we got naked and barefoot in the desert for a week
here's what happened
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Hello, loved ones! We just came back from a week in the South African desert, where we danced our hearts out and saw with our own eyes what goes on at the strange, magical place that is AfrikaBurn. Here are some Lessons We Learned, and Very Important Tips for anyone else who tests the waters (or the dust, more accurately) for themselves. And if you’re like, WTF is AfrikaBurn?!, scroll down for the lowdown!
AfrikaBurn, in a sentence: a place where you can let your freak flag fly.
Over the course of the week, we witnessed grandpas in lingerie; Spanish men with bright-green beards; couples dressed head-to-toe as penguins; grown men in ballgowns; women bopping around in their birthday suits. There were lots of butts. We stripped down for a human car wash, where strangers sponged and soaped us until we sparkled; we queued for pancakes; we stumbled upon an impromptu jazz concert; we stood silent in a wooden temple to the stars. We danced. We laughed. We (well, I) definitely cried.
We marveled at how all these human bodies, in their states of flamboyant dress and brazen undress, weren’t at all sexualized but instead celebrated and normalized. When surrounded by a naked circle of strangers sprinting joyous, triumphant laps around a blazing, house-sized wooden heart, you stop blushing and averting your eyes and instead strip down and join in because it’s fun and liberating and ridiculous.
One week in the desert helped erode years of shame that most of us are taught to feel about our naked bodies, and replaced it with a simple revelation: they’re just….bodies. They’re wobbly and flappy and kind of weird and mostly beautiful. Lesson one: EMBRACE THE NUDITY!
Another absurdity: for one whole week, our phones were left for dead — literally — in the car. There is no cell service in Tankwa Karoo National Park. With my film camera on photo duty, I forgot about my phone.
At home, I struggle to last an hour without it: what am I supposed to do in line? At a lull in conversation? When visited by the faintest itch of boredom?!! But immediacy is a core principle of AfrikaBurn, and that meant being completely present where we were, with who we were. We woke up with the sun and slept when our feet wore out from dancing. We said hello to everyone we passed, and meant it, often becoming entangled in conversation with strangers that quickly became friends. We were constantly, pleasantly occupied: washing dishes, giving massages, discovering artwork, making breakfast, staring up at the sky (and yes, this counts). I didn’t miss my phone at all. Lesson two: EMBRACE THE PHONE NUDITY!
In Tankwa Town, not only were our phones irrelevant; our money was no good, either. We were responsible for our own food, water, and shelter. And though supported by a lovely community, we were the sole proprietors of our own experiences. Different moments called for summoning strength or setting boundaries, like cooking dinner for 50 when all we wanted was sleep, or forgoing a night of adventures to rest. The week was intense, bizarre, and often uncomfortable — which is exactly what made it fertile ground for growth. So, lesson three: EMBRACE YOUR INNER STRENGTH!
In Tankwa Town, we were joined by kids and retirees, hippies and executives: a human rainbow of accents, heights, hair colors. But united by the principle of radical inclusivity, to approach someone new was to be welcomed with open arms. This felt wonderfully different to life at home, where those around me feel more closed off — glued to our screens, preoccupied with our own personal dramas, or exhausted from getting through the day. Despite sharing a deep need to connect, maybe it feels easier to stay within our invisible, individual walls.
But we can still gift each other with connection in small ways: exchanging stories, holding the door, helping with grocery bags. We can seek the wisdom of different experiences, opinions, and friendships. Opening up is not always easy, but it is possible — and super worth it. Lesson four: (stop being a grouch and) EMBRACE YOUR FELLOW HUMANS!
This brings me to the mind-expanding effects of the Burn. Out here, one stops asking “why?” and starts asking “why not?!!!” Hence the eccentric outfits, kooky activities, and gorgeous, handmade, yet short-lived artwork. I’m still figuring out what the massive, burning sculptures mean to me. I think they symbolize the impermanence of, well, everything. You. Me. This planet. This moment. This newsletter.
The existence of all of these things is both miraculous and mundane. It’s fleeting, and it offers a glimpse into eternity. When the sculpture burns, a beautiful thing is lost, but a different beautiful thing takes its place: a silent swirl of embers. Crackling flames that lick a midnight sky. The magic of one matter transforming into another.
Maybe that’s what it’s all about. It means everything, and it means nothing. It’s temporary and it’s also forever. Whatever it is, we might as well sit back and enjoy. (Or run around naked…because why NOT?!)
Our week in the desert showed us how it feels to be truly cared for by community. It taught us new ways of existing. We attended a workshop on jealousy and insecurity led by a polyamorist; I joined a circle of women to celebrate the female form with clay art. During a magic mushroom ceremony, Osgur felt as if he had become the human embodiment of empathy; for me, they opened new doors to openness and vulnerability. We experimented with breathwork, sound baths, meditation. We marveled at how we could feel so much love and life in the desert, an environment so otherwise hostile and extreme. So, lesson five: EMBRACE THE MAGIC OF AN OPEN MIND!
Now that our Burn virginities (burnginities?) have been taken, we enthusiastically recommend AfrikaBurn to anyone seeking to laugh out loud, challenge themselves, expand their horizons, meet wonderfully outlandish people, and and/or embark on a journey of personal discovery. There is a whole world of ephemeral artwork and beautiful chaos out there. Don’t take my word for it — go see it for yourself!
Love,
Eden
AFRIKABURN SURVIVAL + THRIVAL TIPS
Bring 5 liters of water per person per day. No joke. It’s the desert, ya know?
Adorn everything with lights! Once night falls, you’ll be visible and dance floor ready.
Bring portable shade. It’s the desert, ya know?! Hats, sunglasses, scarves. We also really wished we had parasols.
Bikes! Discover far-away art instillations and hidden camps. Definitely adorn with lights.
Electrolytes and multivitamins. We drank these every morning, and even after a week of hardcore frolicking, felt amazing: no dusty coughs or sore throats!
Score some sturdy dancin’ shoes. I love being barefoot, and that’s fine around camp, but out in the dirt, we almost stepped on a tiny venomous snake, and it’s kind of spiky and dry and hot out there...it’s the desert, ya know?!! For dancing and exploring, I recommend comfy boots or sneakers.
Gift some goodies. There is a culture of gifting at Burning Man, and gifts can be anything: mini chocolates, songs, oranges, love notes, stickers, Polaroid photos, a hug, a bike ride, lottery tickets (brilliant, I know). Get creative!
P.S. Burning Man is an annual event celebrating “community, art, self-expression, and self-reliance” in Nevada’s Black Rock City. Since its 1991 BRC debut, it has exploded from 250 initial participants to 87,000 attendees last year. The crowd has grown to include celebrities, influencers, and Silicon Valley tech titans among Burning Man’s more traditional milieu of bohemian free spirits and creatives.
There are smaller, regional Burns — like AfrikaBurn— around the world guided by the same 10 principles:
radical inclusion
gifting
decommodification
radical self-reliance
radical self-expression
communal effort
civic responsibility
leaving no trace
participation
immediacy
Some liken these regional events to the Burning Man of yore, lesser known to a minority of attendees whose participatory integrity is compromised by a desire to party, network, and see and be seen (like Paris Hilton, for example).
P.P.S. While South Africa is a beautiful and spiritual place, it possesses a painful and complicated past. As tourists coming to enjoy ourselves at an event like AfrikaBurn, we should be aware of its geographic — and therefore cultural, political, and historical — context. I’m reading Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom to better understand South Africa’s struggle to end Apartheid, and what we can do moving forward to create a radically inclusive world beyond the Burn. (I also recommend Trevor Noah’s Born a Crime for a more light-hearted, yet informative, read.)
I can relate perhaps somewhat with the euphoria you may have felt with unbridled welcome and love you felt from strangers. In the past few years I have been periodically immersed in social situations when I had scant knowledge of the culture and no knowledge of the language (My fault perhaps). Yet I was welcomed and made to feel part of the family. And even though not knowing a word of what was said I could and can take pleasure in the raucous conversation and the uproarious guffaws that follow the telling of a funny story or appreciate the familial empathy and love present in a more sober conversation.
Loved your beautiful stories, full of love & wisdom. Your sense of humor & flawless writing were so refreshing. So happy for you to be able to experiment all these new adventures with Osgur. Love u endlessly🩷🩵