Visiting a Sangoma – Beads, Bottles and Bones

Last week I visited a sangoma, a traditional doctor, in the neighboring village. Traditional doctors get a lot of respect and have a lot of power in Basotho culture. Not just political power, but actual magical power. They can see the future and talk to ancient ancestors, even the recent dead. They can cure people of bad luck and curses, as well as place curses on people. It is generally thought that only the “evil” traditional doctors, called witches, will curse people. Some curses can even kill the victims, lightning strike is a very popular method I’ve been told. Luckily, there are no evil witches by my village, but there are several sangomas that do a good business in curing curses, illnesses (often caused by curses) and getting rid of bad spirits.

I was excited to meet and have my fortune read by one of these powerful Basotho. The sangoma was a older woman, with a shaved head and wearing a lot of red and white beads. She was very friendly, and we chatted for a bit before she led me into her hut designated for her sangoma work. There were animal skins on the ground, which we sat on, and little bottles filled with medicines lining the walls. There must have been hundreds of them, all different sizes, the medicines were mostly roots and powders in old paint bottles (which took away from the mysteriousness). The sangoma lit a candle and chanted into a hollow pipe, then held it to her ear to hear the ancestors or spirits’ reply. She then shook some bones (with a domino and dice with them) and read my fortune from how they landed on the animal skin. I did not grow up believing in the magic of traditional doctors, so I remain skeptical, but I do not doubt her insight and great ability to understand people. Some of what she told me I am supposed to keep a secret, but she did make one prediction that I especially liked: my grandfather that died long ago is looking after me and keeping me safe. She also warned me that a small dark woman (which describes just about every other person here) is jealous of me and sent a Tokolose (a cheeky spirit, often in the shape of a tiny bearded man, that is always up to mischief) to sneak into my house at night and bewitch me. And if I returned for another visit (and paid more money) she could remove the Tokolose and give me a protective charm against this woman.

After the fortune reading there was a ceremony to commemorate the four months of mourning one sangoma finished after the death of her daughter. All the family members got their heads shaved and all their clothes washed and one of their largest goats was slaughtered. The goat’s neck was slit and the blood was poured into a hole dug in the middle of the yard. All the sangomas in the area gathered together to sing and dance. It was a traditional dance from Swaziland, and very different from what I’ve seen here in Lesotho. The dance involved a lot of quick steps and feet movement accompanied by many people playing the drums and singing.

It was a very interesting experience, the traditional clothes and dancing were beautiful, and the fortune reading gave me goose bumps, but I don’t think I’ll be back for that charm, I think my dog can take care of any Tokolose.

A Year of Seasons in Lesotho

ONE YEAR. I have now been in Lesotho, the Mountain Kingdom, for an entire year. It feels brief and incredibly long at the same time. And it’s only half over! I now have seen all of Lesotho’s seasons – one of the few countries in Africa that has four distinct seasons. To get a better taste of what my life has been like throughout these seasons, I’ve written a brief description of each season (which is the opposite of those back in the U.S.) :

Spring – It’s finally warming up and I can take off the extra layer of socks and long underwear. Everything is super dusty and people talk about rain coming to start the seeds growing and settle the dust a bit. There are baby animals everywhere, little goat kids and piglets at the house down the hill. The peach trees start to blossom and cover all the hills in pink (though the peaches won’t be ready for four more months)

Summer – The rains finally come, and it rains almost every day for several months. Rain turns everything green, grasses grow where there were just dirt fields and slopes, more grass than the animals can graze. The rain also means crazy lightning storms with hail pretty regularly. And my least favorite part – the mud. It makes me wonder why I ever wished for rain to settle the dust. Mud is much worse, it becomes very difficult to stay clean for more than an hour, and I am continually slipping down my muddy slope to the road. I remember waking up one night to the sound of a full river and a newly formed waterfall, just after the first rains of summer had begun.

Fall – Everything is in bloom, there are clematis flowers everywhere and ripe maize (which means roasted maize, as much as I can eat!). The rains finally stop, or at least become much less frequent, and things begin to dry up. I have to go to the river again to get my water because there isn’t rain to fill the barrel behind my house. I spend at least an hour everyday pulling thistles and burs off my dog or myself, they’re everywhere. There is a chill in the air that feels nice after the summer heat, and an early frost that kills off my promising tomato plants.

Winter – You can almost tell the exact day winter begins, the sky is cloudless and the air has a bite to it. People sit (and nap) out in the sun during the day, soaking up the warmth. At night I wear long underwear, a sweatshirt, two pairs of wool socks, and am still cold underneath my sleeping bag and two blankets. It’s not Michigan cold, it only snows occasionally here, but without heated buildings it’s a bitter cold that gets into your bones. The days are also shorter, and I’m sequestered in my house for three more hours of darkness every day.

But this winter, in July, it also means a trip home to the U.S. where it’s summer, with swimming in Lake Michigan and picnics in grassy parks!