Yesterday we went on a family walk in the Kouebokkeveld searching for the Black Leopard. The Black Leopard is a rock painting in a cave to which very few people are given access because the area is a perfectly preserved archaeological treasure trove that is currently being mapped with the help of the archaeology dept at UCT.
With us was my 87-year-old mother-in-law armed with her walking stick, a curious mind and a brave heart. On the way we explored other painting sites, which meant climbing up boulders to get under the overhangs that protect these unique Khoi San galleries and walked to the edge of Zoo Ridge Canyon to peer down into its dark pools at the bottom.
We set off and I stayed at the back with my MIL to help her navigate the shrubby, rocky terrain and stop the spiky fynbos tearing at her delicate skin as we pushed through. Her grandkids helped her up and down rocks, and all the while she refused to stop or turn around. We had a mission and she doesn´t stop until she has finished a job she has set out to accomplish. This was no exception. Watching her stumbling over tricky bits, and seeing another trickle of blood running down her leg or a splash of her blood on a little rock in the path, made us all worried about the long walk back. Eventually, the scouts up ahead located the cave tucked away behind a crop of thorn bushes. We found the Black Leopard, and beautifully rendered horses and hunters and kids´ ochered hand and footprints, and loads of stone tools. Mission accomplished. But we still had to get back. And now the sun was overhead.
Yes, of course, we made it or I wouldn´t be writing this, but what stayed with me was not a rare painting of a black cat, but the sheer grit, determination and resilience she had mustered to complete that 3km adventure. And so bravely, because people of that generation don’t like to be a burden. She was exhausted, unsteady on her feet and bloodied, but she had done what she set out to do, and had learnt something more about the world in the process. Job done. It made me think of how that generation embodies a real but quiet grit that no one had set out to teach them. The world was a tougher place and they did what they had to do when they had to do it, whatever it took. No whinging and feeling sorry for themselves. It wasn´t a perfect system and a gentler, more nurturing touch could have been done with at many a time, but I had to acknowledge that, these days, grit, resilience and determination are more likely the exception rather than the rule and are often learned skills rather than the hallmark of a generation. What does that mean for the world in the coming years?