Happy New Year to me!
Let me give you context, while you are coerced into indulging my self-centeredness.
Approximately a year ago, to the day (circa April 24 2022), I made the brave decision of going into initiation school, again!
I thought to myself, ayipheli na lento? Yoh hai mnta’kabawo! (loosely translated, will this ever end?) I was knackered.
I remember asking my gobela (mentor) if I could buy my dlozi (ancestral) items online, via an Instagram store.
She laughed deliriously and answered me, no. I mean retrospectively having been an already initiated sangoma, albeit in a different school of thought, I knew better.
Simultaneously, I was dumbfounded and clueless. I was anxious and nervous, which came with the inability to sleep.
This aggravated me because my previous experiences of ukuthwasa (initiation) gave me insider knowledge on the sleep situation and I couldn't understand my inability to indulge and splurge on sleep while I still could.
For those who do not know, sleep is scarce and hard to come by in phehlo.
As an initiate rationalise with yourself why would you leave the comfort of your home to simply sleep your life away on the floor in a stranger’s house. Simply do prayers and meditations on schedule, fulfil your duties as an initiate while following the guidance of your shamans.
It’s simple. Nonetheless, I felt like my body was betraying me because why on God’s green earth was I awake all the time? It aggravated me, but I was used to it.
I prepared for initiation school, and upon arrival, I knew that I was to face some challenges. It felt as though I was facing a 90-degree incline with nothing but faith as my mechanism and GPS towards ascending to the pinnacle.
I had an amazing support system, who accompanied me, ultimately handing me to the care of my gobela. I had my rakgadi (aunt), Bonolo, my sister Nina and my brother Sikhulule.
They were all tasked to be representatives of all the varying sides of my family, ultimately unifying my ancestry and representing all concerned parties. This escort was meticulously curated, having consulted my guardian angels at every step of the way.
It was then that the validity of my intuition was affirmed – because I whole-heartedly trusted in my connection and ability to receive guidance from God and my ancestors. I had a clear process, I would dream, wake up, pray for direction and act accordingly. I reminded myself that I was not there as Zipho, rather I was a vessel for beings that needed that sort of education. I had accepted it.
My gobela was a courteous host to my family, she showed us grace, offering to answer all questions. My posse had the task of reporting to my grandmother, mother and paternal family alike. They had to be inquisitive about what all they needed to expect, their visitation rights and so forth. Everybody had a role to fulfil, mine was to thwasa – theirs? To support me, in prayer mentally and emotionally.
I remember thinking that I didn’t really want any visitors during that time. I felt I didn’t need people to see me in that vulnerable state. I felt it would weaken me. Retrospectively, this is an interesting trauma-fuelled response towards receiving support from loved ones. It made sense to me – that’s what mattered. Ultimately, I folded and let my siblings visit me.
I wanted to control all aspects that I could – I had very little control in my life as I did as I was told, which is essentially the ethos of initiation school. I felt I was entirely at the mercy of other people. It was a feeling that I cannot fully describe – I felt estranged from my own self.
The idea of openly performing my vulnerability is nauseating – less so in the presence of my siblings. They’re one of my safe spaces.
I remember thinking that I didn’t want people to witness the ritualistic part of the ntwaso – rather to come for the festivities.
Unfortunately this was not a wish I was granted, rather my dlozis wanted to be exhibitionists about my graduation ceremony forcing me to be in trance nearly the entire day. In front of a hundreds of people. It was entirely traumatising.
On that day, I learned the significance of focusing on the tasks before me while shutting the noise out. What options did I have? Was I to not undergo my ceremony because there’s people whom I feel make me vulnerable?
I had to dissociate where I couldn’t focus on the arena of my people attending and witnessing the homecoming of their sangoma – rather I had to conduct myself as if they didn’t exist until I was done. I had to become a sangoma in front of them and they had to bear witness.
Now I want to impart some wisdom unto those who are at the point where they must consider going into initiation school because there appears to be no other option. First, make sure that you have familial representation when going into initiation school.
This is very tricky and I appreciate the nuances in families that have divorced African spirituality – adopting Christianity instead.
Make sure that you follow the basic sleep-and-prayer schedule; make sure that there exists an agreement/payment plan to cover your initiation fees.
Lastly, make sure to pray and phahla (communicating with ancestors) about every single thing that you do, down to your last breath.
Would you like to comment on this article?
Sign up (it's quick and free) or sign in now.
Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.