Conversations with a Zulu warrior

Rejection is nothing new for me.  Everything from picked last in gym class as a kid to various romantic denials as an adult…but this may be the first time that a stranger has openly rejected me.

It was our final full day in South Africa and we were heading out of the Kruger area, back to Johannesburg for a painfully long flight home.  Having flown into Kruger, we were advised to do the drive out to see the amazing scenery along the route.

An attempt to save a few pennies we seemed to have opted for one of the more shady organizations operating within the park – so what should have been a 4-5 hour drive was spread over 7-8 hours.  We departed our lodge near Hoedspruit with Tex driving – did a stop at the stunning Blyde River Canyon – and then he dropped us off in the town of Dullstrom to wait for the second portion of the ride into the city.  And it was here that I met Thabo – my rejecter.

Thabo is a member of the Zulu tribe.  In my mind the word “zulu” is always followed by “warrior”, although when I met Thabo it was in the capacity of my driver.  His English was fantastic so we were able to pass the time chatting about the weather, the traffic – routine stuff.  With a rapport clearly established…I moved on to what I really wanted to know…what’s it like to be a Zulu Warrior?

Thabo explained that he had two homes.  One in Johannesburg – an apartment with his wife and child and his traditional home in South Eastern area of South Africa.  I asked if his traditional home was a hut.  “Of course.”  I asked if he had a spear and shield in his hut.  “Of course”.  I asked if he primarily ate bush meat that he hunted. “Of course”.  I asked if he wore animal skins when he was there.  “Of course.”  The look of fascination on my face greatly amused him.  He told me how the village had recently gotten a well and he was excited not to have to haul water for his mother when he returns ‘home’.  He even spent a bit of time trying to teach me Xhosa, his native clicking language before giving up in frustration at my ineptitude.  (Xhosa made French class look very easy)

I found the juxtaposition so odd and he found my disbelief entertaining.    “Sometimes you hunt African wildlife and cook it outside your hut without electricity and sometimes you play Angry Birds on your iPad.”  He just grinned and nodded.  

He told me, with great pride, that the current President of South Africa was born a Zulu.  He went on to discuss the President’s polygamist lifestyle but he thinks that 6-7 wives is too much, especially at the going rate of 11 cows per wife.  Thabo confessed that he has yet to pay off his current wife…he still owes her father 6 cows.  Five of those cows are from the initial cost of the wife and he was fined an additional cow because she ended up pregnant out of wedlock.  Apparently the father can add on a cow surcharge for a variety of reasons.

Thabo was surprised that I thought this whole process of polygamy was ridiculous.  He was telling me about nearby Swaziland and their playboy Monarch – the king selects a new wife every year.  There is an actual ceremony where pretty virgins dance topless for his attention.  And while it was an honour in Swaziland to join the Royal Family, there were practical points to polygamy as well.  He explained that the extra wives provided more children for the man…and they could help each other to build huts and gather food.  Reminder – the year this conversation took place was 2013.  Wives generally got along quite well, in fact, the first wife has a say in who the second wife it etc.

In his tribe, he stated 7 was the ‘ideal’ number of wives.  So naturally I asked if he ever intended to take a second wife.  Thabo said that he didn’t think so…but if he did…it certainly wouldn’t be anyone like me.  (To clarify, I was not offering).  He explained, again unsolicited, that I would be a bad wife.  I talked too much.  He saw that I was wearing shorts under by skirt.  He doesn’t think I would be willing to serve his mother food on my knees.   He can tell that I am too educated.  And my pale skin means I would cost many, many cows.

So there you have it…to all the people that ask me, “Why are you still single?”  I think Thabo, the part-time Zulu Warrior, summed it up…then he pulled out his Blackberry and sent a text.

** Thabo is also the only person I have ever met who has eating rhino meat.  A body of a freshly poached rhino was discovered not far from his village a few years ago – horn missing and body just left behind.