It is a freezing morning in the semi-desert. Wrapped in a tight jacket, Freddy Nǂamce warms himself by the last sparks of a campfire. "There is no place in the world I would rather live and die than in Nhoma," he says. His gaze sweeps almost reverently across the valley before him: dense acacia and broadleaf forests stretch for miles across the barren sandy soil of the Kalahari. Here and there a baobab tree rises high into the air. We are on the north-eastern edge of Namibia, in the ancestral land of the Ju/'Hoansi people. It is an hour and a half drive from Nhoma to the nearest town, Tsumkwe - a petrol station, a few shops and stone huts. The capital Windhoek is eight hours away.

Nǂamce doesn't mind in the slightest. Cities are far too loud and dangerous for him anyway. The petite man opens his eyes and lets the hum of engines roar from his throat, followed by the shrill tones of a siren. "Everyone is always busy and wants more, more, more." Then he falls silent and listens to the crackling of the flames for a while. "What I like most here is that it's peaceful and friendly," says Nǂamce. "The people are humble and free. And so everything around us is very, very free."

A subgroup of the San, the Ju/'Hoansi are one of the oldest peoples in the world. Archaeological evidence suggests that their ancestors roamed southern Africa as hunter-gatherers at least 20,000 years ago. They lived off what the seemingly hostile region had to offer: Wild animals and berries, seeds, leaves and roots. But over the course of history, the San have been pushed further and further into the barren Kalahari semi-desert. More than 80 percent of them have lost their land and its resources. And with it, their livelihood.

Today, the San are one of the poorest people in the region. Around 100,000 of them still live in southern Africa, most of them in Namibia and Botswana. Most have settled in remote areas, far from schools, hospitals and jobs. Following a visit to Namibia, a commission on indigenous communities wrote in a report that the San had lost their dignity and their social fabric had been destroyed as a result of their continued displacement. The conclusion: "The level of poverty among the San is beyond that of any other ethnic group in the country". That was in 2008, and nothing has changed. On the contrary, poverty, unemployment and alcoholism continue to spread like deadly ulcers.

The Nyae-Nyae Conservancy in the far east of Namibia is one of the last strongholds of the Ju/'Hoansi people. In 1998, the Namibian government designated the area, which is the size of Cyprus, as the country's first 'conservancy'. The 2,700 inhabitants, the majority of whom are Ju/'Hoansi, still have no legal claim to their ancestral land. However, the right to use natural resources lies solely in the hands of the indigenous communities. They are allowed to hunt wild animals such as antelope in the traditional way, collect plants and wild honey, and earn money from farming, safari hunting and ecotourism.

The income generated - mainly from tourism, including trophy hunting - is paid annually to the local people by the Namibian Ministry of Environment. In 2018, for example, the conservancy generated seven million Namibian dollars, the equivalent of around 350,000 euros. This is in addition to meat and supplies such as solar radios and blankets. Namibia has been receiving international praise and recognition for its Community-Based Natural Resource Management programme for years.

"The Nyae-Nyae reserve is unique in Africa and rare in the world," says Robert Hitchcock. The US anthropologist has been researching Ju/'Hoansi life since the 1970s. He has travelled to the remotest corners of Namibia and Botswana. "At first glance, it might seem that the people of the reserve are particularly fortunate," says the University of New Mexico researcher.

For decades, the Ju/'Hoansi of Nyae Nyae have been the focus of charities, religious institutions and scientists around the world. "Few people have been studied so intensively," says Hitchcock. Starting in the 1950s, the American Marshall family of anthropologists documented the lives of the "harmless people", as Elizabeth Marshall-Thomas later put it in her book. Since then, interest has continued to grow. Ever since Nyae Nyae became a community reserve, scientists, film crews and adventurers have flocked to the area. Tourism and hunting concessions provide important income and jobs, and charities from all over the world have built up the infrastructure. As chairman of the Kalahari Peoples Fund, Hitchcock was also involved. Each of the 40 or so villages now has a water connection and a community garden. In the middle of the bone-dry Kalahari, this is not a matter of course, but a sensation.

When San communities from outside visit, Hitchcock says, they are often amazed at the perceived privilege and wealth of the inhabitants. Sometimes even envious. Yet the anthropologist warns against idealising life in Nyae Nyae. "It may be true that they have rights, support and opportunities that other San communities lack," says Hitchcock. "But in all these areas they fall far short of what all Namibians are constitutionally entitled to." Organisations have long debated how the Ju/'Hoansi want to live today: as hunter-gatherers like their ancestors? As pastoralists? In permanent employment? "The communities have made it clear on several occasions that they want a combination of strategies," says Hitchcock.

Freddy Nǂamce has been working for several years as a guide at a safari camp near his home village of Nhoma, which caters for adventurers from all over the world. Almost every day he takes them out into the thick bush to show them how the Ju/'Hoansi have lived for thousands of years. He explains how to read tracks and how to kill wild animals with poisoned arrows, bows or spears. Where to find wild honey, which plants have healing powers and which are poisonous. "We want to teach our guests about our culture, our dignity and our traditions," he says. For him, the work is about more than just making a living. Nǂamce is fighting to preserve the ancient knowledge of the Ju/'Hoansi. "If we show our guests our traditions, our children will learn how we survived," he says.

A full German version of the article was published on "Spektrum.de" in December 2023.