Legacy of the grinding stone lives through our women
LIKE yo-yos, ushers in cinemas, cotton-towelling baby nappies, wind-up wristwatches, typewriters and the floor polisher, the ubiquitous grinding stone has disappeared – well almost – from our lives.
Time was when a grinding stone took pride of place in almost every home. Known in Tamil as ammikkal, in Hindi as sil batta and in isiZulu as
imbokodo, the grinding stone is fast becoming a museum piece.
History records that black Africans entered South Africa in about 200AD and ground the sorghum they cultivated on grinding stones. They switched to maize when the Portuguese brought it to southern Africa from the 15th century.
But these days villagers don’t grind their maize – they buy maize meal from their local shop. They use the grinding stone only when they have a gathering for a celebration and need to grind corn to make traditional beer.
I was reminded of the grinding stone on Women’s Day last week during the 60th anniversary of the famous march to the Union Buildings on August 9, 1956 by 20 000 women to protest against the extension of the pass law system to black women.
Led by Lilian Ngoyi, Helen Joseph, Albertina Sisulu, Sophia Williams-De Bruyn and others, to present a petition to the prime minister, JG Strijdom, the women uttered the words: “You strike a woman, you strike a rock”.
Thus it came to pass that former president Thabo Mbeki unveiled a monument of a grinding stone on August 9, 2000 at the Union Buildings to symbolise the power, strength and resilience of women.
Mbeki saluted South African women and said they were equal partners in the country’s struggle for liberation. Women had opened the road to freedom for generations to come, he said: “We pay tribute to our mothers, sisters and daughters who were and are equal combatants for the all-round liberation of our people.”
When Indians arrived in South Africa, the grinding stone was an integral part of their meagre possessions to be used to grind masala for preparation of their daily meals, and so it remained for many decades.
The ammikkal was prominent in my early years and had its own sacred space just outside the kitchen.
I considered our grinding stone to be as tough as steel and I used it to straighten bent nails when making wooden carts. My mother did not see this or there would have been serious trouble. My brother would use the heavy rolling pin part as a body-building weight in his quest for the physique of Atlas. This too, my mother did not see. Occasionally I would sharpen knives on the grinding stone.
Every Friday afternoon, one of us four siblings would take a turn to wash the grinding stone, apply turmeric paste and decorate it with kum-kum, on our mother’s instruction.
There were rules attached to the ammikkal. You did not sit upon it. You did not allow your feet to touch it. No meat products were to be processed on the grinding stone.
Such was the sanctity accorded to the rectangular block of granite perched atop an old drum outside the kitchen that it was as if were an object worthy of being worshipped.
As in most civilisations dating back hundreds of years BC, the grinding stone has played an important role in the Indian household.
On a practical level, it has served as an instrument to grind spices, seeds and other condiments for tens of hundreds of years. Long before electric blenders and food processors became fashionable, the grinding stone was used to pulverise soaked rice or lentils to make idli and dosa.
And unlike the modern electric contraptions, which tend to generate heat, the grinding stone stays cool, and this benefits the consistency and taste of the resulting batter.
Ask any connoisseur of Indian savouries and they will tell you that pea dhall ground on the ammikkal makes for far tastier vades than the most sophisticated modern gadgetry.
In days gone by, the women who used the grinding stone to grind various ingredients derived valued exercise which kept them active all day. It was truly back-breaking work, but they did it with so much patience and passion, uncomplainingly. After all, they were doing it for their family.
What exercise is there to be gained nowadays from merely flicking a switch to grind spices or get the clothes washed?
Another benefit of using a grinding stone at home is that it guards against adulteration of spices. It is common knowledge that certain unscrupulous spice merchants have long been mixing mealie meal or corn flour with curry powder to make bigger profits.
Some crooked manufacturers of ready-crushed ginger and garlic mixtures – popular among housewives pressed for time – are also using a fair quantity of crushed cabbage to make a fast buck. And you’ve been wondering why that chicken curry just doesn’t match up to what Ma used to make? The mantra of the day is: roast and grind your own spices and condiments.
On a symbolic level, the grinding stone has also featured prominently in the life of the community. When a Hindu marriage ceremony is conducted in accordance with ancient Vedic rites, there is a part in the nuptial proceedings when the husband holds the right toe of his wife and lifts her leg and places it on a grinding stone, which is positioned to the right side of the sacred fire. The husband then recites a Vedic mantra which translates thus: “May you stand on this firm stone. “May you be rock-firm during your stay on this grinding stone. “May you stand up to those who oppose you while you carry out your time-honoured responsibilities as a wife sanctioned by the Vedas and tradition.
“May you develop tolerance to your enemies and put up a fair fight to defend your legitimate rights as the head of the household in a firm manner, equal to the steady strength of this grinding stone.”
Until recently a Tamil bride leaving her parental home would, in addition to the brass prayer lamp, also be given an ammikkal by her mother to remind her to cherish her womanly attributes, like strength, firmness, physical fitness and integrity.
The imbokodo monument in Pretoria is indeed a fitting tribute to South African womanhood.