Katanga 1917-1957
Right one including his notes.
Every second of every minute of our lives, we know where we are. Within 64 cm. That is the accuracy of our smartphones. If we actually care, that is our precise position in the universe, the space we occupy. If we use a smartwatch, that is even the trace we leave behind, the mapped record of our life. For millennia, we, humans, lived simply knowing that we were here, obviously, roughly, and what we could walk to was over there, approximately.
What was beyond our reach was phantasmatic, where gods and legends live.
And yet, merchants travelled from Zanzibar to Beijing to Rome to London without GPS. Or a compass. For sure, rulers do like to know where their stuff is, if only to check how much they can tax it. So it is no surprise that they pushed to understand a bit more. Rulers liked also the idea to discover new territories, meet other humans – for scientific, cultural or religious purposes, of course. And, at the same time, why not, check for any other resources available? So it is just good logic then to try and increase the availability, usability and accuracy of maps.
“Here be Dragons”, “Where Amazons live” and medieval line maps (sic) all have a certain romantic je-ne-sais-quoi, but are not all that actionable.
Maps let you know where you are, and what is over the hill.
No museum, station or city without its colour-coded guide. Not even forests and mountains without maps nowadays. Adventure? This way, please. And if all else fails: Google Maps. Imagine going randomly on a walk!!! Where the wind takes you? Nature is dangerous! It needs to be tamed. Trees cut down and otherwise organised a bit better, for us to live our lives well. Except it is not strictly true, and we know that deep down.
The uncharted, the unmapped retains its romantic aura. An unmapped life!
As much as our ancestors lived surrounded by the mysterious fog of the horizon, and we can know where we are to the centimetre, an unmapped life does still exist today. We may fly over it every hour with our satellites but we just never recorded it. And guess where it is? Around Rwanda, Katanga, at the sources of the Congo river, in the Heart of Darkness. It should start to sound familiar by now. Not that the area is unknown; people do live there, naturally. We inquisitive mammals would try to make a living anywhere. We settled from the North Pole to Patagonia. Antarctica? OK, we can leave that to bearded scientos.
In 1917, parts of Katanga were unrecorded, unmapped. And so, for 40 year give and take, that is what my maternal grandparents in Africa, the longest in Katanga, where doing. Drawing the maps beyond the map ‘s borders. Lifting the fog, pushing the edge – call as you see fit.
Unveiling the mystery: imagine yourself filling in the blanks, the void, dot by dot, giving it life.
Connecting the dots: introducing, for better or worse, new territories to the rest of humanity.
Recording the unknown: pushing back the mists of millennia.
And their wonder shows in the photos they took. They are the memories they chose to keep. A mixed feeling seeps through. Discovering a thing of beauty. Recording its diversity, its miracles, its wonders. Opening it up for the rest of humanity; to build a road, reach a village, dig a mine. Then a trail, a road, a highway, a railway. Savannah, bare hills, mines. People, houses and factories. All slowly gobbling up the landscape.
This shines through the letters and photos. Just take a look at any of them from early 1930s. Here they are, lost in the background.
Not selfies or portraits. Homages to the bush. A landscap-ie if you wish.
They were the Recorders.
They lived beyond the map edge.
I am just the Chronicler.
Daily new photo and video material on Facebook and Instagram.
The post Mapping the Unmapped appeared first on MNOI.