Memories of a traditional Zululand Spring Day celebration

IT’S Spring Day, and soon, with a little rain, flowers will blossom again.

Every year, this day reminds me of growing up as a young boy in the rural heart of Zululand, where there was no running water or electricity, and people herded cows for a living.

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This day was packed with delicious food and music – after all, it only came once a year so we went all out!

I still remember my grandmother’s morning call the day before, checking that all our new ‘church clothes’ were ironed and hung out, that our shoes were polished and spotless.

There was nothing she loved more than showing off her smartly-dressed grandchildren to her friends.

She believed she had the greatest grandchildren of all the gogos in the area, and she wasn’t shy about telling them too!

Going to bed the night before, I had butterflies – I couldn’t contain the excitement of showing off my new outfit to my friends.

As a boy, I was very shy, but on Spring Day, when I was all dressed up, I oozed confidence.

On the day, young and old all shared food and drinks, we played indigenous games and sang songs until dark.

If you were lucky, you danced with your crush – that beautiful girl that every boy in the community liked.

Maybe, just maybe if you were really lucky, she might hold your hand and make your day even brighter.

After the festivities, we had two important tasks; to fold and pack our church clothes neatly inside gogo’s old kist, and attend to our daily duties of locking up the family’s goats.

Spring Day was about how the community came together to share in the festivities. It was about new beginnings.

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There was no fear of children going missing, no-one was stabbed – it was just innocent fun and hope for the season ahead.

But now, my heart weeps when I see how things have changed.

The special day has become a show-off time for many young people. They consume alcohol like there is no tomorrow, and, sadly, for some, there isn’t.

Liquor shops double or triple their profits during this time.

We hear shocking reports of murder cases and rape incidents. People do not have that old spirit of ubuntu, where neighbours treated each other like one, big family, where Spring Day meant a new beginning, hope, family and love for one other.

As we begin the spring season today, I long for those old days and am still searching for the way back to that magical time.

Please, Lord, take me back to that old Zululand Spring Day celebration!

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