Umsebenzi - My first Zulu Party

Saturday was an amazing day. I watched Rugby in the morning. Four Super 14 matches from Breakfast. I had moved into the house yesterday as the apartment was required by some Zulu guys down for the weekend. On talking to one of them he told me they were down for a function with their colleague. As I asked more about it I learned that it was a cleansing ceremony at Green Point for the memory of two family members who had died. It was a two cow ceremony reflecting two deaths. I was invited and checked whether this was serious and so made arrangements to go out.

We arrived at the Umsebenzi, which is like a memorial day for the deceased. The host was a Mr Shabalala who is at the guest house I am staying at. It was his uncle and cousin who died last year. The uncle of heart failure and the cousin of AIDS.
I met numerous brothers and sisters of the deceased brother some of whom were children of the father (it appears the father had a number of wives also). The host showed me to the rondavel where the cow slain two hours previously was laid out. This was apparently the uncle’s house now occupied by some other relatives.

The cow was laid out with its head prominent. It was explained to me that the whole beast will be eaten and then the men will eat the head last. I asked and was told the head represented the head of the family which is why only males can eat it. This whole afternoon was a party atmosphere. There was Zulu dancing by the women, singing and eating and lots of drinking. Women opened beer bottles with their teeth which just about made me pass out. Talking to three educated Zulu women who were teachers with gold fillings in their teeth I was horrified as one and later another opened a beer bottle with her teeth. As sun was setting a tent was being erected which was apparently for the church service which would start at 9pm. The guys I came with and some others kept checking if I was OK or comfortable and said they would arrange to escort me back to town. I replied each time I was fine and I was fascinated with everything. The women cooking on wood fires with massive pots, the kitchen preparations, the dancing, kids dancing to rock music and generally talking to people some of whom came from as far as Pretoria to provide support to the family. A meal was served soon after I arrived comprising beef, rice, beans, beetroot and some other things. Alcohol appeared in plentiful supply and one or two people clearly had more than their fill. There were two guys one of whom was a brother of the deceased who was clearly mentally ill. His family told me he smoked too much dukka. Another guy who also appeared mentally ill came up later in the evening with some dukka in his hand. It just grows freely. Clearly his brain had fried I told him and he needed less weed and more medication. By about 8pm my companions told me we were going. The road into this place was atrocious and I was not looking forward to getting out. I had a car full this time and we got out. The guy in the front spoke about how appreciative the family were of my attendance and talked a lot about Zulu culture, his and his friends inability to dance and understand some of the culture and that I would enjoy the annual dance festival in northern Zululand. I certainly got the message that it was a big thing to have a white person there and the family were honoured to have me as I was honoured to have been invited.