Homo Naledi Is Not Supposed To Exist, Yet It Does

Imagine walking into a cave so dark, so deep, that no light has touched it in thousands of years. You're probably the only human ever to have walked there from a historical standpoint. Or at least you thought so. But then, you start to notice something strange on the ground. Something that closely resembles bones. Dozens of them. Not animals. Not apes. But humans. But as you're about to discover, these bones belong to a hominin species we thought never even existed in the first place. At least not according to our timelines. Not according to our brains. Not according to the clean, linear story we've told ourselves about how we came into existence. We've got plenty of tales narrating humanity's origins, from the myth of Adam and Eve, to scientifically grounded explanations. Still, the very existence of this being fits in none of them. This is the story of Homo Naledi, a human ancestor with the hands of a climber, the brain of a chimpanzee, and the mind of... maybe something more. In 2013, South Africa, Maropeng, close to Johannesburg, two cavers exploring the Rising Star cave system stumbled into a narrow vertical shaft, barely 20 centimeters wide in some places. Past this small corridor was a chamber filled with bones. But as they came into this part of the cave, they soon realized these weren't animal remains. They were human-like. And there were a lot of them. So the scientists called in reinforcements. A team of six female-only paleoanthropologists, all small enough to fit through the claustrophobic cave system, were lowered down and began excavating. What they found was beyond anyone's expectations. The Rising Star cave ended up becoming the largest bone gathering ever unearthed in Africa to this day. 15 individuals. That's what they found. 15 individuals over 1,500 bone fragments, representing a species nobody had ever seen before. They called it Homo Naledi. Naledi meaning star in the Sotho language, after the cave where it was found. But this wasn't a star rising. It was a ghost from the shadows of our evolutionary past that we were yet to examine. And to be honest, it only ended up in more questions to answer to. First, let's focus on the remains themselves. Homo Naledi didn't quite fit the script of the hominins. It had long, curved fingers, perfect for swinging through trees, similar to monkeys, but its wrists and thumbs? Surprisingly human, built for precise, controlled movement. The thumbs were robust, the palms strong, capable of gripping tools, even if no tools were found with them. The hands are basically a paradox, climbing hands with a craftsman's grip. Its arms were long, almost disproportionately so, suggesting strong climbing capabilities, but its legs told a different story. These were striders legs, long femurs, human-like knees, feet with well-developed arches, upright walkers, no doubt. The toes were slightly curved, hinting at a retained ability to grasp, maybe for balance, maybe for climbing. But the rest of the foot was unmistakably designed for bipedal locomotion. The spine too was curved in the way ours is, that signature S-shape we associate with upright posture. And then there's the ribcage, conical and flared like that of Australopithecus, more ape-like than human, possibly housing a larger gut suited for digesting raw plant matter or fibrous foods. The pelvis matched the same pattern, wide, flared, primitive. Not like ours, more like something out of the deeper past, closer to Lucy than to us. But then there's the skull, the biggest puzzle of all, and we're still trying to solve it. The cranial capacity, shockingly small, between 465 and 610 cubic centimeters, that's one-third the size of a human brain. Smaller even than some chimpanzees. And yet, the shape of the skull was deceptively modern, rounded in ways that suggested advanced development. The frontal and parietal regions, areas associated with planning, decision-making, possibly even symbolic thinking, were more developed than you'd expect for a creature with such a small brain. Its face was a mixture of old and new, a pronounced brow ridge, sloping forehead, no chin. But the teeth, surprisingly modern, small molars, simple roots, no sign of heavy chewing or dietary specialization. The jaw sat somewhere between primitive and advanced. Sturdy, but not massive, more early homo than ape, size-wise, they were small. Adults stood around 1.44 to 1.50 meters tall, roughly 4 feet 8 inches to 4 feet 11 inches, and weighed about 40 to 50 kilograms. And curiously, unlike many of our extinct cousins, homo naledi showed low sexual dimorphism. Males and females were roughly the same size, suggesting a social structure that might have been more cooperative than hierarchical. But where homo naledi truly gets interesting is in the realm of physical performance, strength, endurance, and raw capacity. Based on bone morphology and muscle attachment sites, their grip strength has been estimated at 70 to 90 kilograms of force per hand. That's well beyond the average modern human's grip strength, which usually falls between 45 and 55 kilograms. In fact, homo naledi likely matched or even exceeded elite modern rock climbers and gymnasts in this metric, putting them on par with pound-for-pound primate strength levels, just below chimpanzees, who can exhibit grip forces two to three times stronger than us. Their upper body strength was equally impressive. Based on estimated muscle torque and shoulder architecture, their peak pulling force likely reached around 400 to 500 newtons. In human terms, that's the kind of strength needed to do multiple pull-ups with added weight, or to scale vertical surfaces using only upper body power. They could almost certainly lift their own body weight vertically and repeatedly, which makes sense for a species still adapted to navigating steep, rocky terrain and potentially dense forest canopies. When it came to carrying loads, homo naledi was no slouch either. They could likely manage 20 to 30 percent of their body weight, somewhere around 10 to 15 kilograms, over distance. That's the equivalent of a modern backpacker or a mountain porter, but with fewer brakes and greater terrain versatility. It's important to note that these estimates aren't just theoretical. They're grounded in biomechanical modeling drawn from fossils, primate comparisons, and the performance of modern small-bodied endurance athletes. And speaking of endurance, homo naledi wasn't just strong, they were built to last. Their VO2 max, a measure of aerobic capacity, is estimated to fall in the range of 50 to 55 milliliters per kilogram per minute. For reference, a sedentary modern adult averages around 35. Recreational athletes hover around 50 to 60, while elite marathoners and cyclists may reach 70 or even 80 plus. So while naledi wouldn't compete in the Tour de France, they would very likely outperform the average modern human in an endurance hike over uneven terrain, especially with a load on their back and limited food. Their daily walking range was also impressive. Anatomical studies of their suggest they could comfortably travel 15 to 25 kilometers per day, equivalent to the daily range of modern-day hunter-gatherers like the Hadza or Kung people. In contrast, most modern sedentary humans walk less than five kilometers daily. In other words, homo naledi could easily cover four to five times the ground we typically do today, and they did it without hiking boots, Gore-Tex, or ergonomic hydration packs. Despite all this output, their metabolic needs were relatively modest. Their smaller body size and slower developmental pace meant their basal metabolic rate, the number of calories needed at rest, was likely between 1,100 and 1,300 calories per day. Factoring in movement, foraging, and climbing, their total daily energy expenditure likely hovered between 1,800 and 2,300 calories per day. That's about the same as a moderately active adult human, but used far more efficiently. Naledi could run lean on calories, making them highly resilient in times of scarcity. And thanks to their large gut volume, suggested by the flared ribcage, they could likely digest tough, fibrous plant material, raw tubers, maybe even insects or bark. They didn't need cooked food to survive, though recent evidence from Rising Star Cave does hint at possible fire use. Either way, they were metabolic survivors, capable of handling low nutrient diets that would wear down a modern stomach. They wouldn't beat you in a sprint. They wouldn't win a decathlon. But they'd out-climb, out-hike, and outlast most of us, day after day, on rough terrain with fewer calories and less rest. It's as if evolution pulled traits from every chapter of our story, some from the deep past, others from the future, and stitched them together into one strange, resilient body. And the real kicker? As carbon dating would soon reveal, this wasn't a relic from two million years ago. This wasn't a prototype. This was something else entirely. A small-brained, tree-climbing, tool-capable, upright walker with chimp-like strength, hunter-like endurance, and a calorie footprint lower than a school kid, living not in some forgotten corner of the past, but right alongside us. A ghost of deep time, hiding in the age of modern humans. Here's where things get really strange. The Dinaledi Chamber, the room where most of these remains were found, is deep, very deep into the cave. To get there, you need to navigate a jagged, vertical chute called the Superman Crawl, because only someone skinny enough to slide through with one arm forward can make it. Imagine these people weren't equipped like we are now, so they most probably did it in the dark, or at best with torches, which is very far from ideal to navigate such a narrow space. There's no light down there, no running water, no sign of predator activity or natural disasters that could have moved the bones, and no other animals were found. Just Homo Naledi. So how did all these individuals end up in the same, remote, lightless chamber? The most plausible explanation? They were placed there, by other Homo Naledi. With purpose. In other words, they were burying their dead. And not just once. The remains represent multiple individuals from different times. This wasn't random. It was ritual. It was intention. Because you don't move people into such a space without them being most probably dead. But that raises another question. If Homo Naledi had brains this small, how could they possibly understand death? Let alone develop ritual behavior? Until this discovery, scientists believed only large-brained humans, like Neanderthals or Homo Sapiens, had the cognitive horsepower for symbolic thought. And actually, scientists weren't even sure that Neanderthals were capable of such symbolism. But Homo Naledi challenges that assumption. Maybe brain size wasn't everything. Maybe how the brain was wired mattered more. And maybe it still matters more. Even today, some animal species exhibit signs of grief, social memory, or even rudimentary mourning. Elephants revisit the bones of their dead as soon as they get the chance, or at anniversary dates or time periods. Crows gather and watch silently when one of their own dies, like a final guard of honor. Could Homo Naledi have possessed some form of early spirituality? Or were they simply disposing of corpses, instinctively avoiding disease? We don't know. Unfortunately, no sign of paintings or long-lasting traces of other types of rituals were found in the Dinaledi part of the cave. But either answer changes how we see ourselves. It redefines the boundaries of what's actually a human, or more precisely, a hominin. Because if creatures with such tiny brains could navigate deep cave systems and return repeatedly to a hidden burial site, then intelligence isn't what we thought it was. It was actually much more developed. But we're not quite done yet on the surprises. Here's the real kicker. For years, scientists believed that, for sure, these fossils must be ancient. Because even presenting modern human traits, a good part of it still was close to our ape relatives. Maybe two million years old, from a time when many primitive species still roamed Africa. But in 2017, dating techniques delivered a shocking and unexpected revelation. The bones were just 236,000 to 335,000 years old. In evolutionary terms, that's yesterday. To be more precise, during that time period, Earth was home to four more Homo species, aside from Homo sapiens and Dinaledi. Sapiens and Dinaledi were actually contemporary, as our earliest direct ancestors were dated back to 300,000 years ago, found in Morocco on the site of Jebel Irhoud, while Dinaledi could have survived up till 236,000 years ago. To add to the astonishing news, they actually were on the same continent. Not somewhere else like Neanderthals or Denisovans, mostly present in Europe and Asia. While our ancestors were crafting tools, painting cave walls, and beginning the long journey toward civilization, Homo naledi was still climbing trees and placing their dead in caves. The implications are massive. What if other evolutionary paths would have been possible for us? What would have been of Naledi if given enough time? In any case, it's clear now that we weren't alone. Other human species weren't just ancient relics. They were much closer than what we initially thought. Neighbors, really. For decades, the human origin story was a straight ladder, one step to the next. First Lucy, who belongs to Australopithecus afarensis, then Homo habilis, to Homo erectus, possibly Heidelbergensis, to us. But the truth? It happens to be a forest more than a straight path. A mess. A beautiful chaos. Multiple human species existed at the same time. They weren't before us. They were with us. And Homo naledi throws fuel on that fire. He's not the only one in this case. Erectus survived well past Homo sapiens' first signs of appearance on this planet. But what's really surprising here is the build of Naledi. It has very archaic characteristics, almost monkey-like. If such a species survived until just 250,000 years ago, then how many others walked alongside us, unnoticed in the shadows? We already know about Neanderthals and Denisovans. But could there be more, species we haven't even found yet? In this case, what happened to all of these? Are they actually the foundations of some of our weirdest psychological mechanisms, such as the famous Uncanny Valley? Back then, did we mix with them, or did we have a reason to fear the ones resembling us? But not exactly. Our planet has countless caves, valleys, and layers of rock that remain unexplored. We may just be scratching the surface of our family tree. But back to Naledi, what happened? The truth is, like in most cases, we don't know. There's no evidence of violence, no catastrophic event, no clue in the fossils. Maybe they were out-competed, pushed out by more adaptable, tool-savvy humans, like us, Heidelbergensis, Erectus. Maybe climate change slowly cut off their food supply or habitats, as forests tended to slowly retreat more inland. Or maybe, just maybe, they interbred, to the point of being fully absorbed into other human populations. It's not unheard of. We know modern humans carry DNA from Neanderthals and Denisovans, which definitely implies interbreeding. Could there be traces of Homo Naledi in us? It's a possibility, as 80% of our DNA is kind of, well, uncoded. We just don't know what it does and what its purpose is. There's even a notion that estimates that we're all composed of phantom ancient hominin DNA. It's estimated up to 10 to 20% in some populations, but fragmented and often untraceable. So far, we haven't found any genetic material on this part, though. But the bones were discovered in an environment not ideal for DNA preservation. We're still looking, and science makes progress every day. And if one day we do find a match, it would mean that the species that shouldn't have existed never really left. We like to believe we're unique, and there's a lot to prove that. From each person's own desire and need for individuality, to large-scale systems like religion suggesting man has a special place in this universe, through geocentrism, for example. That our intelligence, our rituals, our empathy, those are what set us apart from the rest of the animal world, and even from our cousins. But maybe those traits run deeper. Maybe they've been bubbling under the surface of evolution for longer than we knew, and we're not the only ones to have exhibited such traits. If Homo Naledi really did understand death, if they had community, memory, belief, then we're not the pinnacle of evolution. We're just one branch of a much older, more complex tree. And we carry more echoes than we think. Through the discoveries made in this cave, it's our very place in our evolutionary tree that needed to be revised. There's not one single path, and there certainly wasn't one hominin after the other on this planet. Life always finds a way, but this one was unexpected to say the least by its sheer existence and characteristics. Let's recap. In 2013, scientists discovered a mysterious set of bones in a deep, pitch-black cave in South Africa. The species? Homo Naledi, unknown to science until that moment. They had small brains, primitive features, but possibly sophisticated behaviors. They lived just 250,000 years ago, alongside early modern humans. They buried their dead in total darkness, intentionally. And they challenge everything we thought we knew about what it means to be human. The rising star cave remains quiet now, as it's been for the past 300,000 years or so, as the resting place it was chosen as by Homo Naledi, or at least one population of Naledi. But the questions it raised echo louder than ever. What if we're not the only ones who mourned? Who had an understanding of symbolism? What we thought was our advantage compared to other hominids, such as Neanderthals, maybe isn't that unique. For long, it was thought that it helped us regroup into bigger populations, building villages and actual cities over time, because we had that symbolism, culture, religion, that maintained and enabled the coexistence of so many people at the same place, even though nature didn't build us to be so packed at first. What if intelligence isn't just about the size of your skull, but the wiring of it? Kind of software over hardware? What if what matters most is the depth of your soul? As time passes by, more and more discoveries of human-like bones are made on different sites throughout the world, like the Red Deer cave people, the Denisovans, and many more we thought couldn't exist until a few years back. Homo Naledi was never supposed to exist, but it did, and now it will never be forgotten. If you're fascinated by the forgotten chapters of human and overall history, subscribe to Endling Echoes, and don't forget to hit that notification bell. Also, don't hesitate to comment on our videos, we'd love to hear more of your feedback. There's a whole world of lost species, ancient rituals, and impossible stories waiting to be uncovered. While we work on delivering them to you, keep listening to the echoes.