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Published: December 4th 2008
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Today a group of 7 of us staying at the hostel, signed up for a Mountain Bike/Cultural Tour. We were first driven along the main roads and then dropped 2 kilometres outside of the Xhosa village of Ngxingxolo. Xhosa is one of the native groups in South Africa (Nelson Mandela is a Xhosa) and is also one of the eleven official languages in the country. Thousands of Xhosa villages dot the area known as the Transkei or the Wild Coast.
In Ngxingxolo, we were welcomed by a group of women and children who played a drum and sang a song to greet us. Then we spent the next hour or so with possibly the most magical woman I have ever met - Mama Tofu. She is 89 years old, born in 2920 in the next village over. She came to Ngxingxolo because she married here. She has 10 children (she didn’t say how many grand or great-grand children). Now she hosts groups like us, to tell us about herself, her culture and the Xhosa people.
We all said later, we could listen to her speak for hours. Her wisdom and experience are so obvious. She shared many things with
us. . .
She tried to teach us various Xhosa phrases, none which I could say now because I couldn’t really even say it then! But the language involves lots of tongue clicking, in all sorts of ways. We were told of the coming-of-age traditions for both genders (girls spend weeks in a hut guarded by an auntie; boys have circumcision rituals that make them men - which I’d learned of in Mandela’s book). She told us of sacrificing ox - done whenever a man in the family dies. We saw ropes from the leather of 2 ox she’s had to sacrifice: one for her husband in 1984 and one for her son, who spent 14 years in prison at Robben Island and died of pneumonia soon after his release. She told us of marriage customs and that the way the Xhosa people measure richness is through cows and daughters: when a couple is to get married, the man must pay a labola to the woman’s family - usually say about 8 cows. Therefore, with lots of daughters, you are on the receiving end of the labola, but with lots of boys, you will be paying many come marrying
years.
We were shown different awards and articles about Mama Tofu for her contribution to educating about culture. She took us into different buildings: one where girls would stay when coming-to-age, others used for homes and we were told how the buildings are made. The staple food of the Xhosa people is mealie (corn) and I had a go at breaking it down on a grinding stone. We saw a kraal, “the most important place in the home”, where men gather, sitting on tree stumps, to discuss situations and make decisions (women sit outside the kraal). This too, Mandela referred to frequently in his book; in fact, watching meetings in the kraal in his youth, he says helped form his fundamental ideas and understanding of democracy.
We learned many things from Mama Tofu. But really, it was simply being in her presence that was so impacting. Everything about her - her words, her eyes, her smile, her touch - was magic.
We had the chance to purchase beadwork from the women and children there. Again, I wished I had my money! I did get one bracelet. How nice it is to purchase crafts knowing for certain you’re
meeting the one who made it and seeing who will benefit from your purchase.
Then we gathered for a couple more songs, this time of good-bye and farewell. It ended with a delightful solo from a girl who looked about 3 years old. I adored that child! She just stood in front of the rest and belted out “Good-bye! We thank you! We will remember you!”
I would have loved to stay longer, in the village, with the girl, with Mama Tofu . . . but we were whisked along on the tour. The tour went steadily worse for me from there. We had a 16 kilometre bike ride back to the hostel. Much of it was downhill or flat, and the upwards one were thankfully not too long. I am a fit girl. But the roads were difficult - dirt with big potholes and everywhere massive rocks and stones. Intensely rough and jarring and I rarely felt in control. My bike’s gears were a mess and the brakes slow at best. But what made it nearly unbearable was the heat. It had to have been somewhere in the 30s, direct sun, no cloud or shade and no
breeze. Only a few kilometres in and I was overheated. My heart was racing so fast. I couldn’t control my breath. I soon started walking up any incline, but even walking became difficult. My legs felt weak. I drank litres of water, but nothing helped. I felt certain I would either faint or be sick to my stomach. The camp counsellor in me was mentally ticking off the signs of heat exhaustion. It was really awful. I do not know how, but somehow, I made it back to the hostel.
While it became increasingly difficult to enjoy the ride, the good things are what I want to remember now . . . the beautiful green rolling land, the Xhosa homes dotting the land in the distance, the people we’d pass who would wave and smile, the children who would cry out “Hello!” “How are you?” and even “I love you lady!” as I passed. Such things were wonderful. And while here I’m not going into great detail aout them, it is those moments that will remain in my memory.
Back at the hostel, we had some drinks and showers. We’d been excited to jump in the ocean upon
our return, but within minutes of getting back, clouds rolled in and then a massive thunderstorm opened the sky. Myself, Kevin (USA), Jen (USA, now living in Joburg), Mart (Netherlands) and Sander (Germany) set off on an adventure. Mart drove us in his rental car to explore the area . . . only to end up in Chintsa village, where Kevin and I had walked to (more quickly) yesterday. But it still turned out well.
We went to the one restaurant, where I had my first meal that wasn’t bread, tuna, pasta or just-add-boiling-water soup in the last week - because my credit card has arrived and it works! Complete relief now! A rugby game was on, so we watched the game, enjoying the reactions from the locals who crowded the place. It was really really lovely way to wind down the day.
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Sarah Willett
Such amazing adventures you are having. Glad you’re enjoying yourself again.