Circumcision School

During the June-July School holiday many young men and women in the village attend circumcision schools. The young men and women range in age from 8-22. The schools are around 4 weeks long, and often held in the mountains. The purpose of the schools is to instill cultural values as children transition into adults.

In the olden days the boys would hunt everything they ate throughout the course of their four-week school. Today there is nothing wild left to hunt so families bring meat for the boys, but the still wear nothing but the traditional loin cloths and learn many secret songs and other secret things (that I don't know about). Many of the boys are circumcised at the school, but these days it is not uncommon for boys to be circumcised at the hospital before attending the school. Men who do not attend circumcision school are not allowed to participate in Community meetings.

Women go through a similar process of rugged living, learning secret songs and participating in endurance testing activities. As recently as 20 years ago all boys and girls would attend these schools, but they are slowly falling out of fashion. Previously some women had been circumcise, but people say the practice has fallen away almost completely. Especially for women, mountain schools are quickly becoming a thing of the past.

I attended the graduation ceremony for Modika, the first year of the boys' circumcision school. There were over two hundred boys at this particular school. Families pay between R400-R500 im tuition (approx $60). The families of the boys waited for them to be released. Mothers brought straw mats and danced and celebrated (as seen in the photo above). The boys arrived in silent procession, covered from head to toe with an oil mixed with die. The procession was serious and eerie (but the mothers were still dancing and hollaring in celebration of their boys becoming men). The mothers lay down their straw mats and all the boys sit down. Then they are ladden with candy necklaces and head bands as you can see in the third photo. The chief that had hosted the school called the name of each boy and he was lead away by his mother.

Once at home there is a party for the boys. You can see in the third photo, these are two brothers (my host nephews). We all came to the house to welcome them home. We gave them money (around R50, or $7); upon receiving the money they would recite a memorized statement of gratitue and determination to be a strong man. They get to keep the money, I think they used it to buy candy and games.

Boys are meant to return to the school the following year. At this time they qualify as Bagwera. They learn more secret traditions and songs in this session. The bagwera initiates are dressed in elaborate reed costumes and sent into the villages. They walk around with sticks and beat anyone that gets in their way, but only young people--never adults. The kids in the village love this game, they follow the bagwera around and creep as close as they can before taking off through the streets at the mouse end of hot-pursuit. It's a little like the running of the bulls.

You can see the bagwera pictured below in the last two phots (bagwera is plural, mogwera is singular). When they aren't chasing people they stand and undulate silent and ominous. It was by far my most exotic experience in the village. As I crept close to photograph them, everyone parted and drew away. I felt like a lamb creeping towards the slaughter. I could hearone of the older men who was chaperoning them ask who the heck this white person was. Lucky for me I'm well known amongst the kids, so to a chorus of "Ke Lebo" (it's Lebo), I took my photos. Then they turned and walked away.

Mom, Bonnie and George pay a visit to South Africa

17 June 2007, I waited with baited breath to see my mom and God parents emerge from a boeing 747. It had been almost two years; I was beside myself with excitement to see them again, show them my South Africa, and introduce them to my family and village. Their trip was a lot of fun, and the village absolutely loved them and was honoured to be hosting my elders! The only kink was that the schools were on strike and we weren't able to visit. My teachers were terribly disappointed to have missed them. It took a lot of time and energy just to process family and friend introductions. We even had tea with a collection of kokos (old women). Mom, Bonnie and George even hung out with the Girls' club, playing games and doing crafts. The visit was equally unforgettable for both my American and African families!

Above, Mom, Bonnie and George pose with my koko (grand mother) and a neighbor, who had come over to demand they leave me in the village when they go back to America. Below Mom, Bonnie and George with my host parents, Japhta and Susan, and little Tshoga.















Here's the whole fam!















While staying in the village we met with the girls camp. Because it was such a special occassion we allowed boys to also attend. Mom brought visor kits. They loved making them, and I saw bedecked visors floating around the village on the heads of all sorts of people for weeks afterwards.















Below my host brother, Poopo, the chess champion, sports his fashion creation.















We visited the rare cycad forests, and had plenty of time to take them in after I locked the keys in the trunk of the rental car! I blame deculturalization (a term I made up for the occasion). Fortunately George made some calls, and a Afrikaaner in very short shorts came and rescued us!

Here is the whole group of girls (and boys) celebrating after finishing their hats. You really

have to look for Mom, she blended in well with the locals.

After we left the village we spent two nights in Kruger National Park viewing the animals. Then we went up and spent a few nights in a cushy lodge. Here Bonnie and George are enjoying the big tree swings.

We took a lovely boat tour and saw one of the world's few remaining Tufor Waterfalls. The surface taht this water falls over is very thick and spongy, basically full of life. From the proper angle the cavernous holes the water emerges from look like big eyes and the whole thing looks like a crying skull. Very Treasure Island!

Here is a broad view of the Blyde River Canyon, where we were boating along.

Here are Mom and I, at the Pot Holes, cliffs that have been worn away by running water into long narrow holes over the years. Below is a broader view of the rock face.

After leaving the Lodge, Bonnie and George headed for Capetown and the Wine Region, and Mom and I headed for Ingwe Game Lodge, where we fleshed out our animal spotting cards with some excellent (and sometimes scary) lion, elephant, rhino, hippo, crocodile, leopard, cheetah, and cape buffalo sightings. Posed below are the guide and tracker.