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In this mission church I was baptised by the Rev. John Thompson.
Because of his keen mind, his wisdom and eloquence, he soon distinguished himself in the Gcaleka court and was admitted to the inner councils of the kingdom. Then came the Nongqawuse story. Various people — councillors of the court — were sent by the king to go and verify the girl's story of people who spoke to her from behind the reeds adukt the riverbed, of moving objects in the sea.
On one of these occasions Ntantala was among those who went down to the Gxarha stream to see for themselves. He came back unconvinced, it is reported, and in his report-back, he made it quite plain that the whole thing was a hoax. So eloquent was his evidence that doubt entered the minds of even riom courtiers who had been convinced by the ault. Then the great debate went on and on for weeks, with the people see-sawing between belief and disbelief.
In anger and adupt, those who were for the killing of their livestock, amaThamba as adultt were called, turned round and rebuked their fellow Gcalekas for listening to a newcomer, a Ngqika, whose feet were still wet with the dew of the morning of his arrival. Then Ntantala realised that those close to the court could not be moved; they were bent on their own destruction; they would press the king to give the go-ahead.
He went to the king and asked for permission to leave Gcalekaland. Collecting his family and his livestock, he left for Hohita, one of the outposts of Hintsa's kingdom. He remained there for more than ten years, and prospered. When Sarhili and some of his followers fled to Hohita after the Nongqawuse tragedy, they found Ntantala there, a prosperous man. After ten years in Hohita, Sarhili zzangwa allowed back to his area, now all carved up by the British into Gcalekaland, Fingoland and the Idutywa Reserve.
Ntantala sent his king ten heifers to help him start his new life. For this service he earned for himself a place in the Gcaleka court, and to the end of his days he, and his sons after him, became trusted councillors. Ntantala came back from Hohita in and settled at Zithenjini in the Idutywa district. In recognition of his services, Sarhili foom who, on his return, had been given some limited powers over the Africans in the Idutywa and Gatyana or Willowvale districts — appointed Ntantala his overseer in the villages of Zithenjini, Rhwantsini, Cungcwini, Falakahla, Ngquthu, and Phesheya kwe Nqabarha, all in the Idutywa district.
He also took a job as policeman, rising to the position of sergeant in the cat African police force in Idutywa. Ntantala's two youngest sons — Govan, my father's father, and Mandoyi — followed their father into the police force in Idutywa, also reaching the rank of sergeant. Because he was a polygamist with three wives, his descendants hundreds of people, all settled in the Zithenjini village. Most of them became men of means, rich in stock, large and small. And because they had taken advantage of goom land distribution in Idutywa, they acquired large estates.
Almost every large rom of land, arable and residential, in this area belongs to some member of my family. It is not clear how Govan, a younger son, became the centre of the family and wielded more influence in the area than his older brothers. We can only surmise that this was because of his position in the white administration in Idutywa. Govan's homestead became the zangea of the whole family. Here were the family grain-pits; here the family gathered to observe family traditions; here important visitors from the Gcaleka court were received.
The homestead came to chah known as kula Mzi Mkhulu the main homestead or just eGqubeni the place of the huge piles of cow manure. He was born on 9 Aprilin the year of the final crushing of the Mpondomise, the year of the zanggwa of the Sotho and the annexation of Mpondoland. Inthe Xhosa had been finally defeated in the War of Ngcayechibi; Sarhili, the king, was forced to flee and seek asylum among zabgwa mother's people, the Bomvana.
Intoo, the Zulu had been defeated and Cetywayo, the King, was arrested and sent to Robben Island. These events were still fresh in people's minds as George was growing up. Cht s of these happenings made a deep impression on him, and he followed with such keen interest the story of the Wars of Dispossession that later in life he became a knowledgeable student of their history and this period of British expansion in South Africa. Zonnebloem, the Eton of South Africa, had been established for the training of the sons of African monarchs and notables, as well as the sons of senior administration officials.
He was fifteen years old and was to remain in Cape Town for the next seven years, making the journey home only three times. How his father, a policeman in Idutywa, ever got to xdult of Zonnebloem, we do not know. It was a long journey from home; first on horseback through the Kei Gorge to amaBhele where one caught the train to Cape Town.
Cape Town! In faraway Cape Town, who would look after him when he avult not in school? Fortunately, James Tolbatt — who hailed from George's neighbourhood — and his wife were there and they took charge of him. It had been arranged that because of the distance, George would work zanwga the winter holidays and rom home once a year. He found work in the house of a Dr and Mrs Waterkant as office boy, helping the doctor in his surgery and also as house-boy, helping in the kitchen.
The work in the doctor's surgery taught him a lot about how to treat infection and wounds. A better medical assistant cha could not find anywhere.
The housework also helped rid him of those prejudices so common among men. Tata could cook, clean house, wash and iron, something unheard of among men in those days and, in some cases, even these days. Grateful as he was he declined the offer, reminding them that he was the first in his family to have come that far for an education; that his people back home had doubted he would ever return when they heard he had been sent to a school in Cape Town.
If he left with the Waterkants these fears would be confirmed and it would mean the end of schooling for members of his family, many of whom were not yet school people. He remained in Zonnebloem and completed his education. Among his best friends and contemporaries at school were Chief Masupha, one of the sons of King Moshoeshoe, after whom Tata named his first grandson. Mr Heneke was excited to know that the Jordan children he was teaching at Athlone High School were the grandchildren of George, one of the fellows he had admired and respected in Zonnebloem as a freshman there.
George Ndabakayise came home inafter seven years in Cape Town. He was twenty-two years, old enough to take a wife. And the big question was: Whom was he to marry?
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Were there girls good enough locally to marry this polished gentleman from Cape Town? His mother, Nomaqwelane, did not think there were any. Perhaps in the Colony, across the Kei, among the first families of converts, there might be one. My mother was Ida Balfour, one of the many daughters of Makhaphela Sangani Balfour, eldest son of Noyi, who, on baptism as a Christian, assumed the name Balfour, after that cchat Scottish scholar Dr Balfour of Glasgow. My mother's mother was Emma, granddaughter of Mhala, king of the Ndlambes.
Cyril Mhala, who went to Canterbury for his education, was one of her brothers. My mother was born in at Lovedale, the home of the Balfours. Noyi now Balfour had helped the Rev. John Bennie alphabetise Xhosa and, inthese two had produced the first Xhosa primer. It was on their return from Somerset East that they found that the mission station had been burned down during the recent war, the so-called War of Hintsa. Balfour went to Tyhali, the regent, to ask for another site.
This is the present Lovedale, from which have graduated some of the most illustrious men and women, white and black, from southern Africa. When the question of finding a suitable girl for George came up, his zahgwa was adamant that there were no suitable girls locally. The grandfather, Ntantala, then suggested the Adutl family at Theko Springs.
No girl could be more suitable for such as his grandson than a girl from the Balfours. So to Theko Springs the Ntantala envoys went. They found there four, dhat of marriageable age and beautiful. The older two were engaged; the next two, Ida, aged seventeen, and her sister, Annie, aged sixteen, were not. Both families settled for the seventeen-year-old Ida, tall and strikingly beautiful. This was her first year of teaching at the local school, having finished her teacher training at Lamplough Girls' School in Butterworth.
Ida and George were married at Thuthurha church in December She was just eighteen years old. Ida had hoped that her favourite brother, Menziwa or Bhut' Mgwenye as they called himwould be there for her wedding. He did not come, for he was running a business in Mossel Bay. However, Menziwa came back a year after her wedding and one of the first things he did was to visit his sister to find out for himself who this 'lucky young man' was.
When he arrived, his sister is reported to have said, introducing her husband to him: 'Meet this boy that your father married me to. What do you think of him? His looks belied his age. At fifty he still looked a young man of thirty-five. Anyway, what the brother saw pleased him. Here was an elegant, handsome young man, with a keen mind, knowledgeable and sophisticated, a gentleman to his finger-tips.
Menziwa and Tata hit it off well together from the start and remained the best of friends to the end of their days. To us children, no uncle was as loved as Malume Mgwenye, he loved us in return. His wife, Nobani, a Ngcwelesha woman of the house of Tshawe, became one of Mama's best friends. She adu,t an elegant town woman. I think my parents were a near-perfect pair. My father was six foot two, well built, dark complexioned, dignified, warm, kind, generous, slow to anger, understanding, with a healthy attitude towards rolm, a gentleman through and through.
My mother, rlom foot nine, was a rich pink brunette with a ready laugh, outgoing and outspoken, a balance to my father's rather reserved disposition. Those who knew of her coming as a young bride into the Ntantala family often told how her mother-in-law was beside herself with pride and excitement. This was the kind of girl she had hoped for for her sophisticated son. Grandma put her on a pedestal, allowed her to do things that other newlyweds were not allowed to do. For example, Mama was allowed to accompany Tata to the places he went to — country fairs, exhibitions, choir competitions; she was also allowed to visit her numerous sisters and brothers who, in turn, visited her.
Many of the family customs were waived in her case. All this was done because according to Grandma, 'cultured people' did not have to observe such customs. To be free to run their lives as they saw fit — as 'cultured people' — the young couple were encouraged to move out of the chta homestead Mzimkhulu to build their own home. On this site they built their modern, three-bedroomed square house, with two rondavels on each side, and stables for the horses and their Cape adulg.
They gave their home a backdrop of trees, with a vegetable and flower garden in front, some fruit trees at the back, beyond which were the ploughing fields, all fenced in. This is wdult home, my birthplace and that of my siblings. It was to this house that the missionaries, their families and the teachers came. It was here that visitors of all cjat — local and from abroad — came. In this house I first met and saw a black American, Dr Wright. And because we had been told that America was a country where the people had freed themselves, I thought America was a country of black people.
Because of the Rev. Thompson, many visitors to Transkei would visit our mission station and, invariably, he would bring them home to meet my parents or to meet Mama zangea they had already met Tata.
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Besides, all the educated families in the district and beyond knew each other and were very close. Visits among them were common. All this was in addition to visits from Mama's huge family. Mama soon became popular as seamstress and dressmaker. Wedding gowns were her speciality. My sister Granny was to follow her in this. She must have been in great demand, for I remember piles and piles of bridal material in one corner of the room.
The dress would be taken to the girl's home a day or so before the wedding, or her family would come pick it up. Early on the morning of the wedding, Tata would drive Mama there, for she had to dress up the bride, accompany her to the door of the church and be with her the whole day. She came home only in the evenings.
But if the girl's home was not in our locality, Mama had to go to her home the day before and come back the day after. In rural South Africa, weddings are not only at the girl's home, but also at the groom's, and Mama, as dressmaker, had to be at both places. This meant a whole week from home sometimes. On such occasions, Mam-nci, wife of one of our uncles, would be left in charge of us.
Tata was always there with us. There were also the weddings of Mama's nieces and nephews, to which both she and Tata would go.
zangaa Mam-nci again would take charge, assisted by Granny, our eldest sister. Mama was so popular among her sisters and brothers that her house became the 'finishing school' for their daughters. As a result, many of our female cousins have lived with us, on and off, for a year or two before they got married. I have never been able to find out why this was so.
When my sister Granny and aunt Agnes Tata's cousin were students at Lovedale, the first Sunday after they came home for the Christmas holidays was known as the 'Sunday of the Lovedaleans'. There were seven of them from our mission station. On this day, they would be ed by others from Thaleni, Ngcingwane, Chizele and Good Hope, making a total of about twenty young people, with a sprinkling of local teachers and older people.
After the church service, they would all converge on our house where dinner would be waiting for them. Sis' Ma-Zangwa, our help, would have prepared the dinner, with my sisters Somhlophe and Ntangashe running errands for her. As soon as Mama came in, she would go to the kitchen to see that everything was all right; then she would return to the dining-room, put in the two leaves to extend the table, cover it with a starched tablecloth, invite her guests to the table and feed them.
These were always lively, happy gatherings. Those were the days! And yet for all these things, some of them so vivid in my memory, I do not have a complete day-to-day mental picture of Mama. My picture of her on the Sunday of the Lovedaleans is of her wearing a dove-grey three-quarter zanwa, approaching our gate with three other ladies, also in Sunday dress. In yet another, she is about to serve her guests. She is wearing a black skirt, a white blouse with high rroom and a zanywa bow.
There she is entering the dining-room, balancing a platter of baked meat and potatoes. The guests are already seated at the table. After placing the platter in front of Tata, she steps back and declares 'Let us say grace', bows her head and says the blessing. It is such images of her that remain in my head. Ida and George had seven children, two of whom were twins.
The younger twin, Agrinette Nozizwe, and the boy after them, Carmichael Makhaya, died in infancy. Their eldest son, Elliott Carlson Mzolisa, died during the influenza epidemic. He was fourteen years old. All four girls were different in temperament, positive and strong, and the pride of their father. Tata told us early in life not to take second place to anybody, because we were as good as the best, including men.
In these days of women's liberation, I tell people that I am a charter member of that organisation and it was Tata who inducted me into it. I was born on 7 Januarywith the rising of the sun. My parents were hoping for a boy, having lost their only son two years back. They named me Priscilla Phyllis at the request of Dr Lumley, our family doctor and great friend of Tata, for whom he had worked when he first came back from Cape Town.
The Lumley girl with these names had died at fourteen and her parents wished that name to live through me, the daughter of their friend. The first year chah my life was uneventful. But at fifteen months, I fell seriously ill. I was already walking and running xhat like most toddlers at that age. I regressed as a result of the illness.
I was so sick that Mama and Grandma had to move to a place in town to be near the doctor. Even with the doctor checking on me every day, there was no improvement. So Mama and Grandma decided to go home so that, at least, I might die at home. I am told that when I saw my sister Granny at home, I stretched out my withered arms to her and she took me in her arms.
Mama allowed her to hold me just for a few minutes, saying, 'Give her back, Granny; she must not die in my child's arms. She had heard that Mama was back with me and I was not expected to live. Aunt Ma-Mpethwana brought with her some herbs. She brewed these and when the brew was cool, gave me a spoonful, telling Mama to suspend all other medicines from the doctor. When she left, she instructed Mama to give me another spoonful of the brew at bedtime. The next day and the next, zdult Ma-Mpethwana was there to make sure I was given this herbal brew.
In a week I showed s of improvement. I became alert again, cgat interest in people and things around me. I continued to improve, aunt Ma-Mpethwana making sure that Mama did not slacken in giving me this herbal brew. When I had improved enough, Mama took me to Theko for a rest, which she too needed. Here at Theko I continued to improve, started walking again, started talking and put on some weight.
People tell me that I was so active, chasing chickens and everything I saw moving, asking questions, that they likened me to the tiny grass warbler [Nogqaza] and they called me that, a name that was to become my Xhosa name. All the people who knew me at Theko call me Nogqaza. Members of my family too and all those who knew me as growing up use this name, and I like it.
Zngwa good few call me Phyllie, and others still rpom they really want to be sweet, call me Nomphyl. Tata used both Nogqaza and Phyllie, and I would not have him call me anything else, to the extent of not wanting him to write 'Phyllis' in a letter to me. When in his old age, with his sight failing, he got someone to write for him and the letter would have 'Dear Phyllis', I would be so annoyed; it would take me a day or two to read that letter and I would write back saying, 'Please tell whoever writes for you that I am not Phyllis to you, but Phyllie or Nogqaza.
But whatever it was, it was an elixir sangwa life, for I have enjoyed good health ever since. I then became a special child to this old lady. She had saved me from death and this she would never forget. When I was growing up at home, she kept an eye on me. On my way to and from school, she would be standing there looking out for me.
Her house was on our way to school. Big as I was then, she still wanted to nurture me, made me sit by her side and sometimes let me share her plate of food. In her old age, she began to lose her sight and could not see me well. How touching it was when she would make me stand in front of her, feel me all over — my face, nose, ears, arms and whole body.
Then she would invite me to sit next to her and tell her about my life at boarding school. As I was talking, she would say: 'Just say that again. I did not quite catch it. She was one of those who never called me anything but Nogqaza. I did not see her much after I got married. My visits home were few and far between. I came back one holiday and she was gone.
Tata had written to tell me she was dead. Though she was old, I could not imagine being home and not seeing her. I feared even to toom her grave, because I did not think I would be able to take it. I did, though, for I had come to accept that it had been time for her to go. My aunt Ma-Mpethwana! Ours was such a home. Here came relatives, close and distant, on short or long visits, sometimes bringing their children with them.
Some of them came to ask for blankets and clothes to see them through the next winter. One such was Sis' Dinah, a distant niece of Mama. After she had been bought this and that by Mama, she always went to the washing-basket and picked a few more things for herself and her children, especially my dresses vhat her daughter Ntombentsha, who was my age. Mama would discover this after she was gone. Sis' Dinah was able to get away with it because the washing-basket was in the store-room for the convenience of aunt Ma-Mlambo, who could get to it whenever she came to do the washing, so she did not have to wait for Mama.
Some arrived because of some dispute with a husband or a son and came to ask Tata to intercede on their behalf; others came because they had zagnwa seen us in a long time. None of these people could not be sent away empty handed. Many of them proved of great help while they were here. They helped in harvesting beans, sun-drying the pumpkins, getting the corn into the silos, grain-pits and tanks.
They helped in the ploughing fields, hoeing and around the home, putting new plaster onto the rondavels. Then on the day Tata went to sell his bales of wool, those who came for a blanket or coat were taken along and cat back, not only with the blanket or coat, but with other articles of clothing. There would be joy all around. They were grateful and pleased. Leave me a message w a and i send one back too you.
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