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Further stories from the San on the sun, moon and stars...

The moon, say the Bushmen, is really an old shoe belonging to Mantis, who lost it while running errands for the gods. As it rises early summer evenings, it is red with the red dust of the Kalahari, and cold like old leather.

They also say the sun is jealous of the moon when it is full, as it is a challenge to the sun's brightness. So with its sharp rays the sun cuts bits off the moon, until there is just a little left and the old moon cries, 'Oh! Oh! leave a little backbone for the children!' Then the sun goes away, and soon the moon starts growing back, little by little, to its normal size and the process starts all over again. 

There are also some who say, when the moon was hollow and young, she is weighed down with the spirits of the dead which she carries; clouds that pass are really the hair of the dead, and the wind blows to sweep the footprints of the dead from the sand.

The Bushmen believe that the world was made by the spirits which are all around them.

Whatever tale they tell comes from within them, and as Chrigi of the San Clan says, 'There is always a dream, dreaming us!'

Without a story, a Bushman is without a home.