Jump to content
Join the Unexplained Mysteries community today! It's free and setting up an account only takes a moment.
- Sign In or Create Account -

Lost city of Kahalari and bushmans paradise


Peter Cox

Recommended Posts

Hi guys,

I have recenlty returned from Namibia (South West Africa) from a great holiday on a family owned game farm and mine.

However when there I heard of some great stories of "the bushmans paradise" a place deep in the moutains with a fresh water spring and the kids play with diamonds. Has anyone ever come across this legend/story and what info is there on it (google just has an account in a stroy of a english man who found a khoi koi guide who took him to this paradise) then there is a second story about a german soilder who was taken by the bushman to this place where he took some diamonds and returned home, then a few years later the german went back to Namibia to find more diamonds, and was later found dead by a german patrol with a pocket of diamonds and poison arrows in his back.

There is not much detail that I can find out there on the bushmans paradise or the lost city of the khalari, so if anyone has heard of or read somewhere about them please let me know.

Thanks a million.

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

I found a Wikipedia link to the lost city of the 'Kalahari'... Not sure if this is what you're looking for.

Lost_City_of_the_Kalahari

  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

This brings back fond memories.....

A couple of years ago going to Henties

2n74nbq.jpg

I go once a year for business and always sneak the 380k's to the coast for a throw inbetween.

I have always been fascinated by the rocky outcrops.....black stones above the sand...

50kx7q.jpg

But bear in mind that the area is abundantly rich in semi precious and precious stones....I always buy the missus some on the trip

zx39m9.jpg

I would love to hear more about this.

I am going up again in June.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Thanks for the replies,

The lost city of the Khalari seems to be pretty well known and possibly debunked as natural formations (but nothing set in stone on this excuse the pun)

Im more curious if anyone has heard of or read anything about the bushmans paradise?

Thanks UM :)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Found this on a site written by Lawrencw Green.

BUSHMAN'S PARADISE

Everyone in South-West Africa has heard the legend of the "Bushman's Paradise" - that lost oasis where the children play with diamonds. No one has succeeded in rediscovering it.

One day in 1929 I flew from Cape Town with a pilot whose aeroplane had been chartered by a syndicate to search for the "Bushman's Paradise". The pilot was Capt. R. R. Bentley, who had served in the R.A.F., and later in the South African Air Force. He had made a name for himself as a reliable taxipilot, a man who could handle all sorts of odd flying jobs. Often he carried news pictures over long distances in South Africa, and he usually arrived in time.

Dick Bentley was naturally secretive about his mission. He put me down at a lonely spot south of the Orange River, where a huge pan formed a magnificent aerodrome. Then he took off again for a place in South-West Africa where he was to pick up a member of the syndicate who would act as his observer during the search.

I had plenty of time to think over the many versions of this strange treasure story; plenty of time to wonder whether Bentley would return in triumph with the facts. One queer thing about the "Bushman's Paradise" which always appeal-ed to me was the fact that the legend was wellknown in SouthWest Africa many years before the official discovery of diamonds in 1908. I heard a detailed narrative of one expedition which set out on this quest as far back as 1871, and there have been many since then.

The pioneer of 1871 was an Englishman, a hunter and prospector who had worked on the newlydiscovered Kimberley diamond fields. There were too many people taking part in that rush for his taste; he was anxious to strike out on his own again into the lonely places. One day a Bushman he employed as voorloper for his wagon team told him that he knew of a spot where stones similar to the Kimberley diamonds could be picked up in handfuls. The adventur-ous Englishman was in the mood for the long journey: He loaded his oxwagon with stores and set out towards the Orange River.

His voorloper, it seems, was a survivor of a band of Bushmen who had raided cattle along the Orange River. A Boer commando had found them and wiped them out almost to the last man. For that reason the Bushman voorloper had deserted the stronghold among the mountains where the band had lived – the "Bushman's Paradise"- and had come to work among the white people in the old Cape Colony.

The Englishman's wagon crossed the Orange River just above the lonely Aughrabies Falls, and the expedition spent four days resting on the north bank. There were several other native servants besides the Bushman, and the leader had twenty-two oxen, a very large team, so that casualties could be replaced.

I know this lonely territory well, and I wish that I could have seen it in those days, years before the Germans colonised South-West Africa. It is still wild country, but at that time there were hippo in the Orange River and the game must have been far more abundant. Nevertheless, I can picture the English adventurer resting in the shade of the fragrant mimosa beside the water, shooting guineafowl and klipspringer for the pot, catching barbel in the stream, and watching the flamingos and monkeys on the islands.

Once you leave the river banks a weary desert stretches before you. Moreover, this section of the Orange River is shut in by mountains, and only at long intervals can the traveller gain access to the river. The Englishman followed his Bushman guide into the sunbaked, waterless territory west of the Aughrabies Falls, and for

days they trekked across the hot sand. It was an ordeal for the oxen. The whole team was exhausted when the Bushman led the way at last into a narrow kloof towards the river.

They went as far as the wagon would go, then outspanned and took the feeble oxen up a game path. It was a path made long ago by elephants and rhino and all the wild animals - a path to a beautiful pool set in thick bush and fed by a spring. This must indeed have been a "Bushman's Paradise", for there all their needs would have been supplied. When a Bushman has meat and water he is content.

That night, however, the first tragedy occurred. A leopard crept up to the wagon and killed a dog; then, having tasted blood, returned and attacked one of the natives. The Bushman tackled the leopard bravely with his assegai; but by the time the Englishman came up with his rifle, the mauled servant was dead.

Next day the adventurer and the Bushman started out on foot to find the diamond deposits. They carried biltong, biscuits and waterbottles.

Deep in the mountains they discovered a high thorn fence, obviously a manmade obstruction. There, to his intense surprise, the Bushman met his grandfather. It seemed that the wizened old man had escaped from the avenging commando, and had lived by himself at the "Paradise". He had kept himself alive on the normal Bushman diet of lizards, insects, roots and wild fruit ; and occasionally he had secured a buck with his bow-and-arrow.

He feared the leopards, and had made a sanctuary behind the thornbushes.

The last stage of the route to the diamonds started in a cave which soon became a tunnel through a mountain. It was hot in there, and both the Englishman and the Bushman panted in the darkness as they crawled along. The Bushman knew that there was a serious risk of encountering snakes. The Englishman wondered whether the roof of the tunnel would fall in and trap them. Only the thought of the diamonds kept him going.

Thankfully they emerged into a rocky arena with steep walls. It was like the funnel of a volcano, and the Englishman realised that there was only one way out - back through the tunnel. Under his feet was the diamondiferous gravel he had come so far to find. Within an hour he had gathered twenty fine diamonds. He had a fortune in his pocket, but his mind was uneasy. The tragedy of the leopard had depressed him; and there was the tunnel to be faced. He dreaded the experience so much that he decided to leave immediately, with the diamonds he had collected, and get it over.

This presentiment of evil proved to be justified.. The Bushman guide was bitten by a snake on the way out. He reached the cave before his strength failed, and the Englishman rushed to the aged Bushman for help. It is a fact that the Bushmen possess snakebite and arrow poison antidotes which are still unknown to white science. On this occasion, however, the antidote was applied too late and the guide died.

By this time the Englishman had seen enough of the "Bushman's Paradise". He trekked back to civilisation and sold the diamonds. I have heard various amounts mentioned, all substantial. He then returned to England - but not before he had talked freely about his discovery.

At different times, eight expeditions have set out in search of that crater in the mountains north of the Orange. Some went by camel, others on horseback and in wagons. They searched many a remote kloof; but the Englishman had not left a map, the Bushman guide was dead, and the "Paradise" could never be traced.

So the ninth search was being made by air, and I awaited Dick Bentley's report eagerly. When the little "Moth" landed I could see in Bentley's face that the mystery had not yet been solved. I still have my old notebook in which I recorded his story.

"When I left you I flew over a yellow and brown waste with about one farmhouse every twenty-five miles," Bentley told me. "Then I climbed over the dogtoothed mountains along the river and there were no more farmhouses. It was wicked country for flying. Those jagged mountains look blue and fascinating from a distance, but I could see no chance of making a forced landing."

"Here a blueblack mountain reared up among red peaks. There another sentinel, twisted as though a giant had played with it, seemed still to be in a plastic state. Through this welter of rock flowed the muddy river. All to the north lay a ghastly desert with dried-up watercourses marking the sand."

"I landed a long way north of the river at the place appointed, and talked to an old prospector who had been responsible for my air search. Then I realised that there was no definite clue to the ‘Bushman's Paradise’. They wanted me to survey the whole, unknown area of mountains between the Aughrabies Falls and the sea."

"This was a venture which I did not feel inclined to tackle in a small, singleengined aircraft. I kept a sharp lookout for the crater and the pool on the way back, but I saw nothing but those wicked, barren mountains. You might fly for a month without seeing anything. Those diamonds are going to remain in the ‘Paradise’ for a long time."

Another version of the legend which has many believers is based on German military records discovered in Windhoek when South African troops invaded South-West Africa during the 1914-18 War.

It appears that a German patrol set out into the Namib Desert long before any diamonds had been discovered. One man became separated from his companions during a sandstorm; his tracks were wiped out and he was reported as missing, believed dead. Weeks later the missing man stumbled into a military outpost and told a queer story. He said that he had been found by Bushmen and taken to an oasis among the dunes. There he had seen the Bushman children playing with diamonds.

No one accepted the soldier's story at the time. The soldier obtained his discharge, however, and set out alone on camelback to find the oasis. Not long afterwards another patrol rode in the direction the soldier had taken and found the man's body. He had been to the oasis, for this time he had mapped the route, and there were four rough diamonds in his pocket. In the man's back was one of the small, deadly arrows used by the Bushmen.

All the old Namib prospectors firmly believed in the legend. The late Fred Cornell, most famous of that band before the 1914-18 war, searched for the "Bushman's Paradise" in a small cutter, landing at various points on the desert coast and then striking inland as far as he dared go with his water supply. He had many narrow escapes, but he met his death after a motor-accident in London. Cornell thought that the most promising route to the "Paradise" would be found by landing near Hollam's Bird Islet (about 150 miles south of Walvis Bay) and then going due east.

I met one man who claimed to have been to the "Bushman's Paradise". He was Mr. H.L. Greenfield, and in 1931 he was in charge of a diamondworking on the coast of South-West Africa. A Hottentot offered to guide him to the spot. Mr. Greenfield decided that the safest approach would be from the west, for then he could use a car to the edge of the dunes.

He carried out his plan, and rode on horseback when the car would go no further. The Hottentot led him to a valley in the dunes where there were indications of diamonds, but no sign of the legendary oasis. Mr. Greenfield was forced to retreat owing to the familiar thirst problem. He intended to equip a second expedition, but the government had decided to restrict prospecting and his permit was cancelled.

I have often heard the Bogenfels area mentioned as the scene of the "Bushman's Paradise". Bogenfels is a huge, natural limestone archway on the coast, a geological wonder; and many prospectors made rich finds close by. But the surf breaks heavily on these beaches, and many have been drowned while trying to land. Not far from the archway is the grave of a prospector who preferred a bullet to death from thirst.

A mediaeval sword and other relics were found in the sand at Bogenfels, and it is thought that a Spanish galleon was lost there. So many men have found only death in that neighbourhood that prospectors talk of the "curse of Bogenfels". One man, almost a millionaire as a result of the diamond claims he pegged there, found no happiness and afterwards shot himself.

One final scrap of evidence of the "Bushman's Paradise" came my way recently. It was offered by a wellknown South African pilot who survived the war and is still flying passenger airliners. I cannot mention his name.

Between the wars this pilot once flew direct from Windhoek to Luderitzbucht. It was in the early days of aviation in SouthWest Africa, it was an emergency flight, and the pilot chose a lonely route of which the authorities would not approve nowadays. If he had been forced down, he might never have been found.

During this flight the pilot saw an area in the Namib dunes covered with trees and vegetation - an area which was blank on his map. Airmen carry good maps, but, as I have said, he was flying over unexplored desert. He flew low to examine the oasis. Game was abundant, but of human beings there was no sign. Possibly it was the "Bushman's Paradise" that he gazed upon for a few minutes.

On the whole I think Dick Bentley was right. Too many men have perished on this quest, and one can venture too far and risk too much in search of wealth. The "Bushman's Paradise" may be found one day, but I have a feeling that the desert will claim more victims before the successful adventurers reach the oasis and the diamonds at last.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Kalahari Desert - Sorry my error

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

If children play with diamonds, they would look like this

ROUGH_UNCUT_DIAMONDS.jpg

I think most cultures have these stories. Ever heard of Lassiter's Reef ? http://en.wikipedia....eter's_Reef

Namibia hmmmm ...... yes there are secret places in the desert there , especially east of the 'Skeleton Coast' - and a secret skeleton coast (made by other factors than shipwrecks ) sandy area filled with human bones. Also there is vast mineral wealth there. And vast modern wealth !

Lets put a few things together ... German 'colonisation', rich mineral deposits, native people, WWII - Nazism , field of bones, restricted areas (mineral deposits mined and to be mined ) , old Nazi railroad, and a line along the coast of the most ridiculous rich mansions - that remain empty for most of the year - unless they need accommodation for the film crew that made the recent Mad Max movie there ;) .... who were very naughty and some of them went into those restricted areas and took photographs and film of that sea of bones and the weirdest looking mineral deposits ... and bought some ancient highly worn ( sand and wind polished) stone tools that were lying all over the desert in a 'natural complex' sort of geological area ... that would have made an interesting natural habitation area ... and observed the oppression of the local people by the 'German Nazi miners' descendants ... who still seem to have a ' gang hierarchy' based on their literal ( and proud) descent from them.

In other words ... forget it, you aint gonna find the minerals or diamonds, it already got found and locked up , the only thing you might find are some stone tools ( 3 sit on my desk ;) ) or if you end up in an area that has anything left, you will be in a restricted area and liable to be intercepted by a gang in a Hummer, that are not impressed that you wandered out of the 'filming only' area and want to confiscate you camera.

But maybe only in the Skeleton Coast area .... you all have tourist fun in the other part ;)

PS . A gang in an armoured Hummer (led by Herman Georing's grand nephew) trying to intimidate people way out in the bush does not fare well against a 'movie vehicle ' out on an 'off shoot' ' practice run ' ( especially with the flame throwers loaded ;)

chicago-beer-festival_s345x230.jpg?1375131788

+

Mad-Max-Fury-Road-1.jpg

=

escape-greatly.jpg

:D

..... eusa_shhh.gif

08_kolmanskop.jpg

Edited by back to earth
  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 1 year later...

Hi all at UM just an update on this.

Been doing some reading and research on this and have found a few more tales of this "Bushmans Paradise" 

Tales of treasure troves of raw diamonds in South West Africa are very numerous. One of the most persistent is that of the so-called ‘Bushman’s Paradise’ or ‘Hottentot’s Paradise’, where children played with diamonds. The place was described in a diary attributed to Johann Lange, only survivor of a sailing: ship lost between Luderitz and Walvis Bay. He was found by wandering Bushmen and taken to the `Paradise’, where they are said to have killed him to prevent him from revealing their secret. Another version attributes the discovery of the ‘Bushman’s. Paradise’ to a German soldier, Heinrich Kramer, who was also killed by a Bushman’s arrow. Eight known expeditions to find the legendary `Paradise’ ended in failure. http://www.ancestors.co.za/articles/general-articles/hidden-treasures-in-south-africa/

I also found a book called 

A Rip Van Winkle Of The Kalahari by Frederick Carruthers Corner

http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/21899/pg21899-images.html

This is a collection of a couple of stories that point to similar experiences in Namibia. The first story is a journey of a man in pursuit of Diamonds but there is not much in a way of a detailed outline of his "step by step" journey to make up where he found the diamonds (but he mentions a salt lake and salt plains that can be found in northern Namibia.

There is also the tale of the "bushmans Paradise" in the book, it makes mention that the first part is true however the second cannot be verified and could / is fictional. 

Here LONG extract on the bushmans paradise as per the book. - I have tried looking for any copy of the "hand book" mentioned in all this but is seems to be elusive (I cant find mention of it anywhere other than the tales in the books. Would be awesome if it existed and could be read or a transcript of it somewhere. There is a archive in Cape Town with loads of books and writings of early arrival in Namibia (South West Africa) anI have purchased copies of some of them but no mention of the "handbook"

Extract reads as follows:

im Halloran was bored to death. With a natural curiosity he had drifted into Walfisch Bay, bitten as it were out of the huge expanse of German South-West Africa, vaguely expecting something out of the ordinary from such a queer locality. But he had found literally nothing to do. A few white officials and storekeepers, too slack even to be sick of their surroundings, and a few degraded families of Bushmen of uninteresting habits and extremely filthy, constituted the inhabitants. There was but little game in the small strip of British territory, and Halloran had made one or two abortive attempts to arrange a shooting and exploring trip into the German hinterland. Every one had warned him of the extreme peril from the shifting sand-dunes. Moreover, the war between the Germans and the Hereros was at its height, and the lieutenant in charge of the small garrison at Swakopmund had cautioned him not to venture beyond the limit of their patrols. There was no steamer for ten days, so that it was a veritable godsend to him when late one evening he received a message from the same friendly lieutenant to the effect that if he cared, he was welcome to accompany a patrol party which was to leave early the following morning in the direction of the little-known Geiesib Mountains. He might bring his rifle, as there was a chance of some buck.

Daylight found Halloran in the saddle on his way to the German quarters. The patrol consisted of ten troopers in addition to his friend the lieutenant, who explained that two of his men who had been sent on patrol in that direction a few days previously had not returned, and that he hoped to find traces of them. "What do you think has happened to them?" Halloran asked. The German shrugged his shoulders. "A hundred things may have happened," he said "the Hereros or the Bushmen they may be under one of the shifting dunes or they are lost and may be dying of thirst who knows?"

The heat was terrific: the vibrant atmosphere over the red-hot sand looked as though it had become molten, and the glare to the eye was almost insufferable. There was not a breath of air stirring. Indeed, it was due solely to this fact that the patrol had ventured to cross the shifting dunes. Later, when the wind blew, it would be courting death to attempt it.

A few hours' sharp trot brought them to the nearest spurs of the mountain, where water had been found, by digging in the sand, bitter brak, but still drinkable, and here they had hoped to have found the lost troopers. But no trace of the missing men was to be seen. And over a hasty lunch Haussmann, the lieutenant, expressed his fear that they might never be found, but would go to swell the list of men who from time to time had disappeared from their little garrison. "In two years," he said, "I have lost nine men. First there were Schmidt, Muller, and Brandhof, who were lost in the colossal and never-to-be- forgotten storm soon after I arrived; then my orderly Goertz went, and with him another. Then Kramer yes but Kramer, that was different!"

Halloran was curious. "What happened to Kramer?" he asked. And the German told him a strange story. Kramer was a queer mountebank sort of a chap who before conscription claimed him had been clown in a circus, and his antics and gymnastic feats had made him very popular with his fellow-troopers. He had been a good soldier too; and when he had become separated from his fellow-trooper in a sandstorm a day or more south of Swakopmund, and his companion had struggled through without him, no effort had been spared in searching for the missing man. But to no purpose; months passed and he had been almost forgotten. And then, to every one's surprise, he had one day turned up, safe and sound, at the camp. He was nearly naked, and bore traces of having lived like a savage, and the lieutenant believed that he had become affected by his privations and was slightly mad. At any rate, he had told a strange and improbable story. Lost in the drifting sands, he had struggled on he knew not whither until his horse dropped, then on foot, and, with all sense of direction utterly lost, he had staggered on till tired nature gave out and he sank to the ground in a dead faint. The storm must have abated shortly after, for he woke to find himself nearly buried but with the air clearer, and, somewhat refreshed, he had again moved on, until, water gone and nearly dead, he had eventually staggered clear of the sands and right into the arms of a number of Bushmen. For some reason they had spared his life. Later his acrobatic feats had made him even popular with them. His story went on to tell of a well-wooded oasis where the Bushmen lived, with water and game in plenty.

"All this is probably true," said the lieutenant, "but his brain must have been somewhat turned, for he declared that in this oasis the Bushmen's children made playthings of big rough diamonds the size of walnuts!" Kramer had watched for an opportunity to escape, but when it came he had had no chance of bringing away any of the stones, as the Bushmen had a vague idea that the white men valued them highly and that if they knew of their presence in the oasis their refuge would soon be lost to them. "He stuck to his tale," said the lieutenant, "and his great idea was that I should help him to go back with a strong expedition as soon as his time of service expired, and he would make me a rich man. Of course," he continued dogmatically, "there are no diamonds in this country, worse luck! so Kramer was laughed at by everybody." He became madder than ever, sullen and morose. He thought of nothing but his mad dream of diamonds. A few months previously his discharge had come, and within a few days he had again disappeared into the unknown. He had bought a mule, and had gone away laden with water- bags, laughed and jeered at by his late comrades. He had never been heard of in the interval. "But," said the lieutenant abruptly, "we must be off, as we must go on at least two or three hours further east, and I should suggest, Mr. Halloran, that if you care to do so you could stay here till our return. You are likely to get a shot here by the water."

Halloran agreed, and the patrol trotted away over the thick sand that skirted the mountains eastward. The tale told by Haussmann had a strange fascination for him. Himself something of a prospector, the story of the diamonds did not appear so wild and improbable to him as it did to the matter-of-fact Teuton. He had often wished for a chance to prospect the slopes of these very mountains, which looked very promising for gold but diamonds! Was it possible? Choosing a spot among the rocks where he was somewhat sheltered from the sun and could command a view of the little pool and its approaches, he sat down to muse over the story and to await the chance of a possible shot. A couple of hours passed. The stillness and intense heat combined to make him drowsy, and he woke with a start to find he had been dreaming of diamonds as big as tennis balls. "Bad sportsman," he yawned. "I shall never get a shot this way," and, rubbing his eyes, he peered cautiously round in search of game. Not a thing in sight in any direction. Stop! was that a speck moving on a distant spur of the mountain? The atmosphere was deceptive, but surely it was some animal approaching in his direction. He had up till then forgotten his binoculars, but he was now wide awake and, looking first to his rifle, he got out his glasses and twisted them into focus upon the moving object in the distance. A startled exclamation rose to his lips as the field-glasses covered the moving spot; it was a man. Yes running, stumbling, crouching and at times almost crawling the object which he saw was a white man, naked except for a few rags. His desperate haste and the glances he threw back continually showed that he was being pursued. Even as Halloran gazed, figure after figure came running into view over the slope behind the forlorn and desperate-looking fugitive blacks these, and by their diminutive size he knew them for Bushmen. There were seven or eight of them in sight. How many more were behind he could not of course guess, nor did he stop to look, for every manly instinct in his body sent him flying out of his shelter towards the hunted man. He must shoot quick, for it was plain the Bushmen were gaining on their quarry. So, shouting with all his might, Halloran ran forward. A couple of hundred yards' sprint and they were within range. Down he went on one knee, and crack, crack went the sporting Mauser. The vibration of the hot air was sufficient excuse for bad shooting, and it was not until he had emptied his magazine that he had the satisfaction of sending the leading Bushman sprawling. But the others did not pause, and as Halloran thrust another clip into the magazine and ran forward again, shouting and using some very bad language in his excitement, he saw the leading figure throw up his hands and fall forward upon his face. He had the range better now, and was getting near. A second and a third Bushman fell dead, but the others made no attempt to retreat, and appeared to be rifling the body in frantic haste. Again Halloran paused, and sent a bullet into the bunch. Now they were flying away, leaving four of their number behind them. Shot after shot was sent after them till they were out of range, beyond the ridge, by which time Halloran had reached the fallen white man. There he lay, stone dead, with a Bushman's poisoned arrow between his shoulders and his body already swollen and horrible from the deadly poison. A white man without doubt, his feet bare and bleeding from his awful flight, his few poor rags almost torn from his body by the Bushmen. Though tanned almost black he had been a fair man, and his blue eyes stared horribly. He was beyond all succour, whoever he was, and Halloran turned savagely to the remnants of the murderous band. They had paid dearly. Three were stone dead. A fourth lay dying where Halloran had brought him down in his flight, and near him lay a tattered pocketbook. Halloran picked this up. He knew what name he should find in it before he glanced at the contents. Yes, there was the name: "Heinrich Kramer." It was the man who had gone back for the diamonds. This, then, was why the Bushmen had followed and killed him and rifled the body. Halloran searched also, but the natives had done their work well. Nothing was to be found. However, as he turned to look at the wounded Bushman, who was in his death-agony, there fell from the stunted black fingers a pure and flawless diamond, lustrous and dazzling in the burning sunshine, and so perfect that it might just have left the hands of the cutter. . . . So it was true, after all!

Half an hour later the patrol came back at a gallop, having heard the continuous firing. A few words explained all. It was Kramer right enough. As it was useless following the Bushmen, poor Kramer was buried and the patrol returned to Swakopmund, having found no trace of the men for whom they had been searching. In the presence of the men Halloran had not mentioned the pocketbook or diamond, but that night he told Haussmann all. The pocket-book contained many details, and although much was in cypher, the route taken by Kramer in reaching the oasis the second time was clearly noted. And between them a plan was formed.

Six months later Halloran arrived in Cape Town, having spent the interim in Europe, where he had made certain arrangements. He was met by his friend (and partner in the venture) the lieutenant on three months' sick leave and between them the expedition was organised which was to make both their fortunes. From Europe, Halloran had shipped half a dozen camels, and these ungainly beasts, in charge of two Arab drivers, formed an important item in his scheme. A small tug was chartered for three months, and a week after sailing from Cape Town the party landed on a wild and desolate part of the coast a hundred and fifty miles south of Walfisch Bay. The reason for choosing this spot was that, according to the directions in the pocket-book, it appeared clear that by striking inland due east from thereabouts they would reach the oasis much quicker than by the actual route followed by Kramer. But they knew it to be a waterless waste for at least four days' journey how much more it was impossible to say hence the camels, and hence also the numerous small barrels of water which formed an equally important part of the tug's cargo. There were four white men in the party Halloran, his younger brother Frank, Haussmann the German lieutenant, and a friend of the latter named Haupt. From Swakopmund, Haussmann had brought two Hottentots who could speak the extraordinary Bushman "click" language. These, with the Arab camel-men, made the actual number up to eight. Each was well armed, for Halloran, though he hoped to get the diamonds without violence, had a notion that in an extreme case a good deal could be done by eight determined men armed with Mausers and with plenty of ammunition. The tug with its crew of six men was to remain anchored in the little cove, keeping a sharp look-out shorewards. Halloran had chosen his time well. The windy season was at an end and there was no great probability of the much- dreaded sandstorms arising. The moon was nearly at its full and they would thus be able to keep a sharp look-out at night, and travel if they wished to. Five of the camels were laden with water casks, which were to be buried at intervals along the route, accurate bearings of each spot to be taken, and thus a safe line of retreat would be provided should such prove necessary. Speed was unnecessary on the outward journey, and the party walked, the sixth camel carrying their stores, ammunition, and a large assortment of Manchester trading goods likely to appeal to the aesthetic taste of the Bushmen. And so one evening as the last flaming rays of the setting sun were being vanquished by the soft moonlight, the venturesome party waved farewell to the watchers on the little tug and started on their journey over the seemingly illimitable sand-dunes. They trekked in single file and by the aid of the stars and a compass easily kept their eastward course. The murmur of the surf grew fainter and fainter until not a sound broke the stillness, the soft footfall of the camels being inaudible even to the men who led them. Halloran had enjoined silence for some reason, and he stopped his brother irritably when that usually irrepressible youth started to whistle feebly. With an occasional rest the expedition made slow but certain headway during the night, halting for the day when the rapidly brightening east warned them that old Sol would soon have to be reckoned with. A barrel of water was buried in the sand, a bamboo brought for the purpose being planted upright near the spot, and after a hasty breakfast the tired men were soon asleep under a light awning carried for the purpose; one man, however, being constantly on watch. By noon the heat had become intolerable. Roasting in the sun seemed preferable to stewing under the canvas, and by three o'clock the party were on their way again. They rested at midnight, and rested better. The fourth night found them still on the sand-dunes, and by this time the weird journey was beginning to tell upon the white men. The silence and mystery of the night, the vast expanse of sand shown so vaguely in the moonlight, the soft-treading, grotesquely-shaped camels, which seemed far less real and tangible than the black shadows thrown by them across the sand, and by day the blinding glare of the sun thrown back from the all-surrounding sand so fiercely that in spite of their sun-goggles they were nearly blinded, combined to make them high- strung and irritable. On the fourth night it fell to young Frank Halloran to take first watch. He had grumbled at it as unnecessary, for so far they had seen no living creature not even a bird. But though he grumbled he kept a sharp look-out, for he was conscious of a queer uneasy feeling that someone or something was watching him in turn. The moon was bright, but a slight haze seemed to hang over the sand, making objects a short distance away look vague and indistinct. He could see nothing, peer as he would into the soft, dim distance, but he could not shake off the uneasy feeling. Time wore on, half his watch was over. What was that? Surely something moving? His rifle came to his shoulder, the report rang out, and his comrades were awake instantly. Nothing could be found. His brother rated him for shooting at what was probably a jackal, if, indeed, it had not been pure imagination. But daylight, though it showed nothing to the white men, showed something to the wonderfully trained eyes of the Hottentots. "Bushman!" said Gert, the elder of the two. The spoor came from the east and led back in the same direction. Halloran was quite elated. He took it for proof that they were on the right track. . . .

All this can be gathered from the notes in Halloran's handwriting, which are to be found in the pocket-book that had belonged to Kramer. The book had had a strange fascination for him, and he had used it for his own diary. Indeed, these short and sometimes disconnected sentences are the only real record of the grim tragedy that followed.

The little caravan got through the sand-belt safely in six days, and without further alarms from the Bushmen. Then came stony kopjes with stunted bush, and here and there traces of game and lions. Water could not be far off. On the tenth day they had found the oasis, and by sending the Hottentots on ahead with presents they had met with no open hostility from the Bushmen. There was plenty of water. Halloran seems to have tried to get the diamonds by bartering goods for them, but for some days the Bushmen had kept up the pretence that there were no diamonds there. Then force was threatened and a demonstration made as to what could be done with eight repeating rifles. Finally Halloran seems to have laid violent hands on the chief and to have held him to ransom against the production of the stones. But from this time the pocket-book speaks best for itself.

"August 13th. They have given in. Gert has taken the chief's message, and they have brought us a skin-bag full of the stones. These are diamonds right enough fine big stones of eight or nine carats, nearly all the same size and we are rich men. The sight of them made us greedy, and we told the chief they were not enough. He told us through Gert that we had broken our word. Have we? Of course we did not tell him for how many diamonds we would let him go. Besides, we will give him all the trading goods in return. He said something to his wives which even the Hottentots could not understand, but they came again with a dozen very large diamonds, and we let him go.

"I do not like the look of things. Every Bushman has disappeared. Do they intend to attack us later? We shall water the camels as soon as it is cool enough, fill our water-bags and start on our return journey. Luckily we have buried water all the way back, we can travel lightly and rapidly.

"What shall we do? They have poisoned the water-pools. One of the Arabs, the younger Hottentot, and three of our camels are dead. Lucidly, the poison was swift, and they fell dead before Gert and the other camels could get to the pool. We must fly as best we may, our nearest cask is only twelve hours away.

"14th. We are resting the camels for a short spell about three hours from the first cask. We have neglected the camels in our anxiety for the diamonds. They have had no water for three days. We must give them most of the first cask. It is awful work riding two on a camel, but we can get through in four or five days, and then—-

"I am almost too stunned to write. We found the cask. We had not thought of its being tampered with. My poor brother Frank drank the first pannikin greedily, and fell dying at our feet as he drank. The fiends had found the water and poisoned it. As the poor boy lay dying in my arms the water ran unheeded into the sands. A camel sucked it up eagerly. It is dead also. We must on again. Surely they cannot have found the other casks.

"17th. I am alone. The others are all dead all. We tried the water in the other casks by giving some first to the camels. It had all been poisoned. They are following us too, but too far off to shoot them. Gert went mad and drank the water it was so bright and clear. Each time we hoped they might not have found the next cask; but so far they have found them all. There are three more. The young German turned back to die fighting the black devils. We heard him shooting for a long time, but he must be dead too. The Arab was missing in the night. He too had gone back. . . . We have dragged on till within eighteen hours of the coast, but I can go no further. When the lieutenant and I dug up the last cask we cast lots as to who should try it. It fell to him. I wished him to sip it only, but once his lips were wet I could not tear him away. . . . He cursed me as he died. … I have all the diamonds now and would give them all for a drink of pure water. . . . Surely they cannot have found the other casks. I will win through yet. It is but six hours to the next cask.

"Another cask but I dare not. It is bright and cool and clear; but so were the others! And yet I am dying of thirst. I can go no further. . . . They are creeping nearer. They know my rifle has gone, and I know that if I do not drink they will shoot me as they did that other man through the back with a poisoned arrow. But I will not wait for that. This water looks so cool and clear, surely . . ."

The diary ends abruptly, A week later the engineer and skipper of the little tug, venturing across the sands in the hope of meeting the party returning, found Halloran's body by the side of the water-cask. Near by lay the fatal pocket-book. But the diamonds had gone.

............................

So there are several stories of diamonds that are not on the skeleton coast but more inland, however nothing has been found as far as these go. Just a very cool story and lots of fun reading about it and looking for more information etc etc.

Hope you enjoyed the story :)

Thanks all.

Peter

 

  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Treasure known to the natives but never quite found by others, or found only to be lost, seems to be a Jungian prototype. You get pretty much the same stories out of the American Southwest, and I imagine just about everywhere else.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

On 5/7/2015 at 11:38 PM, back to earth said:

Ever heard of Lassiter's Reef ?

Is that what the hotel in Neighbours was named after? If so, yes. 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Obviously Bushmen dont have a Lost City .... but hidden paradise ?  YES! 

 

There are a few gems like that here ..... all you need is a bit of rain ; 

 

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

On 1/24/2017 at 10:04 PM, back to earth said:

Psssst ......  wanna buy an old treasure map ? 

ummmmmmm does it work? is it printed on the back of a second hand serviette? lol 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

It's certainly not impossible or even particularly unlikely, but the telling makes me feel that it's probably an apocryphal tall tale. 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

7 hours ago, Peter Cox said:

ummmmmmm does it work? is it printed on the back of a second hand serviette? lol 

Nope ... its in a tourist guide . 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

On 4-5-2015 at 10:37 AM, Peter Cox said:

There is not much detail that I can find out there on the bushmans paradise ... if anyone has heard of or read somewhere about them please let me know.

The tale is vaguely reminiscent of the deepest part of Hell.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I don't know about the lost city, but when "bush" and "paradise" appear together, my ears perk up.

Harte

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

On January 24, 2017 at 11:50 AM, PersonFromPorlock said:

Treasure known to the natives but never quite found by others, or found only to be lost, seems to be a Jungian prototype. You get pretty much the same stories out of the American Southwest, and I imagine just about everywhere else.

Quivira, anyone? Then there's the famed "Lost Oasis" in the Western Desert of Egypt.

Both of these are the subjects of old legends, and both were used in two rather entertaining novels, but I think such "lost cities" are as fictional as the stories themselves.

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

On 1/29/2017 at 7:20 AM, kmt_sesh said:

Quivira, anyone? Then there's the famed "Lost Oasis" in the Western Desert of Egypt.

Both of these are the subjects of old legends, and both were used in two rather entertaining novels, but I think such "lost cities" are as fictional as the stories themselves.

I am inclined to agree with you, the fun part of me says "hey could be true, look harder for more stories and have fun with it" then there is the reasonable part of me that says "what a cool bedtime story but not more than that"

All the same going to Namibia in April for a break and taking my 990 KTM adventure so will go have some fun in the bush :)

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.