Cultural Differences in Children Are Not Based on Skin Colour

Plants only blossom where their roots are - Home !

All children grow up with stories. But stories differ from culture to culture. I want to share the stories that I grew up with. Stories teach children about morals and values…about good and evil.

In the rural areas, children are told fables and folklore stories that have been passed on orally from one generation to another. In the cities, children are told fairy stories that are read to them from books. There is a huge difference between the fairy stories told to children in the rural areas and those who were born and grew up in the cities. This is about culture and culture does not have a colour. I was brought up in our African culture but my skin is very light. So, go figure.

I do not remember ever having a book read to me. The first fairy stories that the white folk grew up with were those I read myself after I had been taught to read. The stories I heard as a child had nothing to do with Hansel and Gretel or Red Riding Hood. Even the Noddy books only came into my world after I started reading.

Intsomi (oral folk tales) time was the time when the adults would tell the children stories. I would like to share them with you as I heard them sitting around the fire after supper or around the table with the old coal stove going to keep us warm. The stories were entertaining; the idioms always had a moral lesson. Most of the stories did not have titles as they always revolved around Jakalashe and Umvolofu (the jackal and the wolf), so I am going to give the stories a title. These stories and idioms that I learned as a child, shaped the way I see the world today.

Why the Rabbit has no Tail

One day it was decided that all animals would be given a tail. The date and time was fixed. On the day of the meeting to collect a tail, the rabbit was too busy and asked the monkey to get his tail for him. In the scramble for tails at the meeting, the monkey forgot to collect a tail for his friend, the rabbit. He came back only with a tail for himself. And that is why the rabbit still has no tail today.

Why dogs sniff under one another’s tails

One day it was decided that all dogs were to attend a meeting at the town hall to discuss the new laws regarding how puppies were to be brought up properly. When the dogs got to the town hall, they took off their tails and hung them on the rack at the door. They always did this as a sign of respect when they went to a meeting. It was also a lot more comfortable to sit without a tail stuck on them. The meeting duly started. Half way through the meeting, someone smelled smoke and started shouting, “Fire…fire…fire”. With that, all the dogs got up and hurried to get out of the town hall. When they got to the tail rack, there was much confusion and haste. They just grabbed the first tail they could reach or get to in the scramble to get out of the burning building. That is why today you will still see dogs smelling under each other’s tails. They are looking to find the tail that belongs to them.

Jakalashe and Umvolofu and the barrel of butter

Jackal and Wolf were walking along the road when they came across a cart full of barrels of butter. Wolf asked Jackal if they should not perhaps pinch one. Jackal said, “Why not? You go and lie in the road and play dead. The farmer will pick you up and put you on the cart. Then you roll a barrel off while I hide in the grass”.

Of Wolf ran to lie in the road. The farmer stopped next to him and climbed down from the cart. He prodded Wolf a few times with his stick and when Wolf did not move, the farmer put him in the cart. He was going to take him home and skin him and use him as a carpet in front of the fire. After a little while, Wolf got up and pushed a barrel of butter off the cart.

“Let’s eat it. I can’t wait”, said Wolf.

Jackal said, “We can’t eat this now. It is not ready to be eaten. It has to be a few days old otherwise it will make you really sick”.

They hid the barrel and went home. On the second day, as Wolf was lying in the sun, dreaming of the taste of butter, he saw Jackal going past. He asked Jackal where he was going and that they should go and eat the butter.

“I can’t be bothered right now”, said Jackal. “I am in a big hurry. My wife is giving birth to a baby boy and I have to find the midwife. “What are you going to call him?” asked Wolf. “Just Begun”, said Jackal, as he ambled along, his stomach so full of butter he could hardly walk.

Wolf waited a few more days and when he saw Jackal again he asked him about the butter. Jackal was really upset. “You won’t believe it Wolf, but my wife is having another child”.

“What is his name going to be?” Wolf asked. Wolf thought that the first child had a very strange name.

“His name will be First Half”, answered Jackal.

The next day when Jackal passed by Wolf’s door, he said that another son had been born and that they were going to call the third son, Second Half.

The following day it was the same thing all over, but the name of the next son was, All Gone.

Early the next morning Jackal was at Wolf’s house as he had promised and the two set out for the butter keg. They came to the barrel, opened it and found that all the butter was gone.

“Oh, no!” groaned Jackal.

“Oh, no!” groaned Wolf.

“You ate it!” said Jackal.

“No, you ate it!” said Wolf.

“I’ll beat you”, said Jackal.

“I’ll murder you”, said Wolf.

Wolf was bigger and stronger than Jackal so if they had to fight, then Jackal would lose. “Wait, my friend”, he begged. “Let us go and lie in the sun and see whose mouth drips butter. Then we will know for sure who ate all the butter”. Wolf agreed.

So they lay in the sun and before long, Wolf was fast asleep. Quietly Jackal got up, scraped the last bit of butter from the bottom of the barrel and rubbed it on Wolf’s mouth. Then he lay down again. When they woke up Jackal said, “My mouth is clean”.

“Oh, no”, said Wolf, “I’m the buttery one.”

“Then we know where the trouble lies”, said Jackal, picking up a stick to hit Wolf.

“I must have eaten the butter in my sleep, because I don’t remember a thing about it”, cried Wolf.

Jackal had beaten the Wolf again.

There are many, many stories about how the Jackal outwits the Wolf. My favourite stories by far were those of Jakalashe and Umvolofu. Our stories were real, they told of real things, real animals and real nature. We did not have make-believe houses made of sweets and cookies, or small people called Noddy and policemen called Big Ears.

Idioms also taught us a lot. Here are a few that have stuck in my head after all these years:

Foxes smell their own holes. (Don’t fart and blame someone else)

A baboon cannot see its own backside. (Don’t judge other people; you are also at fault)

You can’t teach a crap to walk straight. (A stubborn person will not change)

A single earthworm in the ground thinks it is the ground. (If you are the only one who thinks like that you are probably wrong)

A bird does not built with other birds’ feathers. (Depend on yourself, not on others)

The cat sleeps in the fireplace. (So poor that there is no fire)

You do not get tired if you carry your sticks. (Be prepared, take precautions and plan ahead)

Carry it in your chest. (It is a secret).

How many children have had the pleasure of being supported by an imbeleko on the back of a woman – to feel the gentle rocking as she moves about her business? How many children had the opportunity of bathing in a river, or sliding down home-made mud slides and swinging off monkey ropes to fall, laughing and screaming into the river? How many children could walk around barefoot without whinging at every stick, stone or thorn that they tramped on? How many children could play with clay from the river and fashion oxen and wagons from the clay, decorated only with burned out pieces of matches? How many children had the freedom to run in the fields, without a care in the world for danger that comes from other humans? We only had to be careful of snakes. How many children belong to and are the responsibility of an entire village and not just to the parents? How many children had their first hidings from the headman for throwing stones at cars driven by white folk? How many children only got new clothes to wear on Christmas day? How many children have cut the grass for making a roof? How many children were given the responsibility to see that the cows were herded home before dark? How many children knew about procreation, life and death at an early age? How many children were allowed the freedom to run and explore the magnificence of the forests, the rivers, the beaches and the sea? How many children would know about the ceremonies and customs of the people? How many children have had the comfort of sleeping in the same round room with the whole family, knowing they are completely safe from harm? How many children today, are brought up to respect their elders? How many are brought up with Ubuntu? Why did the Western World have to corrupt what was once a beautiful world? How many children were given African names, other than the names you are given by your parents? How many children have warmed their bare feet in still hot cow dung? How many children know about first aid herbs to tend to bites, stings and cuts?

I am a South African. My name is Udadewethu, my isiduko is Tshesi, and I am an Mpondo. My upbringing in Engcobo, Mqanduli and Esikaleni has made me who I am today. Umaf’evuka, nje ngenyanga!

So tell me – who had the better cultural upbringing? Those in esi’lalini or those in edolophini?