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Isdore Guvamombe Reflections
Back in the village in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve it was late winter when there was little much else to do than drinking binges and a hodgepodge of traditional ceremonies. This was the time when fields had long been harvested and cattle and goats were freelancing, only to be closed in or tethered at sunset.

Karitundundu, the grandest of all spirit mediums and the revered autochthon of wisdom and knowledge, was testing and certifying junior spirit mediums at the crocodile pool – Dzivarengwena.

In the Shona or rather Korekore spiritual realm, to be precise, it is a must to carry authenticity tests on each emerging spirit medium as a way of protecting not only the integrity of the spiritual province but all the life of the sub- jects.

This wintry afternoon, three spirit mediums – Matare, Chikonzo and Kadenhe – faced the authenticity test in front of the villagers and the entire spiritual province, an equivalent of the executive council. The council’s decision in front of the villagers was final. The villagers also had their opinion considered. That is village democracy.

Amid the pomp, zest and fanfare, the heartthrob of the African drum took centre stage! Spiced by singing and systematic dancing, the three mediums paraded for a guard of honour inspection.

Spirit mediums did not just dress. There was authenticity in the style of dressing, too. Their main garment is two length of black or dark blue cloth. One is tied around the waist so that it falls on the ankles. The other is systematically draped over both shoulders and tied under the right armpit. A snuff pouch and a small hand axe, give the complete pos- ture.

These cloths as well as the staff which all mediums should carry and the sandals they wear make up the traditional spirit medium regalia. The dreadlocks too! With good advisors even a fake medium could pass this test but the next two stages of the test were the most crucial.

After the grand inspection, Karitundundu led the procession of singing and dancing villagers to the crocodile pool. There the three students were each accorded the chance to take a plunge and bring out the sacred pillow. The head pillow in this case was a crocodile.

Startled by the arrival of the villagers, the crocodiles that had been basking in the sun took off with great sluggishness and plunged into the pool, sparking a loud ululation from the village women and a huge clapping from the men. It was the climax. Steady as usual, calm, composed and authoritative, Karitundundu challenged the three to take turns and jump into the pool for five minutes and then bring the trophy – the precious pillow.

First it was Kadenhe’s chance. My ancestors . . . The man backed off and took to his heels, villagers in pursuit. He was never seen. His sprint would have made world sprinting champion Usain Bolt green with envy.

Then it was Matare. Without hesitation, he plunged in, taking a hide under the deep waters. For moments there was silence. Deathly silence. Breathless. Then suddenly there appeared to be an underwater fight.

Then, he reappeared, lifting a battling crocodile. There was an explosion of joy, ululating, clapping, oohs and aahs. Great stuff. Calabashes exchanged hands and lips. Then everyone knelt before the satyr-draped medium. Hail Sekuru Matare. Hail the new medium! Hail the autochthon!

A reception awaited him that night.

But Karitundundu was not immediately drowned in the celebrations. He knew there was still a candidate for testing. He called for a hush. Then called for the last candidate, Chikonzo. He was a real rat. He had disappeared amid the celebrations and was never seen. He could not take the authenticity test.

The two fake mediums were to be punished for being fake and pretenders for, under the Korekore spiritual province, it is taboo to pretend to be a medium when you are not. It is permissible to be a magician without claiming to be a spirit medium.

What a great spectacle of the past? What with the mushrooming of fake prophets in Zimbabwe, could this not be a worthy lesson?