Documented spark: Revelations of the conflagration
Cultural Heritage
Pathisa Nyathi “MUST they always sing when carrying beer to headquarters?” This was a comment made by Reverend Dr Robert Moffat during his second visit to the Ndebele Monarch in 1835. The party of ladies bearing calabashes of beer on their heads broke into song when they approached the royal headquarters. To Reverend Moffat, coming from a different cultural background, wondered whether that was really necessary.
Earlier on the same London Missionary Society (LMS) missionary documented the way Ndebele people performed threshing their sorghum. He mentioned how the floor ( isiza) had been specially prepared with a depression at its centre. Men and women used threshing wands to separate grain from chaff. A pile of sorghum was placed at the centre and the people who were engaged in threshing the sorghum heap beat the gathered sorghum in unison. They did not remain stationary at each person’s initial position.
Instead, with each powerful thud from descending wands, they shifted positions. This was done for a purpose. At the practical level, the practice ensured uniform distribution of force. Some people have more stamina than others. Their section of the pile would diminish faster while those exerting less force would have theirs remaining high.
At times, they did this without consciously knowing that they were replicating cosmic reality. Heavenly or cosmic bodies, be they solar, lunar or planetary bodies, are in constant predictable or rhythmic motion. Remaining on one spot is uncharacteristic of universal reality. The cosmic reality is replicated at the cultural plane, on earth. This is captured in the phrase, “As above, so below.” After all, many cultural practices are informed by cosmic reality.
However, for us the common denominator between threshing sorghum and the women carrying beer calabashes is the fact that hard and challenging physical work was usually accompanied by artistic expressions, particularly music. Reverend Moffat was not schooled in this African modus operandum. Why did Africans sing when they went about doing arduous manual work? Before we seek an answer to the question, we need to cite more examples where the practice was applied.
When women were pounding sorghum grain they used to sing. They would sing too when decorating the walls of their huts. Young girls who rocked babies sang lullabies to send the babies off to sleep. Whether it was applying cow dung to the hut floors or plastering hut walls singing became an integral part of the process.
There were instances when singing was individually performed. Grinding sorghum on stones to obtain a meal was performed by womenfolk. When they were performing the chore, they almost always sang. The singing that they did should be viewed from two vantage points. Singing as an art form or cultural expression allowed effortless accomplishment of work at hand. Art, in this instance singing, is rhythmic. Human bodies need rhythm. Where there is rhythm, there is maximum performance. The body is being offered its natural diet, the cosmic diet. The body gets entertained, it is thrown into ecstasy to a point where pain is subdued or completely removed. There is maximum energy release which translates into heightened performance. Simply expressed, art gets work done most efficiently and effectively.
At Amagugu we do point this out to visiting learners. We give them a chance to grind the sorghum grain and, as they do so, give them a song to accompany movements of hands and the grinding stone, imbokodo. “Kalimath’ ibhiza leTsholotsho, kalimath’ ibhiza leTsholotsho!” When the rhythm of the song is increased, so is the pace of grinding. As far as the lady is concerned, her burden is made lighter. For the ladies observed by Reverend Moffat, the beer calabashes experienced apparent loss in weight. A body engrossed in joy and ecstasy endures pain and the burden of a heavy load. This, the learned Reverend did not know.
At the other level, we need to consider the lyrics of the song. Women were composers of songs, appropriate songs that responded to their unique circumstances. The music and its content (lyrics) served as a therapeutic remedy by offering a conduit for pent-up emotions. The songs gave women artistic licence to comment on issues pertaining to their communities, and normally kept under the tongue. Through song, they transmitted positive values which communities cherished and sought to immortalise trough transgenerational transmission. Where there were negative happenings, the women were at liberty to bring these to the fore. Essentially, the workplace became a social arena where societal comments were expressed with a view to reining perpetrators of errant social behaviour. The place of work provided a social platform for the release of deep-seated emotions, grievances and unreconciled perceptions.
How else could the heavy stone slabs used during the construction of Egyptian pyramids have been pulled or pushed without recourse to synchronised human effort? Unco-ordinated human effort would have resulted in reduced force and dissipated energy. Where there was “Kanye kanye madoda” chant applied force was maximised. Of course, Egyptians would have used their own language.
Ndebele people used amalima precisely to achieve that end. Numbers made work lighter while at the same time taking advantage of numbers, economies of scale we could say. For work that had to be accomplished in the shortest possible time, that work arrangement was the most ideal. Co-operative work had that benefit. Women singing in a group and carrying heavy beer calabashes experienced shared load. This was a seemingly small observation by Reverend Moffat but one that leads to a deeper rendition of African ideas and philosophies.
In one instance Reverend Moffat records the arrival of a party of Ndebele soldiers at the royal town. The king was seated within the skerm of his visitors. He observed that the leader of the group, an induna, was prancing up and down between the king and his party members. There was some distance of about thirty paces between the king and the assembled party. The chants extolled the brave acts of the monarch and those of his ancestors. All this was targeted at softening the king and make him amenable to the requests of his subjects.
Through the chants, their war exploits were brought out. Their enemies were identified. The outcome of the military encounters was made known. It was some sort of military accounting to the king what really had transpired. “Barend fought us with the great commando. We fell and died. They died. They will not hear (feel), ( kabezwa)), though they are always killed. We must slaughter cattle and eat and be fat and strong for battle. Our father must feed us. Great is our father, the Great Elephant, the Lion, the king of kings.”
In the same account it is stated that the Korana and the Bastards fell upon the Matsetse, the youths who guarded the outpost. The chief was performing ukugiya through which he narrated or rather documented goings on. Almost certainly, the Matsetse being referred to here are the ibutho known as Amatshetshe who seem to have been in the thick of military skirmishes against the Afrikaners. The regiment/village at one time captured a wagon belonging to one of the Boer parties. Keen to exhibit their exploits in front of their king, Amatshetshe under the leadership of Sifo Masuku carried the ox wagon to the king. In the process they earned themselves the praise of, “Abathwali bophahla,” and they are proud of that to this day.
Be that as it may, what is important here is the fact that even as the Ndebele and fellow Africans were not a literate people, they did document their experiences. Here is a case where ukugiya gives us an account of the people that the Ndebele fought, how the wars resulted in deaths on both camps. Some specific names such as that of Barend who was leader of the Griqua are provided. Our history lived in orature, or oral literature.
How history is recorded differs from one community to the next. The common denominator though is that all communities did document their experiences on the planet. It is a fallacy to suggest that orature hardly spans three generations. If we do appreciate the link between spirituality and documentation we shall appreciate the point we are making here. As it turns out Reverend Moffat’s literary documentation relied on both observation and orature.