8. the moon is empty

Zululand experiences a dry winter and wet summer. Our winter days are glorious with bright sunshine, with a slight nip in the air in the evenings, but comfortable, moderate temperatures during the day. 
But no rain.

This time, though, the rain gave up on us last summer. With very little offerings from heaven, by April the grass had turned brown, whereas, in previous years everything remained vibrant shades of green up until June. The earth is resting and the brittle veld has given up on expecting more rain.

We sell ‘rain sticks’ in the curio shop and one guest gave it his all, twirling the bamboo stick filled with rice to imitate the sound of rain, chanting pleas in Zulu. His efforts were rewarded with a thunderstorm later that evening, but since then no-one has been able to match his rain-making ability. Every day we look longingly towards the south, hoping that one wispy cloud is going to fill out and drop its load all over Milimani.

A gracious Zulu gentleman called Enoch works with us. Enoch is from the old school and his knowledge of Zulu folklore and culture keeps us enthralled for hours. Hoping that Enoch has more contacts ‘above’ than we do, we asked him if we could expect some rain from a tiny cloud that was looking promising. “No,” he said confidently, “the moon is empty. There is no rain.”

Despite us encouraging him to leap up and pendula (turn over) the moon, it was a given. There would be no rain for us. If the crescent bowl of the new moon faces down, it is empty. But if it faces upwards, it is full and we can expect rain.

Enoch also explained the importance of frogs. If frogs croak, rain is around. Almost as if on cue, a frog started croaking and we all looked around in amazement. Sadly, I think he was merely deceived by the sprinkler on the lawn, as the moon was definitely empty.

Enoch escorted us on a walk with the bushpigs one evening, impressing us with his knowledge of medicinal plants. “This tree,” he said “is used for a woman who wants to have a baby.” Kay, a guest, looked suspiciously at the tree, as did I. No, not in the mood to have a baby right now, so we moved swiftly along. “And if I hit you with this branch,” Enock continued in all seriousness, “you will have twins!” With that Kay and I bolted from the forest.

We live close to some villages and we invite the children to sing and dance for us. The money they raise goes towards schooling. The youngsters are full of energy and display kicking skills that make your back ache just watching them.

Most of the children are not quite in their teens, and the passion and enthusiasm they put into the singing and dancing brings their lives in the village alive. Enoch explains the songs to us before they begin. Most are based on being better than someone else and fighting to save your pride and your woman. Hearing tiny kids passionately singing “if you take my wife, I will beat you up!” fills Enoch and the staff with stifled giggles.

As the children warm up and become more confident, and cheeky, they revel in the response from the guests and the cheers and clapping from the staff.

The moon might be empty right now, 

but the hearts and voices of Zululand are filled with song.

Published in Country Life, August 2002.

Other blogs by Lois Kuhle:

SMOKE RINGS IN CUBA. A TWO WEEK JOURNEY FILLED WITH SALSA, SUNSHINE AND SILLY PEOPLE: http://smokeringsincuba.blogspot.com/2013/10/smoke-rings-in-cuba-journey-filled-with.html

COOL THOUGHTS. MUSINGS AND OTHER MAD MOMENTS:
http://loiskuhlethoughts.blogspot.com/2014/01/the-impatient-gardener.html