This Thing Called the Future
Page 19
“Oh, yes, Gogo,” I say. I know absolutely it’s the right thing to do.
She smiles at me. “Good. I’m glad. We’ll begin as soon as you’re ready. Tomorrow, if you like.”
“Thank you.”
We sit there in silence. I have another question for her, but now that I’m here, I don’t know how to ask it.
“What’s worrying you today?” she asks, eyes closed.
Inkosikazi Nene waits and I wait. It is almost like we are listening.
There are so many things I want to ask but I have one overwhelming question, the thing that dictates my every thought right now. Do I dare ask it?
I take a deep breath and let my voice find me. If I can’t trust Inkosikazi Nene with these questions, who can I trust? “Do you think if someone does something really wrong here on earth, they can still make peace with what they’ve done once they’ve died?”
“Eh!” she says, her exclamation more of a breath than anything like surprise. “Why do you ask?”
“Can…can my mama become an ancestor even if she did something wrong?”
Her touch and tone are gentle. “Khosi, healing doesn’t only come here, now, on this earth. It’s also something for the other side.”
I suddenly remember this is a Catholic belief too. Purgatory. And now I realize why we did the purification, and why we kept praying, even after we knew Mama was going to die. No matter how strong and powerful your enemy is, you keep on doing it, no matter what, because there’s always hope, and if anyone has enough power to help you, it is God. Healing an illness isn’t about healing the body. It’s about curing the soul. And only God can do that.
“Life doesn’t end with the separation of the spirit and the body. Akudlozi lingay’ ekhaya,” she says. “No spirit fails to go home.” She reaches out and pats my hand. “The hard part, Khosi, is for those of us still living to let go of our anger towards the people who have already passed on to the other side.”
I guess that means I have to learn how to forgive Mama for what she did.
Those dim voices that spoke to me, first here in the sangoma’s hut and then when I was sick, they’re babbling now. Like they’re all trying to reassure me, like they’re all saying we’re in this together. I guess this is something I’ll have to get used to if I’m going to be a sangoma. I’m even beginning to recognize Babamkhulu’s voice through the gaggle of voices murmuring to me.
“Thank you,” I say, grabbing Inkosikazi Nene’s hand in mine, making my promise to her with touch. This whole thing will be hard—forgiving Mama, becoming a sangoma, becoming a nurse, just living life—but it’s what I have to do.
When I crawl out of the hut, the first thing I see is Little Man and Zi sitting on a wall outside of the gate. They’re laughing so hard at something that they don’t even hear me coming up to them.
Zi stops laughing and slips her hand inside Little Man’s. She looks up at him, as if what she’s going to say is confidential, a secret. “Do you think Mama can hear us?” she asks. “Do you think she knows you’re my friend?”
I’m surprised by her questions. Waiting to hear Little Man’s response, it feels as though somebody is pounding on my chest.
“I don’t know,” Little Man replies.
“You don’t know?” Zi crinkles up her nose.
He reaches out his finger and pokes her belly and she squirms away, giggling. “I think Khosi would say yes, your mama can hear us,” he says. “As for me…I hope she’s right.”
They look up then and see me. Little Man’s face breaks out in a happy grin, and Zi charges forward, hurtling towards me, arms outstretched to hug me.
I remember what Mama said not too long ago, how you couldn’t change the past. Now you must look ahead, she said. There is only this thing called the future.
I take a deep breath and go towards it.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This is a book I wrote because I fell in love with African women—little girls and teenagers and young mothers and grandmothers. I could not possibly have written this book without many lengthy trips to South Africa, where families welcomed me into their homes and treated me like a daughter. Though I am writing in the voice of a young woman whose experiences are so radically different from mine, underneath the exterior differences of culture and language, Khosi has many of the same needs, desires, and fears that I had at fourteen.
Any errors in understanding Zulu culture and language are all mine.
I have so many people to thank. I must first thank my Zulu instructors—Galen Sibanda at Stanford; “Mama” Sandra Sanneh at Yale; and Nelson “Baba” Ntshangase and Mary Gordon at the University of KwaZulu-Natal in Pietermaritzburg. I would also like to thank my academic mentors in African history: Charles Ambler, Iris Berger, Richard Roberts, and Sean Hanretta.
There are many families and individuals whom I have stayed with or spent considerable time with in South Africa. Here is a brief, but not exhaustive, list of people who have been very helpful for me in writing this book: The Nene family from Imbali. Gugu Mofokeng. The Dube clan—Bukhosi, Buke, Dumisani, Leocardia, Phillip, Tsepo, Sikumbuzo, and Fikile. Helen and Ross Musselman. Charmaine, Tony, and Nadine Botto. Henry Trotter. Abby Neely. Thokozile Nguse. Anne and Graham Dominy. Izak and Elma de Vries. John Little Bear and his wife Desray Britz. Stephen Carpenter of the Hilcrest AIDS Centre. Dominic Carlyle Mitchell of Fakisandla Consulting, as well as his sister, who took me around the herbal market in Durban and introduced me to several prominent herbalists. Philippe Denis of Sinomlando. Robyn Hemmens. Berenice Meintjies of Sinani, Survivors of Violence. Kevin and Monique Peterson. Wayne Symington. Marie Odendaal and John Inglis. Dr. Ravi Naidoo and Dr. Bheki Ngcobo, both of the Howard Campus at the University of KwaZulu-Natal. S’the Ndlovu of Izimbali Zesizwe. Dr. Nceba Gqaleni of the Nelson Mandela School of Medicine. Fay and Barney Flett. Hilary Kromberg Inglis and Robert Inglis. Zinhle Thabethe, Xolani Zulu, and Dr. Krista Dong of i-Teach, based at Edendale Hospital. Izak Niehaus of Brunel University. Robin Root of NYU. Richard Steele and Ben Wulfsohn, both homeopathic practitioners in the Durban-Pietermaritzburg region. John Daniels and Elan Lax, both who served on the Truth and Justice Commission. Debbie Mathew of the AIDS Foundation of South Africa. Alan Whiteside of the Health Economics and HIV/AIDS Research Division of Howard Campus, University KwaZulu-Natal. Thulani Zondi, formerly of L’Abri and of i-Teach. Heleen Johnson of the Thusanani Children’s Foundation. Trudy Mhlanga from Zimbabwe.
In addition to traveling to South Africa and spending time with a lot of wonderful people, I read a lot of books. There is one scholar whose work proved tremendously helpful: Adam Ashforth. In fact, the direct wording of the sign “Brothers and Sisters, we are abel to cure any sick,” comes from one of his books on witchcraft in South Africa. I also appreciated Jonny Steinberg and Helen Epstein’s work on AIDS in Africa.
Writer friends Lora, Amanda, Christine, Annemarie, Ann, and my mother Becky all read this book at various stages and offered suggestions that helped. My agent Jennifer Carlson not only helped with the writing and marketing of this book but also introduced me to her husband Andrew Zolli of PopTech, who put me in touch with several very helpful people in South Africa.
Many thanks to the whole Cinco Puntos gang, for believing in this work and teaming up with me to create one great book.
Last, but certainly not least, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my husband, Chris Gibson, who was always supportive and never once complained about the huge chunks of time we spent apart while I was tracking down people and information in South Africa.
GLOSSARY OF ZULU WORDS
The Zulu language is structurally very different from English. It is organized around the noun. There are seventeen classes of nouns. Because the initial part of the noun is dropped when constructing a sentence, it can be difficult for English speakers to look up nouns in a Zulu dictionary. This initial part of a noun may also be dropped when a person is addressed directly. For example, amantombazana means “little girls,”
but if you were addressing a group of little girls directly, you would address them as Ntombazana.
Please note that though I have often pluralized words the Zulu way, I have made some exceptions. The plural for sangoma should be izangoma but I have pluralized it the English way by referring to a group of healers as sangomas. I have also done this with the word tsotsi.
Amandla Power, strength. During the war for liberation, black South Africans used this phrase as a rallying cry against the whites in power who suppressed and oppressed them. The response to Amandla is Awethu, which means “to us.”
Amantombazana Little girls.
Angazi/Angaz’ “I don’t know.”
Angiguli “I’m not sick.”
Awethu “To us!” See Amandla.
Baba Father.
Babamkhulu Grandfather.
Braai Barbecue, an Afrikaans word.
Cha “No.”
Dagga Marijuana.
Gogo Grandmother. Zulus refer to older women as Gogo, even when there is no familial relationship.
Gogo kaThandi Thandi’s grandmother. Literally, grandmother of Thandi.
Hamba/Hambani “Go!” “Run!” Adding the “ni” to the end makes the word plural.
Hapana “No.”
Hawu An exclamation like “Wow!”
Hayibo An expression of disbelief or surprise, similar to hawu. It is sometimes spelled haibo.
Hhayi An exclamation, like “No!” or “No way!”
I-dining The dining room.
Imbali Literally, the word means “flower,” but it is also a township located just outside the city limits of Pietermaritzburg.
Impela “Indeed.”
Impepho An herb, commonly burned as incense by sangomas.
Impi An army regiment. Can also refer to a family group, e.g., a father, his brothers, and all their sons.
Impundulu A lightning bird, sent by witches. It is an evil portent, suggesting that you or one of your loved ones has been bewitched.
Indoda Man.
Inkosikazi Mrs. If you address a person directly as Inkosikazi, you must drop the initial “i” on the noun and it becomes Nkosikazi.
Intombazana A little girl who has not yet menstruated.
Intombi A girl who has reached the age of maturity, that is, one who is capable of bearing children.
Isithunzi (sake) One’s character, personality, or soul. It can also refer to a person’s “shadow,” the level of goodness and strength within, that turns him or her into an ancestor after their death.
Khumbi Also known as a “taxi,” a khumbi is a minibus that serves as transportation all over South Africa. It is sometimes spelled khombi or combi.
Kwaito A style of music popular in South African townships—a combination of Afropop and hip-hop.
Lapha “Here, right here.”
Lobola To pay lobolo.
Lobolo Bride price.
Masihambe “Let’s go.”
Mfana Boy. The actual noun is Umfana, but Zulu speakers drop the initial “u” sound when addressing somebody directly as “Boy.” When Thandi drags out the “a” sound, Mfaan, she is just using slang to address her boyfriend as “Boy.”
Mina? “Me?”
Mntwana wam’ “My child.”
Muthi Medicine, all kinds. It can be used to heal somebody or for witchcraft purposes, which include poisoning one’s enemies. In popular culture, muti (spelled without the “h”) is synonymous with witchcraft potions.
Na mina? “And as for me?”
Ncese Shame.
Ndoda Man. The word is the same as Indoda but the initial “i” is dropped when a person is addressed directly as “Man.”
Ngena “Enter.”
Ngikhathele kakhulu “I’m so very tired.”
Ngisuthi “I’m full.”
Ngiyabonga “Thank you.”
Ngiyaxolisa “I’m sorry” or “Forgive me.”
Ninjani? “How are you and your family?”
Nkosikazi Mrs. This is the same word as Inkosikazi, but Zulus drop the initial “i” sound when addressing a woman directly as Inkosikazi.
Ntombazana A little girl who has not yet menstruated. Without the initial “i,” it means the speaker is directly addressing somebody as “Little Girl.”
Ntombi A girl who has reached the age of maturity, that is, she is capable of bearing children. It is the same word as Intombi but when a girl is addressed directly as Intombi, Zulu speakers drop the initial “i” sound.
Pho! An exclamation, like “Wow!”
Phuthu The staple of Zulu meals, a corn meal mush, usually eaten with vegetables and meat.
Rand South African currency.
Sala kahle “Stay well.”
Sangoma Traditional healer. A sangoma is a diviner, distinct from the herbalist—the inyanga—though often a sangoma embodies both roles.
Sawubona/Sanibona “Hello” (singular/plural).
Shebeen An illegal or unofficial bar, one that somebody has opened in their home.
Shesha/Sheshani “Hurry.” Adding “ni” makes the command plural.
Sho! An exclamation, like “Wow!”
Sikhona Literally, this phrase means “we are here,” but basically means, “we’re fine.”
Sisi Sister. A term of affection but used commonly among men and women of approximately the same age, even if they aren’t related.
Siyahamb’ “We are walking in the light of God.”
ekukhanyen’
kwenkhos’
Siyaphila “We are well.”
Tokoloshe A small, hairy creature—monkey-like—who is evil in nature and makes mischief. Witches may curse a person by sending a tokoloshe to cause mayhem in his or her life.
Toyi-toyi A type of dancing created during South Africa’s war for liberation. It is used for both protest and celebration.
Tsotsi Gangster, bad boy.
Ubuntu Literally, the word means humanity or mankind, but as a concept in African culture, ubuntu suggests that all humans are connected to each other and that what hurts one human, hurts all humans.
Ukuthwasa A special illness that men and women (primarily women) undergo when they are called to be a sangoma, usually involving visions, disorientation, wandering.
Umfana Boy. When Thandi drags out the “a” sound, Mfaaan, she is just using slang to address her boyfriend as “Boy.”
Umnumzana Mr. Zulu speakers drop the initial “u” sound when directly addressing somebody as Umnumzana.
Umthakathi A person who sends illness and death. A witch.
Unamanga “You’re a liar!”
Utshwala Beer, specially brewed for celebrations and rites honoring the ancestors. It has a very low alcohol content and is a nutritious drink.
Uyagula? “Are you sick?”
Uyakhona nawe? “Is she with you?”
Uyaqonda? “Do you understand?”
Vuka “Wake up.”
Wena “You.”
Woza “Come.”
Wozani “You (plural) come.”
Yebo “Yes.” It is sometimes used to say “Hello!”
Zionists One of many Christian sects in South Africa that emphasizes physical healing through prayer, water, and the laying on of hands.
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This Thing Called the Future
Copyright © 2011 by J.L. Powers
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations for reviews. For information, write Cinco Puntos Press, 701 Texas, El Paso, TX 79901 or call at (915) 838-1625.
Cigarette card, Zulumädchen mit fonderbarer Haartracht, used by permission of George Arents Collection, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations.
S.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Powers, J. L. (Jessica Lynn), 1974-
p. cm.
Summary: Fourteen-year-old Khosi’s mother wants her to get an education to break out of their South African shantytown, although she herself is wasting away from an untreated illness, while Khosi’s grandmother, Gogo, seeks help from a traditional Zulu healer.
eISBN : 978-1-935-95510-8
[1. Sick—Fiction. 2. Healers—Fiction. 3. Medical care—Fiction. 4. Mothers and daughters—Fiction. 5. Zulu (African people)—Fiction. 6. Blacks—South Africa—Fiction. 7. South Africa—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.P883443Thi 2011
[Fic]—dc22
2010037399