My ancestors were exhumed by a colonial scientist. Some were children
- In the early 1900s, an Austrian anthropologist dug up more than 170 bodies from my community in the Kalahari. I’m part of a generation confronting what was taken and what it means to make that right.
Editors Note: Unburied is a series by Minority Africa and ARC tracing how the theft of Indigenous remains in the Kalahari shaped race science—and how their descendants are demanding their return. See other stories in the series and listen to the podcast here.
As 20th-century anthropologist, Rudolf Pöch travelled across the Kalahari digging up the bones of my ancestors, he did so with two recording devices.
Pöch was an Austrian anthropologist who came into the Kalahari, particularly to serve the needs of the Austro- Hungarian empire which was relying on “race science” to give it an edge in the imperialist contest.
One of those devices was a portable phonograph with which he was able to playback his recordings of our ancestors to them.
By the time Pöch (who was armed) finished his travels in the Kalahari, he had taken the bones or bodies of over 170 people, ranging from old to young. One time he dug up a child so freshly buried that Pöch noted in his diary that the body wasn’t “fully decayed yet.”
Pöch’s field recordings, archived at the Austrian Academy of Sciences, contain the voices of my ancestors—captured in moments of coerced collaboration, even though by his own accounts, he claims everything is going well. These recordings are bittersweet reminders of the power dynamics that shaped our history but they also carry an echo that we must pay attention to.
!Kxara, for example, a man navigating the treacherous landscape of colonialism, is heard explaining about Pöch: “He digs up graves, but he does not kill people.” We hear in that echo one of many moral compromises imposed on our forebears, compromises that have not occurred in a vacuum.
Pöch’s actions, which are emblematic of anthropological practices of the era, surface important questions about the ethics of knowledge production. Like many of his contemporaries, his research was built upon the exploitation and marginalisation of indigenous communities. It painted a false picture of uniformity and of him meeting almost no resistance, which we know from following the echo is not accurate.
The removal of our ancestors’ bones, under the guise of scientific study, constitutes a grave desecration that continues to affect our community’s well-being. On top of that, the vast majority of what we know about what happened in the Kalahari during Pöch’s expedition, we know from his own accounts. He claims to have made these recordings without external help but that has been refuted.
If nothing, these show that the time for uncritical celebration of these legacies is over. There has to be a more honest reckoning with history, one that firstly acknowledges the harm inflicted on our people. For it to be honestly, it must simultaneously continue with a recognition that the repatriation of our ancestors’ remains is as much a matter of justice, as it is a necessary step towards healing and reconciliation.
In recent years, there has been growing recognition of the need for accountability and redress in the field of anthropology. Many institutions and individuals are beginning to confront the historical injustices inflicted on indigenous communities and are working to develop more equitable, collaborative approaches to research. It is an affirmation of their inherent dignity, and of our community’s right to determine its own narrative.
Yet much work remains. The legacy of Pöch, and others like him, continues to cast a long shadow. The impact of their actions on our community is profound and enduring but it is a journey to healing and justice that we are willing to see through.
In one recording which is likely of Pöch and that is referred to in episode 2 of the Unburied podcast, he says, “We bring some wood for fire then we go to the peak and drink some water.”
He then goes on to ask “Are you afraid?” Do you think I’ll eat you?”
The podcast does not conclude about the context of this conversation. It is possible that this was a game or a joke or that Pöch was in fact threatening !Kxara. Whatever it is though, what the recordings reveal are indicative of why we must continue to follow the echo against all odds. And to correspondingly not only stop at listening but to right what wrongs they might reveal.
How I see it, the echoes of the Kalahari are a call to action, a reminder of the unfinished business of our past. The voices of my ancestors captured in Pöch’s recordings are a testimony to the enduring spirit of the Khomani San, and I implore you to listen. No matter how faint the voice, no matter how low, how shaky, I implore you to follow the echo and to act on what it tells you.
Brian Mienies is an activist and assistant to the traditional leader of the ‡Khomani San.
Edited/Reviewed by Caleb Okereke, Uzoma Ihejirika, and Sarah Etim.