Customs and beliefs of some African peoples – Part 1

Living in the USA or in any highly industrialized country, we are insulated from daily, or even occasional, contact with people of significantly different cultures. Americans, whether from the Deep South or upstate New York, and whether black, white, or Hispanic, share similar customs.  We often assume simply because we do certain things in our everyday lives, other human beings do them too – even if they are people of a completely different race and culture.

Growing up in South Africa from the age of 12, I was aware of many differences between the customs and cultures of white (or European) and black (African) people.  It was only when I moved to Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) in 1967 that I became much more aware of the differences. I left behind a country where the leaders tried very hard to keep the races separate.  “Apartheid” was in full gear in South Africa in those times. Everything was segregated.  There were many occupations that blacks were not permitted to perform.  For example, you never saw black truck or bus drivers. There were no black tellers in banks or in post offices. Separate “homelands” were designated for blacks and so opportunities for that race in the major cities were limited to menial or labor-intensive jobs.

The situation and status of blacks in Rhodesia was completely different.  During my first visit to that country in 1966 I was surprised to see blacks in just about every occupation. Front desk hotel staff, bank tellers, salesmen, and mid to upper management positions in government agencies were often filled by indigenous Africans. I joined a major packaging manufacturer in 1971 and worked with very talented staff in sales, production and accounting positions. Working with these guys over the years I got to know a little bit about their traditional cultures, how they had moved to a more “westernized” culture, and some of the problems this had created for them. As much as a man may have educated himself and moved away from the village to become integrated into the new economic and technological environment of “western” society, there was still a powerful commitment to the family and culture he left behind.

In a country like Zimbabwe, the significant cultural differences between races could easily lead to misunderstandings over the simplest everyday issues. As both races were dependent on each other, it was important to learn as much about one another as possible.  Much of the following narrative is taken from a book that I acquired in 1970 and which was very helpful to me in understanding the customs of the two predominant African tribes living in Zimbabwe. The book is titled “The Man - and His Ways.” It was distributed by the Rhodesian Ministry of Information, Immigration and Tourism. It was not intended to be a text book on the beliefs and customs of the African people, but it was recommended as a general introduction to describe the differences between rural African beliefs and those of white Rhodesians in the 1970s.    

There are two main African tribes in the country, the AmaNdebele and the Mashona. The Mashona probably arrived in the area about 1,000 years ago. Before the Mashona the country was widely, but sparsely, populated by the small statured Bushman who had not advanced beyond the Stone Age. The Bushman would, over time, be displaced westwards to the remote vastness of the Kalahari. In the 1830s the AmaNdebele, an offshoot of the warrior Zulu nation of southeastern South Africa (now KwaZulu-Natal) arrived in the south west of the country and began to ravage and plunder the numerous Mashona tribal groups which lived in disunity in the remainder of the country. All of these people had migrated from North Africa over a long period of time, for well over 1,000 years. Their long journey was dictated by the seasons, by tribal conflict, and by need. Land was abundant and there was no urge to preserve its abundant resources.

A tribe would settle in an area, build huts from readily available materials (poles and thatch) and cultivate small patches of crop such as millet. This, together with meat from the hunt, wild honey, fruits, roots and fish, formed the basis of their diet. This was entirely a “subsistence” economy. Storage was difficult so in years of good rains, there was abundance and nothing was kept against the likelihood of drought the next year. The future, in these circumstances, could look after itself.

Each member of the tribe was wholly dependent upon the fellow members of their tribe and family.  They were all surrounded by danger and had no means of protection, apart from that of the community. There was no room for individuality and the wealth of a tribe was measured in people and in cattle, with the strongest preying upon the weakest. Of course, over time, laws and customs became vital to regulating the affairs of the tribes and these would be applied by the tribal chiefs. These customs and laws were handed down by word of mouth, as the tribes had no form of writing.  Most of these customs were recognized in the courts of Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) after the late 1800s when the country was settled by westerners.

Even though there are two main African tribes in Zimbabwe, the numbers of different tribal groups within these two tribes are many, so it is easy to assume that the custom in one village will be similar in villages nearby.  There is considerable variation among customs although overall the fundamental beliefs will be the same throughout the country. For example the way that weddings are arranged will differ widely from village to village, whereas the practice of “lobolo” or bride price is concerned, this will fundamentally be the same everywhere.

Of course African law, and thinking, has been subjected to European influence for over 100 years. For example, many “modern” African people today will choose to be married in the church and will have one partner according to Christian beliefs.  Cash has replaced the hoe as a token and many other new ideas have been accepted.

Unlike Europeans, the more traditional African does not regard himself as an individual distinct from the rest of his tribal group.  He feels himself to be part of a unit, be it tribe or family and to that unit he owes certain obligations in exchange for which he derives many benefits.  His family, or tribal group, is extended to include the spirits of the departed and they have a great influence on his actions and his thinking. The solid foundation of any tribal group is the ordinary family.  The head of the family has certain responsibilities, the most importance being to maintain family unity. He can’t achieve this without consultation, so all matters affecting his small group are thoroughly discussed with the family, and his decision is a family affair based on a consensus of opinion.  In important matters, he consults the spirits of past members, and seeks their guidance.

During generations of struggle and survival the traditional African has acquired a passive fatalism.  Misfortune is often regarded as due to witchcraft or is an expression of displeasure by the spirits.  There was nothing a person could do to avoid it so he gave little or no thought to tomorrow.  He conserved his energies and blamed everything bad on something else. Even today, we might hear the excuse “I was failed by the examination” rather than “I failed!”

The African loves laughter.  His needs are few and simple and when they are satisfied he is inclined to sit back, for time, he believes, is given to everyone for nothing.  It has no value so why hurry to do today what can be postponed until tomorrow? Land and water have also been put here for his use, so they, like time, can be wasted.  Let tomorrow look after itself!

So how do the distinctly different beliefs of the African and the European merge in a third world country in which the future of each is so dependent on the other? Just as the rural, and traditional, African man must learn the customs of the European, so must the European learn the background of the African and treat him with respect, patience and courtesy.  Those whose missionary work exposed them directly to the most basic tribal beliefs were daily confronted by a need for patience. A mother who was diagnosed with a condition requiring a prescription for antibiotics, for example, would be instructed to take one daily for two weeks. Why not, she would reason, take them all at once? Surely that would be the most effective way to be cured.

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In Part 2 of this narrative I will write about the traditional African man, his spirits, his wives and children and his relationship to the land.

Airport security 1972

Late breaking news! On 24th May, 1972 a South African Airways Boeing 727 passenger airliner departed from Salisbury, Rhodesia (now Harare, Zimbabwe) en route to Johannesburg, South Africa. It was high jacked by two men who wanted the pilot to fly to an island in the Indian Ocean. The pilot persuaded the scoundrels that he did not have sufficient fuel and he would have to land at Chileka Airport in Blantyre, Malawi to take on more. 


I interrupt this gripping story to provide some background information for the handful of readers who may not have heard of Malawi or Blantyre or Chileka Airport. Malawi is one of the smallest of 53 countries of Africa. It is a beautiful, sub-tropical, impoverished, landlocked country generally considered to be in Central Africa. It is north of Mozambique, east of Zambia and south of Tanzania. The people, though poor, are friendly and hardworking and proud. It was text book 'third world' then as it is today. 


The runway at Blantyre's Chileka Airport, as I recall, was long, well constructed and capable of handling large aircraft. The airport building was a modified aircraft hangar. Planes would taxi to the vicinity of the hangar and a flimsy metal stair-on-wheels contraption would be pushed up to the front door. Passengers would step cautiously down the steps and walk about 50 yards across the hot concrete, or through the pouring rain, to a small door in the side of the building before standing in a single, long line, waiting to pass through immigration and customs. The terminal building (i.e. the old corrugated iron hangar) was not air conditioned, making it, in the hottest summer months, October through March, extremely hot. 


Why, you may ask, am I familiar with this story? At the time, I lived in Salisbury (now Harare) and was the sales manager for a significantly large - by African standards - packaging company. I was responsible for our customers in Malawi and about every 3 or 4 months I would fly to Blantyre on business, spending several days visiting customers, taking orders, and helping them with technical issues. Technical issues were important because many of our products were used for food or other (e.g. cosmetic) products that had specific shelf-life and quality standards depending on the integrity of our packaging. 


One important character in this unfolding 1972 drama was the personage of His Excellency, President for Life, Ngwazi Dr. H. Kamuzu Banda. His Excellency was a brilliant man, born in a remote village and educated in the US and in Britain. After an absence of 42 years, he had returned to Malawi in 1958 and led the ongoing political battle to gain independence from Britain, eventually becoming Prime Minister in 1963 and the first President of the one party Republic in 1966. He declared himself President for Life in 1971, one year before Malawi became the scene of this less than dramatic - by today's standards - aircraft event.
It should seem pretty obvious, given his personal history, that His Excellency, President for Life, Ngwazi Dr. H. Kamuzu Banda, was not a timid man. Fortunately for his fellow countrymen, he was a benevolent, pro-western, dictator who cared very much for his country, not to mention his own personal image and reputation. Who would have the nerve to high jack an airliner and land it in his country? 


Now back to the high jacking. The Boeing 727 landed at Chileka Airport. Within a short time, the airport was surrounded by a large contingent of the Malawi Army and Police Forces, under the personal direction of His Excellency, President for Life, Ngwazi Dr. H. Kamuzu Banda. It is possible that the bad guys on board were more concerned with the arrival of the Presidential motorcade than with the hundreds of heavily armed military men surrounding them. Negotiations began. 


Early the following morning, frustrated that demands of complete and unconditional surrender were not being met, a radio message was sent from His Excellency, President for Life, Ngwazi Dr. H. Kamuzu Banda via the control tower to the pilot of the 727, advising passengers and crew to lie down on the floor. Almost immediately the police and military forces opened fire and filled the plane with a few thousand bullet holes. The first lull in the firing resulted in the appearance of two very frightened highjackers at the door, hands raised in the air. No passengers or crew suffered more than superficial abrasions from flying glass and debris. His Excellency, President for Life, Ngwazi Dr. H. Kamuzu Banda was triumphant, reputation intact, and prestige soaring.  It was a classic "Go ahead, make my day" moment in Malawian history.


Fast forward two months. Along with a friend and associate, Grant Ballantyne, I flew to Blantyre for a regularly scheduled visit with customers. Grant was a technician specializing in servicing can seaming equipment and training customers in their use. A can "seamer" is a machine used for sealing the metal lid onto food cans. The body of a food can has a top flange. When the can is filled, with fruit, syrup, vegetables, soup etc., a lid is put onto the flange and a "seamer" is used to hermetically seal the product. Grant's other specialty was a very dry sense of humor, usually made more effective by his ability to keep a completely straight face while everyone else in the room roared with laughter at his deadpan remarks. 


When on business trips Grant Ballantyne always carried a special brief case. It was relatively heavy for its size and contained an inner foam lining, recessed to hold a number of highly specialized, precision measuring instruments and tools. Each of the polished and well cared for instruments has its own little recessed pocket in its own special place in Grant Ballantyne's special black leather brief case.


It should be noted that since the now famous military response to the high jacking event two months before, security had been tightened. A long, narrow, covered shelter had been constructed over the entry door to the hangar and extending, at 90 degrees, onto the runway. A long line of folding tables were set out under this shelter to receive arriving passengers. Behind the row of tables were some of the Malawi Police Forces'  most promising young officers, each in immaculately fitted and starched uniforms. This airport security business, not a normal police duty, was something they obviously took very seriously. 


Along with our fellow passengers, Grant and I descended the rickety metal stair. Baggage handlers were unloading our bags onto the concrete under the wing of the plane. This was a good idea, because it provided a little bit of shade. We managed to retrieve our luggage, without trampling anyone or being trampled, and walked to the security table under the new corrugated iron shelter. Grant was ahead of me as we approached a very young, bright eyed, smartly dressed Police Cadet. At least I have always assumed he was a cadet because he looked very young and inexperienced. He asked Grant to place his briefcase on the table and open it. Grant lifted the heavy case slowly and placed it gingerly on the table, unlatched the front and turned it toward the policeman. 


Upon raising the lid the young man's eyes opened wide in amazement at this array of precision, metallic, instruments. He had obviously never seen anything like this before. I watched his face as he very, very, carefully reached into the case and, with thumb and index finger of his right hand, removed a 4 inch long micrometer from its foam resting place. He raised it up, level with his eyes, and looked at it intently for a few moments, before saying to my friend, "Ah, what is this?”


In a most matter-of-fact tone of voice, without a moment of hesitation, Grant replied, "Oh, that's an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile."


Looking again at the shiny metal object, the policeman lowered it into its cavity in the black leather case, carefully closed the lid and said, "Ah, I see." Satisfied that there was no security risk, he waved my friend on. I managed to get through the strict security inspection without laughing out loud. Thirty eight years later I still laugh about it. 


Oh, for the good old days.