An Experience of isiZulu (Heaven)

A candle goes out. A cell phone turns on. The complexities of a modern, traditional, Zulu ceremony astound me. Zu and her ceremony party of three girls prepare for their initiation service by putting on clothing that will be symbolically burned. Nombulelo takes my hand and leads me into the new, cylindrical hut. (I was told by U.S.ers to call huts, dwellings, but my host sisters bemusedly asked why not call them what they are.) Over one hundred singing people line the walls of the hut. As the only non-Zulu in the hut, I feel honored, particularly because Nombulelo (Nombz) and I sit next to the ceremony party.
The ceremony begins as a great-uncle talks with the ancestors while male family and the goat to be slaughtered look on. Next, female elders cover Zu’s party of three girls and herself with special mud by candlelight as a sign of purity. After they wrap themselves in blankets, Nombz grabs my hand and leads me out of the hut. During the day, I had expressed interest in seeing a goat slaughtered, for I had never witnessed the slaughtering of an animal before. As we walk to another hut, Nombz explains that a few men are about to kill the goat. After entering the candle lit room, I put my arm around Nombz as five men hold the goat down and, finally, slit the goat’s throat. I hear a gurgling sound as the goat’s blood spills into a basin. Within a minute, I find myself holding the candle by which they would carve the goat. I sit on a table above the goat and lean over, trying to hold the candle in the best spot for all to see. After a half hour and a few drops of blood on my skin later, the men are finished. Although, as an American, I am not used to watching animals slaughtered, I feel fascinated by taking part in how my food is prepared.
Nombz and I reenter the hut to men taking turns performing a traditional dance step, where a person lifts one leg as high as they can and then slams the foot down on the ground. After cheering for the spontaneous performers, two of Zu’s cousin’s start teaching the dances in a circle that will be performed one week later at the main ceremony. I watch a few of the dances, and after some encouragement, I, too, try to dance the Zulu dances. The rhythmic dancing is therapeutic.
At about eleven, the cooked goat and steamed bread were brought into the hut and divided into four large portions for the men, boys, women and girls. After talking to a few girls, one of them turns to me, saying: “These girls be loving you, Ms. Kate.” The celebration had only begun, but I left mesmerized by the rich Zulu culture, the strong Zulu community, and a beautiful celebration.