A straw hat covers his eyes. The male and senior sangoma is wearing the regular white, red and black cloth around his hips and a white t-shirt. On top of the t-shirt, the beads in hundreds, or perhaps thousands. The beads and colours that make the living bow and clap. I accept and breathe in their presence. And acceptance has no reason to question.
Her telling happens through bones, stones and magic items. Calling on the ancestors to reveal the darkness. Drums and chanting will bring them in. Bring the dark to light, so we can heal and release. Release the pain, the darkness and open her path. But is she willing? The fate lies with her, not them. She is nervous. So am I. She is laughing and crying during the telling and calling.
As expected, the calling of those before us and telling revealed the darkness. Rendered it visible. Dirt on hands, needs to be washed away. By the help of the sangomas, she will be cleansed in the river.
If you didn’t know the sacred meaning of this place, you would just drive past on the highway and never have a reason to think about it. You probably would not even notice the stream floating parallel to the noisy highway. The darkness haunted her, this girl of good age. Her life, her future, the expectations – it was not supposed to be this way. The family accorded that consulting the ancestors and a following healing, was the only solution. A healing that would clear out, remove, removing the darkness. So she can live her life and plan her future.
We accompany her to the river. It is a warm day, as most days in Gauteng and we are at least an hour away from Soweto, but I actually have no clue where we are.
Yet the water is cold. The river is situated behind a forest, and although called a river – it is more of a stream. The shallow but cold water allows for standing in it with some effort. The stream flows peacefully in its own direction downwards and makes its way over and around stones and tree branches in its way.
They enter into the water, the girl of good age and now two female sangomas and I can see the pain of the cold water – merged with the darkness – in her face.
As the water hits her half-stripped body, she screams, laughs and cries invariably.
Relief, sorrow, fear, happiness, expectations – all mixed together with the icy feeling from the water.
Some parts, I am invited to watch, but others not. For some parts, I turn away. For others even more violent, I go back to the car.
We do not play or experiment with the forces of and ancestors of the river. I nod in agreement. But I do feel a cold shiver in my body when I hear the water stirring up its movements, as upon request, behind my turned back. Nothing is a coincidence.
The friend who drove us remained silent during the whole day. He refuses to respond to profound and simple questions. But what is clear, is that he is scared. He did say in the morning “you stay away from what you don’t understand”. And I would spend the whole day wishing the opposite.
Driving back after the cleansing ceremony, the girl of good age is light at heart. She can already feel the impact of the treatment. She is shining and radiating like a star – and I for one can certify that the darkness was at least gone from her face. But what the darkness was about – no-one will reveal; it is between her and her ancestors.
