The Meaning of the Bush

One term that I now frequently use in Africa is “the bush”. I’ve noticed that I use it freely in my blog posts without ever having explained what it is. I intend to correct that now.

Before coming to Africa I had heard the word, but had very little idea what it meant or how to envision it. Indeed, even after I first arrived the word seem used by everyone so indiscriminately that I still couldn’t pin it down. When learners are suspended from the hostel they are forced to go sleep “in the bush”. Schools are supposed to lock their gates because it is dangerous “in the bush” at night. At its vaguest the term “bush” refers to any area beyond development, almost any area on the other side of a fence, regardless of the plant and wildlife present. If you are off the road you are in the bush. If you are past the tar road or on a gravel road you are in the bush.

My curiosity compelled me one afternoon during the term 2 holiday to slip through our school’s back fence for some exploring and first hand research.

When used with precision, at least in Namibia, the word bush means the environment of sparsely populated, medium-sized trees and sand sprinkled with low grass and plants that dominates the country’s northern regions. The bush is not the jungle. Even at its thickest the bush is still marginally less dense than “the woods” of the United States. The trees are shorter and not as thick. Many are also more mushroom-shaped, often with a dome of green resting above a thin frame as opposed to the fuller, more circular toppings or conical shapes of trees I know from home. The space between trees allows for easy passage, and there are numerous natural clearings, allowing you to see several layers of trees deep. The bush is also dry and severe. Most plants have large thorns. After the rains the bush temporarily owns some deep greens, but the predominant colors are faded green and the varying light browns of the soil, bark, and sun-worn grasses.

There aren’t too many animals in the bush. You can encounter chickens, donkeys, cattle, or pigs, but these are all the possessions of community farmers that round them up every day. There definitely are wild animals such as snakes and birds or (depending on where you are) warthogs and even giraffes, and there are plenty of bugs in the evening. But if you take a peek into the bush at a random time during the day, it will probably appear devoid of mobile life.

On an afternoon not too long ago I was in a truck hitching a ride back to my school. The driver spoke to me rapidly in Oshiwambo and made some gestures toward the bush that I didn’t understand in the slightest. I nodded my head and said, “Ewa” which means “OK”, because that’s what I do when I realize there is no hope of effective communication, and the man turned off the paved road onto a trail of deep sand between the trees. We drove for a while, at least one kilometer, getting stuck only once in the sand before we reached a ramshackle “gate” of some logs piled on top of each other. A boy in the truck hopped out and chucked the logs out of our way to allow us through. Beyond the gate was an enormous clearing with several traditional homesteads (fences made of long, vertical, wooden poles surrounding a handful of small huts or rooms). This place tucked in the bush and accessible by a path indistinguishable from almost all other areas between trees was the residence of his extended family – brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, and more, and he had come to give them a gigantic sack of mahangu seeds for them to use for planting their next crop.

One feature of the bush landscape that fascinates me is the regular eruption of termite towers from the earth. They often appear in rows almost equidistant from the road and equidistant from each other. They are usually gray, but sometimes are reddish. Constructed by thousands of little bugs and held together by a secreted sticky substance the towers start out wide at their base and grow narrower as they extend upward, sometimes eight or ten feet high, or higher. According to one guide, these towers incredibly are only ventilation shafts for series of underground tunnels that can expand into areas of 40 square kilometers around. One afternoon I wanted to better know of what exactly they were made, so I latched my fingers onto a little nub and broke it off. The piece came loose more easily than I expected, and I could crumble it in my fingers. I was slightly concerned that a phalanx of furious soldier insects would burst out looking for a fight, but I had apparently caused no disturbance. The tower, like the bush, can be seen easily and superficially understood from a distance. They both also conceal much more than can be observed with casual glances. If you hit the right spot at the right time it’s possible that you may be overwhelmed, but for the most part there is not much there.