In 1955 Adrian Boshier, a sixteen-year-old English boy inspired by the writings of nineteenth century explorers like Stanley and Livingstone, walked into the South African bush with nothing but a compass and a pocketknife and lived there for months among the insects, the wild beasts and the natives. He learned to survive the hard way—by doing it. For example, he learned that when you went to sleep at night you must lie in one position as though dead, and when you awakened you must move very, very slowly. Why? Because more than once he woke up to find a deadly puff adder curled up beside him, taking advantage of his body heat.
Boshier was fascinated by snakes and liked to catch them. The book describes encounters with a neurotoxic boomsling, a black mamba, a cobra and a python. Here’s the python:
The first time Boshier saw a python, it was so big that he almost failed to recognize it. Then he noticed that the tree trunk in his path was moving. He stood entranced as yard after yard flowed by. It was unbelievable; somewhere was a head and, at some stage still to come, a tail. And in between, more snake than he would have thought possible.
When he plunged into the undergrowth in search of its head, the python began to coil its body. This seemed an undesirable situation, so he put his stick across its back and made a grab for its head. It was then that Boshier learned the difference between the strength of a snake that relies on poison, and one that depends on its muscle for a living. He was jerked right off his feet and forced to cling to its neck with both hands, whereupon it promptly behaved like a python and began to engulf him in its coils.
Boshier released one hand and tried to pull free, but could not even get a grip on the broad body. Then he tried unwinding the snake and found to his relief that this worked. Pythons seem to be unable to resist a strong centripetal force. As fast as it threw its coils around him, he unwound them. And there they remained in an animated embrace.
“We became acquainted,” he said later. “We really did!”
After an hour of action, the python began to relax and Boshier released the pressure on its neck. He watched carefully for any sly maneuvers, but the snake lay without resistance. Boshier felt so certain of this change in attitude that he even stroked it. And it seemed to settle itself more comfortably, half of its enormous length cradled in his arms.
The natives were awestruck by Boshier’s fearlessness with snakes, assumed the snake was his totem, and dubbed him “father of snakes.” Often they treated him as someone very special.
Late one afternoon, a number of men came into [Boshier’s:] camp carrying between them a rusty oil drum that had been chopped through longitudinally. They greeted him with their right hands held aloft, palms facing outward, and then set about their mission. He watched with interest as the drum was propped up on a stone platform over an open fire and slowly filled with muddy water from the stream.
As soon as it began to steam, the fire was doused and the men motioned that all was now ready. They had built him a bath. He was overwhelmed by this spontaneous display of friendship, but nevertheless concerned about the danger of bilharzia, a disease produced by parasites found in all the rivers in Africa which flow eastward into the Indian Ocean. It is produced by a small flatworm that leaves its host anemic and listless with cirrhosis of the liver and enlargement of the spleen. This animal represents an ever-present threat which, in much of Africa, keeps wise people away from the water.
Here was Boshier’s dilemma: a little warming of the bath was unlikely to kill any of the dreaded larvae, but it was other hand extremely difficult to refuse so kind an offer. He decided in the end that it would be impossible to explain why he, who played with ten-foot snakes, was frightened by a microscopic worm. So he bathed.
Boshier learned that he could turn his snake-handling to account by selling the poisonous snakes to be milked for anti-venin. But snakes were not Boshier’s only long suit with the natives: he was also an epileptic, and when they observed him having a fit, they knew that he was possessed by the spirits and had a special connection with them, and should therefore become a diviner. He was soon initiated.
Adrian Boshier never came near to realizing the tribal efficiency of a true diviner, but given the constraints of his particular personality and the brevity of his life, he did astonishingly well.
His snakes helped, by providing him with ready-made symbols of great power. These are exactly the sort of “tools” a good diviner needs. Boshier was able in certain situations to use this material wisely in ways that helped to redress social imbalances and assist others to adjust to the cultural shock that is a routine part of black-white relationships in Africa.
His status as diviner gave him easy access to other tribal diviners:
On one occasion [Boshier:] had been asked to help the manager of a large department store find a pistol stolen from his office during a brief absence. Police in Africa deal harshly with those who lose weapons and the man was more anxious to get his gun back than to find or prosecute the thief, who he thought might be one of his own black staff.
A diviner seemed the best answer, so Boshier took one he had just met along to the store. She was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall, but, decked out in beads and red ochre, she carried all the authority of her profession. In the store she caused some consternation by going directly into possession-trance on the showroom floor, screaming in a high-pitched voice and writhing on the ground.
She emerged triumphant from this session with her spirit to announce that the missing object was “a gun that is held in the hand.” (In accordance with accepted practice she had been told only that something was missing and given no insulting details.) She looked very hard at one of the male assistants and then announced that the weapon was hidden in a toilet, and suggested that she and Boshier go to fetch it. She led him straight out the staff door of the store into a courtyard, opened the door of a lavatory, and pointed at an old-fashioned water cistern high up on the wall. Boshier climbed up on the seat, unbolted the lid of the cistern, put his arm into the tank, and found that his hand closed almost immediately over a loaded automatic pistol. This was returned without further ado to its flabbergasted but extremely grateful owner.
Boshier was a hit not only with the natives, in particular the Sotho tribe of the Transvaal, but also with archeologist Raymond Dart in Johannesburg. Dart took the uneducated Boshier under his wing and subsidized him to look for specific artifacts while wandering in the bush. Because of Boshier’s ready access to the Sotho and other tribes, he made many discoveries.
Boshier was instrumental in demonstrating the continued use of simple bone tools for sacred purposes, thus providing evidence supporting the possible prehistoric existence of a Bone Age culture. By his way of life, he showed that even now it is possible for a man alone, unarmed and far from others of his kind, to make a living as a scavenger, stealing food from the mouths of predators. [He would charge at leopards and lions, scaring them off their prey.:]
Although he first became involved with snakes out of simple curiosity, Boshier’s later acceptance by tribal people owed a great deal to the reptiles; and drew attention to the continuing significance and survival of totems in African culture.
Boshier uncovered an unsuspected early trade in special stone for the purposes of pounding, and helped revive an interest in the importance of the process of pounding as a precursor in the development of more sophisticated stone tools. He was aware of the spiritual significance of stone and helped foster an interest in rock gongs as a possible clue to the origins of human dance and song.
He explored the symbolism in prehistoric art, recording a number of important sites, showing that many of these retain their meaning to those who still live in the land. He was involved in work which suggests that one of the earliest known scripts was used in, and may even have evolved in, Africa.
Boshier showed how magic—or, if you will, a belief in magic—can be an essential tool for survival; and he contributed to research that continues to lead toward an understanding of the origins of religion. He discovered the oldest known mine in the world which may well have doubled the antiquity of modern man, showing that our genesis and formative history were peculiarly African. He helped excavate evidence of the first recorded use of personal adornment, demonstrating the early origin of and interest in ceremony and symbology, and making it necessary to revise the entire Stone Age chronology for Africa.
With age Boshier’s epilepsy got worse, but he refused to have it treated either by Western medications or by a tribal expert. Indeed, his instructor in divination kept telling him that though he was favored by the spirits he failed to show them due respect, and that he must progress to the next level of initiation, which would show him how to appease the spirits and also ease his epilepsy. But for some reason the special white man, the Father of Snakes who was also identified with the sacred Lightning Bird, would not do it.
The people treat the [Lightning Bird:] with elaborate respect, keeping their distance, but watching constantly for omens and portents in its behavior. Their regard is tinged with fear and colored by the belief that sometimes, perhaps once in many generations, the Lightning Bird takes it upon itself to appear among them in human form.
On November 18, 1978, [Boshier:] went, against his will, on a trip with friends to the shores of the Indian Ocean. In warm, clear water on the very edge of the narrow continental shelf, the Lightning Bird arched its back, beat its wings, and returned to its birthplace in the deep. Adrian Boshier struggled for a moment at the surface, then sank slowly, almost gratefully, into the void.
He did not drown; but when they brought him back to the surface, he was dead.
The next day, they say, an enormous dark bank of cloud came sailing up out of the far southeast to run itself aground on the slopes of [the mountain called:] Those-Who-Point-Will-Never-Reach-Their-Homes. Then lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and it rained and rained and rained in the dry Makgabeng.
This highly readable book about a fearless adventurer provides a great deal of insight into African culture and the development of the human mind.