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Ignatius Mabasa Shelling the Nuts

Traditionally, even the poor also married, but it was not all about lots and lots of money and cattle. People valued the formation of a new relationship. This is why it was so important for the boy and girl to know as much as possible about each other’s family, their values and priorities and so forth.

MANY in Zimbabwe love this month of August because the weather is supposed to be warmer and sunnier than the months of June and July.

In August, the Defence Forces and Heroes’ holidays give people who are usually busy with work some time off to socialise.

School holidays are also in this warm month, and for those in Harare it is a time for the lively Harare Agricultural Show.

It is also in August that a lot of weddings take place and for others a time to brew beer for various traditional ceremonies.

This month, one young man I know is getting married under customary law.

He is excited and stressed at the same time.

He is marrying into a very rich family, and is not sure whether the little money he has saved will see him through the preliminary stages of makandinzwanani, vhuramuromo and matekenyandebvu.

I understand the young man’s anxiety. I know of customary marriages that failed to happen as a result of disputes over the amounts that were being charged by the in-laws.

I also know of other customary marriages that did not work because the son-in-law’s party felt too inferior and overwhelmed by the differences between their family values and lifestyles and those of their in-laws.

This young man who is getting married is also suffering from inferiority complex.

Although he loves his girl so much, he is not sure whether he is prepared to go and face his “new” family whose big and imposing house is perched on top on a hill somewhere in Harare.

He has driven past the mansion a couple of times, and thinks that the house is aloof and intimidating.

The young man is not even sure whether his ageing Honda Fit car will manage to drive up that hill designed for powerful 4×4 vehicles without sputtering and disturbing the peace of the neighbourhood.

His fear and lack of confidence has been affecting his relationship with his girl of late.

He even proposed to have the girl’s father e-mail him his lobola requirements and banking details so that he could deposit the money, get his wife and move on with his life.

This is where I had to explain the meaning of roora in our culture.

Traditionally, even the poor also married, but it was not all about lots and lots of money and cattle.

People valued the formation of a new relationship.

This is why it was so important for the boy and girl to know as much as possible about each other’s family, their values and priorities and so forth.

This is why marriage was not an individual affair as it has become.

Every African has relatives, and those relatives have a role to play in their lives and affairs — be it at birth, growing up, marriage or death.

The late Simon Chimbetu did a poignant song in which a young man is appealing to his brother to help him with lobola — “Mwana uye ndafunga kugara naye, ndiroore. Ndiyamurei, ndiyamurei, ndiyamure mukoma wangu…”

That plea captures the spirit of marriage and how it is done traditionally.

Communalism, which is the principle or practice of living together and sharing possessions and responsibilities (to some extent) is a value that worked well to keep people together.

The belief that none of us is as good as all of us has been captured in Shona proverbs, idioms and folktales.

We have idiomatic expressions like: Zano ndega akasiya jira mumasese; chara chimwe hachitswanye inda; kuwanda kwakanaka, kwakaipira kupedza muto; kuwanda kwakanaka, museve wakapotera pamuzukuru; chako wega mukonde wesadza; kuturika denga hubatirana, and so forth.

Of course, you get the occasional and contradictory “Nhamo yemumwe hairambirwe sadza,” but that is contextual.

“You exist, because I exist,” and no man is an island.

The South African band, Stimela led by Ray Phiri once did a song called “Who is fooling who?”

One of the lines in the song says — “I pay lobola, and I don’t get a receipt? Who is fooling who?” Indirectly, the song was commenting and attacking the way we have commercialised everything — including our culture, values and morals.

Traditionally, the family members and the community members who gathered to witness a marriage were the “receipts.”

They were the evidence that a marriage took place.

Today, like the young man mentioned above, we have become so business minded such that we miss the point of certain cultural transactions and rituals.

These days I hear stories of people who are taking convenience too far and are conducting marriages via Skype, or sending lobola via Western Union, Mukuru.com or through bank transfers.

But, marriage is not necessarily about convenience, money and the “commodity.”

I am using the term commodity in the sense of an object that can be bought or sold, because that is what some marriage ceremonies have become.

We have reduced our daughters and women to commercial objects that are given a monetary value, in some cases including payment of value added tax and customs duty.

One dear friend of mine gave me a call to tell me that his daughter was getting married the traditional way and that vakuwasha were coming to pay lobola.

I congratulated him, but he immediately told me that his reason for calling was not to just share the news, but he needed help.

He was not sure of the whole lobola process.

He wanted me to give him a stage-by-stage process — something like what the Westerners would call “Lobola for Dummies.”

I told him that it was going to be a long explanation because I had to explain why certain things were done.

But he told me that it was important for him to get the list of items, the context didn’t matter.

I gave him the information he needed, but afterwards, I felt something was terribly wrong with the way this marriage ceremony was being conducted.

Under our customs and traditions, a daughter belongs to “the family” and because of that, you don’t just sit in a pub and decide on what to charge your prospective son-in-law.

Just like your daughter, your son-in-law is also not just being joined to your daughter, but to the whole extended family.

Your son-in-law is investing in a relationship, he is becoming a new family member — and it is not just him, but his whole family too.

You therefore must make sure that even on your side, your whole family knows about the proposed marriage.

Ideally, it is not even you the father of the girl who takes a leading role.

This is why one woman, speaking at her daughter’s wedding said, “Handina kumurera ndega mwana uyu, haasi wangu ndega.”

Marriage involves people, real people with emotions and who are going to reproduce new members for both families.

As a result, a marriage has to follow the right channels.

Another young man failed to understand this when he instructed his in-laws to just give him a list of everything that they were charging for their daughter.

All he wanted was to give them the money and drive back to Harare with his team for a celebration.

The in-laws made it very clear that he had come to their home and he was being rude to dictate how they should conduct the transaction.

They actually told him to go, if he did not respect them and value their daughter.

They were right.

Marriage ceremonies are the beginning of a long-term relationship, not just for the boy and girl, but also for both families.

Because of that, people need to invest time in making the relationship work. If a marriage ceremony is rushed or Western Unionised, it becomes a joke.

If someone is not patient enough to meet and get to know his in-laws and the rest of the family that he is joining, then they are likely not going to be patient with the marriage and everything that comes with it.

On the other hand, a lot of young people are trivialising customary marriages.

The men are not even bothering to formalise their relationships. This is a worse crime compared to wiring lobola money.

One of my neighbour’s daughters is staying with such a man. They have been cohabiting for 10 years now and have two children — but the young Rasta man is not even talking about kuroora.

ChiNinja chakadai chine manenji.