isiZulu

One of the questions on my Zulu exam asked us to explain the importance of the Zulu language and why students should study it at the university. I couldn’t do the question justice in half a page of Zulu, but one thing I wrote is that “learning Zulu will help because 10 million people speak Zulu.” I can’t do the question justice now, because it’s important for 10 million reasons.

Zulu is important because it’s the most common home language in South Africa, and because people fleeing Shaka Zulu took their dialects as far as Zambia and Zimbabwe.

It’s important because there are fascinating praise poems written in Zulu about Shaka and his half brother Dingane who killed him and all the other chiefs and powerful women.

Because there is beautiful music with lyrics in Zulu.

Because when my soccer coach wants to reprimand the players for not coming to practice, he apologizes for “using his perfect language” and then switches to Zulu for the tirade.

Because ideophones give Zulu an amazing richness unique to Bantu languages.

Because my friend Bongiwe wants to tell her relatives about her religion, but some of them only speak Zulu and she doesn’t know the translations of the vocabulary.

Because there’s a delicious traditional Zulu bread called ujeqe, and you can’t talk about it without being able to pronounce the click.

Because every time I say “Sawubona, unjani?” to the woman who cleans my res, her face lights up with a huge smile.

Because there are places with names like Hluhluwe that sound stupid when pronounced by non-Zulu speakers.

Because my friend Thandaza made a hilariously scandalous pun on facebook when she captioned a picture of herself learning to weave a grass mat (icansi), “Now I know how to make ucansi (sex)”.

Because Thandaza’s dad is a preacher so he named his daughter Prayer, and his other daughter Snojesu, We Have Jesus, and every Zulu name means something.

Because there are words like ubuntu and amadlozi that take pages and pages to translate.

Because just as I had to use English to explain this, there are millions of people who can only express themselves properly in Zulu, and a Zulu education gives them more to express and helps them express it more properly.

Beaches

My Zulu final today indeed involved several questions about the story of the Antelopes' Party, and I definitely passed. A 75 here translates into an A in the U.S., and in spite of completing missing the point of the Zulu political cartoon, it's possible I achieved that too.

Back to the Easter Vacation adventure... Along the way, we spent a lot of time at the beach.

I haven't been to a beach as awesome as this one in Plettenberg bay since I lived in Maine. That was just about 11 years ago, so I wasn't quite sure how someone who's more than 10 years old is supposed to behave at a beach. I decided I better enjoy it just as much as I did as a little kid. After we played in the very cold waves, Becky said a sand castle was too boring, so we made a sand hippo and a sand lion with a seaweed mane.

I also had a great time climbing on the rocks and looking at the cool creatures in the tide pools. I did keep hearing my mom's voice in the back of my head saying, "You need to put on shoes if you're going to climb on the rocks" and "The waves can get very big. Don't go in past your knees."

In Mossel Bay, I went on a beautiful hike with Caroline and Becky along the cliffs by the sea.

We also got to explore a cave. It was cool, except that I kept thinking of a book where some kids go into such a cave at the lowest low tide of the year to recover some ancient magical artifact and are nearly trapped in it by the rising tide. We avoided both ancient treasures and perilous situations, but we did get a lot of black sediment all over our hands and legs.

It was amazing to watch the power of the waves pounding into the rocks and to see the organisms that survive, and don't, in that harsh environment. When we went down closer to the water, I saw the broken shells of some seagulls' breakfasts, as well as the broken bones and battered feathers of a seagull who didn't make it. In the past decade, I've been to a couple of the commercialized beaches that are filled with sunglasses merchants and surrounded by fast food restaurants, but it was wonderful to be back at the real ocean smelling the salt, hearing the splash, and feeling the spray.

The Antelopes' Party, a Zulu story

This translated story is brought to you by Erika's impending Zulu final. Khalulu the rabbit is usually the trickster, but this time he learns a lesson.

“You can’t go to an event or party that you weren’t invited to.”

                “Really, you’re sure I can’t go?” asked Khalulu. “But I can go if I want to.”

                “No way, you definitely can’t go,” contradicted Khamba the tortoise.

                “Really, it’s true, you can’t go,” confirmed the tortoise’s wife. “If the antelope wanted you to come, they would’ve invited you. You don’t just go bully yourself in. You can’t take advantage of them when you haven’t been invited.”

                “I don’t care, I’m going anyway,” said Khalulu. “At least I’m going to try.” “Hawu! Ahhh!” he shouted, jumping and sniffing the air. The tortoises also sniffed together.

                “Fire!” they shouted in unison. “Fire! Run away!” The grass near them crackled as it burned pop pop pop. The leaves of the trees scorched red and withered to ashes as they showered down. In the distance, the cheetah took flight, carrying its cub in its mouth. The other animals followed after it, fleeing as they were followed by the ball of fire. Even the tall trees burned and shrunk away as the flames licked them.

                All the animals ran as the fire chased them, driven forward by the wind. Khalulu the rabbit ran and ran. His friends the tortoises hid away in a gorge. Khalulu didn’t know to hide there, so he ran straight for the river. He saw that the reeds were green and wouldn’t burn, so he wanted to hide there. Besides, he was very thirsty and wanted something to drink. Without pausing to rest, he turned to check where the fire was and saw that the wind had changed and was no longer blowing so powerfully. All of a sudden, Khalulu tripped and fell down, bumping his head and muddling his thoughts.

                When he got up, he put his hand to his painful head. It felt like something was bursting out of the crown of his head. He was completely confused, not knowing what had happened.

                “Oh! Right, the burning fire...I ran away...I tripped over something...” he thought to himself. “What was it?” He searched around for it.

                “A-ha! I tripped over some useless antelope horns. What’s the point of these anyway?” he wondered. “Ha! I could really use these if I get some bee’s wax. I need bee’s wax. I’ll go ask Mjuntshi the bee.”

­­-- -- --

Under a huge tree, the impala stepped as gracefully as cat, coming out into the moonlight where all the other animals who had been invited were.

“Hey Mgankla, it’s good to see that you’ve come,” said the hartebeest. “Yes, you too Nkonka, and it’s good to see that you’re looking well.” They continued to move about greeting all the guests who had come. The hartebeest finished at the main gate where he advised the gatekeeper to watch out for anyone trying to get in who hadn’t been invited.

“We don’t want a lion to come catch us unaware. We just don’t want to be harassed like that. And we don’t want anyone who wasn’t invited to come in for the food, so really don’t let them in.”

Long after the party had started, they were surprised to see a little creature coming straight for the gate. The gatekeeper didn’t recognize this creature. He had soft fur, long ears, and beautiful long horns. He moved close, and the gatekeeper was very surprised having never seen anything like this.

“Oh, do pardon me for coming late,” it said. “It’s because I had to go in a big circle running away from a fire.

“Who are you?” asked the gatekeeper. “What do you want here?”

“You say that you don’t know me? I’m your cousin! I’ve come to the party,” replied the creature.

“You’ve been invited?”

“All the antelope were invited, right?”

“Yes,” said the gatekeeper hesitantly. “But, are you really an antelope?”

“Yes, really, these are the horns of an antelope.”

The gatekeeper shook his head hesitantly, but he let the antelope go in with the other guests.

Most of the antelope didn’t worry themselves about seeing this new arrival. They were busy enjoying everyone who had been invited. But some were surprised. “Hawu! What’s this? We’re not familiar with this antelope.” But because it had horns they believed that it was an antelope. The antelope continued to eat and drink and dance until they were satisfied. They kept celebrating as night fell, and continued until they were warmed by the rising sun. Only the old ones were tired and nodding off to sleep.

The guest who had come later intended to leave before morning, but he was tired because of all the running away from the fire, so he fell asleep, and overslept until the sun was high in the sky.

The bushbuck who had originally examined this problem had decided that this must be a buck because he had his own horns.

But now when the bushbuck came and looked at it closely, he found something surprising. The horns were sliding down to one side. This was really interesting: the horns hadn’t grown in the usual place where they are on other antelope. They had just been stuck on with bee’s wax. And the wax was melting in the hot sun.

“Come have a look at this, Nkolongwane,” shouted the bushbuck, “you’ll see something surprising.”

“What is it?” asked Impala running over.

“Look,” said the bushbuck. Nkolongwane looked closely. Then all of a sudden the horns clattered down to the ground.

“Oh my!” he exclaimed. “I wonder if this isn’t Khalulu the rabbit. He’s beyond arrogant. Hawu! My, how stupid we were not to see that he had come,” laughed the hartebeest.

“Really, this is surprising,” echoed the bushbuck.

“Wow! What are we going to do with him? Let’s do something that he’ll never forget!”

“Definitely!” agreed the antelope looking at Khaulu.

“Let’s throw him in the pond,” said the reedbuck. “That’ll really wake him up.”

“Let’s do it!” shouted the antelope. They soon told Khalulu what they were going to do and threw him splash into the pond.

“No! Please help me,” cried Khalulu hopping. “I will drown. Please help me; you know that I can’t swim.”

“All antelope can swim,” boasted the reedbuck. “Ehe! This will really wake you up. It’s clear that you’re not an antelope. Besides, we thought you’d like to wash the wax off your head.” The bucks burst into laughter when they heard this.

Khalulu did not like to be laughed at, and he did not like the cold water. He was angry about this party and wished he could go back home where it was nice and dry. He floated until he stopped at the bank of the pond and got out of the water. He didn’t want to wait, so he quickly ran off with his ears drooping. Laughter could be heard a long way off because the antelope were so happy to see what had happened.

At sunset, the tortoises appeared, wanting to know how Khalulu had escaped from the fire that had separated them.

The rabbit didn’t respond but just said, “No, I was at the antelopes’ party. It was a great party indeed!”

“We heard,” said the tortoise’s wife coolly. “Nkonka told us that everyone there enjoyed you. He said you made them all laugh to their satisfaction.”

“Nkonka?” Khalulu stared into the eyes of the tortoise’s wife wondering how far Nkonka had gone in telling them the story.

Nothing was written on the tortoises' faces. They looked so much like they didn't know anything that Khalulu thought perhaps Nkonka hadn't told them after all.

ilanga

My friends Becky and Joelle and I decided to watch the sun rise over the ocean on Easter morning. When we woke up, it was still pretty dark with just a small strip of orange in the east.

 I could still see one planet.

 After a quick walk to the beach, we sat on the rocks and watched the narrow stripe of orange expand and push away the darkness. A light pink band appeared above the orange and the whole sky was getting lighter. I listened to the waves lapping on the sand and watched the seagulls flying back and forth.

 Then the small clouds behind the mountains were illuminated from the bottom and glowed a radiant pink.

 By this time the pink and orange bands had stretched behind us to reach around the whole sky, and even the higher parts of the dome of the sky were getting lighter and lighter.

 Suddenly the tip of the sun (if a circle can have a tip) burst up from behind the mountains. I thought it was light before, but this sliver of sun was shockingly, blindingly radiant.

 The sun kept rising upwards, so quickly that I could almost see it move. And now the light of the sun was reflected dozens of times on the peak of every swell and wave in the ocean. It reminded me of pictures I used to draw of sunrises and sunsets in which the orange and yellow and pink were reflected just like this.

 In a matter of minutes, the whole sun was visible above the horizon and there was no darkness at all in the bright, blue sky.

 The waves kept breaking and the seagulls kept flying as though nothing had happened. I watched the way the dazzling sunlight reflected off the white surf, the wet sand, and the slippery rocks.

 I rolled up my pants and walked in the moist sand feeling it give gently under the pressure of my feet. Then I stood in the ocean, and even though the waves were chilly, the heat of the sun on my face kept me warm. It was perfect.

 

Of all the things I've seen in South Africa, I think this sunrise was the most beautiful. It makes me wonder where I was the 7,634 previous times the sun rose in my life. But I'm happy, because when I go back to America, the penguins, the mountains, and the giraffes are staying here, but the sun is coming with me.