Last Saturday the inhabitants of the Valley of Kwa Ximba celebrated a rare occasion – the inauguration of a new Chief. The new Chief’s father had been killed when he was small and his uncle has been serving as Chief until this one was old enough. Now, at age 28, he is ready to take on his designated role as Chief of a very large area of the Valley of 1000 Hills. These kind of events don’t happen very often and the King of the Zulus himself was present to do the deed.
We were privileged enough to be invited to join in the celebrations and the Young Zulu Warriors were invited to lead the escort of men down from the Chief’s house to the soccer ground where the big marquee was set up. They were also asked to perform after the ceremony, but due to reasons beyond their control they didn’t actually perform in the end.
We were privileged enough to be invited to join in the celebrations and the Young Zulu Warriors were invited to lead the escort of men down from the Chief’s house to the soccer ground where the big marquee was set up. They were also asked to perform after the ceremony, but due to reasons beyond their control they didn’t actually perform in the end.
The day itself was hot, with a thunderstorm brewing for later in the day. We had to be down there early. The ceremony was due to start at 10am, with the new Chief (Nkosi) being escorted down from his house at 8.45am. In reality, Africa time set in and the actual ceremony began at 12.30pm. The King didn’t arrive until about 11.30am and the Nkosi was definitely not arriving triumphantly at 8.45am, it was more like 10! One gets used to these timings and comes prepared to wait around.
All of our children over the age of 10 were invited and they had to opportunity to wear traditional Zulu dress. The boys wore skins – a kind of skirt, 2 calf bracelet things, 2 arm bands and a headband, all made from animal skins. It took Mdu about 7 hours to make 8 of these costumes up new on the day before. The girls wore black tops with beads and different skirts, all adorned with beads. They opted out of the ‘traditional’ costume of going topless. The majority of girls there did go topless though, as tradition states. Married women wear full outfits with many beads and great hats.
The Nkosi’s arrival was something to behold. He marched down from his house on top of the hill flanked by the out-going Chief and the Local Chiefs and Councillors. Just behind them came the Young Zulu Warriors and they were accompanied by all the other men of the area, some in traditional skins, others just with their shield and sticks. There were probably several hundred men escorting him down. At a short distance behind them came the girls and women, singing and dancing. It was quite a sight to see as they marched into the grounds, brandishing their sticks and shields and shouting victoriously.
Then the waiting began for the King to arrive. The rest of the Royal entourage were in place but it was still an hour or so before His Majesty King Goodwill Zwelithini turned up. And then we heard police sirens and looked up the hill that was in the distance and saw the police escort arriving. The King had maybe 8 police cars escorting him in. His car registration is ZK1 – nice. However this is obviously a state secret as when one of the Brits with me tried to take a photo with his phone he met with opposition from the police and was made to delete it immediately on pain of losing his phone…
A group of Christian guys (and one woman!) from the UK had visited earlier in the week and had been invited, so I spent the day with them. We got VIP passes which ensured us front row seats (although not in the raised seating section for the Chiefs and royal family) and entry to the dining tent for the customary beef curry afterwards. We also had access to the VIP toilets, but unfortunately they were locked. There was also a hospitality tent, which we later discovered was in fact the King’s tent and we’d just stolen his water… oops. He didn’t seem to notice thankfully so our heads remained on… The Brits thought this was the most amazing day and what an experience. Indeed, it’s not the kind of thing one can just walk into and they were very clever in picking their time to visit us so that they could take this experience away with them.
When the King was there and all was set we could proceed into the big marquee where there was a triumphant entry of the king, surrounded by the men and accompanied by a praise caller (who also works at the rugby and is a guy I’ve definitely seen on TV ads) who shouts out praises to the King as he enters. The guy is loud.
There then followed about 3 hours of Zulu, of which I understood about 10 words. I stood up when there should only be men standing, but the mistake was pointed out quickly to me and rectified. I carefully observed some of our girls outside chatting to local youth, unbeknown to them that I could see. I chuckled at the lack of stamina of the Brits, who are strangers to these ceremonies and were dozing off one at a time. I smiled sweetly and looked demure when I noticed the video camera was pointing straight at me. (I later regretted not watching the news on Sunday when I was on SABC1 and SABC2 news. Am trying to track down a copy for a souvenir.)
The actual inauguration took about 2 minutes. The King had a shiny sword and it looked like he knighted Nkosi Mlaba. I was later told by Zulus that his speech was good. He is a popular King with his people and you could tell. It seemed very entertaining and people laughed a lot. Except his first wife, she fell asleep. Probably heard that joke before.
After the ceremony we retired to the dining tent. The Brit boys went up to get some food and were in the process of getting their plates filled when someone realised that we had to wait until the King had been served in his tent, so the food was unceremoniously thrown back and they had to wait! But we didn’t have to wait long.
When the King had been escorted off, the VIPs went up to the Nkosi’s house where the real party was happening. I had to make a brief stop there to present a cake from our organisation, as my director was ill and unable to attend the event. The cake was well-received. I’d taken a couple of German volunteers with me to film the cake-handing over moment but they were more engrossed in the action outside the Chief’s house where the cows were being killed for food. I chose not to watch, I don’t need to see it to understand the brutality of how Zulus prepare their feasts. But the boys loved it!
These are the kind of days that make me really appreciate being here and in the position I find myself in. One can’t just walk into these events, you have to be invited and it’s always such a privilege to be invited to be a part of the local culture and tradition. It makes for very interesting conversations and broadens our minds as to what other cultures value and how they celebrate important events. The Zulus love having non-Zulus come too, not many white people go down into these valleys and so any that do venture down there (particularly if we have a soccer ball in the car!) are made to feel very welcome.
