imbuzi ihlatshiwe

The goat is now slaughtered, and the good news is that I didn't have to do the slaughtering. The bad news is that the room in which I was sleeping has been set aside for the ancestors [in isiZulu, "amadlozi"], so when I returned home from school on Wednesday my bed had disappeared and been replaced by an elaborate offering of food and drink -- and, in one corner of the room, the skin of the goat that had been slaughtered while I was away.

The really bad news: a few hours later I was eating a whole lot of goat -- including the intestines and, yes, a testicle. The taste could have been worse; the texture could have been much better.

When I moved in on Sunday, there were seven of us sleeping in the house. We are now somewhere between 15-20, with many, many gogos [grannies] sleeping on the floor in the living room. I have moved into a room with my nephew [umshana wami], Aphiwe, who likes to wake up around 4 o'clock every morning. So we're sleeping less and drinking more (utshwala, or Zulu beer, also called umqombothi) before bed.

With luck, the cow will already have been slaughtered by the time I return home this afternoon, and then I can just spend the rest of the weekend drinking umqombothi and greeting the many, many relatives and friends (expected turnout: somewhere around 100) who will arrive this weekend. Some will arrive and depart on Saturday; others will return on Sunday to "landa isigqoko" (literally "fetch the hat," i.e. they'll come back to eat/drink up whatever is left over after Saturday). I won't need to return to fetch my hat since I'll be staying at home for the duration of the festivities...