For the first time, while at a traditional Zulu ceremony, I was invited into the hut reserved only for the male elders of the family.
I bent down to enter inside and kept a low position to show respect. I then stood to the left side of the entry way to wait to be acknowledged; they would speak first.
“Wow!” they exclaimed when seeing my white skin. It was dark and smokey inside and I could only make out their white teeth shaped with large smiles.
I was invited in, but did not sit. They each wanted to shake my hand and thanked me over and over for visiting ‘their people’. An Uncle asked me questions about my work. The eldest had a black pot full of traditional beer and the other two were cutting off nice pieces of cooked meat from our recent cow offering.
It was too dark inside to take photos, but I left feeling like I held something very unique.
The ceremony was for a young brother who died the previous year, part of my Zulu families Mom’s side.
I spent the weekend with the family making food preparations and drinking a lot of tea.
After a few nights staying the night with 20 other family members, it was difficult to leave and a dramatic scene.
I took many pictures with various groups, each ending with handshakes and hugs that went on and on. One teenager asked me to sign his arm.
There was a young man in his late 20s able to speak English. As MaNdaba and I left, he yelled “Angel! Today we made history!”