The Great Moema

One

"You are now men!" Beams Sango.

The young initiates cold, naked and painted with clay from Moema, the great mountain, stand in a circle around a fire with Sango in the centre. His beaded dreadlocks swinging from side to side as he speaks, he wears beads around his neck and animal skin covers the bottom half of his body. He raises the staff in his right hand and obscures my vision of the moon, it appears as a ring around the rounded top of the wooden stick.

The large fire in the centre hisses and Sango lets out a menacing laugh then beats an ancient rhythm on the large drum with the rounded end of his staff. Women ululate in the distance, the sound gently rising as they approach. Sango sits down, crosses his legs and places the staff in front of him. He closes his eyes and prays as the ululating gets closer.

I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and the soft leather of the initiate gown covers my back. All the boys are being dressed by a female family member. The gown covers my shoulders all the way below the buttocks, but it doesn't cover the chest and stomach. The warm hand makes its way around my neck and ties a knot so that the gown stays on. Another animal skin is produced, and is just enough to cover my front and buttocks. A fur crown is placed on my head, beads tied around my ankles and wrists, and a few more around the neck. The ululating is loud and incessant, some of the women have started singing the ritual songs. The drum starts again, hands clapping, feet stamping to the drum beat, the ground letting out a small shudder under the vibrant dancing.

The calf grows, while the Shepard watches
But now the Lion growls.
Sing and dance, praise the ancestors
And the Lion turns back around.

Sango continues to pray beside the fire softly. The hand taps me gently on the shoulder, she's done. I kneel down and bow my head, like many of the other boys who were done getting dressed. We're not supposed to look back during the ritual, the elders say you will stay a child forever if you look back.

"Keep your eyes on the fire in front of you, the future is in front of you, not behind you" my grandfather had advised me before the ceremony.

After some time, the singing and ululating stops, a strange sound starts from the centre of the circle, like an incessant burping. The sound appears to be coming closer, a figure approaches and I see Sango's feet with the distinctive green beads around the ankles. He pulls my head up with with finger under my chin, a wet finger goes across my forehead then my cheeks before moving over to the boy beside me. Sango goes around the circle from right to left. The hand behind me pulls me by the shoulder and I stand.

"You are a man now," Says the sweet voice of my mother behind me "Look at your world my child."

I look up to see all the boys dressed in animal skins, yellow and brown beads around their ankles, wrists and neck. The leather crown on their heads and white paint on their foreheads and cheeks, we are now men.

Food starts arriving and is placed in the center of the circle. As men, we're no longer allowed to go up to the pot, the women dish out the meat and cassava in clay bowls. A calabash is thrust in my hands and I take a big gulp of the beer made especially for this evening. We can now sit, eat and enjoy the festivities until the morning. 

At sunrise, the cocks crow.

The other boys spent the whole night at the fire drinking and singing. I chose to go to sleep early, to be prepared for today. My spear is sharp, I've made one hundred arrows and collected enough poisons from the snake to wipe out a few villages. I've filled my leather water bag and packed some dried fruits, nuts, seeds and dried meats in a satchel. I feel ready.
During the initiation, all the boys sleep in one big hut to get us used to being away from our families. Some of the boys lay in their beds, smelling like the Mqombothi from the night before. I walk out of the hut as the sun rises in the horizon. The women have already started sweeping outside their huts, a big clay pot sits on a fire in the middle of the village, ready to prepare the morning porridge for the men to enjoy before they go on with their daily affairs. The other boys must still be at the celebration fire close to the kraal. I greet the ladies with a respectful bow and head for my mother's hut. I find her humming as she sweeps the space in front of her hut.