Biltong Hunting as a Performance of Belonging in Post-Apartheid South Africa by Goodrich Andre;

Author:Goodrich , Andre;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: undefined
Publisher: Lexington Books
Published: 2012-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

The Tall Task of Creating Contests between Quarry and Outmatched Hunters on Commercial Farms

Two months after my unsuccessful pursuit of the gemsbok with Jnr and Isaac, I accompanied another hunter, visiting the farm as part of a group of employees from the agricultural cooperative in a nearby small town, in his search for an animal to shoot. His decided lack of skill confirmed JK’s argument, but from an opposing perspective.

I dubbed this hunter “the penguin” when recounting to Jnr my experience of walking with him later that day. This disdainful title derived from my being extremely frustrated while accompanying him on a hunt. After two months, by then, of near daily practice of moving quietly when pursuing animals, I found his noisy, shuffling gait and inattentive manner offensive. I dubbed him the penguin because he waddled, holding his feet outward in an accidental emulation of Charlie Chaplin and dragging them as he shuffled along with little regard to the scraping, crunching and rustling of sand, twigs and grasses. While George, Isaac’s brother and fellow guide on the farm, who was assigned to the penguin searched through the bushes, listened for any game signs, watched for tracks and checked any dung we passed for its freshness, the penguin constantly checked his cell phone and, each time we encountered a pocket of network coverage, paused to send a text message, either to his son (to enquire about his university results), or to one of his fellow hunters to ask about their progress. Only two things betrayed any intention to hunt: his carrying a rifle; and his occasionally kicking up a puff of dust in order to determine the wind direction. I was surprised by the level of disdain his attitude and lack of ability inspired in me, and took this as an indication of my having become sufficiently competent that such incompetence in the field annoyed me. If George felt the same way he did not show it, as he dutifully carried the penguin’s cooler bag, and his jacket too once the day began to warm.

I was relatively sure that we were not going to encounter any game, given the noise the penguin generated as we moved along. After about an hour and a half, however, upon reaching one of the roads, George quickly crouched and with his hand signaled us to do the same. I crouched alongside George. The penguin had first to fish his rifle out from under his arm and replace his mobile phone in his pocket. By the time he eventually got down I could see the wildebeest George had spotted staring curiously in our direction, its nose raised as if sniffing for signs of danger. In his struggle to marshal himself into a crouch the penguin had not yet seen the animal, so George indicated the direction with his hand and, shouldering an imaginary rifle, suggested the position he should get himself into in order to take a shot.

Knowing that it was just a matter of seconds

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