Again on my Xhosa_ness

I must warn you that this is a long post on account of it being some of my memories of the beliefs and customs of my people. Remember today is the last day for the Blood Reaction Giveaway entry, I'll link again at the bottom: Blood Reaction Giveaway

Today I was listening to one of the radio stations which cater mainly for young adults (metro fm) and the presenter (T Bo Touch) was saying his aunt on seeing that he was frequently using eye drops suggested that he use “umchamo wemfene” (monkey pee) to help him deal with his problem. What baffled him and his co hosts was how one goes about getting monkey pee and why that would work as he got confirmation from three sources about the power of this remedy. Of course everyone went into fits of laughter in the studio and they started talking about how “wack” all these home brewed remedies are and anyway who would believe such a thing.
Actually I have seen this thing they call monkey pee even though I was very young when last I laid eyes on it. I remember walking a distance of such magnitude from school that we would get bored and find things to play with along the road and one of the games was kicking ball using this  "umchamo wemfene", a brow/green sack like thing that when you touched it felt like powered felt (the fabric and was the size of a fist). When you popped it open you’d discover that it was filled with a power like substance of the same color. Undoubtedly to use it as pea I'm sure you had to soak it to draw out the "flavor". In fact if I were to hazard a guess I would say it was some type of plant that resembled something like horse droppings (I can’t imagine an animal having such waste). Why it is called monkey pee I have yet to discover because there is no type of pee that is of that size and consistency. There must be a story behind it all.

Current newspaper who's viewership
is mainly black low income earners.

I also understand why these Y2K kids were baffled, they cannot possibly know anything about these things because even us, born in the cusp of emergence of this high-tech era have long since become the so called City Folk and we no longer know the remedies “raads” that our mothers and grandmothers used to share. I remember my mom using a baby’s morning pea to wash a festering wound that wouldn't heal and all sorts of other things which just make my body crawl thinking about them now but back then seemed very natural.


How about this one, to ward off evil spirits she had us scrub our bodies with this bulb of some plant that would sting you right through for at least for 4 hours after that blistering cold bath. You had to sit on your hands to stop yourself from scratching the itch because if you start you can’t stop and if you bruise your skin its like the fires of hell were let lose upon you. And from the number of times we had to endure this bath in a month, you would be right in guessing that there we a whole lot of evil spirits floating which now begs the question, just how useful was this torture which I'm sure would have done any devoted soldier of The Führer very proud.

He looks very evil indeed.

Oh God, thank you for Christianity, I would have been a Christian for the freedom alone if nothing else. African customs and religion is a lot of hard work. I can remember how every December we would have this man come to the house to give us little nicks on certain body parts with his razor blade and then smear a tar like coal tasting substance on them which ensured that even if the scar heals, you've been tattooed for ever and a day. This was before he would have you put the same thing on your tongue to swallow ( I should mention that you were not there when this was cooked up and so have no idea what the hell went in there).  This was also apparently meant to ward off evil spirits and evil persons.Oddly enough the most evil of people we those very ones living under or visiting our roof frequently, but that’s another story for memoir for my children. I don’t have a nice ending to wrap up this post because even as I type my mind is being deliciously  tickled by distant memories. Its odd how a little thing like a comment made by someone in passing can open the floodgates to your past. It occurs to me now that the more "civilized" we become, the less magic there is.


I am reminded of the story of the African twins in Neil Gaiman’s American Gods who get transported by slave masters from their home to America and even in slavery they carried their magic and ancestral gods with them. But I bet you not many in the states know of this magic now, unless perhaps, they are native Americans.


We South African, struggle to believe and hold on to them here in Africa, how can one who is thousands of miles away have be expected to remember.


Do you come from a deeply cultural background and if so, what spiritual history do you carry?

Remember: Blood Reaction Giveaway