Frustrations and Initiations

Despite the late night and alcohol, we got up by around 10am, as June had said the day before that she would take us to the bank to sort out the travellers cheques, that the bank closed at 11, and after that we would go to Mochudi for an initiation ceremony (more of that later). After crawling out of bed we go and get some food, and wait for June to appear. And wait. And wait. At about 11.40 she suddenly appeared, pointed at the clock and then we had to run through the house for our shoes while she hurried us up. On the drive to the (different, presumably bigger and therefore still open) bank she said that we had to hurry because she didn’t know how long the ceremony is going to last (Mochudi is over an hour’s drive away). I was getting very anxious because I REALLY REALLY wanted to see the ceremony and I know it’s a once in a lifetime experience. We got out of the car and walk towards the bank. Obviously, June met a friend and stopped for a quick chat. Finally got to the bank. June sorted out some way that they will change the traveller’s cheques using her as a guarantor. The reason they won’t do it normally unless you have an account is because last month some traveller cashed some fake travellers cheques. Then we waited some more. And some more. There was a portrait of the President on the wall (as in most big shops, etc), and above that a pen in a little display cabinet, with the words “winner of internet competition 2008” or something along those lines below it. Then we were told someone is coming to help and they would just serve the other customers in the queue until they come. Three customers and June asking what the hell is going on later, and the other guy made an appearance. Then we waited some more while they typed stuff into the screen. Then, finally, they said that three of the travellers cheques were valid but not the other two. She couldn’t type their numbers into the computer or something. Kate was going mental because she’d countersigned the cheques meaning they won’t be valid anywhere else. The lady said that we should come back on Monday and she will sort it out (if she changed just the valid ones that would mean two transaction fees). So we left the bank sans any pula. I was getting huuuuuugely frustrated and so legged it back towards the car. Except I had to stop because June had met another friend. While she chatted to him another guy she knows came past. We greeted them both and stood around for a little while. Finally, just when I wanted to start screaming or collapse into hysterical laughter, we got back into the car. Quickly drove home to change into skirts not trousers, and women wearing trousers was forbidden at the ceremony, then, at last, oh my god at last, started driving to Mochudi. Africa teaches you patience.
Anyway, to explain a bit about this initiation ceremony. In traditional Tswana culture (basically, in traditional culture throughout the world if you go back far enough), all young people have to go through a rite of passage, and only after do they become adults. The wonderful British of course decided that this was heathen and stupid and savage, and so the practise didn’t exactly completely die out, but became much rarer. People associated it with the old, ‘uncivilised’ ways. Now, the Paramount Chief of the Bakhatla tribe in Botswana (I’ve probably spelt that wrong, apologies. Imagine the ‘K’ as a click) is trying to revive the custom. His father, Chief Linchwe, whom my mother knew very well, also tried to do this, but support for him dropped after a scandal around a decade ago.
Basically, the body of a young girl was found with body parts missing. This clearly pointed to a killing to traditional medicine, or mutti. Although most traditional medicine is about herbs, going into trances to speak to the ancestors, perfectly innocuous and even, depending on your beliefs, positive practises like that, some people, ‘witches’ still practise the other kind, where human body parts are used to increase a client’s strength or potency. It is rare and expensive but it does still happen. In this particular case, a businessman was accused, and Chief Linchwe stepped in to protect him (I don’t know the details). After that people associated the Chief with witchcraft, and his efforts to revive the ignition ceremonies fell flat.
Now, however, his son is Paramount Chief, and he has a lot of support (he is also a qualified, and practising, lawyer). Earlier this year, a call was sent out that any men who had not received initiation and wished to should sign up for this programme. It was immensely popular, with over 1,500 men wishing to do so, of all ages. Normally is would only be young men of the same age set but because it hasn’t really happened in so long there were both young and old men participating. Employers were requested to let their employees go without repercussions to their jobs. They spent one month (originally it would have been three) living out in the bush, learning the traditional ways of their tribe, the laws, how to marry and treat your wife, how to hunt. There were so many men that they had to ship is wild animals from elsewhere because they needed them to eat and to use the skins. The men were also circumcised in the bush (with doctors in attendance). There were so many men it took ten days to circumcise them all (this is also a great thing because circumcision reduces the spread of HIV). The ceremony we attended was the ‘graduation’ of all these men, and it was a huge deal because it was the first in a long time, and so many men participated.
As we drove to Mochudi we listened on the radio to the speeches that were being given. The Chief was talking about how the traditional ways were important, and that in modern Botswana a lot of respect had been lost. June seemed incredibly proud of and happy with what he was saying (she is of the Bakhatla tribe herself). It wasn’t all serious though, he also joked with the men, saying that they must be looking forward to seeing their wives after one month without seeing any women, and that their wives would be very curious to see what they looked like from the front now!
When we arrived there were lots of cars and a crowd of people watching. As far as I could see we were the only white people there except the people doing the technical support for the sound and the massive screen that showed the stage. As we walked up a guy turned around and said “Welcome, you are welcome”. We would have happily hung around at the back, but June pushes forward until we’re right at the front. All the men are in rows, all wearing animal skins on their backs, holding sticks with white ostrich feathers on and with headdresses of ostrich feathers and/or antelope horns, or the heads of the animal with the skins hanging down. They mainly wore western style clothes as well. One guy was wearing a leopard-print cowboy hat with an ostrich feather in, a boiler suit, and carrying a rifle with feathers stuck in the barrel. In between speeches all the initiates would stand up, dance from side to side holding the sticks with feather on in the air and singing traditional songs. It was incredible. And the mixture between embracing modernity – the big screen, the microphones, the fact that it was being broadcast on national tv – with a pride in their traditional culture. One thing symbolised it perfectly for me – a man who had tied his ostrich feather on with both a bit of stripped bark, and a shoelace J
We also watched on screen Chief Linchwe’s wife formally hand over her Queenship to her son’s wife. June explained a bit what was going on, she handed over a drum that has been passed down for over 130 years, and also a sceptre of some kind. At one point everyone, including the audience, had to sit down (incredibly uncomfortable as there was only really room to squat, my legs were killing me!). Then, suddenly, it was over, after a prayer. I can only assume it was a Christian prayer because it ended in ‘Amen’. The Chief and his family left on horses with ostrich feather livery, like the horses in Cinderella. He had a crown made from a strip of animal hide with the long hair sticking out in a circle round his head, and a mane-like strip going down his back. Then some royalty from South Africa came past. Finally all the men were called by where they lived and processed out, right past us. Lots of them were joking with June that they wanted to marry us, to which she jokingly said “that’s fine, but first you must come up with the cattle” (bride-price, or lubola, still happens here, although people are changing from cattle to cash quite a lot). June says she would not accept less than eight cows for each of us! Her brother, Khotso comes past, looking very haggard and like he would love a shower!
All in all, it was amazing, and a resounding success. People from other Twsana tribes (there are eight, although they are very similar culturally and all speak the same language) and from South Africa are asking the organisers of this to help them do the same in their tribes. These are not just simply village men, these are modern, educated, wealthy, travelled men as well. June’s brother Khotso owns a bar. But they all felt that going through this was something they want to do. Which I think is absolutely fantastic. Next year there will be an initiation for women, and the year after another for men, and so on. I hope very much that it spreads and gives people a new knowledge and pride in their traditional culture.