16th Dec. pm: Esigodini

16th Dec pm Esigodini

Matabeleland’s (Western Zimbabwe province) main form of agriculture is cattle rearing for beef mainly and to lesser extent, dairy farming.  Esigodini is a rural village with a community of subsistence animal farmers and 10-year- old D  lives here in a mud hut, with his grandmother (gogo) and some extended family members. The dry, scorching heat gives rise to this semi-arid landscape of patchy vegetation,  consisting mainly of thorny acacia trees. When we stopped I only just managed to resist the urge to suck a piece of newly formed red mud from turmite mound (which is delicious by the way!). Instead I tried some of the gum stuck to a tree trunk, which brought back some childhood memories.  Most villagers here own cattle, by which they measure their wealth, and D’s family have ten sturdy beef cattle.

As we via off th the main tarmac road closer to the mud hut villages, we start to ask the locals for  D's ekaiya . The clicks and tongue twisters elude us as our Indebele (Matabeleland language) is rusty. This tribe are closely related to the Bantu of Botswana. There are no  letter Rs in Indebele just as no Ls are used in Shona the predominant language spoken in Harare (located in the Eastern province of Mashonaland).

Luckily, D is milling around at the local store  as it is the school holidays here,  and recognises G. He is very subdued, but with limited English, he directs us to his family residence. This is the experience I had been waiting for, having lived in a mud hut built by my mum, between the ages 0 and 5 (on and off) it all came back to me! The cool floor made of  cow dung with a smooth almost shiny finish. I remember sleeping on the floor, a welcome relief from the heat, but  Ds family used mattresses. This is an extended family unit with three generations of women and children. The men worked in the local iron ore mine, which also provided borehole water and rations of chimolia ( greens) onions and tomatoes to the miners family, during the drought. D’s family were also entitled to 10kg of maize meal per month. This is all they ate except for the odd chicken or meat once a month or when D’s mum was able to send some money from South Africa where she works as a servant (as Latin Americans do for Americans).

D’s day begins by releasing their 10 cattle reserved for paying lobola ,(dowry) at a son's wedding. D has to walk the cattle for 20m before he finds greenary for them to graze then a further 20mins . I'm told its maize porridge made with water and sugar. Since I have an MSc in Nutrition I consider it my duty to advise his aunt who has a baby strapped to her back and is cooking sadza on an open fire, that it would be much more nutritious to add a tablespoon of powdered milk or peanut butter to the porridge for the children. D will not be offered any sadza with greens or even a drink of water until 4.00pm when he is back from school and has herded the cattle back to the fold.

When we revisit Bushstick my former Catholic Primary boarding school , we reminisce about the good old days. Unfortunately the children are on holiday so my dreams of joining them for a local game of nodo in which only 12 stones in a pot-hole dug in the ground is required for 2 to 4 players. The objective is to draw out a bunch of stones from the hole whilst throwing your main play stone in the air and, then catching it, all with the same hand. This is repeated whilst pushing all the stones back into the hole, except for one prize stone. It is the next player's turn when  the first player messes up eg drops their play stone. The winner is the one with  the most prize stones (I have not lost this invaluable skill, and , as any native Zimbabwean girl will tell you, it takes some doing!) LG did however get to have an emotional reunion with his old boarding master who has lived on site or 30 years, and is still there!
G makes inquiries about a boarding school place for D, for next year knowing that at least here he will get three square meals a day. It does create a dilemma though.... Who will herd the cattle, ekaya?

Pictures to follow