Saturday, September 16, 2006
Friday, September 08, 2006
NEW SLANG
I usually don't mention books that I've been reading, but this past week I read a fantastic book that I am highly recommending.
The book is called "Beasts Of No Nation" by Uzodinma Iweala. It's a very short book, under 150 pages, telling the story of a young boy in a war-torn African nation being forced into joining a guerilla army, told from the boy's perspective. Its narrative is fairly straightforward, but the book is noteworthy because of the way it plays with language. The book is written in English, but it is also distinctly African. It seems that many of my favorite books mess with language, like A Clockwork Orange which created its own dialect, and The Lord Of The Rings which created its own languages and alphabets. Now, Beasts Of No Nation is joining that list.
Although I have serious problems with the book's ending (which I won't give away here), I highly, highly recommend Beasts Of No Nation. You should all read this book. I mean, any book that takes its title from a Fela Kuti song has to be awesome, right?
In addition, I've also recently read both Guns Germs & Steel and Collapse by Jared Diamond. One word can sum them up: GENIUS.
(and on a totally unrelated note, THIS DUDE is awesome!)
The book is called "Beasts Of No Nation" by Uzodinma Iweala. It's a very short book, under 150 pages, telling the story of a young boy in a war-torn African nation being forced into joining a guerilla army, told from the boy's perspective. Its narrative is fairly straightforward, but the book is noteworthy because of the way it plays with language. The book is written in English, but it is also distinctly African. It seems that many of my favorite books mess with language, like A Clockwork Orange which created its own dialect, and The Lord Of The Rings which created its own languages and alphabets. Now, Beasts Of No Nation is joining that list.
Although I have serious problems with the book's ending (which I won't give away here), I highly, highly recommend Beasts Of No Nation. You should all read this book. I mean, any book that takes its title from a Fela Kuti song has to be awesome, right?
In addition, I've also recently read both Guns Germs & Steel and Collapse by Jared Diamond. One word can sum them up: GENIUS.
(and on a totally unrelated note, THIS DUDE is awesome!)
RITUAL DE LO HABITUAL
So why the strange entry title? Well, first, I saw a pretty intense ritual last weekend. But, even more so, "Ritual De Lo Habitual" is the title of a pretty awesome Jane's Addiction album.
Last weekend was a very interesting weekend for me in Tshamahansi. It was a weekend during which I didn't leave the village, but whereas most weekends in the village end up largely consisting of me in my room, bored and reading, this one was different.
Being the very beginning of September, in my village the children were celebrating the end of winter. What this entailed was all (or at least most) of the young kids in the village running around and dumping buckets of water on each other. Watching these kids chase each other around with big buckets of water was very amusing!
After watching this for a while, I decided to go exploring in the village by myself for a while. I walked around the dusty streets greeting everyone, taking paths I'd never taken before. I climbed up some hills that offered me fantastic views of my village and the surrounding areas. On top of those hills, I cursed the fact that I'd left my camera back in my room.
After descending back down, I went for a walk out past the boundaries of the village itself, out into the bush, near the base of the small mountain that rises up behind my village. In a village as large, spread out, and overpopulated as mine, getting out into the "bush" takes a lot of walking! At one point, I got pushed off of the dirt pathway by a large herd of cows. (A fitting analogy: cows are big, dumb, slow, and travel in large groups. Basically, they are exactly the same as tourists in Manhattan.)
Eventually I returned into the village, and then walked the 40 minutes from the edge of the village to my house. I got home, but then I ran into my host brother, Dennis, who was home for the weekend. (Dennis lives with James in Jo'Burg) Dennis said, "Get dressed! Let's go to Xisebesebe." and was so insistent that although I was exhausted (I had unwisely gone on a run before my long walk into the bush), I agreed. Oh, and a "xisebesebe" is just a village house-party with loud music and dancing.
I got dressed and headed to the party with Dennis and some of his friends. The sun was beginning to set when we got there, and we stayed for a few hours, until it was pitch black outside. There was a lot of traditional Shangaan dancing ("xibelani"). The women danced. Children played. Old men drank vats of traditional home-made beer. Young men drank their Castles, Carlings, Hansas and Amstels. I drank a very delicious and refreshing Fanta Grape with Jimmy, one of Dennis's friends. After we finished sharing our soda, Jimmy let me hold his very cute 6-month-old daughter. (Jimmy is 21 years old)
South African men in villages have a habit of going on 3-day drinking binges every weekend. I definitely saw plenty of that; sloppy old guys stumbling around, trying to keep their balance as they attempted to dance. I saw two middle-aged men get into a drunken fistfight, after which one of them proceeded to throw up against a fence. One old drunk guy, with terrible breath, a habit of spitting when he talked, and one eye, decided to harass me for a while. It got to the point where William, another of Dennis's friends, almost got in a fistfight with the old man on my behalf. (Dennis had to hold William back)
People like Dennis, William, Jimmy, etc. are one of the reasons why I never feel unsafe in my village.
Eventually, we walked home, exhausted. I fell asleep very quickly, but then had to wake up at 5:45 the next morning in order to see the ritual that was the highlight of my weekend, and that was:
RITUAL
GOAT
SACRIFICE!
Yes, it's true. A few weeks ago, I'd been walking through the village, when a Sangoma (traditional healer) called me into her home. She was an old lad, and she showed me her traditional medicines. There was also a younger woman there, around my age or a few years older, who spoke fairly decent English and invited me to a traditional function on Sunday, 3 September. I said of course, I'd love to attend. So on Sunday I got up and went to the Sangoma's house, at the other end of the village. Dennis decided to go with me as well.
Let me give you some background on the whole thing: a few months ago, the younger woman I met at the Sangoma's house had gotten "sick." She went to doctors and hospitals, and nobody could see anything wrong with her. After exhausting the options of Western medicine, she went to see a Sangoma, who "diagnosed" that she had the GIFT, meaning that she was meant to be a Traditional Healer. She was sent from her home in Kwa-Ndebele, in the Mpumalanga Province, to my village, to study the practice of traditional healing under a local Sangoma here. Once here, her sickness vanished and she spent months in the tutelage of this local Sangoma, learning.
What we were about to witness was her "final exam" -- she had to go through a ceremony of rituals, and if she passed, she could become a fully-practicing traditional healer. If not, her "gift" would be considered a "mis-diagnosis" and she would just return home.
There was already a crowd there when Dennis and I arrived. The young woman was sitting on a mat on the ground, with a group of older Sangomas around her. Two of them were each holding a goat. One was chanting. A man held a traditional spear, and he would gently poke each of the two goats (not drawing any blood), and then would also gently poke her. This went on for a while.
Then, she was made to lie down, and the first goat was placed on the ground next to her. A sheet was placed over the two of them, and after a few seconds, the goat stopped trying to get free. They were there together under the sheet for a few minutes. This was part of the ritual; the goat had to fall asleep. If it didn't, that would indicate some flaw in the training.
After a few minutes, the woman stood up, but the goat was still asleep under the sheet. (The other goat was standing there, watching) The sheet was removed, and the goat was lifted to its feet. The woman sat back down, and the goat was brought up to her, facing her, held tightly by two old ladies. The man grabbed the spear and then plunged it into the goat's neck. The goat yelled in pain, jerked and struggled trying to get free. Blood began spraying and dripping from its throat onto the woman's face, hair, and clothes.
The near-dead goat was tossed aside, where it twitched for a few minutes and then stopped, dead. The next goat was brought up, and it too was speared in the throat, and it jerked, trying to get free. It was lifted above the woman's head, and blood from its wound dripped down onto her hair, face, and shirt. When the goat opened its mouth to yell, blood poured out onto her.
The woman was taken away, her face and body dripping with goat blood. I had my camera with me, but didn't take any pictures during all of this because I didn't know if it was allowed or appropriate, and as a guest I didn't want to cause any problems.
The ritual wasn't over, though! She had just passed the first part of her exam. The two goats were skinned, gutted, and hacked apart piece by piece. At one point, I saw a boy walking around...holding a goat liver in his hands.
Certain parts of the goats were taken aside for use in the next part of the ritual. There was a long period of waiting, but eventually the young woman emerged again. She was with a group of Sangomas. There was a stone pot on a wood fire in the yard, and they began to circle it. Inside the pot was a mixture of goat blood, digested stomach contents, and I don't even know what else. It was boiling, steam rising up from it. The ladies, including the young woman, circled the pot, holding long pipes in their hands. They "smoked" the fumes coming from the mixture, inhaling them with their pipes. Women in the audience banged away on drums.
The ladies all had to circle the pot, reaching in, getting the mixture on their fingers, and licking it off. From the looks on their faces, it must not have been very pleasant-tasting stuff! They got on their knees, surrounding the pot. This was another part of the test: each had to pick the burning-hot stone pot up off of the fire without using her hands, using only her mouth, while the others chanted. Most
attention was paid when the young woman attempted, and succeeded in doing this. It was pretty impressive!
After this came the final test: the young woman went off running. Parts of the goats (a foot, some bones, a gallbladder, etc) had been hidden in and around the house. After being covered in and drinking their blood, inhaling their essence, etc. this woman was expected to be able to have a "connection" to them, to be able to sense where these buried parts were.
She went off running around the house, searching in certain areas, running in one direction, stopping, and then running in an entirely different direction, almost as if being guided. She ended up finding all of the hidden parts in only a few minutes, a very good time from what I've been told. This was the end of the test: SHE PASSED. Sangomas cheered, people danced, and she was carried away like a triumphant fighter.
That was the end of the ritual, and the only thing left was the feast. It was great; Dennis and I both enjoyed some VERY FRESH goat meat, as you can see. That's all for now. Take care!
Last weekend was a very interesting weekend for me in Tshamahansi. It was a weekend during which I didn't leave the village, but whereas most weekends in the village end up largely consisting of me in my room, bored and reading, this one was different.
Being the very beginning of September, in my village the children were celebrating the end of winter. What this entailed was all (or at least most) of the young kids in the village running around and dumping buckets of water on each other. Watching these kids chase each other around with big buckets of water was very amusing!After watching this for a while, I decided to go exploring in the village by myself for a while. I walked around the dusty streets greeting everyone, taking paths I'd never taken before. I climbed up some hills that offered me fantastic views of my village and the surrounding areas. On top of those hills, I cursed the fact that I'd left my camera back in my room.
After descending back down, I went for a walk out past the boundaries of the village itself, out into the bush, near the base of the small mountain that rises up behind my village. In a village as large, spread out, and overpopulated as mine, getting out into the "bush" takes a lot of walking! At one point, I got pushed off of the dirt pathway by a large herd of cows. (A fitting analogy: cows are big, dumb, slow, and travel in large groups. Basically, they are exactly the same as tourists in Manhattan.)
Eventually I returned into the village, and then walked the 40 minutes from the edge of the village to my house. I got home, but then I ran into my host brother, Dennis, who was home for the weekend. (Dennis lives with James in Jo'Burg) Dennis said, "Get dressed! Let's go to Xisebesebe." and was so insistent that although I was exhausted (I had unwisely gone on a run before my long walk into the bush), I agreed. Oh, and a "xisebesebe" is just a village house-party with loud music and dancing.
I got dressed and headed to the party with Dennis and some of his friends. The sun was beginning to set when we got there, and we stayed for a few hours, until it was pitch black outside. There was a lot of traditional Shangaan dancing ("xibelani"). The women danced. Children played. Old men drank vats of traditional home-made beer. Young men drank their Castles, Carlings, Hansas and Amstels. I drank a very delicious and refreshing Fanta Grape with Jimmy, one of Dennis's friends. After we finished sharing our soda, Jimmy let me hold his very cute 6-month-old daughter. (Jimmy is 21 years old)
South African men in villages have a habit of going on 3-day drinking binges every weekend. I definitely saw plenty of that; sloppy old guys stumbling around, trying to keep their balance as they attempted to dance. I saw two middle-aged men get into a drunken fistfight, after which one of them proceeded to throw up against a fence. One old drunk guy, with terrible breath, a habit of spitting when he talked, and one eye, decided to harass me for a while. It got to the point where William, another of Dennis's friends, almost got in a fistfight with the old man on my behalf. (Dennis had to hold William back)
People like Dennis, William, Jimmy, etc. are one of the reasons why I never feel unsafe in my village.
Eventually, we walked home, exhausted. I fell asleep very quickly, but then had to wake up at 5:45 the next morning in order to see the ritual that was the highlight of my weekend, and that was:
RITUAL
GOAT
SACRIFICE!
Yes, it's true. A few weeks ago, I'd been walking through the village, when a Sangoma (traditional healer) called me into her home. She was an old lad, and she showed me her traditional medicines. There was also a younger woman there, around my age or a few years older, who spoke fairly decent English and invited me to a traditional function on Sunday, 3 September. I said of course, I'd love to attend. So on Sunday I got up and went to the Sangoma's house, at the other end of the village. Dennis decided to go with me as well.
Let me give you some background on the whole thing: a few months ago, the younger woman I met at the Sangoma's house had gotten "sick." She went to doctors and hospitals, and nobody could see anything wrong with her. After exhausting the options of Western medicine, she went to see a Sangoma, who "diagnosed" that she had the GIFT, meaning that she was meant to be a Traditional Healer. She was sent from her home in Kwa-Ndebele, in the Mpumalanga Province, to my village, to study the practice of traditional healing under a local Sangoma here. Once here, her sickness vanished and she spent months in the tutelage of this local Sangoma, learning.
What we were about to witness was her "final exam" -- she had to go through a ceremony of rituals, and if she passed, she could become a fully-practicing traditional healer. If not, her "gift" would be considered a "mis-diagnosis" and she would just return home.
There was already a crowd there when Dennis and I arrived. The young woman was sitting on a mat on the ground, with a group of older Sangomas around her. Two of them were each holding a goat. One was chanting. A man held a traditional spear, and he would gently poke each of the two goats (not drawing any blood), and then would also gently poke her. This went on for a while.
Then, she was made to lie down, and the first goat was placed on the ground next to her. A sheet was placed over the two of them, and after a few seconds, the goat stopped trying to get free. They were there together under the sheet for a few minutes. This was part of the ritual; the goat had to fall asleep. If it didn't, that would indicate some flaw in the training.
After a few minutes, the woman stood up, but the goat was still asleep under the sheet. (The other goat was standing there, watching) The sheet was removed, and the goat was lifted to its feet. The woman sat back down, and the goat was brought up to her, facing her, held tightly by two old ladies. The man grabbed the spear and then plunged it into the goat's neck. The goat yelled in pain, jerked and struggled trying to get free. Blood began spraying and dripping from its throat onto the woman's face, hair, and clothes.
The near-dead goat was tossed aside, where it twitched for a few minutes and then stopped, dead. The next goat was brought up, and it too was speared in the throat, and it jerked, trying to get free. It was lifted above the woman's head, and blood from its wound dripped down onto her hair, face, and shirt. When the goat opened its mouth to yell, blood poured out onto her.
The woman was taken away, her face and body dripping with goat blood. I had my camera with me, but didn't take any pictures during all of this because I didn't know if it was allowed or appropriate, and as a guest I didn't want to cause any problems.The ritual wasn't over, though! She had just passed the first part of her exam. The two goats were skinned, gutted, and hacked apart piece by piece. At one point, I saw a boy walking around...holding a goat liver in his hands.
Certain parts of the goats were taken aside for use in the next part of the ritual. There was a long period of waiting, but eventually the young woman emerged again. She was with a group of Sangomas. There was a stone pot on a wood fire in the yard, and they began to circle it. Inside the pot was a mixture of goat blood, digested stomach contents, and I don't even know what else. It was boiling, steam rising up from it. The ladies, including the young woman, circled the pot, holding long pipes in their hands. They "smoked" the fumes coming from the mixture, inhaling them with their pipes. Women in the audience banged away on drums.The ladies all had to circle the pot, reaching in, getting the mixture on their fingers, and licking it off. From the looks on their faces, it must not have been very pleasant-tasting stuff! They got on their knees, surrounding the pot. This was another part of the test: each had to pick the burning-hot stone pot up off of the fire without using her hands, using only her mouth, while the others chanted. Most
attention was paid when the young woman attempted, and succeeded in doing this. It was pretty impressive!After this came the final test: the young woman went off running. Parts of the goats (a foot, some bones, a gallbladder, etc) had been hidden in and around the house. After being covered in and drinking their blood, inhaling their essence, etc. this woman was expected to be able to have a "connection" to them, to be able to sense where these buried parts were.
She went off running around the house, searching in certain areas, running in one direction, stopping, and then running in an entirely different direction, almost as if being guided. She ended up finding all of the hidden parts in only a few minutes, a very good time from what I've been told. This was the end of the test: SHE PASSED. Sangomas cheered, people danced, and she was carried away like a triumphant fighter.
That was the end of the ritual, and the only thing left was the feast. It was great; Dennis and I both enjoyed some VERY FRESH goat meat, as you can see. That's all for now. Take care!
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