Survival recently reported the arrests of four Wanniyala-Aetto men for hunting on their ancestral lands inside a national park in Sri Lanka. We took a look through the archives and came across this statement from Tapal Bandialetto, a Wanniyala-Aetto man. He describes how the Wanniyala-Aetto were moved from their forest in 1983, and the problems facing his people as they try to find food for their families on small plots of land outside the park.

‘The government said we had to come to Hennanigala [government resettlement area], and that if we didn’t like it, we could go back to our land in 4 or 5 years. We were inexperienced, and came. For 2 or 3 years, the government gave us all our food supplies. Then they stopped.

The government helped for about 5 years, then said now you have paddy fields, you can live off them. But we didn’t know how. Now, the governments don’t care. They have abandoned us like a puppy.’

People go inside the Maduru Oya National Park to get food, but they go without permits. If they are caught, they go to court.’There are 250 families here in Hennanigala, all ready to go back to our land in the National Park.

‘If the next generation waits here in Hennanigala, they will learn drinking, smoking and gambling. All the wrong things. They must go back to the jungle while they are still young, and go back to the traditional system. Before, we had no schools or hospitals, but we had our own systems of medicine, of education. It is all being lost.

‘I want my land back, my village back. Kandeganvila is the name of my village. The government built a water tank there for us, then threw us out. When we were in the jungle, we were healthy and strong, we didn’t use pesticides or fertilisers. We had a natural life.

‘Chena cultivation gives a very big harvest. You can’t get as much from this land in 3 years! We live and die and eat and share everything in the jungle. We eat meat, the deer eats leaves, we die in the ground, trees grow, the deer eat leaves. Like a circle. At that time, we didn’t kill young animals, or animals that were drinking water. We only killed male animals, and shared them with the village. Now, people hunt illegally. They catch any animal. They go into the park at night. We cared for the land. Now we’re gone, no-one cares for it.’

Tapal Bandialetto, Wanniyala-Aetto man, Hennanigala.

Daniel and Joseph have recently returned from the trip of a lifetime. The two Survival supporters decided to go to Botswana and find out first-hand what was happening to the Bushmen in the Central Kalahari Game Reserve. This is the first instalment, written by Joseph.

The further we get from Gabarone, the capital city of Botswana, the dustier the road. We filled our gasoline tanks up to the brim at the last stop, a deserted gas station in the middle of nowhere, and then left the asphalt to drive the last 150km to Kaudwane resettlement camp on a dirt and gravel road. I’m really trying my best with this new experience of four-wheel driving. The road gets bumpier and bumpier and we try to figure out how to keep up the speed without feeling like we are riding a horse.

Joseph (left) and Daniel with the rental vehicle

As we drive, Daniel updates me on everything he knows about the Bushmen and what we might be able to do for them in the coming week. I know very little and feel a bit dizzy with all the names of Kalahari places that roll so easily off his tongue. He has been there twice before and knows a lot. I try to keep up.

I was the one who suggested we go to Botswana together. My driving license would allow us to rent a car and really do something useful for the Bushmen.

We are hoping to film their living conditions, and to provide them with a way to share their concerns with the world. We might even help some of them to return home to the Central Kalahari Game Reserve (CKGR).The sun is setting as we approach Kaudwane, one of the two main resettlement camps to which the Botswana government took the Bushmen when they evicted them from their land in the game reserve in 1997 and in 2002.

The unpaved road sometimes gets really difficult and we are anxious about missing the turn-off. Road signs are scarce in this area of the world!But suddenly there is the sign: Kaudwane. The Botswana government thought it would be nice to make a short asphalt road into the resettlement area. That appears to be their main investment in the town.

Bushmen children in Kaudwane

As we pull up at last, Daniel makes the good point that we really have to find someone who can translate for us - a challenge as it is now half an hour before sunset, and there are few people here that will speak any English. In the dark it will be hard to approach people, and we are still looking for a place to camp.

As I’m standing next to the car, taking in my first impressions of the resettlement area, Daniel approaches two young guys that are walking towards us on the road. One has a flamboyant cowboy hat; the other is much smaller and wears a little hat. They are really friendly and welcoming. We are immensely lucky: these two people that we have met are the best guides we could have hoped to encounter.

One of them, Thuso, happens to be on holiday from university, and is currently living with his grandparents in Kaudwane. His English is as eloquent as we ever could have wished for - even better - and he proves to be a really outspoken person, both about the situation of the Bushmen and about what needs to be done to restore their rights to their land. His friend Ntyame is a bit more timid, but looks really sweet and gentle, and also helps us out.

With their help we are able to communicate with the family that evidently hosted Survival staff last time they were in Kaudwane, and they say we can stay in their compound. I drive the immense car through a very tiny gate, consisting of an iron bar attached to piece of wood. We are unsure whether that will keep the lions out.

Even in the half dark it is clear the Bushmen live in extremely simple conditions. The family has a square yard fenced with straight branches. The ground is sandy. The only structures are a hut made of tightly packed branches with a straw roof, and another structure without a roof, also made of straight branches, that functions as the kitchen. Our big four-wheel drive vehicle in the yard looks totally out of place.

Hungry and tired by now, we cook dinner by torchlight. Some of the kids from Kaudwane join us around the fire and we sing a mixture of songs. They do an excellent job of imitating us singing in English and Dutch and laughing throughout. Every few seconds one of the kids holds his breath and then, leaning into the fire, exhales directly onto it. As he moves his head away the fire grows into a huge dancing flame, illuminating the child’s face with a warm glow and puncturing the darkness of the night with a halo of light.

Joseph cooks up a storm as the children look on

Exhausted, we head to bed very early. Daniel prefers to sleep in the car, while I settle for the tent. We are full of excitement about this amazing visit and the luck we have had finding our new friends. I think Daniel is still talking as I doze off.