March 22, 2005
SATURN AND SANGOMAS
Greetings all from the Mother City..Cape Town, South Africa. I've been here for almost a week, acclimatizing, relaxing and reuniting........and looking at the rings of Saturn through a telescope!!!
I just returned from Khayelistsha, one of the infamous townships that outline the actual cities, where most of the black African populations live, usually in dire poverty and squalor, next to the freeways. The rest of the city populus lives closer to their places of employment in heavily secured compounds or buildings, sometimes akin to cages as every available entrance/exit has bars on the windows. I guess security is an issue round here. Anyhow, the reason I went to the township was for the "graduation" of a "white" sangoma (traditional healer/doctor). My contact for this was my housemate Annelie who is a twasa (sangoma in training). So we (myself, Anu and Annelie) ventured off at about 3pm, got there around 4 and just returned..... it is 12:43am now). Many others remain, probably till morning. This was the last day of 4. I experienced much during the last while and thought many things, from the spiritual to the political. Political cause it is a little strange, to me anyhow, for white South Africans to become entrenched in a such serious part of the black African culture which was suppressed and nearly wiped out until only 11 years ago under the apartheid regime. I won't go deep into all of that but I guess people on both sides do different things for different reasons....for power, prestige, fame, guilt, healing, personal quests....whatever. Anyways......
We arrive just as the cow that was slaughtered is being divided out to those who want it. The actual sangomas, if nothing else, look spectacular with intricate beadwork on their headress, around their torso and waists, feathers and animal skins draped over themselves, with white being the dominate colour. Some small speeches and small talk. It is hot even though we are all under shade. Hand-rolled cigarette smoke fills the air and the smell of burnt food. Most find a seat, there are many people, most coming for the free food and drink. I stand for at least an hour taking it all in. The whole vibe of the scene reminds me of Ghana and my time there in the villages. After some time I'm on the ground chatting and in the far corner of the courtyard, made of corrugated iron roof, branches and concrete, comes a single voice in song followed by clapping and some of the funkiest bass drumming I have ever heard. Then the chorus joins in. I can't help but ignore the conversation I'm in. The songs are simple, usually just a single line saying something like "You can't kill a cobra in heaven" or "No one knows who the man is after" or some other cryptic proverb whose meaning I can only guess at (all in the Xhosa language of course, with its fascinating clicks, pops and other uses of our mouths that few other languages dare to utilize). Anyone can start the song, on their own and the chorus chimes in with drones, harmony or just claps along with the single drummer while others dance a charming shuffle with their feet.
And that bass drum, just section of an oil drum covered by two cow skins and beaten with two sticks, and usually played by women. But the sound!!!! Something warm and inviting that goes through the bones, sometimes like a train, other times funky and shuffling. Depending where you sit you'll get a whole different feel from the music with the voices, drumming and dancing all happening and of courses shouts and hollers of encouragement, pleasure or excitement...all propelling the mass forward and upward. Over the next few hours the energy waxes and wanes. Some of the dancing is inspired and driven, even from older ladies, other times relaxed and easy. But one guy takes the cake.....he is there, with crutches and one foot in a cast, but he has more energy than most. He's singing his heart out one minute, his voice almost cracking, sweat beading down his face, the next minute he's on the drum pushing the energy higher and then believe it or not, he's dancing on one good foot with his crutches in the air!!! (The sangomas say it is good to dance away any illness). Awesome.
Other than that I've been laying low here. Practicing my mrdangam, visiting the ocean and swimming, eating good food and planning a trip to Zimbabwe at month's end. Not sure what else I'll come across here in Cape Town. There's a lot happening, a huge jazz scene, the only place outside of America where jazz was embraced and practiced by the lower classes. At a music festival everyone seems to dig the soloists, same thing at a club. Jazz isn't some esoteric, mystery music for those in the know....it is for the people. And the people here love music and show it. At an outdoor festival one single lady got up to dance to a song she enjoyed while everyone else sat. Her infection spread and then another joined, and another, and another...and about 50 more into a huge mass of all ages and races. The cool thing was is that they were all doing this one sequence of moves, kind of like a school of fish or country line dancers. You could feel the energy coming off this group. I think that happens a lot in Cape Town.
That's enough for now I spose. I don't want to offend anyone with lengthy e-mails or make them stare at their screens any longer than they want to. Attention span is a holy thing these days.
Ciao,
Curtis
SATURN AND SANGOMAS
Greetings all from the Mother City..Cape Town, South Africa. I've been here for almost a week, acclimatizing, relaxing and reuniting........and looking at the rings of Saturn through a telescope!!!
I just returned from Khayelistsha, one of the infamous townships that outline the actual cities, where most of the black African populations live, usually in dire poverty and squalor, next to the freeways. The rest of the city populus lives closer to their places of employment in heavily secured compounds or buildings, sometimes akin to cages as every available entrance/exit has bars on the windows. I guess security is an issue round here. Anyhow, the reason I went to the township was for the "graduation" of a "white" sangoma (traditional healer/doctor). My contact for this was my housemate Annelie who is a twasa (sangoma in training). So we (myself, Anu and Annelie) ventured off at about 3pm, got there around 4 and just returned..... it is 12:43am now). Many others remain, probably till morning. This was the last day of 4. I experienced much during the last while and thought many things, from the spiritual to the political. Political cause it is a little strange, to me anyhow, for white South Africans to become entrenched in a such serious part of the black African culture which was suppressed and nearly wiped out until only 11 years ago under the apartheid regime. I won't go deep into all of that but I guess people on both sides do different things for different reasons....for power, prestige, fame, guilt, healing, personal quests....whatever. Anyways......
We arrive just as the cow that was slaughtered is being divided out to those who want it. The actual sangomas, if nothing else, look spectacular with intricate beadwork on their headress, around their torso and waists, feathers and animal skins draped over themselves, with white being the dominate colour. Some small speeches and small talk. It is hot even though we are all under shade. Hand-rolled cigarette smoke fills the air and the smell of burnt food. Most find a seat, there are many people, most coming for the free food and drink. I stand for at least an hour taking it all in. The whole vibe of the scene reminds me of Ghana and my time there in the villages. After some time I'm on the ground chatting and in the far corner of the courtyard, made of corrugated iron roof, branches and concrete, comes a single voice in song followed by clapping and some of the funkiest bass drumming I have ever heard. Then the chorus joins in. I can't help but ignore the conversation I'm in. The songs are simple, usually just a single line saying something like "You can't kill a cobra in heaven" or "No one knows who the man is after" or some other cryptic proverb whose meaning I can only guess at (all in the Xhosa language of course, with its fascinating clicks, pops and other uses of our mouths that few other languages dare to utilize). Anyone can start the song, on their own and the chorus chimes in with drones, harmony or just claps along with the single drummer while others dance a charming shuffle with their feet.
And that bass drum, just section of an oil drum covered by two cow skins and beaten with two sticks, and usually played by women. But the sound!!!! Something warm and inviting that goes through the bones, sometimes like a train, other times funky and shuffling. Depending where you sit you'll get a whole different feel from the music with the voices, drumming and dancing all happening and of courses shouts and hollers of encouragement, pleasure or excitement...all propelling the mass forward and upward. Over the next few hours the energy waxes and wanes. Some of the dancing is inspired and driven, even from older ladies, other times relaxed and easy. But one guy takes the cake.....he is there, with crutches and one foot in a cast, but he has more energy than most. He's singing his heart out one minute, his voice almost cracking, sweat beading down his face, the next minute he's on the drum pushing the energy higher and then believe it or not, he's dancing on one good foot with his crutches in the air!!! (The sangomas say it is good to dance away any illness). Awesome.
Other than that I've been laying low here. Practicing my mrdangam, visiting the ocean and swimming, eating good food and planning a trip to Zimbabwe at month's end. Not sure what else I'll come across here in Cape Town. There's a lot happening, a huge jazz scene, the only place outside of America where jazz was embraced and practiced by the lower classes. At a music festival everyone seems to dig the soloists, same thing at a club. Jazz isn't some esoteric, mystery music for those in the know....it is for the people. And the people here love music and show it. At an outdoor festival one single lady got up to dance to a song she enjoyed while everyone else sat. Her infection spread and then another joined, and another, and another...and about 50 more into a huge mass of all ages and races. The cool thing was is that they were all doing this one sequence of moves, kind of like a school of fish or country line dancers. You could feel the energy coming off this group. I think that happens a lot in Cape Town.
That's enough for now I spose. I don't want to offend anyone with lengthy e-mails or make them stare at their screens any longer than they want to. Attention span is a holy thing these days.
Ciao,
Curtis