Growing up, our link to this spiritual hinterland consisted in great part of hours spent, after supper, listening to stories from childhood told by my mother and father. My father's mother who hails from KwaChiweshe in the Mazowe Valley was infamously gifted by the spirit of my Great Grandmother, who came to her for the purpose of providing counsel vis-a-vis the indiscretions of family members to ensure they were whipsnapped back into shape. But visiting my grandfather, Chief Svosve wa Gahadza, who was a very well known and supposedly an immensely powerful physical millieu, was the only 'real' experience I encountered of the world of the supernatural.

Visiting my grandparents, the the Svosves, or the Zendas as they are better known, was often the best part of the holidays. They were, I suppose by African standards, influential and affluent and this wealth would always trickle down to us Grandkids. They spoilt us rotten. They had herds upon herds of cows and goats, flocks of pigeon, broods of chicken, an orchard with the sweetest ripest oranges, mangos, limes and guavas. It was there, kwaSvosve that the fear of the supernatural was first instilled in me. While picking fruit from his orchard, we would hear whispers of 'kubika doro' or preparation of a traditional brew that would take place amongst elders in my Grandmother's kitchen in order to bring special favor or resolve in the area that Sekuru (my grandfather) presided over as Chief, or once in a we while we caught a glimpse of my Great Aunt VaHerida in bouts of 'kusvikirwa' or receiving the spirit. She would speak in a mannish tongue that we as children could neither understand nor appreciate, instead we held onto eachother huddled in the corner of the smoky dark thatch-roofed hut. But we always noted the reverence she was accorded. The room would fall entirely silent and she would begin the reception. And though I myself could not always understand what she was saying, nor why she took on this masculine tone, I felt a strong sense of being part of something, something that was no doubt sacred and worthy of my veneration.

I recall a particular instance where my parents had done as they always did during our summer sojourns, they dropped us off in Svosve, Makomo (Marondera), my maternal ancestral home for three weeks. One morning, before the sun had risen, my grandfather was called out to a neighbouring farm. It was the traditional resting place of our ancestors, but was taken over during colonisation by a wealthy English commercial farmer, John Kay. Throughout the day nobody spoke of where Sekuru was, nor when he would be back. Later that evening he came back, exhausted and famished and after his supper, told us over the fire the affairs of the day. He said his forefathers had risen from the grave and had been scaring the black farm workers who toiled the land to the point that they had refused to work. I doubt very much Mr Kay himself believed the ramblings of his employees, but nonetheless saw the importance of resolution and being the spirit medium charged with their transmission, Sekuru was the only man who could put them to rest. This required him to go the the graves and communicate with their spirits and understand their grievance. It turns out the spirits were unhappy about the 'occupation' of their home. We met his eyes with confusion, fear and humble curiosity.

To make us better understand, he explained the history of the land and of John Kay's farm, the history of our family, revealing names none of us had ever heard of. The next day he took us on a tour around his farm, and the edges of John Kays dale showing us the place he was born, how he and his nuclear family were forcibly removed with only the clothes on their backs, and relocated to a place many many miles from where his home now stood. I understood then that the awakening of the spirits was a symbol, a symbol of wrongs in his history that had to be made right, and in so doing Sekuru heeded his calling - to put the spirits to rest. And he did, he won the first ever court case which ruled that a black Zimbabwean could go back to his ancestral land and take back and rebuild his home in the 1940's. he told us he would travel on the first of every month to the Marondera district Office, which was then devolved under the Rhodesia. Govenrment in order to plead his case. Himself and Three other Great Uncles then to the case to court and won. Tens of years later following that victory, the rest of the land was given to him and his extended family during the redistribution of land process. Recounting the many legal battles he endured to return to the place he and his forefathers called home, made me understand he was truly a man of the soil, but that he also realised we were in a changed world - where the spiritual and the real must make a compromise. He never did disclose to us how he appeased the spirits, nor if he did at all, he only told us that when we were older we would understand.

Twenty three years later, I appreciate and respect what traditional spiritual practice really means. These elders that practice it are the custodians of a great Mbire tradition and ultimately, an entire culture. They hold the knowledge and practice of the Shona. They are the curators, the procheins amis of our familial ancestral history. I do respect, with great degree, what his divine abilities and those of vaHerida meant to the community and to our own protection. VaHerida's most favoured grandchild in my mothers family was my mother. She cooked the traditional brew for her to ensure she was protected from bad spirits or karma, blessed with wealth, good health, and in turn this blessing was passed on to her children - myself included. My mother believes heart and spirit that this blessing combined with many (traditional Catholic) prayers protects her from the harm of evil. vaHerida and vaSvosve were powerful symbols and spirits and through me, in thought at least, that power lives on. I carry with me a sense of their existence in a parallel world, where they watch over me and protect me too from the harm of evil. The existing elders as well as the deceased ancestors are the key ritual
divinations or as it is called in Shona, 'kusvikirwa'. The knowledge and process is revealed as a gift...a gift to be respected.

And though my knowledge and practice is not impeccable, I do, sincerely, have the most genuine and upmost respect for the customary rituals, healing, figures, symbols, proverbs, and narratives, for they are the custodians of the very tapestry of Shona culture. Tichengete Soko, Jena mwana waGahadza waSvosve.