Word: kalahari
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DeVore's research has often led him to places like Indonesian Borneo and Africa's Kalahari Desert. He said he plans to use the prize money to supplement his "sinking travel fund...
This elysian community actually exists. Its habitat is Africa's Kalahari Desert, a region so harsh and inhospitable that Western man would be hard put to eke out a living. But in that unforgiving neighborhood, the Bushmen, a golden-skinned, short-statured and cheerful people, have been living contentedly for thousands of years as hunter-gatherers subsisting on what nature provides without resort to agriculture. In Man the Hunter (Aldine Publishing Co., $6.95), a recent symposium of studies on primitive societies, Harvard Anthropologists Irven DeVore and Richard B. Lee note that "cultural Man has been on earth for some...
From Tierra del Fuego to Hudson Bay, if the world's 3,000,000 surviving hunter-gatherers provide any clue, man's distant past probably was more placid and, in some ways, more rewarding than his present. In their hostile environment, the Kalahari Bushmen find enough to eat with less effort than most civilized peoples. Anthropologist Lee estimates that the Bushman's daily diet averages 2,140 calories and 93.1 grams (3.26 oz.) of protein-well in excess of the estimated daily allowance for people of their vigor and size (1,975 calories, 60 grams of protein...
...Innocence. Happy, gentle and accepting, the hunter-gatherer asks of life only what it provides, and his manner of existence suggests that for uncounted thousands of years life provided more than enough. Unfortunately, the hunter-gatherer is doomed. Of the 45,000 Bushmen in the Kalahari, only 5,000 or so follow the ancient ways; and the number dwindles each year. Like many Eskimos, Australian aborigines and other surviving hunter-gatherers, the rest have attached themselves to the new ways of civilization...
...special horror how white civilization can fail in the face of the white man's degeneracy and corruption. The bush, the prickly pear and the thorn trees are creeping back over the paddocks of Sherwood Ranch, a once-prosperous farm in African "territory" on the edge of the Kalahari Desert. It is presumably in Bechuanaland, being also north of Kipling's "great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River," and whatever its political future, a colonist would probably do better on the moon...