We need to shine the light in the dark corners of our cultures

I always find that when it comes to romanticising African traditions, it is generally men who are at the forefront of calls to return to the “old ways” whilst women and young girls are the ones who suffer the brutality of some practices such as forced marriage, child marriage and female circumcision. South African writer and cultural analyst, Nomboniso Gasa calls for a national and honest discussion which engages with culture and tradition and how we set about achieving a cultural balance. Although speaking in a South African context, we all need to have this discussion within our own national spaces.

AS WE grapple with the critical issues of who we are as individuals and as part of a collective nationhood, defined and impacted upon as we are by the history of this country and inequalities, I believe we must come to the conversation about the meaning of freedom with an open mind.

This conversation requires commitment to engage and question even those areas we hold dear. As we search for deeper understanding our exchanges, difficult as these may be, must strengthen each of us as we continue to reject injustices against any South African. In these exchanges there can be no holy cows, and we must avoid defining some areas as no go areas, because this not only stifles debate, it destroys the foundation upon which our society is built – protection of human dignity.
It is against this background that I want to locate the recent deliberations in Parliament during the public hearings on the Black Authorities Act.

On July 21, presentations were held in Parliament where various stakeholders, including the Rural Women’s Movement, community- based organisations, associations of small farmers (mainly women whose livelihood depends on subsistence farming), traditional leaders and other members of the public. This has been a highly contested subject, which can easily become one of those issues we do not touch. In talking publicly about what we want to see in our communities, we also have to name that which we do not want.

There has also been a growing romanticising of African cultures, especially by those who purport to know culture and consider themselves to be holders of African wisdoms. Regrettably, this romanticising comes at a great cost for many people who still live in the communities that have not kept pace or refuse to engage with societal development and change.

Masibuyel’embo (let us go back to the ways of our people) is the call – as if we have a common embo (way) or know what those ways are, in the first place. This romanticising is dangerous. To illustrate this danger, let me take an extract from the exchange that took place in Parliament on July 21.
Responding to the presentation made by Sizani Ngubane of the KwaZulu Natal Rural Women’s Movement, the ANC MP, Mandla Mandela, (who insists on being called Nkosi Zwelivelile Mandlesizwe Dalibhunga Mandela in recognition of his place among abaThembu Royal House), started by asking “Wazalwa nini mama“ (when were you born) and Ngubane responded, in 1946. He proceeded to state that he was born in 1974, he is almost a great grandchild to her but he has the privilege of being guided by the wise grey haired men and women AbaThembu of his village. Most shocking, from one so steeped in the culture of his people, was his disrespect for her and the dismissal of the experiences she presented.

Tackling the question of ukuthwala, Mandela said ndifuna ke ukukuzisa kwisiko elingangxengwanga, yinto yobulungu phakathi (I want to take you through a pure custom, which has not been diluted by European sensibilities).

Like Mandela, I grew up in a village where ukuthwala was practised. I witnessed first-hand the beauty, the freedom and enriching aspects of African cultural practices. I also witnessed the horrors and the brutality suffered by women, children, and at times men – the weak and vulnerable, in the name of culture. I saw women being flogged by their husbands because their daughters were pregnant. I was seven years old when I first heard the word ukuqhomfa (to abort). A young woman had died in the process of abortion. None of the adults wanted to explain this word ukuqhomfa which was the cause of this untimely death. The word hovered like a dark cloud and I was determined to know what it meant.

I come from the Sabalele plains, that place of haunting beauty of the dry plains of Gcalekaland. In my village, as it happens in other villages in this and other continents, I came face to face with umbulo (incest). My first encounter with the word was again hearing it whispered among adults – someone’s daughter had fallen pregnant and the father was responsible. The family is powerful in our community. There were no repercussions for this man, not even the patriarchs in his clan said anything. Instead, people blamed his wife and the daughter. About the father, very little was said.
The pride with which Mandela speaks of the ways of his people is admirable. We all have aspects that we are proud of. But let us also shine the light in the dark corners so that this freedom can be experienced by the young of today.

Space constraints do not permit me to go into the practice of ukuthwala. Suffice to say, Mandela must start doing his homework as we all have to do. He must learn about the difference between ukugcagca (elopement), ukuziba (when a young couple steal for themselves the right to marry to force the hand of the elders) and ukuzekelwa (to be forced into an arranged marriage). He is a fortunate young man: he can start with the history of his own grandfather.

After all, Nelson Mandela’s first trip to Johannesburg was partly to run away from being forced into an arranged marriage. He might also want to know what ukuthwala is exactly, and in what context it was used. And then he will know that we cannot define ukuthwala as isiko. Ukuthwala akulo siko it is not a sacred rite and it is not isithethe (a custom). It was simply a modus operandi of taking girls often without their knowledge or even consent into marriage.

Age, Mandela will discover, matters in issues of marriage. Once he engages openly and honestly, I am sure he will agree that what is happening in the Cwija village in the Eastern Cape, very close to his own village eMvezo, cannot be condoned. In that village, we see young women who walk around with vacant eyes, who in a few year’s time, like their sisters in the Sahel belt of West Africa, will be roaming the streets, rejected by their families and their husbands. Cervical fistula is a nasty disease with nasty symptoms, including what is called in West Africa “smelly leakage”, as the cervix has been destroyed.
Like Ngubane, I speak of these complexities, horrors and tragedies not because I want to denounce African cultural practices in their entirety but because I know it is often the blood of women and girls that congeals on the floor.

Nomboniso Gasa is a researcher, writer and analyst on politics, gender and cultural issues

Search for cultural balance:

I always find that when it comes to romanticising African traditions, it is generally men who are at the forefront of calls to return to the "old ways" whilst women and young girls are the ones who suffer the brutality of some practices such as forced marriage, child marriage and female circumcision. South African writer and cultural analyst, Nomboniso Gasa calls for a national and honest discussion which engages with culture and tradition and how we set about achieving a cultural balance. Although speaking in a South African context, we all need to have this discussion within our own national spaces. AS WE grapple with the critical issues of who we are as individuals and as part of a collective nationhood, defined and impacted upon as we are by the history of this country and inequalities, I believe we must come to the conversation about the meaning of freedom with an open mind. This conversation requires commitment to engage and question even those areas we hold dear. As we search for deeper understanding our exchanges, difficult as these may be, must strengthen each of us as we continue to reject injustices against any South African. In these exchanges there can be no holy cows, and we must avoid defining some areas as no go areas, because this not only stifles debate, it destroys the foundation upon which our society is built – protection of human dignity. It is against this background that I want to locate the recent deliberations in Parliament during the public hearings on the Black Authorities Act. On July 21, presentations were held in Parliament where various stakeholders, including the Rural Women’s Movement, community- based organisations, associations of small farmers (mainly women whose livelihood depends on subsistence farming), traditional leaders and other members of the public. This has been a highly contested subject, which can easily become one of those issues we do not touch. In talking publicly about what we want to see in our communities, we also have to name that which we do not want. There has also been a growing romanticising of African cultures, especially by those who purport to know culture and consider themselves to be holders of African wisdoms. Regrettably, this romanticising comes at a great cost for many people who still live in the communities that have not kept pace or refuse to engage with societal development and change. Masibuyel’embo (let us go back to the ways of our people) is the call – as if we have a common embo (way) or know what those ways are, in the first place. This romanticising is dangerous. To illustrate this danger, let me take an extract from the exchange that took place in Parliament on July 21. Responding to the presentation made by Sizani Ngubane of the KwaZulu Natal Rural Women’s Movement, the ANC MP, Mandla Mandela, (who insists on being called Nkosi Zwelivelile Mandlesizwe Dalibhunga Mandela in recognition of his place among abaThembu Royal House), started by asking “Wazalwa nini mama“ (when were you born) and Ngubane responded, in 1946. He proceeded to state that he was born in 1974, he is almost a great grandchild to her but he has the privilege of being guided by the wise grey haired men and women AbaThembu of his village. Most shocking, from one so steeped in the culture of his people, was his disrespect for her and the dismissal of the experiences she presented. Tackling the question of ukuthwala, Mandela said ndifuna ke ukukuzisa kwisiko elingangxengwanga, yinto yobulungu phakathi (I want to take you through a pure custom, which has not been diluted by European sensibilities). Like Mandela, I grew up in a village where ukuthwala was practised. I witnessed first-hand the beauty, the freedom and enriching aspects of African cultural practices. I also witnessed the horrors and the brutality suffered by women, children, and at times men – the weak and vulnerable, in the name of culture. I saw women being flogged by their husbands because their daughters were pregnant. I was seven years old when I first heard the word ukuqhomfa (to abort). A young woman had died in the process of abortion. None of the adults wanted to explain this word ukuqhomfa which was the cause of this untimely death. The word hovered like a dark cloud and I was determined to know what it meant. I come from the Sabalele plains, that place of haunting beauty of the dry plains of Gcalekaland. In my village, as it happens in other villages in this and other continents, I came face to face with umbulo (incest). My first encounter with the word was again hearing it whispered among adults – someone’s daughter had fallen pregnant and the father was responsible. The family is powerful in our community. There were no repercussions for this man, not even the patriarchs in his clan said anything. Instead, people blamed his wife and the daughter. About the father, very little was said. The pride with which Mandela speaks of the ways of his people is admirable. We all have aspects that we are proud of. But let us also shine the light in the dark corners so that this freedom can be experienced by the young of today. Space constraints do not permit me to go into the practice of ukuthwala. Suffice to say, Mandela must start doing his homework as we all have to do. He must learn about the difference between ukugcagca (elopement), ukuziba (when a young couple steal for themselves the right to marry to force the hand of the elders) and ukuzekelwa (to be forced into an arranged marriage). He is a fortunate young man: he can start with the history of his own grandfather. After all, Nelson Mandela’s first trip to Johannesburg was partly to run away from being forced into an arranged marriage. He might also want to know what ukuthwala is exactly, and in what context it was used. And then he will know that we cannot define ukuthwala as isiko. Ukuthwala akulo siko it is not a sacred rite and it is not isithethe (a custom). It was simply a modus operandi of taking girls often without their knowledge or even consent into marriage. Age, Mandela will discover, matters in issues of marriage. Once he engages openly and honestly, I am sure he will agree that what is happening in the Cwija village in the Eastern Cape, very close to his own village eMvezo, cannot be condoned. In that village, we see young women who walk around with vacant eyes, who in a few year’s time, like their sisters in the Sahel belt of West Africa, will be roaming the streets, rejected by their families and their husbands. Cervical fistula is a nasty disease with nasty symptoms, including what is called in West Africa “smelly leakage”, as the cervix has been destroyed. Like Ngubane, I speak of these complexities, horrors and tragedies not because I want to denounce African cultural practices in their entirety but because I know it is often the blood of women and girls that congeals on the floor. Nomboniso Gasa is a researcher, writer and analyst on politics, gender and cultural issues Search for cultural balance:

Tagged as: Africa , sexual violence, South Africa, violence against women