From Magwaza to Guinness

On Wednesday, my fun and awesome Ceramics professor, Juliet, took a few American students and some honours/post-grad students on a trip of a lifetime. We went to visit the Magwaza clan potters at their homestead in the interior of rural KwaZulu-Natal. To get there, it is a three-hour drive, about half of which is on dirt roads. I was sitting in the back with a couple girls doing their honours in Ceramics who had studied abroad in Japan last year. In general, because there are very few Asian people here, most South Africans know next to nothing about Asian culture, so it was a breath of fresh air talking to these girls. They could understand how I am missing tofu and told me that it actually is possible to find some locally. It was an interesting experience talking about common experiences in Japan while driving through sugar cane fields in South Africa. I have an idea where we went, but the roads that we went on for the last stretch do not show up on the map of KwaZulu-Natal up in my room. As Juliet put it as we passed through Kranskop (about the last point on my map before the road "ends") we were about to fall off the edge of the planet. It definitely got a lot more rural after that point, but compared to being in Lesotho just a few days earlier I didn't get quite the same "time machine" feeling. Along the roads there were lots of children dressed in uniforms walking home from school (the sight of the herdsmen in their wool blankets with feathers and what not stood out a bit more). The odd thing was that all of these children were out of school at noon, and Juliet explained that it's no secret that rural school children receive 100 hours less instruction than kids in urban schools. Along the way, we passed the home of Jacob Zuma, the extremely controversial former deputy prime minister. One of the more notable controversies surrounding him is that he said he took a shower after having sex with a woman who is HIV+, so he would be all right. The scary thing is that many people believed him because he is a prominent public figure. Around KwaZulu-Natal there are quite a few supporters of Zuma who want him to be the next prime minister, but I think most of the country thinks he is a crooked nut job.

After almost burning out the clutch and ruining the shocks of the minibus borrowed from the Geography department, we finally made it to the homestead. The homestead is situated on a slope with the highest ranking woman's rondavel located at the top. In the middle there is a chicken coop, which women are forbidden from entering because it is a man's work to care for the animals. As soon as we got there, women were coming from all directions bringing out their pots for us. We shook hands with the women and said our simple greetings since the Magwazas do not speak English and only a couple people in our group speak Zulu. We walked down to the bottom of the homestead where a few of the women demonstrated a small firing for us. Every step of the pot-making process is done with resources that can be found locally. The clay is dug out of nearby hills (so we think, they are a little secretive about where they get their clay), and the firing is done with wood and aloe leaves. Apparently the techniques have been refined and passed down over centuries and millennia. Juliet explained that if we tried firing our pots in that way they would just burst--although seemingly simple, the methods and clay used are very sophisticated. Just as taking care of animals is the domain of the men in this culture, pot-making and firing is strictly done by women. If a woman marries into the clan, she is taught the techniques by the other women and becomes an artisan as well. Certain things about the culture reminded me of Chassidish culture. For instance, I noticed that the married women wore a head covering of the same style worn by many Breslov Chassidish women. Also, when eating, men and women sit on opposite sides of the room. After the firing, which took about 30 minutes, we were privileged with getting to have a meal in the traditional style (which is how they always eat). Before we entered the dwelling we took off our shoes. Walking in the door, the men go to the right and the women go to the left. We sat down on mats on the floor, legs together straight out in front with our backs on the wall. At first I didn't have my back against the wall because there was a spider about an inch in diameter right there--finally someone else had the courage to shoo it out the window. The meal consisted of homemade beer made from millet and sorghum (similar to what I had in Lesotho), corn and bean dishes, a dish made from indigenous watermelon, maize meal dishes, and meat. There has been a drought this year, so apparently most of the fresh vegetable crops such as spinach have died, so there were many corn and bean dishes (that were quite tasty). We ate in the traditional style--no dishes or utensils. First a basin of water is passed around in which you clean your hands. The highest ranking woman then walks around the room presenting the dish to each person who scoops the food with their hand and then eats it--very efficient but very messy. I was worried I wouldn't be able to eat anything, but everything except for the meat served at the end was completely vegetarian so I had plenty. After lunch we went back outside to buy pots. By this time there were dozens of pots on display for us, ranging in size from a baseball to a beach ball. All were hand made using a coil technique with beautiful designs, and pain-stakingly hand burnished. Realizing I would probably never have an opportunity like this to buy hand made pots directly from some of the best artisans in South Africa I went crazy and bought four pots that I now am not completely sure how I am getting back to the US. Even though I "splurged" on these four pots, all together they cost less than $40--no bargaining. The largest one cost R120, or about $16. I honestly don't think I could buy that pot for less than $500 in the US--and here the money is going straight to the artist with no middle man. I am pretty sure that Juliet brought the American students along because she knew that we would buy a ton of stuff and promote the Magwazas' work to our "rich" American friends and families as I am doing now. After making our purchases we carefully packed the pots in newspaper and loaded them into the minibus--we must have bought at least 30. The pots survived the long bumpy ride back to "civilization" and the long walk back to my room. Mom & Dad will be here on Monday, so I'm hoping that they can take back a couple next week and I will probably ship the other ones. I have to admit that international students at this university get some incredible privileges--and I am perfectly happy to take advantage of every one.

The rest of the week was quite hectic since I had been gone pretty much all day Wednesday and had two papers due Friday. After getting less sleep than I would have liked on Thursday, I got my papers done. Friday afternoon I went to my Ceramics practical. I was the only American in the studio with about five South Africans. Somehow the guys got into a conversation about how men are supposed to be the head of household. I countered that in my culture the women usually call the shots, plus women are better managers than men. One guy (who isn't even in the class, but was visiting his friend) was trying to sound smart by using all this theoretical rhetoric, saying that in "traditional religious" culture the women always listen to the men--I think he was trying to write off America as being secular and devoid of morals. Having a brother who lives in a "traditional religious" culture outside of the US, I argued that in his culture the women definitely play an important role in leading the household, and in disagreements the woman is usually right. I kept myself from flying off the handle, although it was tempting, because these guys were just speaking from their own experiences. For instance, the one trying to sound all theoretical grew up in a household where his father never stepped foot in the kitchen or did laundry, not because he didn't know how to cook or clean, but because that is the woman's responsibility. I've noticed that guys here get away with saying a lot of chauvinistic things, and I think that is because it goes largely unchecked by the female population.

This weekend I gave myself a chance to decompress from the previous weeks in which I have been constantly running around. I am also trying to get all my work done since Mom & Dad get here tomorrow and I will pretty much be skipping class all week. Last night the Denison crew went out for St. Patrick's Day to Firkin, a pub/restaurant in town. We went there mainly because they had Guinness on tap--Jessi's prerequisite. It is definitely the "whitest" place I have been in PMB. Most restaurants or other establishments have a diverse clientele. Although usually an individual group will be of the same race, you will see different races at the same place. Not at Firkin. And when we got there it was packed with people watching rugby--a white sport. It's not like the food or drinks were even more expensive than other restaurants of the same type, it was just simply a white restaurant...very weird. Also something interesting about the streets of PMB after dark--at 8pm it looks how I would expect it to look at 3am--there is hardly anyone walking around and there aren't even many cars. The cars that are out drive fast and try to avoid stopping at traffic lights. I have to admit it's a little bit eerie, although not scary. I have very much gotten used to "being more aware of the surroundings" as they put it in the travel warnings. I do not live in fear, or anything close to it, but I have gotten used to being more watchful of my belongings (i.e. what I take with me where so that I am less of a target). Mom & Dad, if you read this before you get here, really, don't worry. South Africa is a lovely place with lovely people and I know you will enjoy it as much as I am.