The Invasion of the KleKle

The Invasion of the KleKle

 

            For the first time in more than a decade GaMaja is hosting an annual Girls’ Initiation School. For two weeks girls (ages about 10-16, maybe) from the surrounding village have come to stay in GaMaja to learn traditional songs, dances and customs. There must be almost 100 girls participating and they have set up large tents in the field behind the chief’s kraal. At dawn, they walk down the mountain and into the open fields across the tar road to hold school beneath a large tree and return in the evening to the camp. During the evenings they sing and drum (very loudly) traditional songs around dangerously large bon fires. Now, most of this is speculation and what I can figure out from distant observation. Part of the custom around initiation school is that people of the village are not allowed to the see the girls, and you can be fined if accidentally run across them. Also, no one I have asked seems to have an exact idea of what they do there, how long it will last, what the songs are about, etc. Part of the secrecy around girls’ initiation school is due to the KleKle, and this week the KleKle have come to GaMaja.

            On Monday morning I had gone down to the post office and noticed that the village was rather quiet, there weren’t many people out and everyone seemed to be hurrying about their business and going home (very unusual anywhere in Africa). Early in the afternoon I was sitting outside with a few of the women from my extended host family, trying to stay relatively cool in the shade of the big house. Soon it seemed that the whole village was sitting out in their yards and looking north, and there was a group of teenage boys who had taken a perch on the mountain just behind my house. (Luckily, my house sits close to the top of one of the foothills and overlooks the whole village, so I can usually tell what’s going on in the village from my front porch.) Then all of a sudden there was a ripple of noise through out the village as we watched 40+ figures emerge from a dry river bed, briefly cross the tar road (to where initiation school was going on), then break up into groups of two or three, and begin running toward the village. As soon as the first trill call had been made, any person out in the streets of the village took off running as fast as they could, locking gates and doors behind them. The KleKle had come.

            The KleKle are said to be possessed women, and have something to do with the traditions surrounding girls’ initiation school. The KleKle are women from the surrounding villages, naked (except for underwear) painted white, who patrol the streets with sticks and beat up anyone who caught out of their house or yard. I still have not been able to figure out their exact significance, but people are suppose to respect them by hiding, especially boys and men.

            From our porch (behind a cautiously checked locked gate) we watched the progression of the KleKle through the village. At first you would only catch glimpses of them, as they passed in between houses; blending in with the shadows of the white washed walls. If you listened carefully you could track their progress as they passed. As they approached a house the old grannies of the house would yell and make a lot of noise, then all would go quiet as the KleKle passed by or attempted to get into the yard and house. People were careful to hide themselves as the KleKle passes, but often the babies and little kids would start to cry. Then, when the danger was gone, everyone would come streaming out of the house and hoop and holler at being passed by. Several KleKle came by our house, only to move onto the next one. And they stayed in the village for several hours, before vanishing as quickly as they had appeared.

I have been told not to leave my yard, except for necessities, for the next two weeks, as no one knows when the KleKle will reappear again. My host mom said she called the chief to ask him to ask the KleKle to please not beat up our nice white person, but I don’t think I will take any chances!

It’s interesting to watch the interaction between old and new culture. In so many ways, life here in South Africa is similar to life in the States. The western world is quickly becoming the dominant culture, especially in big towns and cities. GaMaja is still a small, rural village but is located relatively close to the provincial capital, Polokwane. So while people know that they have no real reason to fear the KleKle, that they are just neighbor women painted white, there is still a residual fear and reverie toward the traditional customs and culture. It will be interesting to see how the people of South Africa cope with the growing clash between old traditions, which they still feel very connected to, and the push to become part of the emerging global culture.

As for me, I am going to stay out of the way of the KleKle, but if that doesn’t work, Ian pointed out that “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!”

 

PS. The KleKle return! Just as I was finishing this, I heard the alarm call from the neighbor’s house. This time, the KleKle had gotten all the way through the village and up into the neighbor’s yard before they were discovered! They didn’t seem to inflict any damage, and went away soon after. But we could hear the alarm calls as they made their way down through the village, back toward the riverbed.