lower left part of the formling are painted two oblong shaped
1
Some writers have suggested that these lines represent flames of a torch that the so-called honey
collector used to smoke bees out of their nests (Pager 1973)
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motifs that contain a series of oval flecks in rows. In Figures 10, 11, 12, Plate 6, the
therianthropes and animals are enclosed in formling cores (Figs 11, 21; also
Garlake 1995: figs 35, 56) and in between their interstices (Figs 6, Plates 3, 3b,
Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1). In yet other contexts, fantastic creatures are superimposed
on cores, and some appear to move out of them and towards the orifice (Fig. 10),
(Fig. 3) from the Waterberg district in northern South Africa. This remarkable
motif contains peculiar associations, yet they fit well within the conceptual
disparate and unrelated, but, they are supplementary and they relate and string
together a series of symbolic associations. I begin from the left and move to the
right, for ease of reference. I do not suggest that the imagery and its meaning
motifs.
The left-most part of the formling shows three ornate women, with finely
painted bands on their wrists, shoulders and, on one of them, the knees as well.
Two of the women wear back aprons. An intriguing feature on one of these
women is what looks like minute oval flecks, similar to those commonly found
with formlings. The flecks are a little longer than those commonly found in and
around formlings and I suggest that, on a human figure, they are best
understood in terms of the similar Drakensberg motifs that depict erect hairs (see
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Lewis-Williams 1981a: 91; Lewis-Williams & Dowson 1990: 8). The women, like
the three other faded women below them, are depicted in front-on view and
have raised arms. The formling itself comprises 33 vertical cores with a shape,
cores. Along the edge of these cores is a delicate ashy-white outline that is faded
in parts, but that probably originally covered the entire length of the formling.
The line follows the curves and convolutions of the core edges and, on some,
forming fine hair-like crenellations. Eight of these are on the pointed tip of the
fifth core (see close up). It continues, and on the fifteenth core, there are six such
crenellations, also at the pointed tip. The line continues farther, until the
twentieth core, growing into nine crenellations, all of them spaced nearly
equidistantly. Above these crenellations is a small buck, with its legs painted as if
they are wedged in between these forms. Finally, the line forms three larger
The base of the formling lies on a prominent fissure that runs across the middle
of the shelter. Therefore, as a result of instability of the rock and flaking along
this feature, the formling is poorly preserved. Nevertheless, many features are
still visible above. A thicker line, weathered in parts, runs along its base rather
like a seam, and in the middle section of the formling it grows into thicker,
A total of 72 handprints in dark red, orange and yellow pigments are associated
with the formling. Of this number, 50 are superimposed over the formling, while
only 7 are placed underneath. Three left-facing hartebeest, one in white and the
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other two in red, are painted close to each other and above the formling. One is
directly over and across two cores, while the other two are placed slightly above
the top edge of these forms. Hartebeest/tsessebe are commonly painted antelope
in this area; they also appear in other sections of the shelter (see Laue 2000). A
few human figures, above the middle section of the formling, move across and in
One noteworthy feature on this formling is a thin ashy-white (and black in parts)
funicular line that is visible in sections above and across the formling. The line
maintains the same thickness throughout its length. While nearly horizontal in
and out of the formling cores. This weaving is very much in the manner of
tacking in and out of the rock face that has been described in the Drakensberg for
a common motif known as the ‘thin red line’ or ‘threads of light’ (Lewis-Williams
1981b; Lewis-Williams et al. 2000). Some sections of the line are superimposed by
handprints. This sinuous line, so similar to some motifs in Zimbabwe (see lines
formlings.
Formlings depict termitaria and honeybees’ nests. The next step is to tease out
the relationship between these insects and the diverse formling contexts
comparison, infrequently mentioned (see D.F. Bleek 1928: 7; Marshall 1969: 350-
353; Nonaka 1996: 35). However, the mere frequency of mention of things is not
today, constitute a delicacy and a valuable source of fat and protein, as the eland
and other meat antelope do, amongst San groups (D.F. Bleek 1933, 1928: 7, 16-17;
Silberbauer 1981: 216-217; Hitchcock 1982: 262; Hewitt 1986; Nonaka 1996: 30-31,
1997: 81, 86; Walker 1996: 74; Guenther 1999: 27). Although Marshall (1999: 216)
says termites are not important as food among the Ju/’hoansi, she notes that they
often say, “Termites are sweet to the taste.” She witnessed an occasion where the
Ju/’hoansi picked termites up and ate them “with excitement and relish” for it is
a “pleasant and rare taste” in their diet (ibid.: 216). Termites also feature in
age. During Tshoma, boys refrain from eating termites, although the reasons for
The /Xam are known to have eaten chrysalides of ants (ants’ eggs, //xẽ:, //xe: D.F.
Bleek 1956: 635) to such an extent that they became known as “Bushman rice”
(Bleek 1875: 10-12, 16; Stow 1905: 59, 68; Marshall 1969: 367; Hewitt 1986: 35, 92,
97, 111, 150; Guenther 1989: 15, 80). George Stow (1905: 59) mentioned that this
from the ants’ nests”. ‘Bushman rice’ could refer to the eggs of flying termites,
this point needs clarification. In A Bushman Dictionary (D.F. Bleek 1956: 119—NI,
Northern Kalahari), one entry: “k“ane” (with variants k“ anisa, k“ ani∫a) is the
name for “edible termites”, it is added that these are called “ants”. This is a
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misplaced association, as termites and ants are not closely related in biological
terms; termites are closely related to cockroaches (Howse 1970: 15-16), not to
ants. The confusion in transcriptions stemmed from the fact that termites in
(ibid.: 16). Early writers may have transcribed statements about termites only as
ants (cf. Stow 1905: 59, for “white ants”). ‘Bushman rice’ (or ‘ants’ eggs’ or ‘ants’
(Hewitt 1986: 35, 97) might also suggest that, to some degree, they meant actual
ants. Ants in central Kalahari today are favoured for their sour taste (Nonaka
1996: 35) although, by comparison, termites are more significant in the diet (ibid.:
31, Nonaka 1997: 81). Although termites are an important food item when
1997: 81).
Guenther (1989: 80) notes that, “the /Xam [relished the] highly delectable, larval
and pupal forms of ‘ants’ (i.e., termites).” In addition to the dietary importance of
termites, just like the eland was (is), their fat was also significant primarily for
The rice [nymphs of flying termites] consists of two things, kwari, alive,
moving [things], and ssueri ssueri (“fats”). They [/Xam women] heat the
kwari with stones and they kill them with burning, with the stones’ heat.
They lay them out on a mat and spread them. They become dry. The San
women sift them out so that the wind might blow away the “fats’” feet
(which they did run with). And then the San women eat real dry fat. The
“fats” which have (or get) feathers [wings?], they go to the rice’s ears,
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when they feel that the sun is warm, in summer, so that they may await
the rain, that the rain may fall; that they may fly, going out of the rice’s
ears. They go into the rain’s wet ground that they may henceforward be in
the earth. The rice waits for new fats; those which are white; those which
come back, while they come with the rice’s star. (L II.-35:3150-3236; listed
and how this was conceived metaphorically. Nuptial flights are timed variously
among different termite species, but generally they occur in summer after rain
showers (Miller 1964: 15-16; Howse 1970: 48-56; Nonaka 1996: 30). The nuptials
(i.e., “fats” with, or which get, feathers in //Kabbo’s words) excavate and ‘enter’
the ground after courtship to start new nests and colonies. Precisely, ‘entering’
the ground ensures reproduction of new colonies, hence nymphs and fat. There
is an oblique reference to the symbolism of fat and potency here tied to the
substance.
Writing on the Nharo, D.F. Bleek (1928: 16-17, my emphasis) also noted that,
After good rains the whole village decamps to the antheaps, in hope that
the male white termites may fly out…They are considered a great dainty
few nuts of all the vegetable food contain fat, and most smaller bucks have
little. Hence, there is great rejoicing over a fat eland or a successful haul of
termites.
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That the fat of termites is compared with eland fat is significant. For many San,
fat is a highly significant and desirable substance. In Matopo, Walker (1996: 42-
43) notes that flying termites, very rich in fat, are plentiful during the early
quantitative data (from Quin 1959), Walker (1995: 43) estimates that from 0.7
16 show that the evidence for the exploitation of termites in Matopo comes from
rock art as the human figures in these panels hold grass plugs to prevent flying
Further significance of termites and fat is preserved in the Kalahari San folklore.
termite(s) (Biesele 1993: 148). The link here is fat and potency. There is
synonymity between termite fat and the heroine. G!kon//’amdima (with several
other names) is always described “as beautiful, and especially as fat, with the
smooth skin that comes of having plenty of fat under it” (Biesele 1993: 148, my
must be recalled, possess a duality of being fat and potent. The San believe that
girls at menarche are redolent with strong, or even dangerous, potency (Hewitt
1986; see ‘New maidens’ tales in Lewis-Williams 2000). They are also believed to
have a lot of fat (Lewis-Williams 1981a: 48). The explanation for this duality
reminds us of the San belief that eland possess strong potency due to their large
amounts of fat. Ju/’hoan girls’ puberty ritual is the Eland Bull Dance, again
demonstrating a clear link between fat (in this case antelope fat) and new
maidens. An old woman, !Kun/obe, said “The Eland bull dance is danced
because the eland is a good thing and has much fat. And the girl is also a good
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thing and she is all fat; therefore they are called the same thing” (Lewis-Williams
1981a: 48, 172). Fat is all important. As D.F. Bleek (1928) noted, fat from flying
the association of the Ju/’hoan heroine with termites’ fat is not misplaced; she is
The link between termite fat, potency and new maidens is attested in the central
Kalahari, where the San possess a ‘termite song’ and ‘termite dance’ used during
menarche ceremonies (Nonaka 1996: 31). The termite species, after which these
are named, is called //kàm//ặre. Its characteristic “slow fluttering motion” during
nuptial flights has become a motif in the ritual song and dance (ibid.: 31).
Mentioning fat and its connection with supernatural potency echoes another
identical lexical forms and related semantic connotations. Fat is variously called,
/nai and /khou:, while honey is known by words sharing similar roots, such as,
¯/nai and !khou: (D.F. Bleek 1956: 725, 715). Creation myths also suggest this link
between fat and honey. When /Kaggen made his first eland, he fed and anointed
504-514), and it was for this reason that the /Xam said the eland grew up to have
more fat and larger than other antelope (see Lewis-Williams & Biesele 1978: 120;
Schmidt 1996: 192-194). Amongst the Nama, Heiseb (a trickster deity) created his
gemsbok wife and fed her with honey (Biesele 1993: 95). She thus became fat and
kinds of honey (D.F. Bleek 1924: 10). These antelope are /Kaggen’s most
potency. Their large quantities of fat, beautiful colours and strong potency,
especially eland, resulted from their connection with honey during creation.
Honey, fat and creation are central in San thought and ritual.
That /Kaggen “wetted the animal’s [eland] hair and smoothed it with honey”
(Lewis-Williams 1998b: 197) might also associate the act with sexual procreation
(ibid.: 205) for, as Biesele (1993: 86) argues, honey and fat are conceptual
/Kaggen’s act may also suggest anointing to ward off evil. In rituals and myths,
fat and honey are used for anointing; as examples, fat (usually of eland though
not always stated) is used in rites of passage for anointing maidens (Lewis-
Williams & Biesele 1978; Lewis-Williams 1981a: 48-52) and during dances to rub
Fat and honey are anomalous foods that transcend the eating and drinking
opposition found in all other hunted and gathered foods. They are the only two
kinds of food that people can eat and drink (Biesele 1978: 927, 1993; 86). Being
both liquid and solid in state, they unify wet and dry, hot and cold (Biesele 1993:
86). They, therefore, mediate categories and are thus significant as embodiments
of potency (Marshall 1969: 351, 1999: xxxiii; Lewis-Williams 1981a: 51, 1998: 201).
They are also noted for their scent. In //Kabbo’s account, kudu eats honey, hence
its scent that is like that of the eland (Bleek & Lloyd MS L.II.3.466), which was fed
on honey after it was created. The San believe this scent to be a vehicle for the
conveyance of potency, which these antelope carry. The Ju/’hoan have a concept,
‘≠A’, which is not an ordinary odour; it is the smell of the whirlwind that carries
//gauwa (lesser god, trickster) and his potency (Marshall 1962: 239). Therefore,
because of their liminality, fat and honey mediated between the ‘real world’ and
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the ‘spirit world’, and hence their repeated association with creation and other
The creativity and power of honey (and fat) is, however, counterbalanced by
conflicts among the San if rights of beehive ownership are impinged. The
Ju/’hoansi go even further to say that honey can cause tension between ≠Goa N!a
and //gauwa, if the two happen to favour and lead different individuals to honey
from the same hive. ≠Goa N!a likes bees and that burning them when one
smokes them out of nests displeases him intensely (just as /Kaggen loves
antelope and hunting them displeases him). God’s wife, Khwova N!a among
/Xam, is the “mother of the bees” (D.F. Bleek 1923: 47; Marshall 1962: 245, 1999:
7), and like all other spirit beings, ≠Goa N!a is very fond of honey (Marshall 1962:
245). To kill a person, ≠Goa N!a is believed to convert himself into honey, direct
the person he wants to kill to a tree where he would have placed himself as an
ordinary honeycomb. The person eats the honeycomb bait and then dies
(Marshall 1962: 245). These beliefs show the great extent to which bees and honey
Reverting to the painted contexts, I reiterate that their meanings are structured at
a deeper symbolic level. Even accepting that some images depict honey gatherers
are not only gathering food, but also significant sources of potency. In one panel
figure bleeds from the nose clearly indicates non-ordinary reality associated with
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altered states of consciousness (D.F. Bleek 1935: 20, 34; Lewis-Williams 1981a: 78,
81, 95-98; Walker 1996: 90). From the same site (Fig. 8; Pager 1976: 75) is an
elephant therianthrope in the midst of a swarm of bees. The two paintings both
367) stated, “Bees and honey both have [n/om],” indeed the Ju/’hoansi like to
dance at the time of the year when bees are swarming in the belief that they can
harness their potency (Lewis-Williams 1986b: 175, 1997: 817, citing Wilmsen,
pers. comm.). The nature of the art and the painted contexts highlights particular
I have described similar painted contexts (Figs 4, 9) from Matopo. Plate 7 from
Zimbabwe can be added to the list. The panel depicts a formling with an orifice
from which with insects, now recognised as flying termites, are issuing out. Next
to the orifice is an ornate woman painted white (unclear in the picture), around
whose abdomen are peculiar protrusions that are similar to the wing forms on
the insects. Of this panel, Coulson & Campbell (2000: 97) write, “a female with
one arm raised …appears to direct the flow of arrows as they enter and exit the
oval. Perhaps the figure is the very core of potency.” The white pigment used for
this figure is the same colour as the insects. This figure also carries a stick, in a
similar manner to other figures associated with formling orifices (e.g., Fig. 9).
the orifice with flying termites issuing out. One can infer from this repeated
derive from their strong association with fat (as eland and termites are) and their
role as bearers of children. This association also connects women with creation.
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New maidens are also said to be potent, as it at this powerful stage in their lives
when early signs of fertility emerge that they are considered to be full of strong
potency.
beliefs and symbolism. Notions of potency permeate all aspects of San life, ritual
and folklore. These notions also resonate in many ways in the art. Some writers
have, therefore, argued that formlings symbolise this potency. I have argued
that, what formlings depict (subject matter), termitaria and bees’ nests, contain
potency. I argue further that various powerful animals often found in formling
contexts build upon this association connoting the saturation of strong potency.
These include giraffe, kudu, hartebeest, tsessebe and roan or sable antelope. The
formling at Nanke Cave (Plates 3, 3a) also features eland. The Ju/’hoansi consider
eland and giraffe to be particularly powerful (Marshall 1999: 5). These ‘great
meat animals’ possess both n/om and n/ow (Marshall 1957: 235, Biesele 1993: 94-
95, 108), and some also possess /ko:öde (D.F. Bleek 1924: 10), which is an
The repeated choice of giraffe and potent antelope (not other animals) is
aquatic trance metaphors, such as, fish (Plates 3, 3a) and crocodiles (Goodall
1959: plate 8; see Dowson 1988: 120-121 and Lewis-Williams & Dowson 1999: 57
on such metaphors). Walker (1996: 73) associates fish particularly with ‘rain
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symbolism’. Ouzman (1995) has also argued for the association of fish and rain
symbolism. The large rain creature with exudations from its snout in Appendix 1
(Fig. 1.1) further supports this idea of rain symbolism. As Goodall’s (1959: plate
crocodiles and a rain creature (see Huffman 1983: 51), which also has exudations
from its mouth. The same panel also depicts two crocodile therianthropes with
gaping mouths interacting with this grotesque rain creature. The association of
thread that runs through all these metaphors concerns supernatural potency and
spirit world experiences. Some elements in other formlings bear a set of different
Some features in Figure 3 merit farther attention. One of the women has erect
hairs on her thighs and groin region. Similar features are repeated on some
villiform cores of the formling. If these are indeed ‘hairs’, they can be explained
by reference to the Eastern Ju/’hoan statement, which I return to shortly, that the
consciousness (Lewis-Williams 1981a: 91, 93, 97, 1984: 227). Therefore, the
woman with ‘erect hairs’ and the formling with ‘hairy’ forms are associated with
women on the formling adopt—the raised arms. Ghilraen Laue (2000) has argued
that this posture is related to the trance dance. Women also dance during curing
rituals (Marshall 1969; Keeney 1999). Among the Ju/’hoansi, 10 percent (or more
now) of women are healers (Katz & Biesele 1986). Erect hairs on a woman,
therefore, should not be seen as anomalous. Erect hairs are also a metaphor for
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‘boiling potency’, and rather than being indications of a trance state, her status as
The ‘erect hairs’ and similar finger-like crenellations that grow at the base of
supernatural potency. ‘Erect hairs’ are associated with excessive potency that
causes violent trance states (Lewis-Williams 1981a: 97). The /Xam spoke of “lion’s
hair” growing on the back of healers in trance (D.F. Bleek 1935: 2, 23; Hewitt
1986: 100, 188) apparently describing violent throes of trance. Recently, a central
Kalahari healer said his most powerful trance state is when “fur grows out of my
skin and claws grow from my hands”; that is when the lion’s spirit changes his
(the healer) mind and body (Keeney 1999: 93). Therefore, the graphic metaphor
Central Kalahari. The San of Xade believe that hawk moth caterpillars (Herse
(Nonaka 1996: 34). This convoluted belief is not literal. San people are known for
the depth and accuracy of their knowledge of the faunal and floral species they
interact with (Heinz & Maguire 1974; Silberbauer 1981: 76; Barnard 1988)
Therefore, the Xade San must be aware that scorpions and caterpillars are
argue that it is a conceptual one. Since these scorpions live underground and
with the ‘growing hairs’ metaphor of prickly hawk moth caterpillars, which, in
their life cycle, also go underground (= the spirit world) and have stinging
spines.
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relations, these motifs symbolize cosmic mediation between the ‘real world’ and
the ‘spirit world’. Supernatural potency is a force that the San believe makes
contact between the cosmic realms (Fig. 36) possible. Healers wishing to
metaphors deriving from the ‘natural models’ of termitaria and honeybees’ nests,
reminiscent of the ultimate sources of this power in the spirit world. They
evoked the power of the realm that San healers strove to enter, where the San
The realm of the Great God is the ultimate reservoir of potency. The saturation of
potency in this realm is linked to the presence of ‘Great God’ himself who is “the
ultimate source of all [n/om]” (Biesele 1978: 933; Marshall 1962: 235, 238, 1969:
351-352; Vinnicombe 1976: 199). The potency that healers, n/om k” xausi, and
people in general possess is from God (Marshall 1969: 352, 1999: 8, 21; Katz 1982:
152; Guenther 1999; Keeney 1999: 107). The presence of powerful beings and
creatures imbued with strong potency in his abode saturates potency. I have
potency. The ultimate saturation of potency for the San lies at God’s house.
house? To answer this I will now consider the San beliefs about God’s house in
more detail.
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Beliefs concerning the dwelling place of God and supernatural beings vary
amongst San groups (Keeney 1999: 61, 62). The Oschimpolveld San believe that
God “lives in a house in the sky to which the souls of the dead are brought”
(Marshall 1962, 1999: 18, 21). Their eastern and northwestern cousins believe the
same for their God, Huwe or Xu (Schapera 1930: 397). Honey, locusts, fat flies (or
flying termites) and butterflies are all superabundant in Huwe’s house (Schapera
1930: 184). There are also large animals: leopards, zebras, lions, pythons,
mambas, elands, giraffes, gemsbok, and kudu (Biesele 1978: 933, 1980: 59, 1993:
94) in Huwe’s house. The G/wi believe that termites as well as other invertebrate
taxa are N!adima’s creatures and that he protects them (Silberbauer 1981: 75).
The Nyae Nyae San believe that ≠Goa N!a lives in a two storey house with a
single tree near it in the eastern sky, both of which are associated with the spirits
of the dead. //Gauwa’s house (choo) in the western sky has two trees. While its
exterior is “hairy like a caterpillar” this house resembles an ordinary San hut.
//Gậuab, a Damara sky god, lives in a village resembling a Damara village, but
has a shady tree and a holy fire in the middle. In //Gậuab’s heaven life is similar
to life on earth except that hunting there is more successful and foraging easier
Although these varied beliefs are not very precise on the nature of God’s house,
it does not differ markedly from the ordinary San dwellings. Interestingly, one
can also see the infiltration of foreign elements in the beliefs, such as the concept
sheeting, iron poles and reinforcements. God’s house has a tree or two trees in
the middle, powerful animals and other creatures occur in abundance there. The
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power of the place is what makes it unique, and the presence of supernatural
beings and spirit creatures. It is these same features that surround formlings. The
powerful potency) support this inference? I begin with Plate 6. In this panel, two
one has a long tail) hold hands and kneel on the left edge of the formling. The
one nearest to the formling has streamers under one arm. They also hold peculiar
objects that look like hand picks. These figures with their streamers, objects and
the tail are so unusual as to suggest non-ordinary reality. On the lower left of the
formling there is a tree under which an indeterminate antelope lies. The image is
San werf or shelter (Walker 1996: 32). Indeed, in accord with the belief that God’s
house looks like an ordinary San hut (choo), the image resembles a shelter. Its
I now return to paintings in Appendix 1 (Fig. 1.1) and Figure 3 to discuss the
sinuous or funicular line weaving through the cores of the formling. Appendix 1
(Fig. 1.1) exhibits similar lines associated with the formling and linking different
images in the context. Unlike the ‘thin red lines’ found mainly in the
1989; Lewis-Williams et al. 2000), these lines do not have microdots on their
fringes. But, the contexts in which they occur suggest that they are conceptually
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related. San healers describe cords that hang from the sky (Schapera 1930: 184,
188; Marshall 1962: 238, 1999: 21; Biesele 1980: 55-56; Guenther 1999: 188) and
quoting the San, now call these motifs “threads of the sky” or “threads of light”
visit God’s house (Marshall 1962: 238, 241, 242; 1999: 25; Keeney 1999: 61, 62). The
line motif in Figure 3 also emerges and disappears under handprints that are
“threads of light”, suggest the holding of the cosmic “threads” en route to God’s
house. If this inference is correct, then the panel may suggest the San conception
The painted contexts of formlings also feature therianthropes and human figures
them. In a complex example (Garlake 1995: fig. 121), two typical formlings are
juxtaposed and their orifices face each other. In between are seven plant forms,
with shapes that recall the domical caps of formlings (Garlake 1995: 103). Winged
insects, which I have argued represent termites, hover around these plants in a
similar manner to Figures 15 and 16. Nearby are antelope. The formling on the
right has an unusually enlarged orifice, out of which comes a human figure with
a “leaf shape” on its navel. Other formlings have similar human figures or
Figure 10. Garlake’s (1995: 155) note that, “spirit figures appear to crawl towards
and gather strength as they approach some formlings” recalls the Ju/’hoan belief
that supernatural beings walk the spirit realm as people do on earth (Marshall
1999: 3). In keeping with these images of people seemingly visiting God’s house,
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San medicine specialists describe in detail their journeys to this place (Marshall
To understand the logic of the God’s house interpretation one must look
These natural phenomena, like God’s house, are located underground (= spirit
argue comprise a significant component of the spirit world (see Appendix 1 Fig.
1.9). Potency appears to be the thread that connects these seemingly disparate
contexts with termites and honeybees being the key natural models in the
expressed symbolism.
this house or seat of potency in idiosyncratic ways. For example, Garlake (1995:
human beings. But, formlings in general transcend the human source of potency
in the gebesi. I have suggested a realm of potency that is much more unified and
diverse than its individual constituents, of which the gebesi is part. In this realm,
ultimate source of potency; this realm is God’s house and the spirit world. San
beliefs also show that trees are a crucial element of this house. I now turn to the
Chapter Seven
trees and plants. There are an integral part of formling contexts. Not only do
these painted subjects co-occur in the same painting areas, they are also examples
where trees and plants are conflated with formlings (Appendix 1 Fig. 1.17) or are
interpretations of trees and plants. Building on that background I now sum up,
first, ethno-botanical studies among the San, and, secondly, describe the
morphology and painted contexts of the motifs found in San rock art. Thirdly,
drawing on the San ethnography, I situate these motifs in their graphic and
and plants both in the ethnography and in the art point to two major conceptual
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tropes that are united in San cosmology. Trees are significant in the ethnography
The dominance of plants as food and moisture sources in San diet is well
established (Lee 1965; Silberbauer 1965: 44-47; Giess & Snyman 1986: 240; Tanaka
1976: 112-113; Hitchcock 1982: 205-223), but relatively little, until recently, of their
role in myths, beliefs and symbolism was known. Little has been written “about
the total botanical lore of Bushman groups” (Steyn 1981: 1). Robert Story (1958,
1964), however, studied various uses of tree and plant species in the Kalahari.
Some writers (Lee 1965, 1968; Silberbauer 1965, 1981; Heinz & Maguire 1974) also
While very important, these ecological investigations suggest little allusion to the
with the San, there has been no sustained attempt to seek and compile a
pers. comm.). One exception is Sigrid Schmidt (1980, 1989), who compiled
work may not have had the impact in South Africa it should because it is in
Fig. 15. Flying termites transforming into oval flecks swell around a blossoming tree
from Matopo (overleaf)
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153
Fig. 16. Flying termites, a partial tree, a human figure (redrawn from Parry 2000)
Trees and plants in San rock art take various forms. Although varying in detail
and clarity, these subjects are often recognisable as trees, bulbs or tubers. About
trees, Garlake (1987d: 60) points out that they “appear as rigid, stylized
They appear in varying hues of red and yellow ochre. In South Africa a few
motifs are depicted in white and black (Appendix I). The significance of colour is,
however, not clear in these paintings, as indeed is generally the case with San art
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imagery. Their common features include branches, trunks, roots, lines and,
1. Branches
Trees are usually depicted showing branches only without foliage. Their
morphology ranges from rounded to umbrella and weeping crown forms that
are connected to the trunks. On the basis of elements in the crowns, Breuil (1966:
24, 116, 119) argued that eleven motifs from southern Zimbabwe represented a
kind of palm. He noted that most of them comprised a “single vertical line for
the trunk and two symmetrical lobes hanging down from either side of the trunk
2. Roots
One of the distinctive characteristics of tree and plants is the roots. These motifs
are often painted complete with roots, which are usually exaggerated at the base
of the trunks or stems. These roots range in number between one and four.
Although they are often painted vertically, they are also shown extending
In a few examples, trees are embellished with faithful detail. These include
depictions of fruits (Garlake 1987d: 41, 60, 1995: fig. 64), seedpods (Frobenius
1963: tafels 34, 35, 40, 42; Pager 1989: 276, fig. 1-Fix A) and flowers or what looks
Fig. 17. A tree, probably ficus sp. judging by its adventitious branches hanging down
from the trunk and fruits clustered around the branches (Northern Province, S.
Africa)
In northern South Africa, I recorded a tree motif laden with fruits (Fig. 17). The
fruits have the appearance of rounded nods attached to the branches. Although
leaves and flowers are usually absent, they have also been recorded (Goodall
1959: fig. 25). In circumstances where leaves, flowers or fruits are depicted
possibilities occasionally exist for identification. For example, Goodall (1959: 76;
Coulson & Campbell 2000: figs 67, 91) identified the bichrome tree with leaves
referencing with photographs of this species in van Wyk and van Wyk (1997:
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442) I am convinced of the correctness of the identification. This motif, like some
Fig. 18. Two kudu and a tree (on the left is a file of three kudu cows and a calf) from
(Matopo)
4. Lines
Tree and plant motifs in Matopo are usually embellished with a horizontal line
motif that divides the roots from the trunk or stem and branches. This line
usually retains the same thickness throughout its length. The bulk of the tree is
shown above this line and the roots extend below. The appearance is that of a
cross-section of a tree above and below the ground. Some motifs depict root-like
forms separate from trees (Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1). In one panel these forms stem
from a ground level line that links two trees with a formling.
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While all these features are recognisable, their proportions are often distorted.
Scale and proportion are not ‘realistic’ in San depictions of trees, as with
formlings; features of the subject included are those that focus attention on
aspects of meaning. For example, thick-stemmed trees may not indicate baobabs,
Regarding the species of trees, Garlake (1987d: 60) claims that, “none is certainly
identifiable.” One early writer stated that trees and plants in Matopo include
“knobby thorns, baobabs, umbrella trees, palms, tree-ferns, euphorbias, kafir (sic)
orange, aloes, wind-blown trees, and monkey ropes, as well as aerial and
exposed roots” (Hall 1912: 594). As with Hall’s judgment on formlings there is
Trees are often unequivocally depicted in complex contexts (Figs 1, 21, also
Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1). Writers have noted the association of trees and plants with
groups and never as part of a scene” or landscape is not valid. Indeed, this claim
directly contradicts one of his earlier stated observations in the same publication
that, “There are many examples of ovoids with trees, animals and people
attached to them” (ibid.: 52). Garlake (1995: figs 104, 121, 179) illustrates some
examples of formlings associated with trees. The link between trees/plants and
Fig. 19. Two men with equipment juxtaposed with a tree (Matopo)
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Fig 20. Two kudu, a tree and an infubulated man carrying ?sticks (Matopo)
Trees are also commonly depicted with animals, especially kudu, giraffe, and
tsessebe or hartebeest (Figs 6, 20, Appendix 1 Figs 1.1, 1.12) and people (Figs 19,
22). In the art, these antelope stand or lie down underneath trees, or browse on
their branches (Walker 1996: 71; Coulson & Campbell 2000: 92). In the
Drakensberg two panels depict similar contexts, showing eland browsing on tree
branches (Willcox 1956: fig. 18; also images in RARI Archives). In some complex
panels trees or plants are depicted growing on formlings or on lines that join
with formlings (Fig. 1, Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1; also Goodall 1959: plate 8). In some
panels, ovoid formlings are conflated with bulbous plants that have sprouts at
the top and roots at the base (Appendix 1 Fig. 1.17). In one case, to which I now
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stems with twelve individual offshoots are attached on top of the oval nest. The
formling itself is made up of multiple concentric lines that run around it, but are
partially weathered on the left where only two remain. At the base there are
three root-like appendages. Garlake (1987a: 24) has noted similar motifs in which
“Ovals form the core of tuber-like plant forms with sprouting ends.” Inside the
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oval there is a small indeterminate buck in the middle of two partially faded oval
blobs, which are surrounded by dots, at the top and the bottom. To the left are
two further small indeterminate buck, one facing away from and another
towards the sprouting form. Next to the roots is a cross-legged human figure that
is clapping in a similar way to the figure in Figure 23. At the top right is a bizarre
clawed and thick-tailed creature. Figure 22 (also Frobenius 1963: tafels 43, 56;
Goodall 1959: plate 32) depicts a tree with several roots, two thick stems and
many branches. Two human figures, one depicted between the stems and
another juxtaposed with the roots, suggest a connection between these features
and the figures. More importantly, the figure next to the roots adopts a typical
These panels, like the other complex painted contexts I have discussed, suggest
the non-ordinary reality of trance and complex symbolism: images do not simply
and plants with people, animals enclosed within the cores of termite nest-plant
explained in narrative terms, but by looking at the San beliefs and symbolism. I
motifs.
Different plants had different magical properties and different uses. In Southern
and Northern San ethnographic corpuses trees and plants feature prominently as
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these plants. At deeper levels of meaning they often carry powerful symbolism.
Fig. 22. A tree, two human figures, one between the stems and another on the roots
(redrawn from Frobenius 1963)
In the myths, trees and plants are very often used for their metaphoric powers as
Orpen 1874). They also reflect a symbolic cooling down of undesirable effects of
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actions and the pacifying of the wrath of deities and spirit beings (ibid.) and
commonly for calming and controlling ‘rain creatures’ among the /Xam.
The level of supernatural potency is borne out of the emphasis on the aroma of
The same belief of smell as carrier of potency is extended to burned fat and
aromatic herbs in a zam (Marshall 1969: 360, 371; Biesele 1993: 93-94). The /Xam
also had similar beliefs; the rain, among other things, such as, winds, was said to
have smell (D.F. Bleek 1933: 300), and hence its power. In its “fresh” aromatic
condition, rain would be very potent (ibid.: 300). Therefore, the usual emphasis of
aromatic plants centres on their smells which carry potency. I use two associated
a. Canna1
In one Southern (Maluti) San tale, /Kaggen restores his son, Cogaz, to life by
giving him herbal charms, canna (Orpen 1874: 8). In another, Qwanciquntshaa, a
chief, turned into a snake, but was restored to his former self by canna fed to him
by a girl. He subsequently married this girl and together with her sprinkled
canna on the ground so that all the dead elands became alive again (Orpen 1874:
/Kaggen struck them with his stick and they all became people. He then
sprinkled their skins which lay on the ground with canna and they also became
1
Botanical species of this aromatic plant is unclear
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The use of herbs is also found in ritual contexts. Qing (Orpen’s San guide in the
1870s) told Orpen that canna charms were used to resuscitate “people who have
died from the dance” (Orpen 1874: 10). He was here referring to the trance dance
(Lewis-Williams 1988b: 137-142). He also related how, during rain rites, charms
were used to catch and lead a rain animal (Orpen 1874: 10).
Canna was therefore used for its restorative or restitutive qualities as well as
the former function has been identified in the art. Paintings of people calming
down and controlling rain creatures have been identified in the Drakensberg
region. This function is attested widely among the /Xam who used buchu.
b. Buchu
In /Xam tales, buchu (generic term for plants in the Rutaceae family) was used to
charm and calm down rain bulls (D.F. Bleek 1933) and other spirit divinities.
/Xam traditions recount that buchu was given to rain creatures living in
waterholes from where they would be subdued and then led across the land to
desired places for rain rites (ibid.). As a ritual magic, when new maidens emerged
from confinement they treated their families with buchu to ward off danger from
the anger of !Khwa (rain divinity) and ensure the ultimate return to normality for
the band (Hewitt 1986: 198). Because menstruating girls were said to have an
odour that attracted !Khwa, they used buchu to counteract this odour and keep
danger at bay (Hewitt 1986: 78). Buchu was also used during hunting rites. A
/Xam hunter avoided touching the arrow that he had used to shoot antelope
(D.F. Bleek 1932: 233), but he would pick the arrow up using a leaf. Although
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undeclared, this leaf may have implied buchu judging by its function of charming
Unequivocal depictions alluding to such plant uses are rare, but plausible
figures, one of which holds out a plant form towards the snout of a grotesque
animal. Vinnicombe (1976: fig. 239) copied this panel in more detail (Pager 1976:
46), and suggested that it depicted sorcerers charming, capturing and leading-out
a rain animal. In another panel (Vinnicombe 1976: fig. 240) she inferred similar
potency. The role that different plants play depends on their potency or magical
properties. The G/wi, and indeed most San groups, actually say that plants have
the plant is used or eaten (Silberbauer 1981: 77) as food or medicine. Like
animals, each has potency with different strengths and are appropriate for
Particular botanical species are obscure in San oral traditions. Only generic
terms, sometimes with several related connotations, are used. For example, the
Nharo word ‘hii’ means, tree or medicine (D.F. Bleek 1928: 25-26) and in its
shortened form ‘hi’, it means plant or wood (ibid.: 26). Sometimes general plant
symbolic function. Botanical subjects are, therefore, an open class, where general
terms like ‘tree’, ‘leaf’, ‘fruit’, or ‘root’ carry related cosmological concepts. In the
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art, the depiction of a species may not have added any special symbolic
Turning to San rock art one finds a similar phenomenon. From my analyses of
the art and published material, it seems that the depiction of particular species
was, for the artists, not essential in expressing symbolism. Branches, trunks and
roots only were depicted to suggest a generic, rather than a specific, class.
that is emphasised. Trees are therefore one of the most significant categories in
San art and ethnography (though not reflected by the frequency of depiction and
symbolise God’s house. I also showed that formlings are usually painted with
trees and other plants growing on or through them (Figs 1, 21, 27, Appendix 1
God’s house. In Ju/’hoan belief, a great tree stands in ≠Gao N!a’s house while the
lesser god, //gauwa’s house has two trees. Shamans and ordinary people fear
these trees. The tree in ≠Gao N!a’s house has strong n/om (Marshall 1999: 21) and
“it is associated with the spirits of the dead…” (Marshall 1962: 236, 1999: 21, 314).
These trees are not passive entities, but powerful medicine in the transformation
of dead souls into immortalised and eternal residents of the spirit realm. They
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are therefore like a divinity with strong n/om. The etymology of the word ‘n/om’
itself gives clues to the conceptual link between trees and potency. Lee (1967: 33,
1968: 43) showed that the metaphor “boiling ([n/om]―to boil) refers not only to
The idea of trees as redolent with n/om and as components of God’s house is
supported by the painted contexts in Figures 15 and 16. Figure 15 shows a tree in
flecks). The tree has three roots, a trunk and three short branches, all painted in
dark yellow. These branches change abruptly to red and widen at the top before
yellow, but with red wings, swirl around the tree and some touch the flowery
ends of the branches. Below this panel is a sable antelope, to the right of which is
a giraffe with an exquisite retiform pattern. These are not shown in the tracing.
the previous chapter that termites and bees (= fat and honey) have very strong
potency (Marshall 1969: 351, 1999: xxxiii; D.F. Bleek 1924: 14). The graphic
association of flying termites, (or bees) and trees suggests a context charged with
trees/plants with flying termites suggests an association with God’s house, which
To explain the association of God’s house with trees, I first relate a San creation
myth. This myth, also shared by some Khoekhoe groups, was collected from
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eighteenth century San groups of the lower portions of the Gariep River in South
Africa. In this myth a tree is directly associated with the primordial creation of
people and animals. George Stow (1905) recounts this myth as William Coates
kinds of animals came swarming out after them, some kinds by twos
and threes and fours; others in great herds and flocks; and they crashed,
and jostled, and pushed each other in their hurry, as if they could not get
out fast enough; and they ever came out swarming thicker and thicker,
and at last they came flocking out of the branches as well as the roots.
But when the sun went down, fresh ones ceased making their
appearance. The animals were endowed with the gift of speech, and
remained quietly located under and around the big tree. (Stow 1905: 130-
131).
The tale goes on to explain how the use of fire by people sent animals fleeing in
panic, losing, in their fright, all powers of speech, thereby breaking up the family
of people and animals. Here, the ‘tree of creation’ is prominent; gigantic in girth,
humankind and animals emerged from its roots and branches. The symbolic
facets of the tale are explicated by reference to San beliefs about God (who
created humankind, animals and trees), trees and their association with the spirit
world (= underworld and sky). God among various San and Khoekhoe groups
The association between God, trees and primal creation is fundamental among
the Northern San. For the Nharo, the creator deity, Hi∫e, is the source of power
that healers “worked” with (D.F. Bleek 1928: 24). D.F. Bleek infers that Hi∫e
means “spirit of the bush”, since the first syllable “hi” means, tree or bush (D.F.
Bleek 1928: 25, 1956: 61; Barnard 1986: 69-71). The full words “hiiba” (masc. sg.)
and “hiisa” (fem. sg.) mean ‘tree’ and ‘bush’ respectively (Barnard 1988: 222). The
etymology of the word Hi∫e implies that he was “Lord of the Bushes”, in the
same way that the Southern San deity, /Kaggen (or Cagn in Orpen’s 1874
orthography), was “Lord of the Animals” (D.F. Bleek 1933; Lewis-Williams &
Dowson 1990: 14; Lewis-Williams 1994: 279; Hewitt 1986: 195-196; Biesele 1993:
94; Guenther 1999: 111). This point suggests Hi∫e’s creation of trees/bushes,
which also exist as his avatars, since he is the “spirit” in them. Interestingly,
/Kaggen (translated as ‘the Mantis’, Hewitt 1986: 140) was also a generic plural
form of the name for berries (D.F. Bleek 1956: 296.). Tricksters and creator deities
A variant of Hi∫e is a Nama divinity, Heitsi Eibib (also Heiseb). In this name ‘hei’
means, ‘bush’ or ‘tree’ while ‘eibib’ means, ‘the first’ (D.F. Bleek 1928: 25). Being
the first bush or tree suggests that he was the progenitor of the bushes or trees.
And because he is the creator, this point links him with the idea of creation
emanating from trees. A clearer link is in a tale where Heitsi Eibib is born of a
maiden who impregnated herself using juice (or sap) she got from chewing an
edible grass (Schmidt 1980: 39-40). Heitsi Eibib is, therefore, a manifestation of
the generative powers of botanical subjects. Similarly, the !Kõ believe, their Great
Many San groups believe that trees have spirits in them. The !Kõ say that, apart
from living in waterholes and certain inanimate objects, spirits also reside in
trees (Heinz 1975: 24). A similar belief is suggested by the word ‘Hei-//om’ (also
the name for a San group). This name derives from the Khoekhoe words, ‘heis’
and ‘//om’, meaning ‘tree’ and ‘to sleep’ respectively (Fourie 1926: 49). This
suggests that trees have dormant spirits in them. Some northern San even believe
that their ancestors’ spirits turn into trees (Vinnicombe, pers. comm.). Similarly,
in some /Xam tales the glance of a new maiden turned three men into trees that
contrast, the Ju/’hoansi do not believe that animals and other earthly things, such
as trees and water possess spirits or souls (Marshall 1962: 222, 1999: 4). Generally,
in San folklore, trees and animals were people in primordial times until the gods
commanded the present order of things. A Maluti San phrase that “The thorns
(dobbletjes) were people…” (Orpen 1874: 9) echoes this belief. In the !Kung texts,
the trickster /Xụé, like /Kaggen, is able to change back into vegetable persona. He
transforms into different kinds of trees and plants (Bleek & Lloyd 1911: 404-413).
So, trees and plants are in some ways avatars of these potent spirit divinities.
Like San gods, trees and plants transcend different cosmological realms and
because of this ability they are powerful San metaphors for the axis mundi.
The symbolic association of trees/plants with God’s house, trees/plants and gods
is interwoven with the idea of the axis mundi, the route to God and the spirit
examine botanical motifs associated with human figures to show how they were
Fig. 23. A therianthrope holds a tree while a squatting figure claps (redrawn from
Cooke 1971)
I begin with Figure 23 from Matopo. It shows two ethereal human figures
juxtaposed with a tree. The figure holding the tree trunk where lower branches
stem off is a therianthrope, with horns, large ears and an antelope head that
Cooke suggested to be zebra-like. The figure farthest from the tree in a crouching
posture is more human in form and is clapping. These figures have grossly
exaggerated ‘streamers’ underneath their armpits (NB. Cooke did not mention
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this feature) and the squatting figure has additional ones from the knees. Cooke
in “tree worship”. It can be read differently if this detail and San ethnography are
taken into consideration. Cooke’s view is inadequate, first, because the San are
not known to have worshipped trees and, secondly, the figure in question is a
Similarly, Figure 19 depicts a standing man with one leg raised onto a tree trunk
as if climbing into it. One hand holds a branch and the other carries four stick-
like objects. Another tasselled or bristled object (may be a narrow bag like a
quiver) is strapped on his shoulder (Walker 1996: 32). A second man on the right
hand side holds five stick-like objects in one hand, while the other is handing
over a curious object to a figure climbing into a tree. A similar context in Parry
(2000: 98) depicts a tree with eleven branches. Three grossly elongated human
figures, varying in height with the shorter one closest to the tree and the tallest
farthest from it, stand to the right hand side of the tree. All three, with stretched
human figures with bristling lines. These motifs frequently appear as graphic
people’s chests, armpits and other places during curing dances, is a significant
trance symbol. It is also a key element in curing rituals (Lee 1968: 44). Because
sweat is rich in potency, healers rub it onto people during trance dances
(Marshall 1962: 251, 1969: 371, 378; Lee 1968: 44) in the belief that it combats evil
and sickness.
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distortions related to trance experiences (Garlake 1995: 151). Trance (or altered
Williams 1980; Walker 1996: 67, 90). One of these hallucinations is the attenuation
and elongation, or the feeling that one’s limbs are being stretched (Walker 1996:
72). These are frequently depicted in San rock art (Dowson 1988: 117; Lewis-
Williams & Dowson 1989: 76-77). Recently a San healer related this experience
thus, “When I dance, I go into a trance, and become very tall” (Keeney 1999: 61).
These are called somatic hallucinations (Lewis-Williams 1988a: 10; 1997: 817,
278-279, 1996: 124-126, 1998b: 198-200) first discussed this concept based on the
nineteenth century Bleek and Lloyd corpus. The schema in this cosmos
comprises two axes (Fig. 28). On the one hand, the sublunary horizontal axis lies
on the surface of the earth that carries all ordinary reality or daily life activities.
The vertical axis, on the other, is associated with the spirit beings and
supernatural activities. Although this axis splits into two, that is, the
underground associated with the dead and the “spiritual realm above the earth
that was associated with god, the spirits and also with shamans” (Lewis-
Williams 1994: 279), these two necessarily constitute a unified realm. The vertical
axis therefore joins the sky and the underground, bisecting the horizontal axis at
My diagram in Appendix 1 (Fig. 1.9) shows the same information pictorially, but
adds the shamanic mediation of this cosmos. Although this schema was
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formulated on data from the /Xam, related cosmological ideas are also known for
the Ju/’hoansi. Marshall (1999: 3), however, notes that the Nyae Nyae Ju/’hoansi
do not believe that spirit beings of any kind reside inside the earth. Some groups,
like the G/wi, retain strong concepts of the underworld and underground
creatures (Silberbauer 1965: 84, 86). Ritual specialists can, by means of various
spiritual techniques, traverse these supernatural realms along the vertical axis to
Mircea Eliade (1964: 259) has argued that the pre-eminent shamanic technique
entails the passage through cosmic regions—the earth, sky and underground. To
achieve the movement between realities shamans use various means that Eliade
called the axis mundi. These may include: rainbow, stairs, bridge, ladder, cord,
vine, mountain, and so forth (Eliade 1964: 492). In many societies, these means
are metaphors for what is often called the “breakthrough in plane” (Drury 1991:
35) or those access points in the tiered cosmos through which shamans can move.
in Matopo San art. It is the symbol of the “Cosmic or World Tree” that features in
many forms among the Asiatic, Northern and Eastern European as well as North
the “Centre of the World” (Eliade 1964: 120), which is a point of contact, like the
waterhole or rock shelters (Lewis-Williams 1998b: 199) for the /Xam and other
San (Biesele 1980: 55-56), between various cosmic zones. Trees thus come to
symbolise the axis mundi. This concept is not as well documented among the
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southern African San as it is in the societies in other regions, but the images that I
Lloyd’s MS: L.II.4.489-493 and 504-514) that shows a tree being a link between
different cosmic realms—the underground, earth and sky. In this tale, /Kaggen
fights his in-laws, the meerkats (suricates), after they killed his eland. Because
they overpowered him, he fled the fight and lay trembling at home, as his head
ached. The tree in which the meerkats had placed the eland’s meat and their
paraphernalia came out of the ground, flew through the sky, and then came
down near /Kaggen’s head, as he lay down. It thus connected the three realms I
tree in a daily life event. This tree symbolises the axis mundi, which /Kaggen, as
the original shaman (Lewis-Williams 1994: 279), invokes to right the socio-affinal
transgressions of his in-laws. The tree not only provides him with shade, but it
brings back what was treacherously taken away from him by his affines—his
eland. It plays a supernatural mediatory role. Trees as symbols of the axis mundi
waterhole, a tree is itself a mediator of realms in that its roots are below and its
Water plays a transformative role in many tales (ibid.: 199). One /Xam tale
recounts how an ostrich feather was placed in a waterhole and then grew into an
ostrich (Bleek & Lloyd 1911: 137-145). Trees appear to possess the same ability, as
indicated in a Ju/’hoan belief of ≠Gao N!a’s use of a mystical big tree to transform
people (also animals). In a Ju/’hoan tale about the python girl and the jackal
(Biesele 1993: 124-131) the close proximity of a tree to a spring or waterhole is not
coincidental. The narrator said that a big n=ah tree stood near the spring with its
broad shadow cast over the well and one of its branches stretched out above the
water (ibid.: 124-131). The python girl climbed into the tree to gather n=ah, but she
fell into the spring below after being coaxed by the jackal. A kind of
transformation occurs in the water in which she later gives birth to a beautiful
baby python. In this context both the tree and the water work in tandem to
emphasized.
The painted record bears out the symbolic association between trees and
waterholes. In Figure 2, a tree grows on the edge of a circular motif that encloses
two fish in the midst of flecks. This context suggests associations of water,
literally implying a pond. An infibulated man approaches from the left and a
bow lies on the ground behind him. Still farther to the left is a woman kneeling
on remnants of formling caps; she holds both her hands on her head (kneeling
and hands on the head are trance metaphors, see Lewis-Williams 1985: 54;
Walker 1996: 73, 90) while facing the direction of the infibulated man. This
context brings in four significant associations, that is, formlings, trees and
waterholes. The trance postures on the woman, the infibulation of the man, fish
and flecks all point to non-ordinary spirit world experiences within which the
Some Ju/’hoan tales similarly connect ‘real world’ and ‘spirit world’ experiences
via the medium of a tree. One tale with overtones of rain-calling rites (Biesele
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1975a: 178-182, 1993: 124-131) reenacts the mediatory role of trees. !Gara
(trickster) avenges the death of his two sons, Kan//a and !Xoma, whom the lions
imprisoned in the chyme of an eland that the boys had killed. He tries to call a
thunderstorm, first by hanging the neckbones from the eland carcass in a tree so
that lightning may come. The neckbones did not work, but the horns did;
lightning came and killed the lions. After his revenge, he stood back in surprise
and said, “What will I do now…how will I powder myself with sᾶ so that my
brains won’ t be spoiled by the killing I have done?” (Biesele 1975a: 181).
Trickster !Gara’s action invokes supernatural powers in the sky realm to kill the
lions. The mediation for the communication between him, in the material world,
and the supernatural in the sky is the tree in which he hangs the eland horns. The
tree here evokes the idea of axis mundi, allowing the connection and
communication between two cosmic zones. The symbolism in this tale centres on
the ‘height’ of the tree. I argue that ‘height’ is metaphoric for proximity to the sky
realm and its supernatural beings. !Gara acts out a shamanic role of using a
power animal, the eland, and a tree as intermediaries to communicate with the
spirit realm. Ordinarily, trees as symbolic cosmic mediators may act as axis mundi
access the spirit realm. At another level, the role of a healer parallels that of
trees—both can link various realms of existence, the earth, the sky and the
underground (Fig. 28, Appendix 1 Fig. 1.9). Trees as axis mundi thus mirror
The panel in Figure 24 depicts a context that can be used to show the connection
between San shamans and trees. There are two short-tailed therianthropes
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climbing on one of the two branches of a tree. One climbs above and the other
Fig. 24. Two therianthropes climb a tree under which there are two human figures and
an animal (redrawn from Frobenius 1963)
To the right are two more human figures; one next to the tree sits upright with
one leg folded back and crossing the other leg on the thigh. Another figure, next
to an indeterminate antelope, is reclining with one knee raised and the other leg
is folded so as to cross the raised one just below the knee. Garlake persuasively
argues that these postures are related to trance states (Garlake 1995: 130, 131, 133,
Figure 25 is another panel that depicts a human figure climbing a tree, the
figures and therianthropes climbing trees recall the experiences of the Hei//om
Fig. 25. A man climbs a tree next to animals (redrawn from Parry 2000)
shamans, who, with the help of an antelope guide accompanying them on extra-
corporeal journeys, climb up a Lebensbaum (‘tree of life’) to enter the spirit realm
(Guenther 1999: 188). The tree is an archetypal shamanic route via which trancers
enter preternatural realms (ibid.: 188). Amongst the Ju/’hoansi, Biesele (1993: 72)
notes “the threads of the sky” are the things which the trancer climbs to
connecting the earth and heavens (Schapera 1930) to assist the soul’s ascent
(England 1968: 431-32) to the sky. Lewis-Williams and co-writers (2000) explore
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the notion of “threads of light” for such routes and identify a motif in San rock
At Nanke Cave, a long tailed and elongated bending over human figure is
associated with two rootless trees (see Parry 2000: 25). This figure’s feet and the
bases of the trees share the same level in a pool of flecks enclosed in an oval-
shaped motif that narrows in the middle. Tree trunks rise up and partly merge
with the bent-forwards human torso just below the armpits. The branches of the
trees then appear above the human figure’s shoulders. Walker (1996: 5) describes
suggests that the lines descending from his armpits represent potency (sweat)
lines. Close examination, however, shows that the lines are the trunks of the trees
and that these continue below or above the figure, finally dividing into several
branch forms.
trancers (Marshall 1969; Katz 1982: 98; Lewis-Williams 1981a, 1988a: 4) and
suggests that the figure is dancing and transforming. The figure bends in a
manner that recalls a posture that the San often take due to abdominal cramps
resulting from exertion. When this happens and as they enter trance states they
use dancing sticks to secure their balance (Marshall 1969: 358; Lewis-Williams
1981a: figs 23 & 40, 1997: 819). The elongated limbs of this figure are a further
feature that evokes a hallucinatory trance state. In addition, the flecks, which I
have shown to be termites’ nymphs, are symbols of potency (Garlake 1990, 1995).
In Figure 26, a tree is associated with two therianthropes and two ethereal
almost an all fours posture, is antelope-headed with a robust snout, long tail and
twisted lines from its head, which are probably kudu horns. The forelegs have
hooves. The tree, with fifteen branches and a rounded crown, stands above this
figure, as if it grows from its back, although it does not actually touch it. What
Fig. 26. A tree, human figures, therianthropes, flecks and antelopes (redrawn from
Garlake 1995)
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Two ethereal human figures are superimposed on the tree below its branch level.
One of these is clearly female as it has breasts. The second therianthrope with a
rounded head is a little lower to the right. Associated motifs include a field of
flecks, human figures, kudu cows and indeterminate buck on the right of the
The panel depicts metaphors of potency (e.g., flecks, Dowson 1989; Garlake
ethereal human figures). The bending over therianthrope is placed where the tree
roots would normally be. The position of a therianthrope where roots would
the tree, which the figure has accessed. Michael Harner (1982: 32) showed how
the Conibo healers of the Upper Amazon travel down to the bowels of the earth
by following the roots of a tree. In southern Africa, San “…shamans go into the
ground on their out-of-body journeys. They travel underground and then come
out again to see where they are” (Lewis-Williams 1988a: 17, 1994: 282). In a myth,
/Kaggen sunk himself into the ground and emerged again until he got close to an
eagle whose honey he wanted (Orpen 1874: 8). Equally, old K”xau, a healer
himself, said his teacher in n/om told him that he would enter earth, travel
through it and come out at another place, in his quest for the house of God
(Biesele 1975a, 1980: 56). The two ethereal figures could be what Garlake (1995:
108, 109, 143, 158) describes as more than transformation, the “spirits with only
the remote residues of their bodies, almost entirely unworldly and ethereal.”
More specifically, I suggest that they could be the spirit world residents,
In the panel shown in Appendix 1 (Fig. 1.8) there is an association between three
trees, a buffalo, and some human figures. This echoes a metaphoric link between
trancers, antelopes and trees that I have highlighted. The buffalo stands on a line,
probably the ground level. Although not actually touching it the two trees
appear to grow above its rump. The biggest tree on the right, however, extends
behind the buffalo’s head and its roots stretch to the level of the buffalo’s
forelegs. Thirteen human figures, mostly male, in various postures leap or ride
on the back of the buffalo and move around it in a circular formation. These
a Ju/’hoan healer’s “trance-journey to the sky using the [n/om] of the supernatural
giraffe,” which took him to God’s house (Biesele 1980: 56). The /Xam achieved
Moreover, the circular formation of human figures around the central buffalo is
reminiscent of the trance dance (Lee 1967: 31; Marshall 1969: 356-357; Lewis-
Williams 1981a). The buffalo, here, takes the central place of the potent dance
fire. The fire is a source of, and accelerates the activation of, n/om in a trance
dance (Marshall 1969: 357-358). N/om is stronger when hot (ibid.: 353). By taking
the role of the central fire, the buffalo, by extension, becomes a source of n/om. It
could also be a metaphor for /ko:öde (D.F. Bleek 1924: 10, 1935: 30-35) or a very
high degree of potency. The panel may also allude to the efficacious ambience
around a large antelope kill, principally eland, where a trance dance might ensue
(Marshall 1969: 355) to harness the freshly released potency. The relationship
between animals, ritual specialists and the axis mundi—the tree(s) is reinforced,
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as in the case of Hei//om shamans who are guided by an animal, or ride on its
back to climb up a tree of life to enter the spirit world (Guenther 1999: 188).
involving fearsome and formidable animals with the trance experience of San
trancers. They are not only hunting down large sources of protein, but are also
Ideas of potency are extended to contexts featuring only trees and oval flecks
(Fig. 26; also Garlake 1990: 17-27, 1995: 103). Elaborate oval flecks take trident
(bird-foot) shapes (Fig. 13, Plate 7). Similar motifs have also been interpreted as
birds (Petie 1974: 2), rather than bees (Guy 1972; Pager 1973; Woodhouse 1990,
1994; 98-99). In other contexts, some writers describe these as “arrow motifs”
(Walker 1996: 71; Garlake 1995: fig. 121). The association of flecks and botanical
motifs is known from many sites (Frobenius 1963; Garlake 1987d: 62; Garlake
1995; Parry 2000: 96, 99). I argue that oval flecks that we have seen in association
with anthills/termitaria and flying termites are nymphs of termites (Figs 1, 13, 15,
16). Because of their fat, as discussed already, they add to the litany of powerful
images that I have discussed were reservoirs of this potency. My analysis of the
treatment of trees and plants in the art as well as in San beliefs has thus
among the San. Far more can be discerned from San art than has hitherto been
this iconographic enquiry leads on to, and demonstrably meshes well, San myth
and cosmology. Cosmological concepts are borne out of San beliefs and folklore.
trees, plants, termites and termitaria. Trees and plants grow on and around
termite nests, while termites also nest in tree hollows. The art depicts this
relationship, where even termite nymphs are shown around trees (Figs 15, 26).
The symbolic link hinges on San notions of supernatural potency and San
cosmology. Trees and plants represent the axis mundi that lead San ritual
specialists to God’s house in the spirit world, itself a concept that is symbolised
Chapter Eight
In this thesis I have demonstrated the natural models of formlings and presented
from natural subjects that are sometimes combined with elements seen during
trance states. Formlings should, therefore, like other San imagery, also have
natural cognates. My analysis shows that termitaria and, for a few examples,
reveals that these natural models are themselves very potent. As for termitaria,
their occurrence underground, in rock crevices and in trees, which are the places
that are associated with the spirit world, further reinforces their significance in
San cosmology. The painted contexts of formlings and trees, typically featuring
potent subjects, such as powerful animal and insect symbols suggest the notion
of potency reservoir.
These contexts suggest the zenith of potency saturation. This idea of the ultimate
the spirit world. The choice of trees, plants and termitaria (and beehives) was not
only because of their inherent potency, but their shared peculiarities also made
seat of potency in people, especially the ritual specialists. So, the gebesi, as
Idiosyncrasy in San rock art is a feature that has been observed in some South
African sites. As Dowson (1988: 117) has argued, the religious experiences of
explains partly the uniformities in concepts that are evoked by both San rock art
and revelatory testimonies contained in San ethnography. But not all the reports
of spiritual experiences have the same level of success and it the less successful
also have been culturally understood, as the “thought processes involved in their
creation were necessarily part of the San cognitive system” (ibid.: 118). In this
Termitaria and trees are a major component of San cosmology. They evoke the
shamanic mediation between the physical and the spirit worlds, and primarily
the concept of God’s house. San trancers often describe their visits to God’s
house (Biesele 1978; Keeney 1999; Lewis-Williams et al. 2000). Although there are
inconsistencies as the exact nature of this house, the San all understand its
associations and what trancers can expect to encounter there. This realm contains
(Biesele 1978: 933). This profusion of potent creatures asserts and bestows the
and, principally, giraffe and kudu, two of the powerful “great meat animals” that
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possess n/om, n/ow (Marshall 1957: 235, Biesele 1993: 94-95, 108) and /k:önde. This
These contexts suggest a complex concept that epitomises a source of all potency
that San ritual specialists drew upon. To illustrate this point, I will now present a
pictorially uncomplicated panel (Fig. 27), yet complex and richly nuanced, that
summarises the interpretations that I have provided for formlings, trees and
plants. It is a laconic representation of the panels that are illustrated in this thesis.
retain microdots. Although the outline common to these motifs is missing here, it
does not make this motif any less conceptually powerful. To the right of the
posture, a bigger and long-tailed one. There are five more human figures, albeit
remnantal and faded, superimposing the formling. Below the two penultimate
oval cores on the right there are two small buck. A feline, with a gaping mouth
and facing right is in the middle of the formling. Still on the right part of the
formling there is a thin and long plant form that bisects diagonally the two
penultimate cores before it trifurcates into branch forms at the top. Where this
long stem passes through an interstice between the two cores, there is a small
human figure clinging, on all fours, onto the stem and climbs towards the top.
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Fig. 27. A formling, feline and human figures (redrawn from Parry 2000)
In sum, the main image in the panel is a formling, a motif now understood to be
through it. Crucially, there is a human figure climbing this tree right across the
body of the formling. To understand the significance of this panel, I first draw
First, the gaping feline (probably a leopard judging by its profile and long curvy
in causing the dangerous throes of trance. So too is the San Great God, whose
potency is feared by people, even by the most powerful shamans. Since he is the
Fig. 28. The San cosmos with two intersecting axes and ‘conceptual sets’ show overlap
between realms (adapted from Lewis-Williams 1996)
Secondly, the panel implies the relationship between trees and the concept of the
axis mundi. The human figure climbing the tree across the formling cores recalls
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the Hei//om way of climbing a lebensbaum (‘tree of life’) into God’s house
(Guenther 1999: 188). This is a variation of the means that shamans in different
cultures use to access the spirit realm. The San also use ‘ropes’ ‘cords’ or
‘threads’ (Biesele 1993: 72; Marshall 1999: 21, 25, 29; Lewis-Williams et al. 2000)
that hang from the sky like spider webs to climb into God’s house. Trees attached
to formlings imply a variation of cosmic pathways into the spirit world. Their
intermediary role comes from the ability to grow from the underworld and reach
out into the upper realm. The underground is invariably associated with trees
and plants because that is where they grow from. Other species, such as rock-
splitter figs (e.g., Ficus abutilifolia, Ficus glumosa), grow between rock crevices and
even from the rock matrix itself. Tree depictions emphasise roots probably to
show their connection with the underworld. Rocks and rock shelters, like the
underground, are spiritually powerful places that are intermediary between the
unequivocally, a non-ordinary reality that San trancers often relate from their
God’s house, its special powerful associations and the shamanic mediation
through the trees as axis mundi. It also shows the complexity of the San cosmos,
The argument that I presented in this thesis shows that the cognitive areas of
religious ideas, beliefs and symbolism are not epiphenomena, as it was generally
assumed in the past. Rather, these are primary in understanding the San
worldview and, crucially, in deciphering San rock art. Far from being narrative
aspects of the physical and spirit worlds. In this view, the images presented in
my thesis are linked through their painted contexts and associations with the
way the San perceived and conceptualised various cosmic realms. The formal
(and for some motifs, beehives). Through their varied painted contexts and
associations, the San construed them in terms of a realm that fuses elements of
both the natural and supernatural worlds. A thread that connects these realms is
the San notion of supernatural potency and the place of its origin, God’s house.
Formlings are closely associated with tree and plant motifs, a relationship that is
also empirically verifiable from natural history. Both termitaria and trees thrive
The intrinsic symbolism of trees, on their own, is as complex and varied as that
of formlings, but both subjects share similarities and anomalies that unified them
conceptually. As key natural models, they were selected for specific traits that
The concept of reservoir saturated with power is borne out of the observation
that termitaria and trees (precisely hollows in trees)1 contain potent insects, just
as God’s house is full of powerful subjects. Some termite species are arboreal
and, similarly, bees also nest in trees (Giess & Snyman 1986: 24; Nonaka 1996: 35)
They are also invariably located in areas that are associated with the spirit world,
the underground, rock shelters, and crevices. This analysis shows that termitaria
are avatars of God’s house. They also, like trees, are capable of transcending the
three-tired cosmos (Fig. 28, Appendix 1 Fig. 1.9). San ritual specialists, too, in
many ways mirror these supernatural abilities, as they can transform into
different personae (or animals) and are able to transcend different realities. They
can move between the natural and spirit worlds (Biesele 1978: 930-931).
In sum, the thesis has demonstrated that formlings, trees and plants and their
painted contexts are explicable through recourse to relevant San beliefs about
supernatural potency and the concept of God’s house. The various characteristic
• human figures, who, judging by their diagnostic postures and features are
trees;
1
From which some creator deities, people and animals are said to have emerged in primordial
past (see Chapter Six).
194
Fig. 29. Transformed figures, perhaps in the spirit world and decapitated human parts
(Matopo)
entering or exiting from formling orifices, link formlings with trance and
potency;
trancers;
195
• trees and plants are depicted growing next to or on top of formlings, and
• Sinuous and, and sometimes fairly straight lines are also found in
formling contexts as well as other imagery (e.g., Appendix 1 Fig. 1.1, Fig.
29) and;
All these features in the painted contexts of formlings are congruous with the
San beliefs concerning supernatural potency and God’s house. Formlings and
trees therefore have multiple and complex richly nuanced religious and symbolic
these are the touchstone by which all approaches to the San art of Zimbabwe can
be assessed.” These constitute evidence for the multifaceted San belief system
axiomatic that southern African San rock art is redolent with religious
symbolism. San artists in Matopo were not isolated from this religious complex.
Being a product of the same culture, and similar conceptual framework (and
196
religious fundamentals) to the recently studied San, I advocate that this approach
is the most productive as it reveals connections inherent in the art and San
and the validity of San ethnography. Rather, the concerns are to tease out the
nuances and subtleties of the imagery to reveal the symbolic meanings contained
in this sophistication.
197
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Fig. 1.10. A tree motif painted in white pigment from northern South Africa.
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Fig. 1.11. A tree motif painted in yellow ochre and with a line motif probably denoting
ground level.
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Fig. 1.12. Paintings of trees with what appears to be a breeding pair of kudu, which is a
common association in the rock art of Matopo Hills.
Fig. 1.13. A termite mound with a tree growing in the middle is another feature that occurs
occasionally in the depictions of formlings.
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Fig. 1.14. This is another example of a termite mound with a large tree and smaller bushes
growing on top of it within species-specific clusters encouraged by rich nutrient soils
on mounds.
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Fig.1.15. An anthill with several secondary mounds forming a series of domes. Some formling
depictions seem to bring this feature out as caps or cusps.
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Fig. 1.16. A fig tree of the rock splitter species is growing on a rock formation, which could
another reason why this subject is significant in hunter-gatherer thought. This
peculiarity of penetrative force could account for the specific emphasis of roots in the
depictions.
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Fig.1.17. Left section of the panel redrawn in Fig. 9, showing a very similar motif to the one
in fig. 21. It is a formling conflated with a sprouting plant motif.
Fig.1.18. A polychrome giraffe from a site in Matopo Hills called Nanke Cave associated with
the big formling.
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Fig.1.19. From a site in central eastern Zimbabwe called Diana’s Vow is this main reclining
figure used in the gebesi explanation of the formlings.