It had been a very nice drive, already. Sitting in the open air in the back of a safari Jeep, rolling along winding roads that curved and curled through a dramatic mountain range, the vibrant, verdant flanks giving way to craggy peaks. The morning chill is cut by warm blankets, and there’s the promise of a little break soon with coffee splashed with Amarula, the most South African of liqueurs.
But this wasn’t a safari drive. Pulling off onto a hidden little unpaved road, Jean told us that we were about to experience something special: a community that few have the privilege of visiting. “I’ve worked with the Myeni Clan for 17 years,” she said. “They’ve given me permission to be here. We’re welcome.” And then we climbed up switchbacks, higher and higher on the ridge, and into a whole, ancient culture that I knew little about.
Ancient Culture
My base for the trip was Ghost Mountain Inn, a quiet, beautiful hotel with pools and patios set amongst gardens and fever trees. (The latter, distinctive for their almost-glowing greenish bark, were named by European settlers who believed that hanging around them for too long would cause sickness. Though, what they were actually experiencing was malaria.) Since the 1960s, the Inn has invested in the surrounding Zulu communities by supporting education and nearby schools, as well as a shelter and sourcing products from local businesses. The vast majority of staff are Zulu, as well.
And they organize tours for guests to meet and experience Zulu culture. Before we reached the Myeni we learned about Ghost Mountain, part of the Lebombo Range. People long reported lights and fires and sounds and drumming from the peak, and some assumed it was strange spirits moving around in the night. But it was actually mummified chiefs being buried, according to tradition, in a cave near the summit, with all the pomp and circumstance that accompanies such an occasion.
Part of the larger Nguni ethnic group who migrated toward this stretch of coastline as early as 500 A.D., the Zulus formed a powerful nation in the 19th century. The legendary King Shaka forged an empire out of a confederation, with a well-organized military that fought effectively against its neighbors and established their authority in the region. Facing the British in the 1870s, they went to battle. They fought fiercely and, initially, they won. But they were eventually absorbed into the British colony of Natal.
But their culture remains one of the strongest in South Africa. It endures, in part, through the arts: wood and stone carving, metal work, basket-weaving, pottery, and especially beautiful works with beads. And dance. I experienced their famous dances on a couple of occasions, the drums beating straight to my heart, the exuberant steps and flips an expression of joy and strength and resilience.
Meeting the Zulu
Soon we met Justice Myeni, who welcomed us warmly to his home up on the ridge. Not yet married, he still lives with his father. He works in tourism—a former hotel chef, he has a catering business and also leads these tours to introduce people to his culture. Just down the hill, three little kids wave at us enthusiastically, excited at the rare prospect of newcomers in their community.While they enjoy modern conveniences like cell coverage and even satellite television, some aspects of life here have remained largely unchanged for hundreds of years. Zulus have traditionally been farmers, and the trappings of rural life surrounded us as Myeni led the way across the property. We stopped at a couple of several small buildings. The kids down the ridge continued to wave. Chicken and goats roamed free. All water is drawn from the rains, or wells. It feels peaceful, and quiet, here up on the ridge.
Myeni explained that Zulu marriages are massive occasions, and he expects the same will be the case for his wedding. “It’s a huge party, you don’t know how many people are coming, so you cook a lot,” he said, noting they will slaughter three or four cows in the traditional way, by spear. He demonstrated for me the proper method, spear in hand. They’ll brew their own beer and prepare the food in big pots over a fire. How long will it last? “For a few days—until the food and beer is all finished.”
Community here, he noted, is key. No matter where you move, to nearby cities or abroad, your home remains on your ancestral ground. If someone needs to build a house, all the neighbors come to help. There are no golden age homes—each family takes care of their own elderly.
And the dedication to family extends beyond the grave. When someone dies, the community rallies, bringing water, food, firewood. “You’re never alone,” he told us. Rather than large communal cemeteries, each home has its own. He pointed where some of his own family members had been laid to rest, just a few steps from the house. “Their spirit stays with us.”
And, although it had just been a morning, my time with Myeni in Zululand will remain with me. Rolling out, we reached a ridge top and set up for coffee. Overlooking the Jozini Dam and its massive reservoir, I processed. Sipping a steaming cup of coffee, a bit of Amarula mixed in, I thought about ghosts on mountains, and a culture of people who have endured and thrived through these generations. And, of course, how fortunate I felt to have spent a tiny bit of time immersed in it.
If You Go
Fly: Durban’s King Shaka International Airport serves mostly as a major domestic hub, although a few big international carriers like Turkish, Qatar, and Emirates fly here nonstop.
