Saturday, July 12, 2008
Long Time
Hey all, sorry for my lack of blogging skills as of late, but being here in SA makes anything involving internet extremely inconvenient. I have been doing well and lovign SA more and more; I hope you are all well and I promise I will get back on the blog thing soon.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
4 June 2008
Today I went to Kob Inn and Jujurha with Tata Tshawe and Linda (from the Department of Arts and Culture). These areas are about 200 kilometers away from East London in the area known as the Transkei (pronounced like tran-sky). These are the real rural areas like you wouldn’t believe. Actually these areas are probably more like what many of you might think of when you think of Africa: dirt roads, open fields, no electricity, no cars (besides the rare passer through, people from the nearest town, or government vehicles), round houses with thatched roofs (called rondavels), and many women carrying things on their heads. I went to these areas with the Tata Tshawe (my boss; his name is actually MR Dumalisile, but he himself is a Xhosa chief, so we call him by his clan name which is Tshawe and tata means father or dad in Xhosa) and Linda from the Department of Arts and Culture (both of them are Xhosa; you might not think that with a name like Linda, she would be African, but Linda is actually a Xhosa word which means “to wait”). They, and every Xhosa person I talked to about these areas, said “So, you got to see the TRUE Xhosa way of life!” The way of life in this area is the closest things to real traditional Xhosa life as you can get, and the people in this area are the “true” Xhosas, the “pure” Xhosas.
We first went to a Great Place which is the name of the place that a chief lives. We went to visit one of the area’s chiefs because he knows his stuff and is Xhosa through and through. He had a family tree that traced like four generations back from him and shows his royal lineage. He explained how the Xhosa are from the Nguni peoples and that there are three brothers that all Nguni people trace their linage back to. He said that the Xhosa come from the eldest brother (and therefore are of greater importance and have more prestige) and that the Zulu come from the second born, and the Swati from the last born. He is very proud of his heritage. In fact, as part of my research, I am asking to video tape people from the different South African tribes first convincing the camera that they belong to the tribe they identify themselves as and then to convince the camera that they belong to a different tribe (then people will watch these videos and have to guess which one is a lie and which one is truth). When I asked this chief to say he was Sotho, he got very upset and asked “Why woul anyone say they are something they are not?” he explained to me that as the chief, he represents the whole Xhosa people and is a place of reference for what is pure Xhosa tradition and to even say he is something else (even in this context) would delegitimize him in front of his people and his leadership would be put into question. I apologized and we moved on, but I learned a lot about the important role that chiefs play (especially in rural South Africa).
When we left, we saw a lot of elderly women gathering together, and Tata told me that they we waiting for the government truck to come and give them their pension (which is R900 per month or about $120). We came across a car that was unloading four women, and one women was walking on all fours and all of us were heart broken. She must have broken her back sometime in life and can only get around by walking on all fours. So Tata said we should give them a lift to meant the government truck. That was my first insight into the fact that life is so much more difficult here. This women could not get proper medical attention (and cannot afford it anyway) but is making due with what life has thrown her.
We went further into Kob Inn and met a group of people that Tata knew (he is originally from this area) and had organized for me to include in my research. Now, I had explained my research to Tata, but there must have been a communication breakdown somewhere along the way (as there so often is for me here J). In the videos I am making I want people to wear there everyday clothes because if they are dressed in their traditional clothes, then their ethnic identity is automatically given away. He thought I wanted videos and pictures of traditional dances and clothing and traditional life (which I do want but are not part of my formal research project). Now I felt I needed to explain things to him, so as to avoid further miscommunications because we were planning to meet more people to help me with my research. It got quite heated because as I explained, Tata said “But people overseas must know our traditional clothes and way of life.” He did not understand that I wanted to film to videos in order to show other South Africans, not Americans. So, I was saying I wanted them to wear their everyday, more “western clothes” for my videos, and he and the people were saying they wanted to wear their traditional clothes. So, it sounded like I was saying they must dress as I want them to because it is more like me which is not what I was trying to say. That was the first episode that made me feel a little bit crappy because do want to know and understand their culture (that is why I am here), but I also need these videos to be done properly. So I suggested that I take some with and some without, but I think the damage had already been done.
Then, we chose a few people to do the videos, and it was a challenge. These people in this area did not have the luxury of school, so they are all “uneducated” in the formal sense and cannot speak English. Now, to keep the videos fare and controlled, I have to have the people (no matter what their tribe) speak English in parts of the videos. So, we began to coach them in how to say certain things, and some never quite got it, but we made due with what we had. So, in the midst of all of this, I thought to myself: “Self, would you be able to do this same thing if someone came and asked you to do it in Xhosa?” and the answer is NO, I could not do it. So, what gives me the right to ask them to do this for me? I was not necessarily harming these people in any way, but I felt very neo-colonial in my relationship to these people; let me explain. A white man comes in (and a get immediate respect because I am American and white in this remote area, I do not ask for or deserve this respect, but I get it none the less) with the government and tells people that they must wear their western clothes and speak English. Against the backdrop of apartheid that these people are coming from in which African culture was demonized and western culture glorified, my position there was anything but what I wanted it to be. I really really hope that I did not have a negative effect on these people, and I hope that they understand that I really do have a great respect for them, their culture, and their way of life. The last thing I want to be associated with is colonialism, and yet I found myself playing that role.
I did not get to take many “cultural” pictures, because by the time I was done doing the videos, everyone else was drunk. Unfortunately, drinking away ones sorrows is a principle that has even touched this part of the world.
We proceeded to Jujurha (pronounced jew-jew-gha where the gha here represents that guttural g that is so common in German and Dutch) where things got a little bit better. Tata Tshawe and the Heritage office (which is the branch within the Dept of A&C that I work with and he is the manager of) has adopted the Jujurha Women’s Heritage and Development Project by trying to give them a little bit of funding. They are promoting these women’s independence and self-reliance by providing resources for these women to further develop their bead-working skills and sell the items they make in order to create income for themselves. We went to visit these ladies so that I could get a few more videos and so that Linda to give them a report of what is happening from the offices’ side and what they can expect from the office. These women are amazing! They we so kind and friendly, and even though they spoke about as much English as I speak Xhosa (which is next to none, but two ladies did speak really good English), we still had a great time and I could feel their appreciation for me being there, and I feel they could feel my appreciation for them allowing me to come and visit them.
When I entered the house, there were dried corn cobs hanging from the rafters, and Tata told me that people here do this so that people that come into the house know that they people staying here are farmers. Then, we moved to the rondavel and sat in there, so I could do the videos. We had fun while I filmed the videos and they laughed when I spoke a few Xhosa words here and there. They showed me all their bead work they had done and even dressed me up in a bunch of it which again got lots of laughs and hopefully showed my willingness to learn about their culture). Then Linda gave her report, Tata gave thanks on my behalf (which I was very grateful for; it really pained me that I could not properly express myself and my gratitude for all they had done for me), and they had prepared a great meal for us. I did not do much of anything for them and did not spend a whole lot of time with them. They gave me a great meal and helped me see how women survive in this harsh environment that is rural life in South Africa. I know that we all grew so much. They were grateful for my visit and that I had come so far and had the opportunity to visit them, and I feel blessed to have been shown such great love and to have the opportunity to be a part of their lives for a short moment. They are inspiring and show me the power of the human soul to love and push forward in the face of so many challenges. I wish I could explain to you how difficult life really is here is the rural areas (it sucks), but these people push forward the live life and love it and do the best they can with what they have been given. I take too much for granted that is for sure, but that is only the first step . . . what am I going to do to stop taking these things for granted? That is the real question! There is a great different between realizing my unearned privileges and actually taking the steps to refuse these privileges.
I hope I do not sound like a romanticist and I really hope that I do not present these things in a manner that makes them out to be hokey. I hope that I present these issues and people in a proper light that can help in some small way.
Oh and on the way home, we stopped and met . . . guess who? . . . Thabo Mbeki (who is the current president of South Africa), we met Thabo Mbeki’s mom, she is sooo sweet, I will try to post her picture soon.
Rural South African life is unbearably heavy; and once again colonialism shows its ugly face but this time through me . . .
We first went to a Great Place which is the name of the place that a chief lives. We went to visit one of the area’s chiefs because he knows his stuff and is Xhosa through and through. He had a family tree that traced like four generations back from him and shows his royal lineage. He explained how the Xhosa are from the Nguni peoples and that there are three brothers that all Nguni people trace their linage back to. He said that the Xhosa come from the eldest brother (and therefore are of greater importance and have more prestige) and that the Zulu come from the second born, and the Swati from the last born. He is very proud of his heritage. In fact, as part of my research, I am asking to video tape people from the different South African tribes first convincing the camera that they belong to the tribe they identify themselves as and then to convince the camera that they belong to a different tribe (then people will watch these videos and have to guess which one is a lie and which one is truth). When I asked this chief to say he was Sotho, he got very upset and asked “Why woul anyone say they are something they are not?” he explained to me that as the chief, he represents the whole Xhosa people and is a place of reference for what is pure Xhosa tradition and to even say he is something else (even in this context) would delegitimize him in front of his people and his leadership would be put into question. I apologized and we moved on, but I learned a lot about the important role that chiefs play (especially in rural South Africa).
When we left, we saw a lot of elderly women gathering together, and Tata told me that they we waiting for the government truck to come and give them their pension (which is R900 per month or about $120). We came across a car that was unloading four women, and one women was walking on all fours and all of us were heart broken. She must have broken her back sometime in life and can only get around by walking on all fours. So Tata said we should give them a lift to meant the government truck. That was my first insight into the fact that life is so much more difficult here. This women could not get proper medical attention (and cannot afford it anyway) but is making due with what life has thrown her.
We went further into Kob Inn and met a group of people that Tata knew (he is originally from this area) and had organized for me to include in my research. Now, I had explained my research to Tata, but there must have been a communication breakdown somewhere along the way (as there so often is for me here J). In the videos I am making I want people to wear there everyday clothes because if they are dressed in their traditional clothes, then their ethnic identity is automatically given away. He thought I wanted videos and pictures of traditional dances and clothing and traditional life (which I do want but are not part of my formal research project). Now I felt I needed to explain things to him, so as to avoid further miscommunications because we were planning to meet more people to help me with my research. It got quite heated because as I explained, Tata said “But people overseas must know our traditional clothes and way of life.” He did not understand that I wanted to film to videos in order to show other South Africans, not Americans. So, I was saying I wanted them to wear their everyday, more “western clothes” for my videos, and he and the people were saying they wanted to wear their traditional clothes. So, it sounded like I was saying they must dress as I want them to because it is more like me which is not what I was trying to say. That was the first episode that made me feel a little bit crappy because do want to know and understand their culture (that is why I am here), but I also need these videos to be done properly. So I suggested that I take some with and some without, but I think the damage had already been done.
Then, we chose a few people to do the videos, and it was a challenge. These people in this area did not have the luxury of school, so they are all “uneducated” in the formal sense and cannot speak English. Now, to keep the videos fare and controlled, I have to have the people (no matter what their tribe) speak English in parts of the videos. So, we began to coach them in how to say certain things, and some never quite got it, but we made due with what we had. So, in the midst of all of this, I thought to myself: “Self, would you be able to do this same thing if someone came and asked you to do it in Xhosa?” and the answer is NO, I could not do it. So, what gives me the right to ask them to do this for me? I was not necessarily harming these people in any way, but I felt very neo-colonial in my relationship to these people; let me explain. A white man comes in (and a get immediate respect because I am American and white in this remote area, I do not ask for or deserve this respect, but I get it none the less) with the government and tells people that they must wear their western clothes and speak English. Against the backdrop of apartheid that these people are coming from in which African culture was demonized and western culture glorified, my position there was anything but what I wanted it to be. I really really hope that I did not have a negative effect on these people, and I hope that they understand that I really do have a great respect for them, their culture, and their way of life. The last thing I want to be associated with is colonialism, and yet I found myself playing that role.
I did not get to take many “cultural” pictures, because by the time I was done doing the videos, everyone else was drunk. Unfortunately, drinking away ones sorrows is a principle that has even touched this part of the world.
We proceeded to Jujurha (pronounced jew-jew-gha where the gha here represents that guttural g that is so common in German and Dutch) where things got a little bit better. Tata Tshawe and the Heritage office (which is the branch within the Dept of A&C that I work with and he is the manager of) has adopted the Jujurha Women’s Heritage and Development Project by trying to give them a little bit of funding. They are promoting these women’s independence and self-reliance by providing resources for these women to further develop their bead-working skills and sell the items they make in order to create income for themselves. We went to visit these ladies so that I could get a few more videos and so that Linda to give them a report of what is happening from the offices’ side and what they can expect from the office. These women are amazing! They we so kind and friendly, and even though they spoke about as much English as I speak Xhosa (which is next to none, but two ladies did speak really good English), we still had a great time and I could feel their appreciation for me being there, and I feel they could feel my appreciation for them allowing me to come and visit them.
When I entered the house, there were dried corn cobs hanging from the rafters, and Tata told me that people here do this so that people that come into the house know that they people staying here are farmers. Then, we moved to the rondavel and sat in there, so I could do the videos. We had fun while I filmed the videos and they laughed when I spoke a few Xhosa words here and there. They showed me all their bead work they had done and even dressed me up in a bunch of it which again got lots of laughs and hopefully showed my willingness to learn about their culture). Then Linda gave her report, Tata gave thanks on my behalf (which I was very grateful for; it really pained me that I could not properly express myself and my gratitude for all they had done for me), and they had prepared a great meal for us. I did not do much of anything for them and did not spend a whole lot of time with them. They gave me a great meal and helped me see how women survive in this harsh environment that is rural life in South Africa. I know that we all grew so much. They were grateful for my visit and that I had come so far and had the opportunity to visit them, and I feel blessed to have been shown such great love and to have the opportunity to be a part of their lives for a short moment. They are inspiring and show me the power of the human soul to love and push forward in the face of so many challenges. I wish I could explain to you how difficult life really is here is the rural areas (it sucks), but these people push forward the live life and love it and do the best they can with what they have been given. I take too much for granted that is for sure, but that is only the first step . . . what am I going to do to stop taking these things for granted? That is the real question! There is a great different between realizing my unearned privileges and actually taking the steps to refuse these privileges.
I hope I do not sound like a romanticist and I really hope that I do not present these things in a manner that makes them out to be hokey. I hope that I present these issues and people in a proper light that can help in some small way.
Oh and on the way home, we stopped and met . . . guess who? . . . Thabo Mbeki (who is the current president of South Africa), we met Thabo Mbeki’s mom, she is sooo sweet, I will try to post her picture soon.
Rural South African life is unbearably heavy; and once again colonialism shows its ugly face but this time through me . . .
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Ah Khululi Sizwe ("Free the Nation")
29 May 2008
So, I have started interning at the provincial department of Recreation, Sport, Arts, and Culture. My responsibilities are not quite ironed out yet (today was my first day), but that will come. I went and explained my research project to a committee within the department that is involved with the arts and culture side of things. They were very excited about my research project, and we talked about ways they could help me as well as opportunities to for me to volunteer there. So they suggested (since my research focuses on cultural identity) that I go with them to this function today.
We went off to Keiskammahoek which is about 2 hours from East London and is another rural area. The department did a presentation about the importance of museums for the high school in this town. The department of arts and culture is charged with the responsibility to preserve culture. In light of apartheid history where African culture was demonized and European culture glorified, there is much need to promote culture. In the past Africans were basically told that they and their culture and way of life was inferior and backwards, now the department has the challenge of undoing centuries of such oppression. They want Africans to love being African by understanding and preserving their culture and traditions (because under the old regime; you were nothing if you were African). So it was a really great function and presentation. There were of course cultural presentations which I have some photos and videos of. My boss, Mrs. Nokenke gave a great speech about the importance of knowing and understanding our culture because it is such an important part of who we are; she of course said it much more powerfully than I can summarize, so that will have to suffice.
When we arrived, three boys on horses greeted us at the gate, and escorted us to the tent where the function was taking place. All the students and teachers and other distinguished guests were already there (we were last to arrive; we were really going by African time, which is basically get there when you can . . . “there is no rush in Africa” as they say), so we got out of the car and were welcomed by dancing, shouting, singing, large women dressed in traditional clothes (it was great). They then escorted us through the exhibits from the East London and King Williams Town (they brought the museums to the school, well parts of them). We then went and sat down. This big entrance and production was not on my behalf thank goodness because I hate it when people make a big fuss about the American. They unfortunately had me sit with the special guests (mostly because I came with one). The MC then went through and introduced the “important” guests; I put quotes around important because this introduction included me, and she introduced me first and of course said that I was from America. Once again I just wish I could sit in the background and be a face in the crowd, but the more I am here the more I realize that that just is not going to happen.
Then later on, one of the museum directors gave a speech and said that this high school should build a close relationship with one of the high schools in Grahamstown because both schools were built by missionaries many years ago at the same time. He said they are sister schools and there is history there they should learn about. Then he turned to me and said that it is because of people like me that they have the school and that missionaries and people who care enough to come and help and learn more about how people live here have made such a huge difference in this area. And he thanked me. He also said, “I am an African, and (turning to me) you are an African.” Which of course made me extremely happy :). I at first felt very uncomfortable, but then I realized once again that I got to sit in and take the thanks for what so many other people have done. Here, I represented basically all that is good about foreign aid and development projects (and one of the only good things that came out of colonialism, but I am not sure that even these schools are entirely “good”). A huge honor that I am not worthy to take, but did rather than refuse it. The key part was his acceptance of me when he said that I was an African. For him to include me in that way meant a lot to me, and as he looked at me I felt this connection and that he wasn’t just saying that to say it (people don’t do that here), but he really meant it. I don’t know if this really makes sense, but it was really quite an experience, and I felt a connection with him and everyone there as he said those words. This might sound cheesy but it really was an amazing experience.
One other really important aspect of the day was the presence of the Chief of this area. I am not entirely familiar with how the rural area government works and how the chief relates to the civil government, but he is responsible for a huge chunk of land and people. He is greatly respected as well. One does not greet him the same as you would greet someone else because of his position; to say hello in Xhosa, you say molo, but to the chief you say kululi sizwe which means “free the nation”, which is very interesting. I do not know why they say that, but I get the feeling that it has something to do with the important role that chiefs play in liberating and protecting their people. Mrs. Nokenke (my boss at my internship with the Department of Arts and Culture) talked to the chief about my research and he was quite interested. I talked to him, and he invited me to come to his house next week to talk about his culture and everything. I am really excited and can’t wait to meet with him again.
Has anything really “good” come out of the help from the west? and what is it to be an African . . .
So, I have started interning at the provincial department of Recreation, Sport, Arts, and Culture. My responsibilities are not quite ironed out yet (today was my first day), but that will come. I went and explained my research project to a committee within the department that is involved with the arts and culture side of things. They were very excited about my research project, and we talked about ways they could help me as well as opportunities to for me to volunteer there. So they suggested (since my research focuses on cultural identity) that I go with them to this function today.
We went off to Keiskammahoek which is about 2 hours from East London and is another rural area. The department did a presentation about the importance of museums for the high school in this town. The department of arts and culture is charged with the responsibility to preserve culture. In light of apartheid history where African culture was demonized and European culture glorified, there is much need to promote culture. In the past Africans were basically told that they and their culture and way of life was inferior and backwards, now the department has the challenge of undoing centuries of such oppression. They want Africans to love being African by understanding and preserving their culture and traditions (because under the old regime; you were nothing if you were African). So it was a really great function and presentation. There were of course cultural presentations which I have some photos and videos of. My boss, Mrs. Nokenke gave a great speech about the importance of knowing and understanding our culture because it is such an important part of who we are; she of course said it much more powerfully than I can summarize, so that will have to suffice.
When we arrived, three boys on horses greeted us at the gate, and escorted us to the tent where the function was taking place. All the students and teachers and other distinguished guests were already there (we were last to arrive; we were really going by African time, which is basically get there when you can . . . “there is no rush in Africa” as they say), so we got out of the car and were welcomed by dancing, shouting, singing, large women dressed in traditional clothes (it was great). They then escorted us through the exhibits from the East London and King Williams Town (they brought the museums to the school, well parts of them). We then went and sat down. This big entrance and production was not on my behalf thank goodness because I hate it when people make a big fuss about the American. They unfortunately had me sit with the special guests (mostly because I came with one). The MC then went through and introduced the “important” guests; I put quotes around important because this introduction included me, and she introduced me first and of course said that I was from America. Once again I just wish I could sit in the background and be a face in the crowd, but the more I am here the more I realize that that just is not going to happen.
Then later on, one of the museum directors gave a speech and said that this high school should build a close relationship with one of the high schools in Grahamstown because both schools were built by missionaries many years ago at the same time. He said they are sister schools and there is history there they should learn about. Then he turned to me and said that it is because of people like me that they have the school and that missionaries and people who care enough to come and help and learn more about how people live here have made such a huge difference in this area. And he thanked me. He also said, “I am an African, and (turning to me) you are an African.” Which of course made me extremely happy :). I at first felt very uncomfortable, but then I realized once again that I got to sit in and take the thanks for what so many other people have done. Here, I represented basically all that is good about foreign aid and development projects (and one of the only good things that came out of colonialism, but I am not sure that even these schools are entirely “good”). A huge honor that I am not worthy to take, but did rather than refuse it. The key part was his acceptance of me when he said that I was an African. For him to include me in that way meant a lot to me, and as he looked at me I felt this connection and that he wasn’t just saying that to say it (people don’t do that here), but he really meant it. I don’t know if this really makes sense, but it was really quite an experience, and I felt a connection with him and everyone there as he said those words. This might sound cheesy but it really was an amazing experience.
One other really important aspect of the day was the presence of the Chief of this area. I am not entirely familiar with how the rural area government works and how the chief relates to the civil government, but he is responsible for a huge chunk of land and people. He is greatly respected as well. One does not greet him the same as you would greet someone else because of his position; to say hello in Xhosa, you say molo, but to the chief you say kululi sizwe which means “free the nation”, which is very interesting. I do not know why they say that, but I get the feeling that it has something to do with the important role that chiefs play in liberating and protecting their people. Mrs. Nokenke (my boss at my internship with the Department of Arts and Culture) talked to the chief about my research and he was quite interested. I talked to him, and he invited me to come to his house next week to talk about his culture and everything. I am really excited and can’t wait to meet with him again.
Has anything really “good” come out of the help from the west? and what is it to be an African . . .
Meat Continued
Loyiso took us to his neighbors’ home because they were also having a traditional ceremony. The purpose of the ceremony was to say farewell to one of the sisters of the family because she was going away (I don’t know where or why). When we arrived, they were in the house singing and dancing. At any time, if someone wants to say something, they can stop the singing and speak. When we arrived, they wanted to welcome us properly which meant drinking Mqombothi (traditional Xhosa beer). We told Loyiso that we don’t take alcohol and he said that it was ok, but then he asked us again because the family really wanted to welcome us into their home and this is the way they do it. For him to ask us again was huge because it showed me how important this was to the family. Loyiso suggested that we just drink a little bit or to just put the bucket (Mqombothi is always drank from a small bucket or bowl) up to our mouths. So we were faced with a moral and cultural dilemma . . . what do we do? Would pretending to drink it compromise what I stand for? Some would inevitable get on my lips, tongue, or mouth, so I would taste at least a little bit, so would this be breaking the word of wisdom? How offended would the family be if I did not drink it? And would my not drinking it reflect badly on Loyiso who has been kind enough to invite us to his home village and would it damage our friendship? So, we decided to put it up to our lips. A little bit did get down my throat and lips, but I minimized it as much as I could. I did what I thought was right and hope that Heavenly Father understands. So that was an interesting situation: the conflict between culture and religion.
We ate some more meat after that. This meat had been boiled in pots and was really tasty as well. We also got to eat ulusu (stomach and intestines) once again, and it was probably the best ulusu I have even had. Oh and we drank the gravy that came out of the pots because it is supposed to help with . . . are you ready for it . . . now just go with it because I did . . . this gravy is supposed to help with erections. For this reason, the older men always get to drink it first. The guys kept telling us we should drink it, but they also said that we should have “plans” that night because the gravy really works J. Oh traditional superstitions.
That was pretty much the general picture, but one more thing: this country is beautiful: both its people and landscape. I tried to capture its natural beauty in some pictures, but the pics did not do it justice. It was an absolutely beautiful area and I ate it all up.
How much respect do we really have and should have for culture? and God’s green earth is awe inspiring . . .
We ate some more meat after that. This meat had been boiled in pots and was really tasty as well. We also got to eat ulusu (stomach and intestines) once again, and it was probably the best ulusu I have even had. Oh and we drank the gravy that came out of the pots because it is supposed to help with . . . are you ready for it . . . now just go with it because I did . . . this gravy is supposed to help with erections. For this reason, the older men always get to drink it first. The guys kept telling us we should drink it, but they also said that we should have “plans” that night because the gravy really works J. Oh traditional superstitions.
That was pretty much the general picture, but one more thing: this country is beautiful: both its people and landscape. I tried to capture its natural beauty in some pictures, but the pics did not do it justice. It was an absolutely beautiful area and I ate it all up.
How much respect do we really have and should have for culture? and God’s green earth is awe inspiring . . .
Friday, May 30, 2008
A Few Pics
The first piture is me and the guys eating our meat, it was pretty great, and the second is the boys that were briaaing (barbequeing) the meat, those two pots are also full of meat; one cow goes a long way.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Meat, Meat, and More Meat
25 May 2008
Yesterday was an awesome day! I learned so much about so many different things, but especially about Xhosa culture. Matt, Jared, and I all went to a traditional/ancestral ceremony in the ruralvillage of Chalumna (about 60 kilometers outside East London which is the city I am staying in while in South Africa South Africa is not too different from a typical city anywhere in the US
Yesterday was an awesome day! I learned so much about so many different things, but especially about Xhosa culture. Matt, Jared, and I all went to a traditional/ancestral ceremony in the rural
Loyiso, one of the teachers at
I will first explain what happened before we arrived and then I will attempt to give you a play by play of what happened while I was there. At about 08h30 they slaughtered the cow. Now Loyiso himself did the actual slaughtering of the cow because he has been chosen by his family to officiate because he is knowledgeable about cultural customs and he is a “good” person (responsible, faithful to his wife, etc, etc; they said that someone who is not those things can not be expected to perform such a sacred work). The key to the slaughtering is that the cow bellows. If the cow does not bellow, then it means that it is not accepting to be slaughtered and that the ancestors are not accepting this sacrifice. The slaughterer has a spear and pokes the cow and if it does not bellow, then the elders must be consulted. The elders decide how to proceed; sometimes they can try to slaughter the cow another day hoping that it bellows. If the cow does bellow, then it is speared a few times, then a knife is used to cut the spinal cord and spine. Then, the neck is cut so that it can bleed out. This is all done in the family Kraal which it the most sacred place on the homestead (cows represent a very sacred part of Xhosa society: wealth, livelihood, fertility, etc; this is an extremely oversimplified explanation of the sacredness of cows in the Xhosa culture; if you want a better explanation read Milk in Baskets or A Concise History of South Africa). The cow is then immediately butchered on the spot and everything is cooked and eaten (depending on which ceremony it is, sometimes ALL of the meat must be eaten that day which is why many people are invited to come J). Some of the meat is braaied (or barbequed) and some is boiled in pots, and only salt is used to flavor the meat.
We arrived at about 11h00 and some of the meat was already cooking in pots and being braaied (all done over a fire in the Kraal of course). They walked us into the Kraal and sat us down with the elders. Loyiso came over with a plate of raw meat and said that it is custom to present each visitor with meat, and the visitor may either braai it him/herself or ask someone else to braai it for them (we decided to braai it ourselves, but actually just ended up standing near the fire while one of the younger guys braaied it, which was probably best because they know what they are doing and I probably avoided one more opportunity to make a fool of myself). The whole day was basically spent sitting around eating the meat. When our meat was done, we put it on a plate and about 10 guys all ate off of it with our hands and it was great. Honestly it was probably some of the best meat I have even had because it was so fresh; I mean the only thing fresher would be raw (the cow was living and breathing at 08h29 and at noon we were eating it). So that was the first round of meat eating . . .
As we chatted and mingled, I learned and realized a few interesting things. The elders, men, and “boys” were all in the Kraal and the women and girls were in various places outside the Kraal but in the yard. The women of the family eat in one area and then the women that married into the family ate in another area. The genders and the various familial groups were very segregated which I found to be very interesting. I asked why only men where in the Kraal, and they said that this is the man’s place and that only the women that were born into the family could enter the Kraal (so a daughter-in-law can never enter her husband’s family’s Kraal). During the day, only one or tow women came into the Kraal and the only time there was a number of females in the Kraal was when they brought in plates of food (umnuqshu, spinach, potatoes, cabbage; this food was brought at the end and we need no more meat). Traditionally, the Xhosa culture is very patrilineal (valuing the father’s side of the family more than that mother’s; for example, a first cousin on you father’s side is considered a closer relation than a first cousin on your mother’s side). Even in the urban areas, men are still waited on and women are in many cases still treated as second class citizens (which is something that bothers me very much, but I try to be understanding and culturally sensitive to the situation and do not object when I am fed before the females in the room). Ok, so I am running out of time and want to get this posted, so I will end it here for now and pick up later with the promise of pictures
Culture is sensitive and gender equality is a constant issue . . .
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Zamani Again
So we went to Zamani Day care again on Friday. There was a German couple that chose to retire here in East London and they saw in the newspaper that Zamani burned down last August, so they wanted to help out and they came today to give their gifts and Mrs Yoyo wanted us to come, and we did. It was really great, so let me see if I can paint you the correct picture.
We got there before the Germans, so we sat with the kids and the teachers and waited for them to arrive. When they arrived they started the this amazing program of singing and dancing that was their way of showing thanks to those that donated to the school. It was really amazing! The young kids did a few numbers and man one of the teachers had a voice like non-other; it was AMAZING! I don’t want to dwell on the presentation (although it was amazing) because you really have to be there to appreciate it (I should have recorded it, my bad).
There were two main lessons that I learned from this experience: what it means to represent BYU here and reciprocity.
First, let me tell you what BYU means to Mrs Yoyo. Like I said BYU students have been going thre since 2003 and between then and now a professor has kind of adopted the school and put together a fund for them (about $10,000 if I remember right). This fund has paid to rebuild the school after its numerous fires have burned portions of it. BYU, or rather this professor independently, has done a TON for the school and really if that professor and other BYU students had not done all that they have done for the school, I really doubt that the school would still be functioning. This is what BYU means to Mrs Yoyo and the parents of the kids there. And to them, I and the other students represent all of that, so this whole presentation was for us as well even though these students have only been in South Africa for a few days and never really done anything for the school and I only went there a few times last summer and helped mop the floor and butter bread. Mrs Yoyo asked me to say a few words to the parents on behalf of BYU, and I said a few words about how much of blessing it is for us to be with them and what a great example of hope and love they are to us (of course right when I sat down I thought of all the millions of things I could have said). Then a parent got up and thanked us on behalf of the parents and it took me to tears. She thanked us for all that we do and how they appreciate that we leave our families and come to them and help. She even said that she and the other parents have seen changes in the kids when the BYU students started coming. I was touched that other have done so much for these people and hoping that I can do a little something for those around me. Another interesting this happened when they gave us food. Now keep in mind that we are in an informal settlement and all the people in that room have so little, and yet they put together this huge presentation for us and gave us a full meal with meat. This is huge given what little they have and that we are eating such a nice meal in front of them. It is really uncomfortable situation but so important that we don’t refuse, and I will explain why.
It was really hard to accept thanks for something we did not do and especially when we (and the other BYUs) did not expect or need anything in return. but to refuse the food or drinks or to refuse to sit in the “guest of honor” type seats would have bee rude and would have taken away a bit of their (and our) humanity. By refusing their thanks because we may have felt we did not deserve it or because we did not want them to give us food because they barely have enough to feed themselves we take away their ability to thank and take away the dignity that comes with being able to serve and help others in the best way that one can. I hope I am making sense. What I am trying to say is that we must (in all our daily interactions) give and take in an appropriate balance (reciprocity).
I was SO blessed that day to be with these wonderful people and feel of their love, hope, and thankfulness. It was truly inspiring and really got me thinking more about so many things, this post may not make much sense because I am still mulling things over, but I hope you can see what I am trying to say and the great importance of treating others with love and respect.
As I write this I cannot help but this of the Xhosa proverb: I am a person because of other people.
Ponder on that!
What does it mean to represent something greater than yourself and how does one handle that? and how does one master the balancing act that is reciprocity? . . .
We got there before the Germans, so we sat with the kids and the teachers and waited for them to arrive. When they arrived they started the this amazing program of singing and dancing that was their way of showing thanks to those that donated to the school. It was really amazing! The young kids did a few numbers and man one of the teachers had a voice like non-other; it was AMAZING! I don’t want to dwell on the presentation (although it was amazing) because you really have to be there to appreciate it (I should have recorded it, my bad).
There were two main lessons that I learned from this experience: what it means to represent BYU here and reciprocity.
First, let me tell you what BYU means to Mrs Yoyo. Like I said BYU students have been going thre since 2003 and between then and now a professor has kind of adopted the school and put together a fund for them (about $10,000 if I remember right). This fund has paid to rebuild the school after its numerous fires have burned portions of it. BYU, or rather this professor independently, has done a TON for the school and really if that professor and other BYU students had not done all that they have done for the school, I really doubt that the school would still be functioning. This is what BYU means to Mrs Yoyo and the parents of the kids there. And to them, I and the other students represent all of that, so this whole presentation was for us as well even though these students have only been in South Africa for a few days and never really done anything for the school and I only went there a few times last summer and helped mop the floor and butter bread. Mrs Yoyo asked me to say a few words to the parents on behalf of BYU, and I said a few words about how much of blessing it is for us to be with them and what a great example of hope and love they are to us (of course right when I sat down I thought of all the millions of things I could have said). Then a parent got up and thanked us on behalf of the parents and it took me to tears. She thanked us for all that we do and how they appreciate that we leave our families and come to them and help. She even said that she and the other parents have seen changes in the kids when the BYU students started coming. I was touched that other have done so much for these people and hoping that I can do a little something for those around me. Another interesting this happened when they gave us food. Now keep in mind that we are in an informal settlement and all the people in that room have so little, and yet they put together this huge presentation for us and gave us a full meal with meat. This is huge given what little they have and that we are eating such a nice meal in front of them. It is really uncomfortable situation but so important that we don’t refuse, and I will explain why.
It was really hard to accept thanks for something we did not do and especially when we (and the other BYUs) did not expect or need anything in return. but to refuse the food or drinks or to refuse to sit in the “guest of honor” type seats would have bee rude and would have taken away a bit of their (and our) humanity. By refusing their thanks because we may have felt we did not deserve it or because we did not want them to give us food because they barely have enough to feed themselves we take away their ability to thank and take away the dignity that comes with being able to serve and help others in the best way that one can. I hope I am making sense. What I am trying to say is that we must (in all our daily interactions) give and take in an appropriate balance (reciprocity).
I was SO blessed that day to be with these wonderful people and feel of their love, hope, and thankfulness. It was truly inspiring and really got me thinking more about so many things, this post may not make much sense because I am still mulling things over, but I hope you can see what I am trying to say and the great importance of treating others with love and respect.
As I write this I cannot help but this of the Xhosa proverb: I am a person because of other people.
Ponder on that!
What does it mean to represent something greater than yourself and how does one handle that? and how does one master the balancing act that is reciprocity? . . .
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