N'Cwala ritual research project
Ngoni group
Malawi-Zambia boarder
field research
Thousands of Ngoni lined the parade route to watch the Mpezeni waving from the sunroof of his Mercedes. As the procession passed, those watching from the roadside fell in place behind the others. By the time the procession reached its destination, the nearby village of Mtenguleni, it was several thousand strong, all chanting and dancing a march-like warrior’s dance. The mixture of varying clan songs created an overlaid cacophony, coming in waves and accompanied by shouts, whistling, counter-clapping, women’s cries of excitement, foot pounding and ankle rattles.
As the Mpezeni approached the village a throng of shouting and whistling Ngoni was just arriving from Lusaka by bus and they greeted him, their heads, hands and arms elatedly extending out of the bus windows. The road was thick, jostling with people and filled with dust. As the procession gathered at the village the layered soundscape became dense with textures and excitement; it was infectious and a primordial emotion I couldn’t identify was sweeping me away, my chest bursting with feeling. The smell of dust blended with sweat, smoke and livestock and the air was textured with sounds, songs, and humidity. The feeling of joy and celebration crackled like electricity through the air. I had never experienced anything quite like it.
The Imigubo escorted the Mpezeni to the shade of a large mango tree where the men of the procession separated from the women and quickly formed a wide, deep circle. The ancient and wise tree was a necessary stop. The opening beneath the tree was where the Ngoni ancestors had first gathered after their long journey north more than one hundred and fifty years before. The gathering of the Ngoni warrior clans marked the official beginning of the N’cwala.
The Imigubo was given a bigger and better, battery-operated megaphone through which he sang the praises of the glorious Mpezeni and the Ngoni tribe. In reply warriors thrust their clubs into the air to punctuate his words. The Mpezeni, standing alone at center, talked to the circle gathered beneath the hanging branches of the ancient tree; except for Micke and I everyone was in ceremonial regalia and black. If it were not for an occasional wristwatch or army boots, it could have been in another century. The ancient mango tree as a meeting place was significant for many reasons.
It was the oldest and largest tree in the village, planted by the first Ngoni arriving from Zululand, which meant its prosperity was symbolic, its deep roots and abundant ground water affirming the rightful territorial claim of the Ngoni. Because the tree reached so far into the sky it is said to connect the living of the earth with the ancestors and gods that lived above. The tree was considered an elder of the tribe, a necessary witness to all major events, including the installation of all Ngoni chiefs.
The Mpezeni spoke in a weak voice as those within the circle went still, straining to hear. His speech criticized the present national government, how they had abandoned the Ngoni people and deliberately tried to control the Ngoni by not paving their roads. The Mpezeni’s legs and arms were thin, the angle of his bones protruding from his skin; white sores speckled his legs. It was said he was heavily medicated, smoked much marijuana for his pain, and would not live long.
After interviewing others it became apparent the Mpezeni was essentially a medicated puppet, paid off and used by political forces in a gambit anticipating the national elections in two years. Money, tribal, and national politics blended because the Ngoni were a powerful, homogenous tribe with a long warrior tradition, which meant, as the Mpezeni voted, so would the tribe. After his speech the Lozi Paramount Chief entered the circle and the two chiefs embraced. Their embrace was said to be of “historical” importance—it was the first time the two great warrior tribes of Zambia, the Lozi and the Ngoni, both Zulu off-shoot tribes, had met to form an alliance. Their alliance would be the core of the United National Independence Party, the opposition party that would loose the national election in two years time and be behind a botch attempted coup.
excerpt from Village in the Sky
