High in the pine-clad mountains of this remote corner of South Africa lives a legendary rain queen of ancient lineage who hasn`t been having much luck lately.
Not only is southern Africa in the grip of the worst drought this century, but its sacred rain-making forest has burned down, with worrying implications for next year`s rainfall.
But more than the drought, which has withered crops and reduced the waterfalls of this normally lush region to a trickle, it is South Africa`s changing political landscape that threatens to undermine the role of traditional leaders like the rain queen.
Western civilization, political upheaval and the social disruption caused by apartheid have already begun to erode many of South Africa`s ancient traditions. But in some areas, people continue to live in accordance with the customs of their ancestors, albeit with a few nods to modernity, as a visit to the kraal of Queen Modjadji V, the reigning rain queen, made clear.
A mystical, reclusive figure, the rain queen is in principle not allowed to be seen by ordinary mortals. In practice, however, it is relatively easy to meet her.
Queen Modjadji lives in a hut in the village that bears her name in the mountains of Lebowa, one of the nominally self-governing territories and homelands in which blacks were forced to live under apartheid. To get there, you leave the tarmac roads of modern ”white” South Africa and drive some 8 miles along the unpaved dirt roads of the impoverished homeland, past the traditional thatched huts of the local Lovedu tribespeople bustling with goats and chickens.
At the first junction, marked by a small gas station whose ancient pumps must be worked by hand, there is a narrow track that twists up the mountain to the queen`s kraal, a collection of some 60 thatched huts with a commanding view of the valley below.
Because rain queens are not supposed to consort with the outside world, they appoint male proxies to act on their behalf. Queen Modjadji V`s proxy supervises the settlement of tribal disputes at tribal headquarters, a small, modern brick building just outside the kraal. He also screens her visitors.
”You can`t just turn up and see the rain queen,” he said when asked for permission to meet her. ”It`s like the Queen of England. You wouldn`t just turn up at Buckingham Palace and expect to interview the queen, would you?”
First, it is necessary to make an appointment, and second, it is required to bring a gift, he explained. ”This should be something like a blanket woven in the traditional design of your region,” he said. ”But if they don`t have such things in America, then money will do.”
So for an agreed ”gift” of 50 rand (about $20), Queen Modjadji V`s proxy grants an impromptu interview with the queen.
A cal stature would look. But she receives her gift regally and insists on being greeted with a low bow to the floor, in accordance with custom.
Monturies. Their ability to make rain-or prevent it-was legendary throughout southern Africa, and at the height of her powers, in the late 19th Century, the rain queen ruled over one of the most powerful empires in the region.
Aura of mystery
Unlike other tribes, the Lovedu owed their success not to conquest or trade but simply to the fear their queen`s powers inspired. Even Shaka Zulu, the great warrior King, did not dare attack Modjadji, but paid her tribute instead.
”Around her rain-making and other magical attributes there grew an aura of mystery, secrecy and even awe, which made many enemies fear to attack her,” said Eileen Krige, South Africa`s foremost expert on the Lovedu tribe, in a 1978 lecture. ”She was the most extraordinary, most powerful, most mysterious female of her times.”
But times have changed. In days gone by, tribal chiefs, kings and even European farmers would journey to Modjadji at times of drought to seek the advice of the rain queen and pay her tribute. She would hide behind the pole fence of her kraal to receive visitors, relaying her messages to her proxy standing outside.
”No one comes now,” she complained, settling back into one of the La-Z- Boy recliners lining her thatched hut. ”In the past, yes, many people came, but now people lead the lives of Western civilization and they forget the traditional ways.”
Stereo and deep freeze
The small round hut shows that the queen herself has fallen prey to some Western influences. The walls are covered with photographs of herself wearing ceremonial leopard-skin robes interspersed with pictures of Jesus and his disciples. ”I only bought them because they look nice,” she said.
A dining room table, a stereo system, a large deep freeze and six brand-new La-Z-Boy recliners, their price tags still attached, take up most of the floor space. Although there is electricity, there is no running water: The development of the black homelands was not high on the agenda of the white South African government.
These days, the water that comes out of the communal taps on the edge of the village is brown and slushy because the dam at the bottom of the valley is almost empty.
But Queen Modjadji says there is nothing she can do about the drought.
”I do not know what the problem is,” she said. ”Maybe it is a punishment for all the violence in this country.”
It might seem odd that the guardian of centuries-old rain-making powers should absolve herself so utterly from responsibility for such a major rain-related calamity as the current drought.
But it is normal for leaders with secret powers to escape blame when things go wrong, said Deborah James, an anthropologist at Johannesburg`s Witwatersrand University. ”There`s always an `out,` ” she said. ”There`s always an excuse of some kind, some ceremony that wasn`t performed properly, or someone who did something wrong, so that the traditional powers remain beyond dispute.”
The views of local tribespeople bear this out. ”It`s not her fault,”
said a local farmer who would not give his name for fear of offending the tribal authorities. ”Her sacred forest burned down, so there`s nothing she can do.”
Queen Modjadji, however, does not blame the burning of the forest, in which she holds her annual rain-making ceremony, for the drought.
”We said the prayers in September and the forest burned down in November, so there is no connection,” she said. ”But next year it could be a problem because many of our sacred things were destroyed.”
She would not say what the ”things” were; one of the keys to the rain queen`s secret powers is that they must remain secret. They are passed from mother to daughter at a deathbed ceremony, one feature of rain queen tradition that has been modified after contact with the West.
Protecting the line
Traditionally, the rain queen committed suicide at 65, after conveying her secrets to her successor. But shocked Christian missioniaries in the 1930s persuaded Queen Modjadji III that this was a bad idea, and she continued to rule until she died of natural causes at 86.
To protect the matrilineal line from jealous male usurpers, the Lovedu developed a complex system of childbearing for their revered queen. For the purpose of procreation, she was regarded as a man who took ”wives” from among the local people.
These ”wives” lived around the rain queen`s huts, as the wives of a male leader would. They mated with the tribe`s noblemen, but their offspring were regarded as the queen`s children. She thus became the ”father-in-law”
of all her leading tribesmen, a socially stable system that gave just about anyone a shot at being royalty while preventing any individual man from accumulating too much power.
The rain queen herself was supposed to remain a virgin. ”I may not have a husband or even a boyfriend,” said Queen Modjadji. ”It doesn`t bother me, it`s the custom.” She has, however, given birth to two natural daughters, one of whom will inherit the throne.
Perhaps boredom explains this particular lapse from tradition. The rain queen is not supposed to leave the kraal except to conduct the annual prayers. ”Mostly I just hang around here,” she says, gesturing around her little hut. ”I don`t get bored. It`s what I`m used to.”
All of this could change in the new South Africa, which the country`s leaders are expected to negotiate. The African National Congress, which is likely to dominate a future government, has pledged to install democratically elected local authorities throughout the country with ”full accountability” to the electorate, which leaves little room for the hereditary succession and secret powers of the rain queen.
Under apartheid, the white government installed local tribal authorities in the homelands where blacks were forced to live. It was a socially and economically disruptive system for many communities: The Lovedu saw their numbers swell to 120,000 from 40,000 with the influx of blacks forcibly removed from white areas.
But the tribal authorities, formed from local chiefs and headmen, were allowed to rule in accordance with local customs. They were paid by the government to ensure their compliancy; the rain queen, who used to collect tribute from kings and chiefs throughout the region, now earns her keep with a salary from the South African government.
Suspicious of changes
No wonder she is suspicious of the changes taking place. ”No good will come of it,” she said. ”It will be an opportunity for one tribe to take over and dominate all the others.”
It is a common if somewhat misplaced fear among smaller, traditional tribes that the African National Congress will serve as a vehicle for the domination of the Xhosa tribe, from which many of its leaders are drawn.
Marrying the kind of modern nation-state that the black liberation leaders envisage with the traditional customs and lifestyles still prevalent in many parts of the country is one of the many challenges that will confront a future South African government.
But somehow it is hard to see the rain queen fading away in the face of these challenges. Her dynasty has endured centuries of upheaval that included the Zulu wars, the Boer wars, the dislocation of apartheid and the violence of its disintegration. Despite Queen Modjadji V`s misgivings, the chances are she will survive a little democracy too.
