Zulu Shopping in South Africa
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Zulu Shopping in
South Africa
Beneath the First World
sun-worshipping veneer of
Durban, South Africa, is an alternate economy that draws on centuries of
Zulu tribal tradition.
By
Chris Marais,
Main Line
Media
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Bheki Biyela models a
few of his creations
outside his shop/shack in Zululand. |
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When Dave
Charles was a small boy, his family moved from the city of
Johannesburg
to the countryside of Zululand and found him a nanny. His mother asked the Zulu
woman if she spoke English.
“Yes,” she
replied, and was hired on the spot. But “yes” was the only English word she
knew, and so Dave Charles was raised in the Zulu vernacular. More than 40 years
later, Dave knows that his love for one of the continent’s most intriguing
cultures – unified by King Shaka in the early 1800s - and its language was a
gift that few white South Africans ever receive.
He and his
wife Sue moved to
Zululand some years ago.
Zululand or KwaZulu was one of the ten self-governing territories for different
black ethnic groups (like the Xhosa, Ndebele or Zulu) within the “old” South
Africa. These so called “Homelands” were established as part of the racial
segregation policy of apartheid.
About 5.8
million people lived in
Zululand, one of the larger
territories. Ulundi was its capital. With the adoption of a democratic
government, all Homelands ceased to exit on April 27, 2004, and were
re-incorporated into modern South Africa as newly designated provinces. Today,
Zululand is part of the province KwaZulu/Natal on the Indian Ocean. And the term
Zululand is no longer political, but has a cultural meaning.
In
Zululand, Sue opened “Ikon Afrika,” a décor and craft shop at “The Kingdom” near
the picturesque town of Ballito, 30 miles (about 50 kilometres) north of Durban,
a Zulu cultural centre located on an old sugar estate. And Dave ventured deep
into Zululand to source authentic work.
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Dave
Charles in his inner Zulu element. |
But,
following a trail of rumor, wood smoke and tradition, he came upon an astounding
fact: the heart of true Zulu workmanship had moved to the
Durban
area, right under the sun-browned skin of this First World holiday city, known
more for its beaches, high rise resorts and trendy nightclubs than for its Deep
Zulu nature.
Nosing around
Sue’s shop recently, I fell into a conversation with Dave about the cowhide
shields and ceremonial spears on display.
“Look, if you’re interested, why don’t
you come with me tomorrow?” he offered. “I’m going to see some craftsmen down
Durban way.”
I accepted,
little knowing I was to have the cultural experience of a lifetime.
When you drop
off the coastal highway into KwaMashu, be prepared for a vast, technicolor
township of millions that rivals the legendary
Soweto in
size and complexity. We drove, Dave and I, down ever-narrowing roads past mazes
of mud shacks and wood huts, each connected to a spider’s web of overhead
electric lines.
We passed a
tumbledown strip mall of tuck shops, TV repair dens, shoe stalls, and a
“steakhouse” where the barbecue fire had been lit and the cow awaited the chop.
Eventually, we arrived at Bheki Biyela’s place, on the crest of a small hill.
If this were
London, Bheki Biyela would have
had a shingle out on Bond Street, saying “By Appointment to His Royal Majesty.”
As a supplier of traditional garb to the Zulu Royal House, he is known to be one
of the finest Zulu tailors in the country.
Outside his
modest shack was a serval skin, stretched out on a rack. Inside Bheki’s place,
there was a workroom, a bedroom – and little else. A stout Zulu man entered with
the air of a regular customer and admired himself in a leopard skin mantle,
usually reserved for royalty.
Three women
who had seen our parked vehicle came by to show off their new “isixolos,” modern
and lightweight versions of the wide red headdress worn by Zulu matrons.
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The big red "isixolo"
headdresses traditionally worn by
Zulu matrons have now been updated to a light,
colorful fashion statement. |
Bheki
displayed the striking new trend that has swept through the world of Zulu
traditional garb: black and white suedette patterns with colored car reflectors
inset, which is then worn with cat skin.
It’s tough on the local feline
populations, but one gets the idea that “luiperdlap” (faux leopard skin) will
never be a runaway item in this part of the world.
Along
Musa
Road in KwaMashu was a fruit stall festooned with dozens of fine bananas. I
wanted a couple for breakfast, so we parked nearby. Out came the bubbling Petros
Mkhwanazi, former boxing announcer for Radio Zulu and future guesthouse
entrepreneur. Once Dave had done the introductions, Petros took us into his
guest room, adorned with Zulu pin-up girls, local boxing greats, two dangling
weaver’s nests and a row of ancient, crumbling South African banknotes.
“I know, I
know”, he said, laughing. “I once buried that money to keep it safe.”
Into this
tiny 2 x 3-m room (64 square feet), Petros had packed a world of comforts: a
bed, a television set, a stove and a chair. The en-suite bathroom was basic, and
I fear none but the bravest of travellers would book in at “Chez Mkhwanazi.”
However, I
saw a tough overland writer like Paul Theroux dropping his pack here, settling
in for a month and emerging with a best-selling “Inner Zulu” epic that would
leave us South African writers shame-faced. And how much would Petros charge for
a night at his place?
“Thirty Rands
(US$ 4.50),” he said. “No, make that thirty five…”
We left KwaMashu
and entered
Durban from the north, passing
fabric shops and the venerable Lion Match factory, stopping at the disused
railway station in Umgeni Road. This is where Zulu women rule.
They’re
mostly rural women weavers who trek in for a few weeks to sell their wares. They
stay somewhere in the back of the building, and each morning they set up shop on
the sidewalk, selling sleeping mats, black clay pots and Zulu cutlery. And they
don’t haggle, as I soon found out.
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Petros Makhwanazi,
fruit and vegetable vendor
- and sometime guest house owner. |
“How much for
this mat?” asked Dave, in his slow, amiable Zulu.
“Seventy
Rands (US$ 10.50),” the seller replied.
“How about 60
Rands?”
“Seventy
Rands.”
“Maybe 65?”
“Seventy
Rands.”
“OK, then.
We’ll take two.”
Dave Charles
asked the women if they were safe here on
Umgeni Road. Weren’t they
worried that men would rob them?
“Let them
come,” one of the women replied. “Then they will see what we do to them.”
Dave was
looking for one James Bhengu, the best shield-maker in town. He works in a
hostel near the docks, and during the 10 minutes we spent searching the building
for him.
I felt
extremely pale in a very dark world. But Dave’s language skill and easy manner
relaxed everyone in the unlit corridors of this desperate place. James Bhengu
was nowhere to be found.
We crossed
over to the Dalton Road Skin Dealers, where it was a hive of industry. Zulu
radio blared out from the stalls, which double as bedrooms and shops for the
workmen inside. They were making spears, knobkerries, drums, shields and the
entire array of traditional Zulu paraphernalia that you see the warriors wearing
on TV at special occasions.
Here we found
another Bhengu, a powerful, strong-featured man called Kay. He makes it all,
from beautiful cowhide shields to nut-like objects worn at the end of a
warrior’s penis – the “umncedo.” Dave provided a little light background:
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Kay Bhengu puts the
finishing touches on one
of the smaller cowhide shields he makes. |
“In the old
days, a Zulu man could be considered fully dressed wearing only this little
widget fitted onto his member. It is said that when King Shaka berated his
advisors, all their umncedos would drop off at the same time.”
Our last stop
of the morning was at the Victoria Street Muthi Market, a sprawling outdoor
display on a bridge overpass with the
Durban skyline in the
background. This is the second economy of our country, Africa-to-Africa in full
throttle.
More than 80
percent of all South Africans use traditional medicine at some time in their
lives. Hundreds of metres of stalls were bunched up next to each other selling
powders, roots, barks, shells, animal heads, skins of every description, sea
beans, wings, feathers and other body parts – each with a specific medicinal
purpose.
Dave was busy
chatting with a woman about one of her potions. They were inspecting some “Zulu
Viagra,” and it was a crowd-stopping passage involving ribald hand movements,
raised eyebrows and much laughter. Everyone passing by had something to add to
the conversation, and by the way they leered at me, I could see my old friend
Dave was setting me up for a big sale.
I was right.
The potions lady scooped together a package of twigs and fine brown powder into
some newspaper wrapping and told me, via Mr Charles:
“One
tablespoon if you’re brave, stirred into a glass of milk or a cup of soup. But
make sure there’s a woman in your arms already, because this thing, it works
fast…”
We finished
off the tour with a seafood lunch at Splashes Restaurant, near the end of
Point Road. By then, I had had the scales dropped from my eyes. After years of
indigenous encounters around the world, from weekends in deepest Borneo with the
erstwhile head-hunting Ibans, to throat-singing competitions in the middle of
Mongolia’s Gobi Desert, I’d come upon a cultural product that has left me
totally thrilled – and informed – at last.
And it was
right here in
South Africa – my own back yard.
Over a second cold beer, I told Dave Charles as much.
“Oh,” he
mused. “Do you really think people would like to come Zulu shopping with me?”
“Only the
brave ones, Dave. And there’s quite a few of those.”
IF YOU GO
You can
travel with Dave Charles to urban settlements around
Durban in
South Africa’s KwaZulu Natal Province to visit genuine Zulu shield makers,
cobblers, spear makers and tailors of traditional Zulu apparel to find that
particular piece you have always wanted.
Contact Dave
Charles at Ikon Afrika
www.ikonafrika.co.za
Ballito
Cultural Attractions
http://www.ballito.net/cultural.php
South Africa
Tourism
http://www.southafrica.net
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