Shouts and applause rise up through the darkness and the light evening drizzle as Kristal and I walk across the lawn towards the line of rooms that make up the staff accommodation at Mandatane. About 20 men sit on chairs, crates, boxes, anything. Under the tin verandah and out of the rain. Most of the guys are from Phinda Habitat. Some are from other departments. All have come to say farewell to us.
An extension cord runs past the CD player, pumping out Zulu tunes and across the lawn a short way to a little cooking shelter. Under the shelter and in the light of the coals and a small bedside lamp Umuzi and Mandla tend to the impala, strung out on the spit. Phillip goes across and starts to paint the impala with a specially prepared marinade. No-one is preparing a salad. There is not even mielie pap on the go. Tonight we eat inyama.
Everyone helps themselves to cold beers and cooldrinks. Shouts and whistles break the quiet chatting. Thembankosi and Dumisani are dancing, throwing their legs high into the air and slamming their feet down on the ground. Everyone gets involved. Standing around or sitting, but clapping, in perfect time to the stamping. Each takes a turn, breaking from the clapping, moving into the circle to shaya ingoma, gida, dance.
Leopard researcher, Julian, is one of just 4 white faces. He cannot resist and gives it a go and draws laughter and even greater applause. Nkosi spurs me on. I give in and jump up to move into the circle. My leg lifts are weak and the timing is terrible. But the response is impressive. Laughing, clapping, patting me on the back and shaking my hand. Happy that I’ve at least given it a go.
Thembankosi grabs me by the shoulder. Jimson is next to him. With his shirt off, car tyre shoes on he is holding a small strip of impala skin. This slit is already cut and Jimson spreads it open. I hold out my right arm. “Yes, the right arm is best” Thembankosi says. Jimson Mthethwa, of the Zulu clan Nyambozi, slips the skin over my hand and onto my wrist. I am now wearing an isiphandla. A war decoration from days gone by, isiphandla’s are now worn to mark important occasions for which an animal has been slaughtered. Thembankosi trims it with a knife, to make it a bit neater. It’s beautiful. Taken from the belly where the white hairs meet the red. What an honour to be given an isiphandla by these two men. Of all of the guys these are the two that I have connected with the most, besides Vusi of course. But he is on leave, sadly. “When you see the isiphandla it will remind you of us” Jimson says. He speaks the truth.
Sitting back down now we are unexpectedly served by Fani. He puts a board full of impala meat down in front of us, and cuts it up for us. It is quite delicious and we help ourselves. A bigger board with more meat goes down just next to us. All the guys crowd around to enjoy the meat given up by the poor, injured impala.
Soon the meat is done. And soon Kristal's freshly baked muffins go the same way. Bellies now full, everyone gathers around. Speech time. Musa says a few words, in Zulu. Nods and grunts of agreement punctuate what he is saying. Then it’s my turn. It is so hard to convey the gratitude I feel towards the men sitting in front of me, and some who are not there. I give it my best though, in Zulu of course. They clap between just about every sentence. It is quite emotional, more than I expected. I finish with a promise to come back and visit. Musa invites the induna’s to say something. Lakhize first, and then Jimson. I follow most of what they say, and that which I miss I gather from their tone and manner. Much of Jimson’s speech is directed towards Kristal. After she goes and thanks him for his words. In Zulu. A big smile lights up on his face in return.
Formalities done, the dancing kicks off again. And part way through the music stops. And the singing begins. One guy leads, and the rest follow him. Beautiful, haunting Zulu voices.
It’s getting late and people start to peel off home. Some have to drive half an hour still back to Izwe. And soon it is just the guys from Mandatane. Sitting with Kristal, Phillip and I. Umuzi will go on leave this weekend and he shares some very kind words before we part. As does Jimson, for he too will go home to his family.
We head home, salt the isiphandla to dry it out and soon are in bed. What a special evening, one we shall remember forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment