THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

I’m getting more of an idea of what life is like for an average child here and it sure is nothing compared to the average kid on the block back home. The fact that there is no “block” here with a shopping centre, movie house, toy shop, café, chemist or sports centre on the next corner is the most obvious difference. No-one has a proper address, like the corner of 2nd and Main Road and I haven’t learnt the names of all the settlement villages so I just refer to someone living either over this hill or over that hill. The upside of not having an address is no junk post but the downside is not getting your online order for a new mortar and pestle delivered to your door so you go without. In fact, people here kinda go without everything which city people consider essential. If you don’t happen to have your own Kenwood to crush your plantation of mielies into maize meal , then you could always load up as many bagfuls as you can carry and go to the guy in Centane who parks his cement like contraption in front of Pep Stores and will crush your mielies for a small fee.


Most people don’t farm here anymore so they just buy their maize meal from Boxer or Shoprite in Centane. Apparently, in the past, the boys used to keep the cattle out of the mielie fields but now that they go to school (well actually not all do), no one watches the cows so over time, the people stopped farming since the cattle just ate up the crops. Putting up a fence around a vegetable garden would probably cost 2 months government grant, which is the only income for most people here. Bushes and branches used to work as fencing in the past but the people seem to have lost their desire and motivation and anyway, a government grant is much easier. I’ve been told that if the boys don’t fetch the cows in the afternoons then they wonder into the forest and die from eating plants before sunrise. Either these were muslin cows celebrating Ramadam or I lost the thread of the story. The fact that there are poisonous Ink bushes growing everywhere hasn’t come up. The Xhosa people here don’t keep their cattle the conventional way of on ones property. They open the kraal gates in the morning and the cows wander around wherever they find grazing. They are not milking cows and the vet doesn’t pop around to help during calving season or tick infestations. Animal husbandry is left to nature and the ancestors.

Going to school is the highlight of most primary school children’s day. They get to see their friends and are fed a hot meal every day. (There are limited spoons at school so I’ve gotten used to watching many of them eating samp and beans with their hands, a ruler or protractor). After school boys fetch cows or goats while girls fetch water or smear a fresh layer of dung on the floor. All children over the age of 10 have to wash their own school clothes. Most children live with their grandmothers but I’m not sure how many are because their parents have died of Aids or because their parents work somewhere else. About 40% of children drop out of school before high school (which starts at grade 10). I have recently found out that faction fighting amongst the boys from different villages definitely does exist. In fact a few weeks ago, 3 boys from our school had to deal with this problem en route to school since they walk through another village to get to school. The one who was too old (twice the age of the others in his class) dropped out of school, the other moved to another family member’s home to avoid walking through the wrong village and the third, well he is still too frightened to come back to school.

Weekends consist of church, soccer, funerals and family visits. Xhosa family is not the same as the western term of family and everyone here talks about extended family. All those excuses that your cleaning lady gave you that she has to attend her sisters funeral, are probably true. Families begin with biological members and extend to just about the whole village in fact. Clan names are more important than surnames and members of the same clan are considered family. Clan names originate by someone important and all descendants of that person, even if you marry someone and your surname changes, are family. You aren’t allowed to marry your brother or sister even though they are not necessarily biological family members but you have to, without fail, attend everyone’s funeral.

Funerals are a whole topic on their own which I’ll leave for another time. Now its time for me to do another load of washing in my fancy upmarket Sputnik washing machine.

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep




The other day we jumped on the bike and headed over the hill in search of Thelma’s crèche. Jock, the guy who sponsored the books and computers at the library asked us to visit the crèche and see what their needs were as he wanted to sponsor them. Jock has been trying to make a difference to the lives of the people here in Qolora since long before we even got here and Education is his prime concern. He has a successful legal practice in Cape Town and he’s connected to big shots in the Department of Education. His heart and brains are in the right place. I suppose by now you must be wondering how Theo and I are coping financially and how we manage to stay fat. Well, we left Cape Town with 2 months supply of food and thought we’d end up at Coffee Bay teaching. We stumbled onto the library here at Qolora and that’s where we’ve settled. It didn’t take long for Jock and us to connect and now he contributes towards our living expenses. Things just fell into place, proving once again that life is as simple as you want it to be.



Anyway, there we were, looking for a crèche, working our butts off, riding around the beautiful countryside, soaking up the scenery of hills and dales blanketed in feathery grassland. Putting along the gravel roads on our toot toot as the kids call it, with the sun on your back and the wind in your hair, dodging the odd cow, goat or pothole can really strain those smile muscles. And then there’s all that waving.

It’s much greener on the other side of the hill and the countryside has more of a tropical feel to it. Even the cattle kraals which are made by stacking branches in a large circle, had lush green ivy growing all over them. Kraals are a very very important part of a family’s homestead. A man who has any worth has a kraal next to his hut or house. Even if his cattle have died off, which is the case of some people, the kraal is still an important structure. The man of the house communicates with his ancestors at the gates of his kraal. This is where he runs all important matters of the living by his ancestors for their approval. For instance, if he wants to build a new house, make important changes within his family or suchlike, he will communicate this to his ancestors at the kraal. They will respond to him in his dreams thereafter and even if it takes a long time, he will not go ahead with the plans even if its months before he has their approval.



Communicating with ones ancestors is the core of Xhosa tradition and the lives of the people here are woven around their ancestors. Ancestors, who are in fact deceased parents, grandparents and great grandparents oversee their family’s wellbeing and are a gateway to God so whether you are a Christian or not, ancestors play a part in the Xhosa people’s lives. If a person is blessed with good fortune, then they need to thank their ancestors by slaughtering a cow or goat depending on the level of their success. The man of the house will select a cow and prick it in its neck to make it bellow. A good choice is if the cow bellows before the spear touches its skin, an indication that the ancestors are very happy. A cow cannot be made to bellow by hurting it forcefully as this would then not be a true reflection of their ancestors approval. If the chosen cow does not bellow then it’s a serious problem and the ancestor will communicate to them in a vivid dream otherwise a Sangoma needs to be summoned to determine why the ancestors are not happy. If something goes wrong, such as a person gets sick, looses their job or something of this nature then the ancestors are angry with them and a Sangoma needs to be consulted to determine why. A cow, goat or chicken can be offered to the ancestors to set things straight but usually they do not bring bad fortune. Basically, if you are the motherly type, you get to carry on controlling your family even from the grave although there are more male ancestors than females. You don’t automatically become an ancestor just by dying, it’s a special privilege and an ancestor is highly respected. They present themselves to their family in very vivid dreams which cannot be questioned or refuted. A year after a person has died, a ceremony is held which involves a cow being slaughtered and the passing of the ancestor is celebrated. An expensive tombstone is placed at the gravesite followed by great festivities to honour the new ancestor. This is a costly business and the people here don’t have a lot of spare cash lying around but they make it happen.



My father who passed away 5 years ago often wagged his finger at me from that other dimension but these days he is resting peacefully or perhaps he’s busy watching over other people who break the hairs in their ears by listening to loud music in discos. Anyway, he was a diabetic so I didn’t need to keep a herd of cattle to appease him, diet coke would have done the trick. Theo wouldn’t make a good ancestor as he would forever be demanding a spitbraai and would surely get very frustrated with only the aroma of meat wafting up past his nose while the living had a feast.

So whether or not you go gently into that dark good night, whether you put flowers on someone’s grave to remember them, scatter someone’s ashes over their favourite place or whether you believe they are still watching over you like a guardian angel, we are all going to eventually take our last living breath and return our energy back to earth. Some just get to wag their finger for longer than others.

Anyone who takes the time to soak up the energy around these hills will be able to feel the presence of the ancestors watching over their people. Me, I’ve set my father free.