During the dry season, like now, it has always been a tradition to practice the kurova guva ceremonies. This ceremony to bring back the spirit of the dead person is done one year or more after death.
We have followed this tradition in my family. But lately, there are spiritual beliefs that are splitting the family apart when kurova guva is mentioned. Some people say kurova guva is a tradition to honour our ancestors, while others say we are Christians now and should not follow such old practices that link us to dead people who were sinners anyway.
Last Friday, it was my cousin Reuben’s turn to lead the kurova guva ceremony of his late mother. Since I am not related to his mother by blood, nor are the people from our clan except Reuben and his siblings, we could not take the lead.
Our role was to support Reuben and his maternal relatives to facilitate and fund the ceremony. Once his mother died, Reuben understood that her body and soul returned to her maternal ancestors.
In Mutoko, some people return a dead woman’s body to her maiden village where she will be buried. A husband does not have a say on the body or spirit of his dead wife. She is no longer a relative to him, but a mutorwa, foreigner or stranger.
Tampering with her body or burying her in the absence of her people is taboo. The same applies to a husband who places a new tombstone on his late wife’s grave without consulting his wife’s relatives. This is not done. Such an act can lead to ngozi, or the angry woman’s spirit coming back to haunt and cause harm to the husband and his extended family.
When my mother died four years ago, we immediately knew that her body and spirit now belonged to her maternal people. They took charge of the burial. A year later, my brother Sidney and I went to announce to her people, the Nyati family, that it was time to bring back my mother’s spirit home.
Three Nyati elders came to our village and identified a lady of the Nyati totem to represent our mother. They addressed her as if they were speaking to my mother.
A few days later, my mother’s sister, Mainini Millicent and her cousin, Mainini Maidei, arrived to brew the beer for the kurova guva ceremony. Selected women from my father’s clan also brewed beer so the two processes of beer making were done, kubika mipeta miviri.
Mainini Maidei belonged to the Apostolic Faith, but the sect accepted that kurova guva was an important ceremony linking us to our ancestors. She was allowed to take off her white garment for a few weeks while she participated in the ceremony.
Afterwards, she was going to ask for forgiveness and will be allowed to rejoin the sect. Many people from the Apostolic Faith take off their white garments to follow indigenous rituals.
This is perfectly acceptable because some of the leaders believe that you cannot be totally isolated from your people and the past because you follow a new religion.
On Friday morning, the beer for my mother’s kurova guva ceremony had fermented well and we could smell it bubbling out of the big drums and clay pots. Mainini Millicent ululated, saying that my mother had welcomed the kurova guva ceremony. The all night drumming, singing and dancing began around 8pm.
In between their work, varoora came in to dance and do various skits, imitating my mother. There was much joy and laughter as we recalled how my mother used to talk, dance or show displeasure with something. Two pots of beer sealed with mud were placed at the top of the kitchen hut and my aunts took turns to guard the beer, because that is where the symbol of my mother’s spirit was sitting, hari dze dziva.
At dawn, the music changed to ancient Mhondoro songs of the past where we call upon the spirits of the ancestors to come now and welcome my mother to the land of those who lived before us.
The Nyati elders led the procession to the grave at sunrise. We sang a song calling the ancestor spirit to return now to the people. The song was called “Changamire Mudzimu Dzoka.” Two women carried pots of beer. Loud singing and drum beating began as beer was drunk and some poured on my mother’s grave. We clapped and sang along as the uncles spoke.
They asked my mother to accept the ceremony done to honour her. Then the procession returned home to drink the beer in the clay pots. My mother’s spirit was home and she was now an ancestor, guiding and protecting us.
Her belongings were distributed by her nieces according to custom and some of her utensils were taken to her maternal home. My cousin Reuben was not at the kurova guva ceremony for my mother. His mother had died earlier than my own, but the kurova guva ceremony had not been done yet. Reuben knew that this ceremony was to be done because his mother would have expected it to happen.
Few weeks ago, Reuben was accompanied by one of our uncles to visit the Soko or Monkey totem in Chihota and tell his mother’s people that they were ready kurova guva for his mother.
The Soko people welcomed the message and they came to the old homestead. They instructed Rueben to rebuild his mother’s kitchen hut. Then they asked him to plaster, re-thatch and do many repairs on the dilapidated three bedroomed houses. The uncles and aunts also instructed Reuben to buy millet, a beast for slaughter and then arrange for the transportation of the relatives from Chihota to our village.
Reuben would also ensure that there were chickens for the varoora, goats for the vakuwasha and plenty of Western beer, especially whiskey, sweet wine for the women and various strong alcohols to celebrate his mother’s return to her people.
Rueben started complaining. “This is going to cost me a lot of money,” he said. “I cannot afford to be ferrying people back and forth, feed them and give them alcohol at my expense.”
Reuben called his cousin Chamu in the USA, to ask for financial contributions. Before he could say anything, Chamu said, “Hey Blaz, I gather you have decided to do the full ancestor ritual and bring the old lady’s spirit to the land of the living?” Chamu was laughing on the video call. We could see that he had long dread locks, an ear ring and a beard. Chamu is Reuben’s cousin, son of his mother’s brother.
He should be the muzukuru, or nephew taking lead in bringing his aunt’s ancestor spirit home. “Yes, Blaz, I am following the traditions of our people. I just want to do what is right by your aunt,” Reuben said.
Chamu had plenty of wisdom and advise to offer Reuben. He said it was not worth the trouble of brewing beer for seven days, killing a whole beast and carrying out the all night ceremony. Why should Reuben sponsor a whole night of drinking and partying for free loaders? This was too expensive. Times have changed and sons or daughters do not have to follow what our parents and grandparents did.
He said, as muzukuru, all he could offer was solid practical advice. Chamu said; “Some people say you just need to do a nyaradzo, mobilise a few church people and a pastor. Give them plenty of sweet tea, bread with layers of butter and jam. Let the pastor preach about death and everlasting fire to the adulterers, thieves, witches, liars and rapists.
“Let him call people to come to Jesus and a few will come to Jesus. When the preaching and praying is over, feed the pastor first. Give him rice and chicken and a selection of soft drinks. Before he leaves, give him a few bucks for his services.
After the man of God is gone, feed the people with plenty of goat meat and sadza, fetch the 24-hour brew and mix it with brandy or some other strong stuff. The drunks will sing, dance and play the drum until they become stupid. That way, you would have brought your mother’s spirit home.” Chamu said that was the advice he could offer. No money was forthcoming from him at present.
Our sister-in-law, wife to Reuben’s brother, said she would not participate in the kurova guva ceremony of her own mother-in-law, vamwene vake. She goes to a Pentecostal church where they trust that believing in ancestors is equivalent to devil worship.
Reuben was furious with his sister-in-law’s views. But my cousin Piri and I said Reuben should learn to accept people’s different opinions. You cannot change people. You can only change yourself.
These days, as we move to the city and adopt new wealth and new ways of worship, that sense of respect for tradition sometimes fails to work. We can only oppose what we see as gross injustice or corruption, if we can.
Surprisingly, Reuben calmed down and stopped counting how many dollars he was spending to honour his mother’s memory and bring her ancestor spirit to the people during a kurova guva ceremony.
He followed what our ancestors did in the past. We can still do the same, if we are comfortable in doing so.
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