Wednesday, 24 June 2020

The ‘Birth’ of the Series “Who am I? Who are We?”



Many, many years ago, in August of 2008 to be precise, my wife Jacqui and I received a marvellous gift: a weeklong stay, by ourselves, on a tiny game reserve near Bela-Bela in the Limpopo Province of South Africa.

Upon arrival, we realised immediately that the previous summer’s rainfall had been very sparse. The bushveld surrounding us was exceptionally dry; hardly any leaves remained on the main species of trees. Even the hardy thorn-trees, the various Acacia species*, had lost most of their foliage. Only the single magnificent marula tree in the centre of the homestead we were to occupy for the next week and a few large buffalo-thorn jujubes nearby still wore leaves that revealed shades of green – no doubt these giants were still able to draw sufficient moisture from the deeper water table.

Eager to unpack after the drive and to settle down to a cold mid-morning drink, I rushed up to the main door of the compound. As I stuck out my hand (clutching the bunch of keys I had been given), I was startled by a lightning-fast movement above and to the left of my head. My body froze. Whatever it was, it was rather long – not too big, but long. Slowly I turned my head to gaze upwards and to the left. On a narrow ledge of the wall of the compound that reached in deep under the overhanging thatched roof sat a bushbaby (or South African galago). We two primates were each rooted to the spot, neither one of us wishing to startle the other further.

I backed off slowly, all the while whispering to Jacqui to come closer to have a look. With a few bounds, the bushbaby pinged along the wall and vanished up the closest buffalo-thorn jujube. Gone!

At lunchtime two days later, I heard a family of grey go-away-birds sounding their alarm from the top of one of the buffalo-thorn jujubes close to the compound. I approached slowly, knowing and trusting my experience with these birds. Something was up. With binoculars, I scanned every nook and cranny, every cluster of leaves of those trees. There, hidden amongst a dense clump of foliage and protected by a patch of mistletoe was the bushbaby, fast asleep on a branch in a patch of sunlight in the middle of the day!


This image is Copyrighted © Berndt Weissenbacher/BeKaHaWe. If you like it, you may share this image as presented here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0). NO OTHER USE OF THIS IMAGE is permitted without the express consent of the photographer.


My capers over the next quarter of an hour must have seemed comical – luckily, the only witnesses were my chuckling wife, a family of go-away-birds and a slumbering bushbaby. With deliberate but very careful movements, I managed to fetch and lean an extendable ladder against the main trunk of the tree in which the bushbaby was resting. With one hand free to cling to the ladder, the other hand cradling my camera and telephoto lens, I crept up the rickety support strut-by-strut.

Standing on the wobbly ladder 10 m above the ground, I cradled the topmost, pipe-like rung of the ladder in the crook of my left elbow. This allowed my left hand to support the barrel of the long lens that I intended to use. My right hand clutched the camera. By leaning out backwards, away from my support, I could hold onto the ladder and keep my camera's lens stable at the same time. This was not the safest way to photograph wildlife.


This image is Copyrighted © Berndt Weissenbacher/BeKaHaWe. If you like it, you may share this image as presented here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0). NO OTHER USE OF THIS IMAGE is permitted without the express consent of the photographer.


I knew at the time that any images I could get would not be great photographs; however, they would be my first images of a bushbaby taken during daylight hours. I took the first shot. Immediately the bushbaby opened its eyes. It shifted its body weight ever so slightly, getting ready to leap out of harm’s way. I only snapped another three photographs. I did not want to disturb the visitor to the compound. Obviously the dense foliage of the trees and the overhanging thatched roof provided a rare patch of protection in the otherwise parched and leafless, exposed bushveld. As slowly and quietly as I could, I retreated down the ladder.

Back home, once the slide films had been processed, I showed the images to my wife. Until very recently Jacqui had been a teacher of Afrikaans at secondary school level. She asked if she could use the photographs to teach her junior pupils about body parts and their functions. That night I composed a very short slideshow on my laptop for Jacqui's junior classes and gave her a copy. Then I promptly forgot about it.


This image is Copyrighted © Berndt Weissenbacher/BeKaHaWe. If you like it, you may share this image as presented here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0). NO OTHER USE OF THIS IMAGE is permitted without the express consent of the photographer.


Fast forward to the beginning of 2019. By then two delightful little rascals, Jacqui's grandsons, had joined the family and were of an age at which story-time had become an integral part of their daily routine. I have always taken great delight in teaching young children about the bush. One night, discussing with Jacqui how we could enthuse the little people with a sense of admiration and awe about the wilderness and its inhabitants, Jacqui mentioned the slideshow.


This image is Copyrighted © Berndt Weissenbacher/BeKaHaWe. If you like it, you may share this image as presented here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0). NO OTHER USE OF THIS IMAGE is permitted without the express consent of the photographer.


The next morning I trawled through my collection of wildlife images. Since that August in 2008, I have had a few other occasions to photograph bushbabies. I decided that I could write a short story, posing as a bushbaby and asking the littlies to identify the narrator of the story from clues that I would pepper throughout the short riddle.

Within a week I had written and illustrated the first Afrikaans story, My Naam is Galago moholi – Wie is Ek? (My Name is Galago moholi – Who am I?). Over the remainder of 2019 and the first three months of this year, this first mini-project morphed into a five-part series – in Afrikaans and then translated into English – on the more common African animals.


This image is Copyrighted © Berndt Weissenbacher/BeKaHaWe. If you like it, you may share this image as presented here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0). NO OTHER USE OF THIS IMAGE is permitted without the express consent of the photographer.


Every book in the series contains 14 riddles, each narrated by one of Africa’s iconic animal species or a group of animals. Each book asks the young (and not so young) reader to identify six mammals, five birds, a group of reptiles and two groups of insects (except for Series 3 in which spiders replace one of the groups of insects). My own photographic images (slightly modified) illustrate each riddle – each book in the series contains a minimum of 162 photographs.


This image is Copyrighted © Berndt Weissenbacher/BeKaHaWe. If you like it, you may share this image as presented here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0). NO OTHER USE OF THIS IMAGE is permitted without the express consent of the photographer.


Thus a very brief encounter in the bushveld of South Africa many years ago led to the birth and maturation of a five-part series of children’s books, with 70 stories and 818 photographs in total, and available in two languages:

Wie is Ek? Wie is Ons? – Diere van Afrika Stel vir Jou Raaiseltjies

Who am I? Who are We? – Short Riddles Posed by African Animals

To find these books at your favourite eBook seller, follow the link



*    For the purists, I do know that Africa’s ‘Acacia’ species now have been assigned to the genera Vachellia and Senegalia; however, I still call them acacias – just to irritate any Australians, who, as a nation, have pilfered the name that rightfully belongs to Africa’s most iconic trees.

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