Victor Kühn reflects on the joys of traditional archery.

When I recently entered the realm of archery, I was confronted by the big question: compound or traditional? Monetary issues did not really enter the equation, as a well-made traditional bow and a good compound bow fall into the same price range. The second consideration was performance and accuracy. I have seen relatively inexperienced compound archers with properly-set-up bows shoot groupings that you want to take pictures of with your cellphone and send it to your friends. Traditional bows… well, that is a different story. That takes a bit of work. After subscribing to Africa's Bowhunter I looked at the gallery pictures of the hunters and realised that most ethical hunters engage their quarry at a distance of approximately 20 metres. That goes for compound and traditional hunters alike. So absolute accuracy and 30-millimetre groupings are not really an issue for an ethical hunter shooting his quarry at an acceptable distance.

Thus I was back to square one – still undecided whether to go compound or traditional. I then succumbed to one of man’s oldest vices, and probably one of the seven deadly sins: vanity. My better half and I drove through to a well-known bowyer just outside Pretoria, just to see his wares. All the necessary preparations were made for the meeting. We left our wallets and credit cards at home, to minimise the chances of an ‘impulsive’ buy. We agreed to only look at the bows and not touch, and we solemnly promised each other that we were only going to do window shopping. (After all, our money would be better spent on our bond or renovations to our house.)

Upon arrival I was dumbstruck by the beauty of the handmade bows. It is the same as seeing a really beautiful sports car, except that the vehicle feels inanimate whilst the bows felt alive. It was more like seeing a beautiful woman in a girlie magazine… and knowing you can have her if you are willing to pay. That somehow sounds dirty, but you get my drift...

All our resolutions went out the window and we ordered two bows immediately. The deciding factor was vanity. I wanted that beauty, and I wanted it tailor-made so that it works just for me, that it fits just me and shoots just for me. I wanted people to see my bow and they mustn’t just comment, they must want to touch. And it happened just as I dreamed, only better. Mr van der Merwe, the bowyer, was probably showing off when he made our bows as we were undecided whether to frame the bows or shoot them.

Well spent
After the buy we congratulated ourselves on money really well spent, and the improvement in our personal relationship was immediately evident. No more mundane afternoons and evenings staring dumbly at DSTV. We now spend most of our time in the back yard with a fire going and a roll of boerewors, whilst shooting our bows at the different butts we set up. We can now engage in a passion we share, and it is a sport we can do in our own back yard. Traditional archery doesn’t come easy. It takes a lot of practice to will your arrow towards your intended target, and to ignore the natural impulse to want to aim down the shaft. I have a small bucket with pocket-sized arrows and a pock-marked back wall that testifies to our growing pains in stick-bow archery.

I have since bought and ordered other bows from other bowyers as well, as we decided that one bow each just won’t do. And it is really not our fault. As much as you try to resist the impulse, it is impossible, because you don’t just buy a bow from a bowyer, you buy part of him as well. There is no snobbery in traditional archery. There is the feeling of pride in my possessions when I walk onto a range and people immediately greet me with comments such as: “Wow! Is that a Johnny Snyman Scythian?” Or “I recognize a Johan van der Merwe recurve! The pictures in the magazine do not do them justice! May we touch it?” There is just camaraderie and your personal bowyers who are willing to offer their advice at any time. I email Johnny Snyman more than any of my friends. That was before I even met the man. He is always ready with advice or willing to just exchange idle banter about archery.

Johnny Snyman
I recently had the pleasure and privilege to meet Mr Snyman when he passed through Pretoria. He invited me to meet him at the home of Rean Steenkamp, even though he had a tight schedule and had never met me. Upon arrival there was no need for uncomfortable introductions, we just strung our bows and attacked the 3D targets in the back yard with gusto. Rean’s wife ran into the house, made coffee and immediately started helping my girlfriend improve her shooting stance. And we were all strangers! The only thing we had in common was wooden sticks with string that shoot sharp wooden sticks. There were absolutely no degrading remarks toward the workmanship of other bowyer’s products, rather an admiration for their craft and unique style. That is unfortunately something that you will never find with a mass-produced product.

Privilege
If you one day have the privilege of holding one of these works of art, take it, fill a thermos with coffee, fill your old Peterson pipe with black shag tobacco and stuff a piece of biltong into a battered backpack along with a Swiss army knife that has nicks in the blade from too much sharpening. Nock a wooden arrow and walk into the bush. You don’t have to loose a single arrow. I guarantee you will come back more fulfilled than any hunter that has bagged a trophy. Suddenly you feel that you belong, you know peace and you also begin to understand Mr Robin Barkes’ way of life, his magazine articles and his obsession with everything rustic and natural.