Timothy Pemba
The other day, as I sat down with my long-time friend Tanaka Musasa, sipping what we affectionately call “waters of wisdom,” our conversation took a profound turn.
We found ourselves delving into what it means to be African in a world that constantly pulls us away from our roots.
Inspired by the soulful melodies of Oliver Mtukudzi’s Chiri Nani, playing softly in the background, we reflected on how our traditions are not just relics of the past, but living treasures that continue to shape our identity.
Tanaka and I reminisced about the beauty of traditional marriage ceremonies, which are so much more than the union of two individuals.
Growing up, I remember attending lobola negotiations with my elders. It was a lesson in respect, family unity, and collective responsibility. Tanaka nodded in agreement, sharing his memories of how these ceremonies instilled a deep appreciation for the value of relationships and community.
In African tradition, marriage is a sacred institution rooted in the principles of family and honour. The lobola process, often misunderstood as transactional, is a profound symbol of gratitude and commitment.
It acknowledges the role of the bride’s family in raising a virtuous woman and serves as a bridge that connects two families. As Tanaka rightly pointed out, “It’s not about the money; it’s about the values and the bonds being forged.”
We reflected on how this approach contrasts sharply with the individualistic mindset that often defines modern relationships.
In our traditions, marriage is not just a personal affair; it is a communal journey. It involves the guidance of elders, who serve as pillars of wisdom, ensuring the union is built on a foundation of mutual respect and shared responsibility.
As we talked, I was struck by how even our simplest traditions, like the way we greet each other, carry profound meaning.
In African culture, a greeting is not just a casual exchange; it is an acknowledgement of the other person’s identity, lineage, and humanity.
Using totems (mitupo) in greetings, such as saying “Makadii Mhofu?” (How are you, Eland?), is a practice that Tanaka and I both grew up with.
Totems are not merely symbols; they are an enduring connection to our ancestors and communities.
They remind us of who we are and where we come from. Tanaka shared a memory of visiting his rural home and being greeted by his totem.
“The moment they called me Sinyoro, I felt a sense of belonging, a reminder that I’m part of something bigger than myself,” he said.
In today’s fast-paced, digital world, these greetings might seem archaic, but they are a vital thread in the fabric of our culture. They remind us to slow down, to see and honour each other.
The warmth of a totemic greeting fosters a sense of mutual respect and strengthens community ties.
Our conversation naturally drifted to the role of traditional leaders chiefs and elders in preserving our culture. Tanaka, ever the storyteller, recounted how his village chief mediated a family dispute with such wisdom that it left everyone in awe.
“The chief didn’t just resolve the issue; he reminded us of our values, our history, and why it’s important to uphold them,” he said.
Chiefs are more than figureheads; they are the custodians of our traditions. They guide communities, protect sacred practices, and ensure that cultural norms are passed down to future generations. Their role is particularly important in this era of rapid globalisation, where the risk of losing our heritage is ever-present.
Tanaka and I agreed that the leadership of chiefs offers a sense of continuity, a reminder that even as the world changes, our identity remains anchored in the wisdom of our ancestors.
Chiefs also serve as mediators in marriage disputes and other community matters, ensuring that solutions align with traditional values and promote harmony.
As we wrapped up our discussion, Tanaka raised an important point: tradition is not static. As Mtukudzi sings in Chiri Nani, tradition must evolve without losing its essence. It must adapt to the challenges of modern life while retaining its role as a guide.
Take marriage customs, for instance. While the essence of lobola remains the same, some families now accept payment plans or even symbolic tokens to accommodate modern financial realities. Similarly, greetings with totems can be adapted to urban settings, where many people no longer know their full lineage.
“The key,” Tanaka said, “is not to abandon tradition but to reinterpret it for our times.”
We also discussed how our traditional values could address some of the challenges facing modern society. The communal spirit embedded in our culture can inspire more inclusive approaches to business and governance.
Respect, as exemplified in our greetings, can transform workplace interactions, fostering an environment where people feel valued.
For Tanaka and me, the conversation was more than a nostalgic journey; it was a call to action. African traditions are not just a part of our history — they are a living, breathing part of who we are. They ground us in our identity while giving us the tools to navigate the future.
Preserving these traditions is not just about ceremonies or greetings; it’s about honouring the values they represent.
It’s about teaching our children the importance of respect, community, and responsibility. It’s about ensuring that even as we embrace modernity, we remain true to ourselves.
As I sat with Tanaka, watching the sun dip below the horizon, I felt a renewed sense of pride in my heritage.
The lessons embedded in our traditions are timeless, offering guidance not just for individuals but for entire communities. They remind us of our shared humanity and the interconnectedness of our lives.
Oliver Mtukudzi’s Chiri Nani echoed in my mind as we said our goodbyes. It is a reminder that tradition, when nurtured and cherished, is not a burden but a source of strength. It is a legacy that lives within us, shaping our identities and guiding our future.
In embracing our traditions, we honour our ancestors, enrich our lives, and ensure that future generations inherit a culture that is vibrant and enduring.
Let us take pride in who we are, celebrate where we come from, and carry forward the wisdom of our heritage. As Tanaka so aptly put it, “The roots of a tree may be hidden, but they are what make it stand tall.”
Timothy Pemba is a student of the Decolonisation of Africa with a deep interest in the continent’s socio-economic transformation and its role in the global landscape. He writes in his capacity; that opinions expressed do not reflect the views of any organizations he may be associated with. He can be contacted via email at [email protected]
