COMPARING APPLES WITH APPLES AND FORESKINS WITH LION SKINS

So I find this whole coming of age thing quite interesting.  Turns out the passage of rites is more involved than a Xhosa boy loosing his foreskin somewhere in the bush or a 13 year old Jewish boy suddenly capable of understanding the Torah after his bar mitzvah.

The difference between Xhosa youth in Transkei and white boys in Limpopo is quite evident.  Here in rural Transkei, becoming a man is the most important event in a boy’s life.  There is a lot of psyching up before the initiation and after a hearty 3 week chat from the old men in the village who visit the boys who are tucked away in a secret hut, their foreskin is chopped off.  Depending on the boy’s father’s financial position, he slaughters a goat or a chicken but preparing a meal of samp and beans often clinches the deal.  From that day on, he is expected to act responsibly as well as attend family funerals which takes up most of their Saturdays. Young men display their newfound manhood by wearing a checked jacket and/or a floppy flannel beret.  This outfit from the 50’s probably confuses onlookers into thinking the wearer’s limped shuffle, prompted by a recent slice and dice, is a carefree swagger.

Boys in Limpopo on the other hand, are treated to a weekend away with their dad, dad’s buddies, and as much brandy and coke that can fit next to the rifles and ammo packs in the back of the bakkie as they head off to the nearest game farm to find an animal to kill and turn into biltong.  Once the boy has made his kill, he smears the dead animal’s blood all over his face and eats a piece of its intestines.  He straddles his kill for a photo shot and sometimes the initiate takes the head home to mount against the lounge wall to remind everyone of his manhood.  His swagger is brought on by brandy and coke as he celebrates his newfound manhood.       

Even Japanese people, both male and female have a coming of age day.  It’s celebrated on the 2^nd Monday of January and everyone who turns 20 that year is allowed to vote, drink and smoke.  Perhaps men walk around asking everyone for a light to show their newfound manliness even though they are the size of an average 9 year old Benoni boy.  20 Year old girls probably peer at you from smouldering almond eyes as they pluck out a cute, miniature cigarette, wrapped in origami paper decorated in Hello Kitty designs which they keep in a cute little box stuffed up their kimono sleeve.         

American Indian boys go off to pray in a sauna and afterwards, a special spirit, who appears in their dreams, protects them for the rest of their life and they are rewarded with a new adult name like eagle eye, big bear or hopping rabbit.

Young men of the Buddhist faith go to a monastery for between 3 days to 3 years, depending on how dedicated they are in trying to levitate. After abstaining from sex and food but thriving on praying, you are primed for adult married life and cooled down enough to attract a woman.

In Australia, Aboriginal tribes get together for a Bora ceremony where singing, dancing and storytelling is performed.  After sacrificing something to the spirits, boys loose their foreskins, a finger or a tooth to signify their manhood.

In the Amazon, the Satere Mawe tribe push pain levels to the extreme as boys have to wear a glove of ants whose bite is excruciatingly painful but they have to repeat the exercise 20 times before becoming a man with a swollen hand.

On the Pentacost island, a little place in the south pacific, boys do bungee jumping on land with a length of jungle vines and hope to survive the fall.  If they do, their yam crop will be good but the trick is all about the length of the vine and I imagine how much impact your head can take.

In New Guinea, timid Matausa tribesmen injure themselves in order to let their mother’s woosie blood bleed out of their bodies.  They stick sharp reeds up their noses, down their throats and repeatedly cut their tongues with arrows.  Once they’ve spat out all the bad blood, they are certified brave men and probably from then on speak with a forked tongue.

Maybe you think these rites of passage are unusual and outdated.  I think that although some are a bit extreme, the concept of a passage of rites is important for many primitive communities.  To be acknowledged as a man within these communities and honouring their tradition keeps hierarchy levels in order, respect for the elders is kept alive and separates the boys from the men. 

On the other hand, every year modern, first world Danish teenagers trap hundreds of dolphins in a bay and butcher them to death.  I find this demonstration of manhood much more shocking and barbaric.

Each tribe has a system that works for them, some just differ from others but some just are not acceptable no matter how you look at it.  

Daars a hoener wat a eier nie kan lê.

Daars a hoener wat a eier nie kan lê.


Theo’s rooster is getting cock sure of himself. About a month ago, we acquired 2 hens and a cock. During the day the little black hens walk around pecking at things on the ground and chasing each other around under the assumption that anything the other one finds must be worth stealing. The rooster, now that he has settled, spends his time trying to cross our doors’ threshold. He seems to think we have bugs inside and he is determined to come in and find out where we keep our factory of dung beetles who industriously roll their balls crisscrossing our rondavel floor. Theo has taken to hiding behind the door with a dishtowel and when the rooster ventures too near, he jumps out of his hiding place to scare him away. I don’t keep score. Initially we weren’t sure if these fluffy black jobbies were hens or cocks since they showed the beginning signs of a growth thingie on their heads like that useless flappy thing cocks have. A month down the track and now it’s easy to see that they definitely are hens by the way they daintily dart around and they take their dust baths more femininely than the rooster. At night, the three sleep in a huge container which is a bit of a metal eye sore outside our door. Also, it has a toxic sign stuck on the outside. I don’t know what it was once upon a time used for but if we end up having green eggs with ham for breakfast then I guess there was a reason for the toxic sign. Anyway, about a week ago, the cock crowed for the first time. He was inside the container at the time and his crowing echoed extra loud. When Theo opened up to let them out, Mr Rooster strutted around, puffed up like some bigshot with a torch in his pocket. A bit like the Xhosa boys around here, who apparently after initiation suddenly think they are men and act all windgat. Well I s’pose if I survived a stunt in a hut with nothing but a blanket and a piece of dry bread while nursing my injured chopped penis I’d probably also feel I had the right to stick out my chest afterwards. The whole initiation thing is a touchy subject actually. It’s probably one of the few customs that are still a very important part of any teenage boy’s life especially here in the rural community. The boys must go through it to be recognised by the community as a man otherwise they will never command respect or find a wife. The way it interferes with school education is a big problem (besides the whole issue of it being done under unclinical conditions which could lead to fatal infections or Aids from using the same blade). The ritual usually takes place in December when a bunch of school boys go off for their “manhood training”. It is such a big buildup in their lives that it carries much more weight than year end exams at school. I’ve heard talk of fighting between the boys at this time as they suddenly feel the urge to display their manhood and puff up like Theo’s rooster.

The initiation is secretive to outsiders especially to women so I haven’t exactly been able to go up to any male students and together with a couple of hand signs thrown in to explain my English say “howzit man, so are you looking forward to your circumcision?”

During their stay at the special hut, the umkhwetha (the person who trains them) teaches the initiates about the responsibilities of becoming a man and once they have passed the test, they eat meat and go home men, free from their mothers’ apron strings. I understand their training is quite intense and the painted initiatives get little food and less sleep since they have to make sure that the fire burns throughout the night. I’ve also read that they shave their heads and that the hair gets burnt or buried in case a bird uses it to build a nest which is guaranteed to make you go mad. (I think the hair bit is relevant to anyone getting a haircut actually.) At the Arts and Culture Festival, a teacher told me that the boys who were dancing did similar dancing during the ritual and also that many mothers were unhappy that their boys had become disrespectful towards them after going through their rites and in fact came home smokers and drinkers. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to find out more about this passage of rites the longer we stay here.

In the meantime, Theo’s rooster is getting too big for his hormonal boots. Just because the neighbouring roosters are answering his calls these days, without him having to step into his “auditorium” container for special effects, he now thinks he is entitled to jump the little fluffy hens who squeal with fright and try to run away. They are too frightened to dip their heads to eat when he’s around since it makes their bums stick up in the air like an invitation flag. I’ve noticed that they often stand with their backsides up against the wall while chewing the cud. If the rooster keeps this up I’ll send him with the next group of boys to the grass hut so that he can be trimmed down to size or mind you he’ll probably get cooked.

Those poor hens are in for a bum deal so I hope they figure out the pecking order to survive Cocky Locky’s rites.