KGAUGELO GUMEDE | Let Oscar Mabuyane be: a rite of passage is not a scandal

Back when rocks were soft and norms were different, men and women from respective tribes would gather at their king’s palace to present seeds for the harvest season, a ceremony in which the monarch would bless them and send them off to plant. When the ploughing season came, they would gather again with baskets full of first fruits to announce a successful harvest. 

In Swaziland, this ceremony is celebrated through the Ncwala Festival, the Zulus call it Umkhosi Wokweshwama, while Northern Sotho people call it Go leboga mabele — the thanksgiving ritual.

The basket/gesture full of crops is called Sebego (declaration, an announcement and confirmation to the ancestors that the harvest was successful). And that is my middle name, which I inherited from my aunt — and by virtue, I am not only my father’s sister. It means I am an embodiment of a good harvest; I bring good news.

I am proud to have gone through lebollo/koma (formally known as initiation school), a sacred African tradition that taught me more about life, resilience and purpose in five weeks than any formal education system ever could.

But over the years, I’ve watched this deeply sacred practice become distorted, dismissed and vilified. And while much of the criticism is justified, especially in the face of initiation school deaths, there’s a critical misunderstanding that needs to be addressed.

According to my cultural knowledge, lebollo is not a school. It is a sacred ritual, a spiritual crossover marked by ceremony, not graduation. It does not follow a curriculum and it certainly should not be equated with Eurocentric schooling. The term “initiation school” is inaccurate and reductive. It lacks nuance and contributes to a dangerous narrative that opens up the practice to public condemnation by those who neither understand it nor practice it.

Equally, taking a legal or simplistic approach to understanding its relevance in modern-day life is only going to give you a headache and leave you more confused than when you started. We those who practise it, understand it, and that is enough. I am well within my constitutional right to continue participating and teaching this cultural journey. I believe I must protect, advocate for and be part of the few who are its custodians.

I will never reveal what I did or learnt komeng. The teachings are sacred. The doctrines that govern lebollo demand secrecy, and I respect that deeply. This isn’t a critique of formal education, but a reminder: these two systems serve different purposes.

I have it on good authority that nothing I learnt in school could have prepared me for understanding and appreciating my feminine duties and joys, such as embracing motherhood, marriage and understanding my powers and limitations as a woman. It was not the OBE (Outcome-Based Education) curriculum that gave me the strength, wisdom and ability to give birth to three children, naturally, with no intervention of an epidural, despite having access to medical aid. That strength came from the knowledge passed on by the women who guided me during my rite, wisdom that continues to carry me through every challenge I face.

To us, lebollo is not a joke. It’s not barbaric. It’s not outdated. It is sacred. Some of us are preparing our children to undergo the same rite of passage. But yes, it has been corrupted. It has been infiltrated by greed, malpractice and a disregard for tradition. It is disgusting that profit has taken precedence over safety. The deaths at illegal initiation camps are a travesty and a betrayal of everything the ritual stands for.

Not all knowledge is meant to be universal. Some truths are earned through experience, and not every path can be explained to those who haven't walked it

I concur with the general sense that cultural practices such as koma, lobola, virginity testing, ubungoma and others need to be compatible with the times we live in and operate within the ambit of human rights — there is no argument to be mounted if a tradition becomes harmful or when fake pastors endanger the lives of congregants.

Much of the ridicule surrounding Eastern Cape premier Oscar Mabuyane’s family responsibility leave stems from ignorance. Critics were less concerned about flood damage than the fact that he was attending to his sons' initiation process. But let’s be honest: any employee, public or private, has the right to take leave. The rite of passage is not a holiday. It is an intensive, life-defining moment in a young man’s journey. It only happens once.

The practice is often wrongly seen merely as a circumcision ritual, but that is just a part of the process. The 2017 report into initiation deaths by the Cultural, Religious and Linguistic Rights Commission noted that someone considered it “the shrine of the people’s soul”. That sentiment rings true for many of us, hence those who believe in it continue to undergo it.

Back to the name: the reason you will find others going through it while they are much older is that they do not do it for cosmetic or medicinal reasons, but they need to spiritually align with the people from whom they have inherited a name. For some ancestors, if they had been to the mountain, the person who carries on their name must also go. In some instances, it helps one connect intimately with their ancestors, unlock the luck for milestones that are important to them, such as marriage in the future, having children and building a home with a solid structure and morals.

People tend to ridicule, mock or reject what they do not understand. But not all knowledge is meant to be universal. Some truths are earned through experience, and not every path can be explained to those who haven't walked it.