The mother of all tours

As I carefully negotiated the umpteenth pothole, navigator and tour guide James Ndhlovu began to giggle softly in the passenger seat. ‘Upgrading our roads is a priority of the provincial legislature,” he tittered.

We were somewhere in the middle of Zangoma village. Geographically it was a stone’s throw to the main road from Tzaneen to Polokwane, but it felt like another country.

To my left was a cluster of makeshift corrugated-iron shacks, mingled with more esoteric mud and thatch rondavels. Dead ahead two donkeys rolled playfully in the dust and to my right a kraal did its best to keep a small herd of raggedy cattle in check.

Welcome to the real South Africa, and the unorthodox beauty of the Letaba district of Limpopo, courtesy of one of the most impressive tours I have ever been a party to.

Marketed as Township and Cultural Tours and run by Ndhlovu from the Coach House hotel in Agatha, just outside Tzaneen, this was ‘responsible tourism” at its best.

It had all begun three hours earlier at the Coach House when Ndhlovu arrived to escort us in our own vehicle on a tour of the other side of the tracks — the townships and villages of the rural areas surrounding the mighty Letaba river as it pushes its way eastward to the Kruger National Park.

Ndhlovu was born and raised in the head kraal of Shangaan chief Mohlaba II and has an intimate knowledge of the locality, its customs and traditions. Add to this a keen political insight and interest in all things historical in South Africa.

In his final stages of training, Ndhlovu is the product of South Africa’s drive for transformation in the tourism industry and an exceptional brand of community awareness and responsibility displayed by Guy and Jane Matthews, owners of the Coach House.

Ndhlovu began our tour by explaining the rich tribal diversity of the area, focusing on the Shangaan and Pedi, the two tribes we would be interacting with on our journey.

Our first stop was the village of Dan. Driving slowly we wound our way around the settlement, discussing as we went the issues that affect the people living there.

There are no clear borders between villages and townships, and the only physical indication of a shift in location is the density of the population and the standard of housing and amenities. The more rural the landscape becomes, the lower these standards fall.

One minute you are travelling on tarred roads, with street lamps and pavements running between smart and well-kept brick homes, the next you are traversing potholed dirt tracks lined with shanties and huts.

It’s a curious and, for the most part, shocking trip from the comfort zone to the brink of despair.

In Zangoma, an area of loosely strung villages revered for the number of sangomas it has produced, life is lived well below the poverty line. The only source of water is a concrete-lined algae-ridden stream that runs through the area. A single tap runs between 5pm and 8pm each day, otherwise it’s a mission to draw water in a plastic drum.

The most important item any of the families in this area owns is a wheelbarrow. Without it transporting water and wood is near impossible, especially given the dense bushveld surrounding the settlements.

Children of all ages roam the villages. ‘They should be in school,” muttered Ndhlovu disapprovingly. We stopped to chat to a group of teenagers taking refuge from the midday sun in the shade of a huge acacia.

Ndhlovu explained that only a few would break the chains of their poverty and find a sustainable way to make money.

I left Zangoma trying to think of ways to help and reflected that if each tourist Ndhlovu brings in leaves with a similar mindset perhaps there is hope for a brighter tomorrow.

Next up was the relative luxury of MoMo’s Tavern, and its effervescent owner Dorcas Moshele.

This was my first visit to a shebeen and my first impression was, ‘Why don’t we have something like this in our neighbourhood?” Quite what Lynnwood Ridge, Pretoria, would think of a shebeen is not up for discussion, but I did draw parallels between Dorcas’s fine establishment and the local village pub I grew up with in England.

The shebeen seems to be the nearest thing in spirit to the public house in that once inside you are all patrons, leaving any other distinctions and preconceptions at the door, including in this case, the colour of your skin. Perhaps that’s why I felt so at home with Dorcas in MoMo’s — the relaxation of all inhibitions was part of the package, and not dependent upon the beer!

Back on the road, we went on to our final destination — sangoma Mrs Mushwana, number one wife and chief widow of the locally infamous ‘Never Die” Mushwana, who sadly didn’t live up to his name.

Never Die was a snake handler and spiritualist of note, using his serpents to communicate with a long line of equally powerful ancestors.

Mrs Mushwana, number one of five wives, is herself a gifted sangoma — a trait she shares with Mrs Mushwana number three.

The craft of the sangoma is as old as Africa herself, and a unique cornerstone of tribal society. Ndhlovu explained the importance of the spirits of a sangoma’s ancestors and how traditional healing plays such a vital role in the community.

Mushwana escorted us to her ‘pharmacy”, where all manner of dead things hang ready for use in the myriad powders and potions, the contents of which are known only to the sangoma. It’s not for the faint-hearted, and, combined with a visit to Never Die’s snake hut, is perhaps the highlight of Ndhlovu’s tour.

Having said our thanks to the Mushwana family Ndhlovu returned us safe and sound to the Coach House. I place the accent on the safe and sound because although I had spent the morning driving my 4×4 around black townships and villages, not once had I felt ill at ease. Far from it. Ndhlovu’s tour was a humbling experience and one I recommend to all and sundry.

For those like me who live in fortified townships of our own, protected to the teeth with all manner of anti-intruder devices and armed against the ‘swart gevaar” and the wave of crime we are fed, day in, day out by the media, my foray into the outer limits of Limpopo was a revelation.

Thanks to Ndhlovu, I feel that I have finally discovered the country I am living in.