16. Matopos' Birth

I have not written about Matopos for a while - there were other things happening in my mind and heart. But I have been there many, many more times and have found myself thinking about the birth of Matopos. How was Matopos born? Did anyone witness that great event? It must have been a wild and torturous time for the earth to bring forth such a place, to nurse it through puberty and allow it to mature and cool down and settle here in the heart of Zimbabwe.

Of births, I have seen many. As a young child I sat watching my father’s fish tank, waiting the whole night for a guppy to give birth! (Yes, some fish do give birth to live fish/fingerlings.) I have disturbed many chickens, every few minutes, to see whether another chick has hatched. I even took an egg to school in my pocket once to make sure I didn't miss that wonderful moment when a wet lump of bloody down and pink flesh stands up to be a chick – proud and willing to take on the whole coop’s roosters! Similarly, I have watched and helped my dog, Tanya, give birth to a basketful of pups. I saw a giraffe being born once and even saw a shriveled little rhino taking its first steps in Zululand, still wet and unsure about this whole new world. I attended the births of two of my sons…much more dramatic and painful and filled with emotion, both of pain and suffering and ecstatic jubilance once we counted the toes and fingers and a nurse or pediatrician had given us the thumbs-up! 

All of these events have a component of time attached to them. For the rhino it must have been a long, long wait, while for Papa’s guppies it was almost as frequent as the lunar cycles but still, each time, caused a stir in the household. New life is precious. Always.

When I marvel over Matopos, I can only imagine the pain and suffering it required to bring a place like this into being. The clouds must have built up into a tremendous storm, with great winds sweeping the empty grassy plains, with not much to make a traveler pause his passage. Then, like the first cracks of my precious batch of ostrich eggs, but at a massive scale, the earth may have ruptured, and I imagine some watery, rich soils oozing from this first sign of new life. For days and days, like my baby ostrich, this new world may have been eking its way to the surface, slowly breaking through the inner layers of ancient earth forced from behind and below by the eagerness of lava desperate to reach the outside world; just like the first of Tanya’s pups, always the strongest, most inquisitive and proudest of the litter. (I always cried when the first pup was sold!)

I imagine the earth opening and the first of Matopos’s great and immense ghommos and dwalas emerging from the inner earth, wrapped in smoldering red blood that rolled off the sides into what we see today as the smaller boulders and rocks surrounding the base of these grandiose granite hills. Some would simply work their way out, sliding into a new place of existence with great ease and dignity, while the smaller ones would be voided into piles of rocks as if by some ghastly beast. Yet others would be flung by ancient pneumatic forces deep into the birth-night, brightening up the sky like fireworks announcing some great event. Cluttered rocks and the earth's rubble would be swept into unimaginable configurations in bursts of energy, anger and relief. The noise must have been incredible when the earth opened up and spat out Matopos. The whistling of earth's gaseous excrement must have pierced through the sky like a million steam trains, leaving great fires in their wake, ignited by sparks as rocks were hurled through the sky!

I would not be surprised if a few moons, smaller planets, meteors and other inquisitive extra terrestrial marvels came to witness it… because it must have been an event of great significance. It was certainly the birthplace of an international conservation significance! Perhaps the geomorphologists – physicists and geochemists or those who study the birth of geographic entities – may be able to put a time or period or even an epoch on this event, but I suspect it took a long, long time. It is, after all, a large place, perhaps not big in geological terms but, nevertheless, a milestone in the evolution of the earth.

Once those first cracks became evident the great herds most probably scattered, not to return for many, many generations. Or not until the place calmed down and it was cleaned up and sterilized like a theatre after the difficult birth of breached twins or a hasty caesarian to save the life of a newborn. Here the process had to take care of itself, over time. The universal healer, time. 

Last week a friend a pointed out an elephant shrew slowly making his way out into the last of the summer rays to heat himself before his rocky tavern cooled down. I can see in my mind how the larger herds, having not heard any further commotion beyond the horizon for many a decade, like our little shrew, slowly snuck back, like the animals of the veldt emerge after the thunder rolls away in the distance. They came back, followed by their hunters in little bands of prehistoric people who slowly wandered through this fledgling landscape like the first visitors to a newly-established museum. Here they settled, some demarcating their territories with song or dung piles, while our early brothers and sisters painted the inside of their caves with elegant figures of what they saw on the outside. The chaos subsided and Matopos grew into a boisterous infant, not unlike the clumsy pachyderms that frequent this place now, then into a young person blooming with her own young and fertile as the veldt itself. 

As is the way with nature, the landscape today resembles the peaceful scene I encountered one night when I could not resist the urge. I managed to sneak past a vigilant nurse, and took a glimpse of my tranquil wife nursing a newborn son. I remember the pain and angst of a new mother, but that scene of great tenderness, love, devotion and complete serenity will always persist. Like Matobo.

12. The scale of life.

Please visit the The Arts in Focus to obtain information about our 2014 Matopos Calendar - 

an initiative supporting rhino conservation in Zimbabwe.

As I sit in my son’s sailboat on Mtshelele dam in Matopos, a tiny insect reminiscent of a mayfly perches on the clear water amongst the lilies near me. It does not even create the tiniest of ripples on the surface of the water. I watch this little critter for an instant or two before it shoots off into its own vast world. Instinctively I lift my gaze to take in the entire scene around me. I look up at the massive granite rocks on the other side backed up by an almost endless rolling landscape of hills and mountains and once again I am struck by the scale of this place. Go up one more level from this tiny insect fulfilling her life on a tiny part of this relatively small reservoir of water and this little dam becomes as small as my mayfly. Above a fish-eagle calls and I look up at his world spanning an area that would probably make Matopos itself seem limited. At his level my mayfly is insignificant… or is it?

Scale is often a very difficult concept to integrate or grasp when challenged with a large variation of dimensions or distances, heights and depths. Although we see very well in three dimensions, that capacity often gets distorted in complex environments and visual confusion may set in. We easily loose our ability to judge the size of exceptionally large things, such as a vast expanse of dunes, or a massive mountain range… Sometimes I think most people just give up, and focus simply on the surface, because the deeper layers make the world too complex to comprehend. Matopos itself is not nearly as vast as the Kalahari or Namib deserts, or the Drakensberg. In terms of geographical phenomena Matopos is relatively small. But the vast array of dimensional variety one has to deal with in a short period of time or over a very short distance is astounding. This multidimensionality is probably one of the main reasons it has been declared a world heritage site! It’s simply amazing the way the place is put together.

Not only is the scale of the structural components enormous, the scale at which things happens here is immense! From minute, microscopic to massive mountain sized repetitions of the same general theme… There are only so many ways in which granite can be formed and only so many in which it can be eroded, and only so many ways in which it can be stacked or ordered. However, add to this the continuous scale from millimeters to centimeters all the way up to kilometers in pretty much all the combinations possible, then you have many things going on at the same time. And that is only when you contemplate the rocks! Add to this the multitude of insects, other invertebrates, small vertebrates, the amphibians, reptiles, birds and mammals from smaller than my little mayfly friend on his patch of lilies all the way to white and black rhinos that you may see from time to time… All of these can be seen in context when you place them into their little boxes on the food chain and tied together by their roles in the complex ecology of the natural world. Add to this the plant life from the lower forms (such as my beloved lichen and mosses, sticking it out in the harshest of environments in this place but contributing massively by pioneering new habitats and painting this enigmatic place with brilliant colors millimeter by millimeter per year) to the grasses and the more advanced plants all the way to the large trees. Some acacias bind life-giving nitrogen while others increase the structural world by supporting eagles’ nests and even the tiny flycatchers and the ever audible babblers. Just like the lichen, but much more noisily, they paint my mind with beautiful colors… All of these are incredibly interconnected and in my mind if you change something here, the effects can be seen elsewhere, if not today or tomorrow then somewhere in the future in the complex interactions that make up this incredible beast. Thus, the structural scale also determines the scale of the dynamics and processes at play here.

Then, as I begin to think that I have a vague hold on the construct of this place - from the tiny organisms that make up a single lichen to the rock they established themselves on to the hill itself, the valley between them and the subsequent valleys - just then in the distance the thunder announces another dimension to this world. I lie in my tent and watch as the immense lightning bolts crash through the rocks and echo in the valleys. I sit up and watch as the world braces itself for the next thunderous attack. I think of my delicate mayfly and I think of my vibrant lichens holding on to those rocks and those rocks holding on to larger ones! We have to keep this place safe, all places like these… from the lichens and the mayflies to the rhinos, the rocks and the little dam all the way up to the lightning, as well as the processes that renders these incredible components a functional system.

Just then a bolt of light floods the plains in glorious light and for a moment I see my world as if in the light of day. For that fleeting moment, like the flash of my own camera, this world is etched into my mind - a still image of my life. The clouds, where the lightning originated, the earth accepting it, exchanging their electric loads and I think of my soil science professor and the nitrogen released by the bolt of energy. I think of the role of the fresh water finding its way into the soil with the vital nutrients it contains. I think of them finding their ways into the stream and into the dam in which we will sail again tomorrow.

11. Matobo’s complex mind.

Please visit the The Arts in Focus to obtain information about our 2014 Matopos Calendar - 

an initiative supporting rhino conservation in Zimbabwe.

Matobo’s complex mind.

Often when I sit on a high vantage point overlooking Matobo, I look at the complex geomorphology and I think that this is what the human mind looks like… A multidimensional space in which magic happens all the time. With ‘looks like’ I am actually referring to the interplay between form and function.  This is where structure defines function at many scales or levels. Cast a lazy eye over Matobo from a high vantage point, then squint so as to blur the scene, get it all out of focus and you will begin to see the patterns, the larger structure, repeating itself over the landscape into a pleasant predictability like good music. Within this structure, lies its function. But you will only see the function when you engage with it at a lower level… and over a longer period or time. In science we have learnt a lot about structure and function… the two concepts teaching us about the other. Look at structure and you may be able to predict function. Understand the function and you may be able to predict the structure. The brain probably functions like Matobo because the structure and the function of these complex environments are closely linked.

The clouds and the rocks playing their games.

Let's look at memory for instance… those streams have been there for eons… they may not channel water all the time, but the structure is there and the structure defines the function.  So, with or without the precious water, we still define and recognize the specific structure as a “stream” or “dry river bed”, although there is no stream of water flowing. Although the structure may actually change over the time, it is relatively stable, but the point is, it is always visible. Function may only be evident periodically when we see the water flow. Yet the water which so obediently flows within the boundaries of those streams have probably never been there before… they don’t necessarily know the way,  yet they obey, they observe the rules and the water will always flow within the same defined system of channels…. Over and over, season after season the rules of the system will be followed.  Such are the thoughts in the human mind… the neurons and the millions interconnection between them establishes the structure, through learning and then knowing the thoughts are channeled through known pathways, strengthening them, reinforcing the interplay between structure and function… they flow through channels carved from the memory of your mind, flowing in known patterns and generating predictable feelings, actions and reactions… The way it should be, the way it has always been.

Tiny gullies in granite rocks...
millions of years of chemical and physical change.

Similarly, the cycles of annual grasses reminds me of my own thoughts. Seeds lie dormant and then they germinate all at once, triggered by some stimulus.  Some die young, but others establish and grow, produce luscious green biomass, then set seed and senesce, mimicking the cyclic nature of our thoughts and even our lives, at a much higher level.  Some knowledge or information may not be upfront in our conscious minds, they may not be on the surface all the time, but when needed they can be brought back, they can germinate from deep within the subconscious mind.  Like riding a bicycle after many years, or remembering a poem or a song from a long time, suddenly it''s all there again… they have been there all the time. From the dark rich soil of the valleys the grass will grow when the rains fall upon them. Similarly, our minds will dig up the old answers and emotions… When triggered, the structure of our brain will illicit the response, and perform its function… the thoughts will be channeled from small trickles of water, into little streams and rivulets and when they all come together, they merge into raging torrents. The power of the mind is almost unlimited and collectively it can change the world!

Tiny streams converge, just as the branches of trees
split up into smaller ones... 

From my vantage point I also see something else. In many places and at many scales you can clearly see how the ecosystem heals itself. Often the structure is altered, from small scars where an eland raked his horns against a tree, gum is secreted to cover and heal the wounds in the bark, or after larger scale and major calamities; through fire or drought, the ox drawn plough or small scale mining, what ever is the structure, and together with it, the function is compromised. Eventually, the veld will recover itself, literally and figuratively.  The first layer consists of annual grasses and soft forbs, pioneers, like those people who first settled here… opening up the place for the next generation to settle and establish themselves. While it is far clearer to see in the real world where bark heals, where moss and lichens covers vehicle tracks on rock surfaces, it's less visible in the mind, but it is just as important, if not more - the process of healing and recovering… the functioning of one's mind. As the mind is controlled by neurons and impulses, millions of them, independently they synchronize their efforts following known courses, to ease the pain, dilute anxiety and soothe sadness, to bring back balance and eventually re-establishing happiness and expected functionality. 

Placing yourself on top of these rocks is an amazing feeling,
leaving you feeling small, yet its exhilarating beyond comprehension.

As I look over Matobo with a squinted blurry eye, I try to decipher the relationship between form and function and using it to analyze my own confused mind I learn a lot. I’ve learnt that you need to understand that the water will find the little streams, they will adhere to the laws of this world and if you don’t interfere too much they will find their way to the greater rivers and will serve their purpose.  I have learnt that the functional ecosystem can heal itself from the leaves picked off by the giraffe or even the elaborate middens of the white rhinos may impact locally but heal in general through the increased cycling of dung and nutrients. The pioneers will come and prepare the land for the next generation of vegetation which will increase the functionality and productivity of the system. These things happen because it is the way of nature if we’ve not knocked it out of its orbit too far. So I actively use Matobo as the ecological inspiration to the spiritual maintenance of my own mind. The most important lesson is a simple one, trust - just trust that the normal processes will take a hold of itself and it will accrue like the water in the streams and the smallest of seeds germinating together to create new life from the rich dark soils. Trust that the scale at which the small things accrue into wide landscape scale processes will control the negative and the unhealthy. Trust that where it can not correct the wrong or rebalance the system, it will at least heal the wounds.

Soft light on the rocks and vegetation in the late afternoon makes for a lovely soft mood....

The different layers in this photograph reminds me
of the pages of  a book, they are all similar,
but tells different parts of the same story.

The colors of these rocks are water stained patterns
displaying Matobo's passion for art! ,-) 

Each rock placed where they belong -
like pieces on a chess board.

Layers upon layers... like thoughts in the human mind,
they fade with distance.

Squint your eyes on this little scene and it becomes a massive
landscape with ridges and valleys and clumps of forest...

The patterns in the distance makes me think of the patterns
you find in music or poetry or song... 

Its almost impossible to capture the complexity of this place,
and its totally impossible to capture the scale of the place. 

I have posted this photo in the last blog too - here is a different rendition.
(I am not posting it again 'cause I think its good photo,
its more cause this is a particularly special place.)

I love the way the paper thin bark peals off
the stems of these trees. It reminds me of
the layers of thoughts and memories of the past... 

10. Anchors

A peaceful sunset near Nswatugi Cave.

Please visit the The Arts in Focus to obtain information about our 2014 Matopos Calendar - 

an initiative supporting rhino conservation in Zimbabwe.

While in the Seychelles, I spent some time aboard an assortment of seafaring vessels studying their anchors. Like the rudder of a boat, the anchor is but a fraction of the boat’s entire make-up, but it serves an immense role! While the rudder is also a relatively small component it is almost in constant use while the ship is moving. The anchor on the other side (also literally!!) is only needed from time to time. So most of the time the anchor is an unused component, stashed away… But when needed, it is critical beyond any doubt. Without it, or when it fails, there is normally a major catastrophe as ships may run ashore, either beached, stuck in sand or smashed to timber on the rocks…

A see of rocks.

Many words in current daily use are based on their original and practical form, but now used in a figurative sense to convey the importance of its practical and often crucial meaning. So today we use the word anchor in various contexts, all based on the notion that the anchor ties, moor or tethers the vessel to the sea bottom in order to prevent the boat from drifting or running ashore. So today, journalists anchor television programs; maintaining stability and purpose, and centering discussions around the focal point, or we say that many practical applications are anchored in sound theory! These phrases have absolutely nothing to do with ships and chains and anchors, but we immediately understand the meaning and the value of the word in the specific context.

I love the way the clouds and the granite play
their own little games.

So Matobo is my anchor. Its my symbolic link not only to the physical place where I live, but also to the space in my mind within which I live and where I am happy. When I am near it, as when I sit in my office and I can look out over the hills, I am content and know that I will not run onto some emotional rocky shore… Matobo is a good place to use as an internal anchor. He is a sound being, generous as I have described before (Geo- Anthropomorphism), strong and sensible, a creature able to guide the inner being onto reliable roads culminating into incredible journeys. Its a good place to be, anchored in such wisdom and magnificence.

Massive!

The other side of it however bothers me from time to time. Will this place ever let go of me? See, the functioning of an anchor is based largely on trust. We constantly drop anchors into deep and dark waters. Upon mooring your ship in an unknown place, the captain has none or very little knowledge of the structure or make-up of the ocean floor! You drop the anchor and you may struggle to find a good stronghold, so you keep testing it until you are sure and secure. At times the sea may refuse to release your anchor. It may get stuck and sailors may be unable to weigh the anchor. So you need to trust that the anchor will do its job, but also need to trust that it will be released when required.  There is a part of me that fears this, that Matobo may not release its hold on me again. That it will involuntarily keep me tethered to this place in my mind. I may not be able to rid myself from his influence. Matobo may be my eternal anchorage. But for now, I trust. I am here and I am anchored in good faith.

While its nice to meander along, there are great rewards
when climbing a large dwala... the scenes are magnificent!

A "dwala" or massive monolith in the shape of an amphitheater.

The scale at which things happened here defies logic.

Matobo harbored many people, these bushman or San paintings illustrate
their incredible artistic flair and intimate knowledge of the area.

These are my favorites, gentle graceful giraffe. I can imagine this artist
observing his subjects from the same ghommos/hills
where I now photograph from.

Many a photographic text suggests to keep things simple,
well in Matopos its almost impossible!

Petrified guards still watch over the vast expanse of this wonderland.

As I have indicated before - I am fascinated and often surprised
to see where some of these tree established themselves.

You just have to love these little guys, extravagant and determined -
taking full advantage of the options evolution granted them!