Diamonds, Tourism and Cultural Genocide in Botswana

Bushmen of the Khoisan

I will always remember the day I saw the Bushmen. It was late afternoon; the sun was already sinking in the sky. We were jogging along a dirt road, our runners covered in dust. From time to time we stopped to watch black dung beetles roll their huge dung balls along. The bush was alive around us, we heard a donkey bray far away, scores of…