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7 Face to face with the spirit of Africa I looked at the sun, which was about to perform its daily ritual of departure. This meant the dual ceremony was about to start. It was dual because my aunt and her daughter were being ‘brought home’ simultaneously. I had looked forward to this day because I had not witnessed umbuyiso before. A short energetic man clapped his hands to draw our attention. Suddenly, people wore sad faces and trudged towards my father, who was standing, with a characteristic stoop, in front of the kitchen hut. He was the chief priest cum master of ceremonies. Relatives gathered around my father for a briefing on how the double ceremony was going to be conducted. My father opened up the debate to the relatives. No insurmountable hitches were encountered. It was agreed that my aunt would be brought home first, her daughter soon after. The people present spoke in hushed tones, in deference to the people whose souls were being brought home. Ndebele religious philosophy posits that human beings have a spiritual component that lives on beyond the grave. This spirit, separated from the body, wanders into the unfathomable abyss of the universe. It wanders in solitude until it is brought back home to take care of its earthly progeny. Just when we all thought everything was in place, one woman brought to our attention the fact that my aunt’s daughter had been buried in Bulawayo, and that soil from her grave had been brought along. A momentary uneasy silence was broken by a piercing dry cough from an old man. The man suggested a ritual burial of the soil prior to conducting the bringing home ceremonies. I heard a few loud sighs of relief and observed several heads nodding in agreement. At that point, we all went to the back of the homestead where my aunt was buried. Next to her grave a small hole was dug, and the soil from Bulawayo interred in this ritual grave. The short ceremony was marked by the solemnity that is characteristic of a burial. Once back at the homestead, preparations for the next phase began. We were shown two calabashes containing consecrated beer: one for my aunt and another for my cousin. A she-goat was dragged from the pen. My worst fear came true. The responsibility of holding the jittery goat fell on me. In essence, it meant that I was to bring home the wandering spirit of my aunt and request it to take charge of its children. My aunt’s eldest daughter balanced the calabash with frothing beer on her 8 head and led the way to my aunt’s grave. I followed her, struggling to control the wild goat. I mustered all my strength. If the bleating thing bolted it could be misinterpreted as my aunt’s spirit refusing to come home. I was not prepared to take responsibility for such a tragedy. Now the officiating priest, my father, knelt beside the tombstone. Prayerfully, he announced to my aunt’s spirit what we were about to do. He beseeched her to come home and take care of her children. As he uttered these words he poured some beer on the grave. He took a small quantity in his mouth, spat it out and then swallowed a small mouthful. Beer was poured over the back of the goat, which I was still holding with all my strength. Silence descended. The goat, its back wet with beer, tried to pull a trick or two in order to bolt away. No, my aunt’s spirit bolting away into the void where it had been wandering along? I held it so tightly that it could only succeed in getting away if it left its horns with me. Every person present took a sip of the beer in turn. The first sip was spat out and the second swallowed. A little beer should always be left in the calabash. This, my father poured onto the grave. The joyful return started with me now the centre of attention. In my own hands I held the spirit of my aunt which I led home to her children. The izinyanga song, during which my aunt’s name was called out, accompanied our triumphal spiritual entry into the homestead. Sweating profusely, I was ordered to stand in front of the sacrificial hut, with the goat still firmly held in my hands. The singing party entered the hut and continued...

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