Still on the first day, going to our camp, we passed through little houses made of wood sticks, in the shape of an iglu. Our guide told us they were from the Mucubal people, a group who doesn't have contact with what we call "civilization" and live from meat and milk from the cows they have.
Way further, after seeing only houses but nobody, we finally saw a little group from a short distance. They saw us, and started hiding very quickly. Jack told us we could stop, if we wanted, and reach them. Honestly I didn't know if it was a good idea, they seemed scared and I didn't want to frighten them even more, but the idea of going there seemed too amazing to reject. We stopped.
I was the first to jump off the car, with a bottle of water. In front of the small group, two men, the first one with such a big knife that made me re-think the idea of going there. I put my head a bit down, and offered the water (they have to walk a whole day to get it from the Kunene river), waiting for him to make a move. He accepted, and smiled. The perfect sign, the international comunication which has just the same meaning everywhere: the smile.
After seeing that it was ok, two women came, a single one (marked because of a fabric square-structure on her head) and the mother. They both had golden bracelets on both ankles, used to count the number of cows they have. The society is matriarchal, and the woman is the figure that holds the power - the cattle. Because of that, she can have as many husbands as she wants.
They were very curious with us, and after a few minutes that the two women came, children started to come too, they were hiding behind rocks and trees. The view of that was fantastic, they were so curious with our clothing, our equipment, our skin. One of the kids came behind me just to touch my calf, and she hid quickly when I looked to see what was happening. We were strange, we were weird for them.
They were amazed with the cameras, specially after we showed them what they were for. They don't have mirrors, so seeing your own face somewhere it's not a river must be at least quite peculiar.
Besides the water, we gave the children pieces of a chocolate cake we had on the car. I couldn't stop thinking about what must taste something like chocolate cake for someone who is used to eat meat and drink milk only. Unfortunately, that I could not ask, but they seemed to like it.
One adding: if you are wondering how the women got the fabric they use, here's the answer: from time to time, one man from a nearby city, who speaks their language, goes there to trade a few cows for fabric. This is the only contact they have with other people, and I guess they had never seen white people before.
The title of this post comes from the only word we could learn on their language, "alapandula". It means "thank you".
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