King Zwelithini’s ‘transition’ reminds us to return to our roots

The death of the Zulu king, though vastly removed from this feminist city slicker, was a reminder of how far we have drifted from the practices and knowledge of our cultures.

When I heard that King Goodwill Zwelithini had died, the proud southern Sotho woman in me – with a hint of Cosmo – immediately posted a picture of the Morena oa Basotho Moshoeshoe and captioned it: “…in other news, the Zulu King has died.”

Allow me to explain.

For years, history as we know it in its colonised form has dictated to us what is important to know – going as far as writing the oppressor as the victors. The African role in history was reduced to nothing.

Yet we studied it, regurgitated it and, in my case, accepting cum laude awards in our years of academia – and we felt a sense of accomplishment. This one-sided narrative rewarded us for the falsehoods we were taught … our history and culture completely distorted.

And as we, the people of colour, watched our history, culture and the sacrifices of our ancestors being annihilated, a specific monarch rose in influence.

He rose through the final years of oppression, enjoying privileges that far outweighed that of many other monarchs – the reasoning behind it? The sheer numbers of his people allowed him such freedoms.

But other tribes began to find their lost voices. The scholars of African languages and studies rejected the historians’ version that only a certain monarch deserved recognition at the expense of so many others.

In unison they said: we are not all of Zulu/Nguni descent. Yet one thing we are undeniably is African. We share a commonality of origin. And because of that, we can mourn with others.

While the Zulu nation weeps, they boldly share the lessons of our heritage. Where else would I have learned that in the culture of the Zulu, a king does not die but instead he transitions to be “planted back into the soil as a rebirth”?

But as we learn, may we also be willing to teach each other about all our roots – less the tree of our heritage wither and die.

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