The Hadza Peoples.
Autononomy is the hallmark of the Hadza. No Hadza adult has authority over any other. None has more wealth; or, rather they have no wealth. There are few social obligations-no birthdays, no religious holidays, no anniversaries.
People sleep wherever they want. Some stay up much of the night and doze during the heat of the day. Dawn and dusk are prime hunting times; otherwise, the men often hang out in the camp, straightening arrow shafts, whittling bows, making bowstrings out of the ligaments of giraffes or impalas, hammering nails into arrow heads. They trade honey for the nails and for colourful plastic and glass beads that the women fashion into necklaces. If a man receives one as a gift, it’s good sign he has a female admirer.
There’s no wedding ceremonies A couple that sleeps at the same fire for a while may eventually refer to themselves as married. Most of the Hadza I met men and women alike were serial monogamists, marrying spouses every few years. He was an exception; he and his wife have been with each other their entire adult lives and they have seven living children and several grandchildren. There was a bevy of children living in the camp, with the resident grandmother a tiny cheer full lad named nsalu, running a sort of day care while the adults were in the bush. Except for breast feeding infants, it was hard to determine which kids belonged to which parents.
Gender roles are distinct, but for women there is none of the the forced subservience knit into many other cultures. A significant number of Hadza women who marry out soon return unwilling to accept bullying treatment. Among the Hadza women are frequently the ones who initiate a break-up-woe to the man who proves himself an incompetent hunter or treats his wife poorly. In Onwas’s camp some of the loudest, brashest members were women. One in particular nduku appointed herself my language teacher and spent a good percentage of every lesson teasing me mercilessly often rolling around in laughter as I failed miserably art reproducing the distinct, tongue-tricky clicks.
