Welcome Celebration

If I have learned anything during my time in South Africa so far, it’s that people here are very proud of their heritage. Tradition, culture, and family mean everything to the people in this country, and it is especially obvious in the rural areas. September is designated as heritage month here, and last Monday was a school holiday for Heritage Day. It was a day to reflect on where you came from, and to celebrate the traditions and customs that are important to your family and community. My school thought that having a traditional ceremony during this week would be a great way to welcome me into the school and community, as well as introduce me to some crazy South African experiences. So this past Wednesday I got to experience what it’s like to be the center of attention in South Africa, and was able to see some amazing African songs and dances.

I think the most impressive thing about the whole event was how much effort my school put into it. In the US we might have a cake in the staff room for a new teacher, but I got a whole party with the majority of the community in attendance. The whole thing started on the Friday before when my teachers took me into town to be fitted for my traditional Zulu outfit. Of course I had no idea what that meant so I just stood there and smiled as an old lady took my measurements while yelling things to her assistant in Zulu. I have mastered the smiling when I have no clue what is going on, which is the majority of the time. After that I got no information. The learners at the school had been practicing different things during the last period of school for a few days, but I was basically locked in the staff room so that I would be surprised when Wednesday rolled around. When it finally did I had no idea what to expect. My host mom had spent the majority of the day before in the cook house preparing, but again they wouldn’t tell me anything. So when we walked to school the next day I was both nervous and excited. As I walked into the school grounds I was shocked to see a big party tent set up with chairs and a long table in the front. I tried to look around at all the hustle and bustle but I was quickly ushered back into the staff room. There I waited, for hours! Even with the prep that had been done over the past few days, there was still so much that had to be done, and I wasn’t allowed to help with anything.

A little after noon some of the teachers came into the staff room to collect me. Apparently it was finally time to get things started, which meant it was time for me to get dressed. It also meant that I was being to be dressed from head to toe in traditional attire but some of my female teachers that all call me daughter. My outfit was amazing! It started with a traditional Zulu skirt and vest. It was a little shorter than I had expected, but I later found out that that is common when for a “Zulu virgin girl” (I’m still unsure how I feel about being shown off like that). I then put on the Zulu vest that matched the skirt. Then they started adding my favorite parts, the bead work. First it was a belt, then a necklace, and bracelets, and earrings, and a head band, and then my favorite part, the shoes. The beaded sandals are beautiful. Everything is so brightly colored and handmade; I was stunned with how much effort they put into getting me every part of a traditional outfit. Most other volunteers have gotten gifts from their school, but none of them have gone all out the way mine did.

Once I was dressed to their liking it was time to make my big debut as a Zulu woman in front of my school and community. The teachers signaled for the music to start, surrounded me all dressed in traditional outfits, and we left the comfort of the staff room. The minute I stepped outside the crowd that had gathered erupted in screams and chants. While I had been self-conscious in my new outfit, thinking people would think it was weird that I was wearing their clothing, the crowd loved it. Gogos (grandmothers) were jumping up and down shouting while at the same time trying to take pictures of me. It was overwhelming and amazing to realize people were so excited to see me dressed like I was one of them. As we slowly made our way to the long table in front of the tent, I got a good look at all of the people sitting there. Turns out the village chief and his high council had come out for the event, and that my seat was next to them at the head table. I don’t think I have ever been more intimidated by an old man, but even he was smiling and clapping as I made my way to the front.

Then the party really began. There were dancers of all ages, songs that ended up being sung by the whole crowd, and welcome speeches from multiple members of the community. The dancers were my favorite part. They younger girls went first. They were all wearing skirts that were all strings of beads in the front, and cloth in the back. The traditional Zulu dance consists of different body movements that are determined by your age and marital status, and then these crazy kicks into the air. It is crazy, and hard to describe, but they can kick their legs all the way above their heads. After the young girls there was a dance with drums for the women who had recently been married. They had long skirts, their hair wrapped, and their face had patterns painted in small little dots. It is common for unmarried Xhosa women that are of age to have their faces painted white or orange. Then when they get married they dot their faces with patterns for the first year to show that they are newlyweds.  My village is a mixture of Zulu and Xhosa, so I get to see some of both cultures.

After the dancing there a few of my teachers as well as some community members came to sing some of their traditional songs. It took about two words in for the whole group to join in. Everyone knew the words to every song, well everyone except me. It is crazy how well people here can sing. Music is such a huge part of this culture, and it becomes very obvious in the way they can move and sing. Throughout all of this, random people would come up with their phones to take pictures of me. As beautiful as everything was, being the center of attention was a little much at times. I usually try pretty hard to blend in to crowds, but there was no way for that to happen here! After multiple songs, there were a few local leaders that had welcome speeches prepared. Of course I didn’t understand the majority of what was being said, but I knew they were talking about me and the crowd seemed to like what was being said so I sat there with a big smile on my face. Each one had me stand after their speech for a big hug and more pictures. At that point I couldn’t feel my cheeks anymore, but the day was far from over.

As if my school hadn’t given me enough already, they had gifts to give before we were able to eat. A few gifts were given to the chief and members of his high council. It is important to acknowledge his presence at community events, but he seemed to be enjoying everything as much as I was. Then my teaching staff lined up to take pictures with me as they handed me a wrapped gift. I was told that it was very special to all of them, but that I should wait until I get home to open it. Of course that peaked my curiosity, but I waited. Then all that stood in front of me and some much needed food was one more teacher with one more gift from the staff. One of my male teachers (the only one even close to my age) said something into the microphone to the crowd, and then offered me a beautiful beaded necklace, which of course I accepted. Then the crowd went wild! Turns out that it is a Xhosa tradition that when a man offers a woman a necklace his is asking for her hand in marriage, and by accepting it I had just said yes. It’s all fun and games until someone proposes in a language you can’t understand. Of course no one tells me this until after I had accepted the necklace, and it would be an understatement to say that I was pissed!!! I have been getting proposals from just about everyone, but not someone I am working with, and in front of a whole group of people. Of course all of the female teachers knew that I was not actually accepting his hand, and after a very mean glare and a sharp shake of my head at said teacher the crowd knew I was pissed too.

Thankfully this was a great time for people to start filing into the tent with trays of food. The community had prepared a traditional South African feast. Now, before I came to Africa I promised myself that I would at least try all of the food that was offered to me, and I am proud to say that I have stuck by that promise. I can now say that I have eaten chicken heads, chicken feet, chicken liver, chicken gizzards, and cow intestines. To be honest the chicken liver wasn’t that bad, but the cow intestine was probably the worst thing I have ever eaten. A cow intestine consists of a thick outer layer of muscle, and an inner layer of almost fluffy cilia. It almost looks like some weird sea plant. As weird as it looks, it tastes so much worse. It is extremely chewy and slimy, but at the same time you can still crunch on small pieces of dirt that wasn’t cleaned all the way. It was bad, really really bad. I will avoid ever eating it again. I was then given a big cup of sour corn meal porridge to wash it down. Another South African favorite, but not something I will ever drink again. It is very common here to let things sour before eating or drinking them. Many people pour sour milk over pap, and they love it. I’m surprised I still haven’t gotten really bad food poisoning, but so far my stomach has handled everything pretty well.

After feeling extremely stuffed I was able to get up and walk around. Almost everyone wanted to take a picture of me. No one really wanted to be in the picture with me, but everyone was ready with their phones to take a picture of me to show their friends. Mothers and gogos came up to me to hug me and tell me how excited they are to have me here, while others warned me that all learners are lazy and don’t try. It was an interesting mix of comments that’s for sure. Once the chief made his exit it seemed the party was winding down. I finally had a chance to corner the teacher who proposed and make it very clear that I am not interested and that what he did was extremely inappropriate. He made a few comments about how I am very strict, but I think after a few more death glares he got the idea.

Over all the day was so amazing. It was weird being the center of attention, but it was so heartwarming to see so many people come just to see me and to welcome me. I felt so privileged that people were willing to put so much time and effort into making sure I experienced some real South African culture, and to thank me for coming to their village. Hopefully I don’t disappoint them over the next two years, and that I can actually make a difference here!