Dear Friends:

I am on a break between lectures during our one day layover in Pretoria. We returned last night from the Makuleke community in northeastern South Africa, and leave tomorrow morning early for the University of Zululand and the KwaZulu Natal coastal communities.

We reached Makuleke on a dusty road off about 25 miles off the two-lane highway to Zimbabwe. The land is lowveld, bush savannah, and very dry this time of year. We wound our way through small communities of circular huts with mud-covered brick and thatched roofs. School children along the road waved hello; we paused several times for goats and cattle idly wandering from one side to the other.

The Makuleke people describe themselves as "the poorest of the poor" in South Africa. They live in a community of wide dusty streets, circular huts, a tuck shop with some supplies and drinks. These people were moved from a lush, riverine area inside Kruger National Park (KNP) in 1969 to make way for expansion of the park northward. In 1998, they won a landmark case in South Africa's Land Claims Court that restored ownership of that land to them, but made them partners with the KNP authorities in tourism in that area. Now the Makuleke are discussing ways to build a B&B in their community and a tourist lodge in the section they administer in Kruger.

We stayed in the chief's compound: a patch of green in the savannah where the chief lives in three huts, two of them occupied by his two wives. I never could count the number of small children in the compound, and they quickly attached themselves to all of us as we erected our tents in the chief's grove of mango trees. (The mangos are about a month from being ripe; the papayas, however, were right in season and we ate them whenever we could. The little kids showed us how to knock a papaya off its tall stem.)

Two events stand out. One was our trip inside Kruger to the confluence of the Luvuhu River and the Limpopo. The Luvuhu forms one boundary of the Makuleke's former homeland. The Limpopo is the international border between Zimbabwe and South Africa (and the source of the children's story about the "great, green, greasy Limpopo River" and crocodiles). The Limpopo was indeed filled with huge crocodiles, but it was neither great (about 20 yards wide), nor green or greasy. The bird life was lovely, however, along with the wary crocs.

The other highlight was the community greetings and our closeness to them. Children filled our part of the compound, and the older members of the community came frequently to greet and welcome us throughout our stay (four days). Our students could freely walk through the community and our women students even went for regular runs, followed by dozens of little kids trying to keep up.

One evening, 4 November, we celebrated Sarah Ives's 21st birthday, as I promised we would in my last letter. Kathleen had brought the makings of a cake all the way from Pretoria, along with candles, and we sung "Happy Birthday" to Sarah right after dinner. Then I waved in the community dance and theatre group: a hearty troupe of young adolescents about the ages of our students. They opened with several vigorous dances, including one in which they would dance along in our circle and them jump in front of one of the students, who then had to dance in the circle and jump in front of someone else. Kathleen and I danced, as did Rich Howarth and Kari Asmus (our Dartmouth visitors), and all of the students, including the birthday girl herself. We had a roraring good time The evening ended with a short drama about the Makuleke forefathers/mothers removal from the traditional homelands.

Now we are packing for the final trip of the term: the Indian Ocean. I must rush off to a lecture on the mining in Richards Bay. The students are very well, in great spirits - - despite getting their mid-term papers and exams back today. Maybe it was the dancing. . . .

All good wishes,

Jack and Kathleen