Jando Part I: The Circumcision Ceremony

One of the highlights of Ross and my trip into the interior was being able to participate in the Jando– or circumcision ceremony– of the Wamakonde in Chitekete. Having been invited by a friend from Mtwara whose son was “being cut”, we set out on our third day for the village of Chitekete, hoping to arrive in time to witness the ceremony.

And we got there just in time.

Not long after we made it to the village and greeted our friend Jefari, we were escorted into the wilderness (porini) where the children were gatehred and where the ceremony was set to take place. The kids (ages 6-8) were all sitting under a tree, in special dress-like clothing, sipping on sugary beverages and eating little packs of biscuits– presumably to keep their blood sugar up. There were about 15 of them, all having a look of apprehension on their faces, unsure of what to expect but knowing something significant was happening.

About 50 yards away from the children, the men of the village had constructed a 15’x8’ hut, called the Jando hut, where the children, after being circumcised, would live and learn together for the next month.

The Jando Hut

We all waited for about an hour because the official circumcision doctor (a man whose sole job is the professional removal of foreskin) was late. (surprised?)

Once the doctor arrived, the ceremony was underway.

In the first part of the ceremony, the boys left the community of men and went deeper into the wilderness with the doctor. Two by two they would be escorted to a spot not visible to all of the other children where all that could be heard was the whimpering– and sometimes screaming– of the boys as the doctor did his work. At this point, they were only receiving a “shindano” (a shot) that would numb the pain of the cut and reduce bleeding.

Once all of the children had received the shot, they were led away to a holding area for another 20 minutes while 1.) the shot had time to numb their “areas” and 2.) the (good) witch doctor could come and bury bewitched items at the entrance of the Jando hut in order to keep evil spirits (which would come in the form of lions or snakes) out of the hut for the next month. Ross and I were able to enter the hut while they did this and inside we found a completely naked man (mtu uchii kabisa)– the witch doctor– painting designs on eggs and quickly burying them in holes at the front and back of the hut.

After all of the preparations had been made and the shot had time to set-in, all of the men gathered in a large circle at the entrance of the Jando hut. One-by-one the children, then escorted by a close family member, were led into the middle of the circle to meet the doctor and his cutting assistant.

The first child made the process look easy. He walked into the middle of the circle, lifted up his little dress and watched in confused amazement as the doctor removed the necessary skin. He was then led into the Jando hut and the next child entered the circle.

I was amazed by the toughness of these young children (recalling my own crying/wailing experiences with mere immunizations) until the third or fourth child who, having gotten an idea of what was going to happen to him, completely lost it. He wanted no part of whatever this doctor was doing. He kicked and screamed and wriggled until a few of the encircled men entered to hold him in place. After a few quick cuts, the screaming was over and the boy passed into “manhood” just like the few who had gone before him.

I was surprised with how little shame there was in his fear. I initially presumed that any sign of fear in the midst of all of these men would be treated as immature, childish, or shameful. But other than an occasional “usiogope” (don’t be afraid) from the crowd, no one treated the screaming children any different from the “brave” (or oblivious) ones.

The fear of that first screaming child quickly spread to the others. After he introduced the screaming, most of the rest followed in suit, imagining something terrible must be happening if the others were making so much noise.

Once all the children had been circumcised, the families gathered in small circles around their respective children and spent the next hour or so encouraging the newly initiated children and applying their own family-specific remedies to the wounds. More sugary drinks and snacks were brought to keep the children’s blood sugar up, and the doctor made one final pass to inspect his work and make sure there were no complications. Each family made a traditional Makonde brace out of limbs to help the children sleep “comfortably” through the first night.

Mkoba, Jefari, and Fahki (one of the initiates)

After the hour had passed, the family groups said goodbye to their children whom they would leave there in the wilderness for the next month.

There in the Jando hut, together with all of their fellow initiates, and under the supervision of one adult male leader (who is elected by the community as the manliest of men…think Lee Fouts), these children would spend the next month cut-off from all of their family,  learning everything they need to know about being a man. How to farm, how to hunt, how to show respect to their elders, how to work together for the good of their community. In the Jando hut they would heal together and learn together and emerge as bonded, effective members of their society.

Walking back from the wilderness with Jefari, the father of one of the initiates, we were invited to return to Chitekete a month later for the real celebration– the day when the community would welcome back their new men. Apparently the actual circumcision paled in comparison to the day when the children would return, a day marked with dancing, drumming, drinking, and of course, feasting.

Being part of the ceremony was a great experience for both Ross and I. We got an inside look into some of the traditional beliefs of the Makonde people and built some significant relationships with the people in Chitekete.

Jefari and I after the ceremony

For me, the experience offered the opportunity to reflect on my own childhood and on my own cultures lack of good initiation rites. I can’t tell you the day that I became a man. The only real markers I can think of were the ones given by Uncle Sam- the ability to drive, vote, drink, and smoke. This is a topic Sarah and I have talked about at length– the need to give our children clear transitions into womanhood, manhood, adulthood. We’ve got some time before those events happen in our little family, but in the mean time we’ll be taking lessons from our surrounding cultures and brainstorming Fraser-family rites of passage.

(As of July 9th, I returned to Chitekete for the return of the Jando group and will follow-up this blog with the second half of the ceremony…the party.)