Sitting out in the garden earlier today soaking in the warm sunshine over lunch, our garden boy, Moses and I chatted about the previous volunteers that he has ‘gardened’ for. (Notably Moses knows quite little about actual gardening… and working. But he at least makes an attempt to pretend to be working hard when we come home for lunch. And I find him humorous… so we continue to gently remind him each day what to do.)
“She was mean.”
“She had a lot of boyfriends.”
“She was a drunkard.”
So, Moses, what will you say about me when I leave!
Only good things he replied… surely like the flowery remembrances of my predecessors. He adds, “You are my sunshine.” Picking up a carrot stick from the veggie plate with a wrinkle of his nose and click of his tongue, I think he will probably complain about of how I feed him ‘rabbit food’.
Moses has also told me on numerous occasions that he will give me his last name and build me house if I stay in Chipata… this may or may not be some kind of marriage proposal.
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Engulfed in a constant haze of dust. So much Maria and Malombo wore face masks and my photos are blurred in a sea of floating debris. Kulamba is the thanksgiving ceremony for the Chewa people. It pays tribute (“giving gifts” ie. $$$$) to Paramount Chief Kalonga Gawa Undi by his subordinate chiefs and subjects of the Chewa kingdom. “Kalonga is a Chewa word meaning ‘the one who enthrones or installs subordinate chiefs’ while Gawa means ‘the one who gives out land. Undi means the one who protects his subjects.” The Paramount Chief is head of something like over 11 million Chewa people, encompassing parts of Zambia, Malawi and Mozambique. The Presidents of each of these countries also swoops in by helicopter for the big event. As do numerous ‘subordinate’ chiefs. And royalty of the Ngoni tribe.
Kulamba is held annually in late August (although this year was the beginning of September to accommodate the Presidents and special guests) just west of Chipata outside the town of Katete at the ‘Mkaika Palace’ (although it notably has more in common with a barren drought-ridden corn field than it does with Buckingham Palace).
Was it from the dancers? The rhythmic drummers? Or the throngs of people who came from Zambia, Malawi, and Mozambique by the truck load? What makes this so special? Undeniably it’s the combination and a traditional culture that has remained unchanged for centuries (except perhaps for the means of transportation).
“The ceremony exhibits a variety of more than 30 different types of ‘Nyau’ dances with different masks, each being performed at specific occasions.” Young teen and pre-teen girls on the banks of the River of Womanhood are paraded in under cloth. They kneel topless and shake as if consumed. An interpretation of adulthood and marriage are taught and expressed via dance. But it is ‘Gule Wamkulu’ that steals the spot light. A highly celebrated event performed by men. Said to involve witchcraft, the dance is only open to members of a secret society. Men disguise their identities by donning masks of feathers, long noses, werewolf-esque features, and various other forbidding sorts are led into the circles of people by shakers to announce their arrival. Men in funky attire and masks walk on stilts through the crowds of people. Dancers contort their bodies and confront possible death atop high wooden poles that are haphazardly placed into dug out holes in the red dirt. The climax of the event takes place as one of the Nyau dancers shimmies across a sort of wire ‘tightrope’. It’s like a super cool circus minus the lion tamer… hopefully.
During a practice session at the Chipata Arts Center I was tipped to go the night prior to the big event. This proved a wise move. While we missed the main celebration, the presentation of the Royal/Presidential, guests and the endless speeches, we were rewarded by actually being able to see the dancing. Not only see… but Rosie and I found ourselves pushed dangerously close to the kicking dancers and entranced drummers. Scary, mesmerizing, thrilling… spectacular.
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