The economic history of sheep farming
Economic history is about observing and documenting transformations in how we produce, circulate, and consume.
Bernard Moore - Several years ago, I was driving along one of southern Namibia’s scenic gravel roads en route to ?Gâbes, in the Bondelswarts communal areas. I saw an elderly Nama man on a motorbike exit one of the nearby commercial farms, stopping to close the gate behind him. I pulled over to the side of the road to chat with him for a moment.
Many people believe that “history” is simply about names and dates, or else it is about what we term “heritage”: how the past shape our personal identities today. What do we commemorate? What do we forget? I always tell my students that neither of these is the most important aspect of historical study. While names and dates are important, and “heritage” does shape personal lives, focusing merely on these two aspects hinders our ability to use history to structurally understand contemporary problems which people face: whether local problems or global problems.
Shepherds have long been part of southern Namibia’s history; after all, the karakul statue in downtown Keetmanshoop features not a farm owner or a pelt buyer, but a shepherd. Narratives of the early days of karakul sheep farming in Namibia give images of a determined shepherd herding flocks through the region’s harsh landscape. Indeed, one could argue that the herdmanship of shepherds was just as central to the profitability of karakul as the innovative breeding research at Gellap-Ost and Neudam.
I asked this gentleman on the motorbike if he was a shepherd. He offered me a peculiar response: “Yes and no. I’m sort of a shepherd, but I look after the fences.” I asked if most shepherds today spent more time tending to fences, rather than sheep; and he responded: “In my father’s time, there were so many shepherds; now most of us watch the wires [draad kyk].”
It took me a long time to figure out the significance of this short roadside chat. Indeed, what this man said was quite true; over his lifetime, the technology of sheep farming changed dramatically. Jackal-proof fencing – which so many outsiders simply drive past – transformed so much. After all, shepherding is more than just moving sheep, it’s also about protecting them from vermin. Between 1954-70, over 45,000km of jackal-proof was built in southern Namibia, subsidised by 25% for white farmers by the SWA Administration. After jackal-proofing farm boundaries, more camps were constructed, utilising 95,000km of subsidised ordinary fencing. With enough fencing to circumnavigate the globe three times over, farmers in the south were able to decimate predators and institute smarter rotational grazing strategies. Many (though not all) shepherds were either replaced by this technology, or else transformed into managers of it: many now watch the wires, looking for breaks in the electricity or holes dug underneath.
I was visiting my mother in New York last August, and we were walking down a pedestrian shopping street, sweating from the summer heat. I asked if we could make a turn into a furrier’s shop, which surely must have air conditioning. The shop clerk locked the door behind us, as we were clearly not their intended wealthy clientele. I curiously asked the clerk if they sold any Swakara products, and they produced four karakul coats: two in grey, two in light brown, all in the fashionable watersy style. Each cost more than US$3,500.
Economic history is about observing and documenting transformations in how we produce, circulate, and consume. A close observation of any given industry reveals the global implications of local events, as well as the effects of global changes upon certain local communities. It necessitates asking questions like: What are the connections between the events in this ‘shepherd's’ life and this US$3,500 coat? How did changes in fencing technology increase the profitability of karakul production, or aid the transferral to dorper sheep?
An economic history of any given industry needs both top-down and bottom-up perspectives. And this is what I have been trying to do for the past several years for my doctoral dissertation on the history of sheep farming in Namibia. While a lot of the research is based on documentation at the National Archives of Namibia, I also have been speaking with farmers and workers about their histories and memories of these times. I would be interested to speaking with others who have memories, photographs, documents, or anything to share that might help be write this study as accurately as possible.
*Bernard C. Moore teaches history at Michigan State University in the USA, and at UNAM in Windhoek. He can be contacted at 081 269 5652 or at [email protected].
Many people believe that “history” is simply about names and dates, or else it is about what we term “heritage”: how the past shape our personal identities today. What do we commemorate? What do we forget? I always tell my students that neither of these is the most important aspect of historical study. While names and dates are important, and “heritage” does shape personal lives, focusing merely on these two aspects hinders our ability to use history to structurally understand contemporary problems which people face: whether local problems or global problems.
Shepherds have long been part of southern Namibia’s history; after all, the karakul statue in downtown Keetmanshoop features not a farm owner or a pelt buyer, but a shepherd. Narratives of the early days of karakul sheep farming in Namibia give images of a determined shepherd herding flocks through the region’s harsh landscape. Indeed, one could argue that the herdmanship of shepherds was just as central to the profitability of karakul as the innovative breeding research at Gellap-Ost and Neudam.
I asked this gentleman on the motorbike if he was a shepherd. He offered me a peculiar response: “Yes and no. I’m sort of a shepherd, but I look after the fences.” I asked if most shepherds today spent more time tending to fences, rather than sheep; and he responded: “In my father’s time, there were so many shepherds; now most of us watch the wires [draad kyk].”
It took me a long time to figure out the significance of this short roadside chat. Indeed, what this man said was quite true; over his lifetime, the technology of sheep farming changed dramatically. Jackal-proof fencing – which so many outsiders simply drive past – transformed so much. After all, shepherding is more than just moving sheep, it’s also about protecting them from vermin. Between 1954-70, over 45,000km of jackal-proof was built in southern Namibia, subsidised by 25% for white farmers by the SWA Administration. After jackal-proofing farm boundaries, more camps were constructed, utilising 95,000km of subsidised ordinary fencing. With enough fencing to circumnavigate the globe three times over, farmers in the south were able to decimate predators and institute smarter rotational grazing strategies. Many (though not all) shepherds were either replaced by this technology, or else transformed into managers of it: many now watch the wires, looking for breaks in the electricity or holes dug underneath.
I was visiting my mother in New York last August, and we were walking down a pedestrian shopping street, sweating from the summer heat. I asked if we could make a turn into a furrier’s shop, which surely must have air conditioning. The shop clerk locked the door behind us, as we were clearly not their intended wealthy clientele. I curiously asked the clerk if they sold any Swakara products, and they produced four karakul coats: two in grey, two in light brown, all in the fashionable watersy style. Each cost more than US$3,500.
Economic history is about observing and documenting transformations in how we produce, circulate, and consume. A close observation of any given industry reveals the global implications of local events, as well as the effects of global changes upon certain local communities. It necessitates asking questions like: What are the connections between the events in this ‘shepherd's’ life and this US$3,500 coat? How did changes in fencing technology increase the profitability of karakul production, or aid the transferral to dorper sheep?
An economic history of any given industry needs both top-down and bottom-up perspectives. And this is what I have been trying to do for the past several years for my doctoral dissertation on the history of sheep farming in Namibia. While a lot of the research is based on documentation at the National Archives of Namibia, I also have been speaking with farmers and workers about their histories and memories of these times. I would be interested to speaking with others who have memories, photographs, documents, or anything to share that might help be write this study as accurately as possible.
*Bernard C. Moore teaches history at Michigan State University in the USA, and at UNAM in Windhoek. He can be contacted at 081 269 5652 or at [email protected].
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