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Marothodi Launches!

Seven years after I first set foot on African soil, my work is finally launched online!

And here on this blog I have the perfect place to talk more about the book, elaborate on some of issues that it deals with, and perhaps even fill you in on some of the stories behind the research …  I’ll be posting news about my forthcoming public lectures here, and keeping you up to date with any future archaeological fieldwork at Marothodi or related sites. And of course, I’d love to hear from my readers and answer your questions about the book.

In fact, I’d like to start right now by discussing something that many people have asked me about – the front cover. The upper picture is a photo taken by a very good friend of mine, Christian Biggi, who joined the fieldwork at Marothodi as a Project Officer. His image shows the floors and foundations of a ‘dwelling structure’ or house in one of the most senior households at Marothodi. It is viewed from the rear, so you can see the crescent-shaped area of stone cobbling in the foreground that was the floor of the ‘rear veranda’ – an activity space under the shelter of the overhanging eaves of the thatched roof.  

Seated at the end of the courtyard wall is a field school student, busily planning the foundations of a ‘kitchen’ building. Its floor is laid out in front of his feet. If you look further to the left, just beyond the two trees, you might be able to make out two people at the sieving station. They are close to a very important ash midden that was being excavated when the photo was taken, and which is responsible for the cloud of ash that looks like a heavy mist in the background. You will see a closer view of that sieving station on page 107 of the book, along with some of the finds that came from the midden.

The object hovering over the left side of the cover is a rusty iron spear head. It was discovered in the collapsed wall rubble of the house in the upper photograph during excavation.

The photograph on the lower half of the cover was a very exciting discovery. As I was nearing the completion of the book manuscript, my thoughts naturally turned towards possible images that I might include in the published book. During the course of my research I had become familiar with some of the wonderful Tswana ethnographic photographs taken by people like Schapera, Duggan-Cronin and Willoughby, and some of my favourites did indeed find their way into the book. But nothing was leaping out at me for a cover image until I spent a long afternoon in the National Library in Cape Town. The ever-helpful staff of the Special Collections department certainly earned their salaries that day, as they brought me box after box of old manuscripts and yellowing photographs.

Eventually, in an old cardboard album, unmarked except for a note in pencil saying “Images from the Transvaal”, I found what I was looking for. As I gazed at the large sepia photograph, yellowed and curling with age, I got a chill as I looked directly into the face of Tswana history. I frantically searched the album for any mention of a phtographer, a location or a date, but there was nothing. Only what you see on the front cover of the book.

The reason why I find this image so captivating is that, unlike most other ethnographic images of Tswana people, who, by the 1930s had usually started to adopt western dress and customs, these women and children are dressed in animal skins. They have copper bangles around their legs, and wear ivory necklaces. This is, give or take a generation or two, the time of Marothodi.

As far as I am aware, this image has not been published before. Considering the technology behind a photograph of this type, I would estimate the date of the image to be, at the earliest, sometime in the late 1860s. This was taken in the very earliest days of photography, and some of the blurred shapes show how difficult it was for the children to stay still long enough for the picture to be taken. The more I look at this image, the more I see that fascinates me. As much as I love archaeological fieldwork, after months of excavating the silent remains of Tswana life at Marothodi, this image was a real gift – a glimpse into the living past.