IT BEGINS WITH A DREAM...“You have dreams.” That is Pumla Mayise’s explanation for how she became a zangoma, or traditional healer. Mayise’s vision began when she was a young girl. “I had funny dreams,” she said, recalling an episode where she was instructed to find a unique tree branch in a large forest. But it was not until she got married and became a teacher (now preparing for retirement in her 39th year), that she finally realized her calling to become a zangoma.
Mayise is one of 96 traditional healers that Africare has trained over the last two years to assess the needs of HIV positive patents. (Many often seek care from zangomas instead of, or prior to visiting a hospital or clinic.) As I entered her “surgery” (or doctors’ office), she greeted me with a warm welcome while hastily stirring a foaming, white concoction in a metal container. Then she ignited a piece of dried brush. As the smoke ascended, she called out to the ancestors.
“Traditional healers didn’t know anything about health measures,” Mayise said. Referring to a cutting technique that is used by zangomas to administer medicinal treatments she added: “In the old days, they would use one razor blade over ten (patients). But now Africare has said, be careful, AIDS is there and it is killing. So you must use one blade for one patient. And we won’t forget that.”
Atop a high shelf adorned with her cowtail and other zangoma accessories, she has a yellow box full of razors that is marked with the same mandate. It sits alongside a box of condoms, which are also in ample supply. Both are arranged among canisters of ground herbs and other traditional medicines that are clearly labeled .
“The way that I have arranged my surgery is through training,” she explained. “We’re told no more heaps of herbs. Label your medicines so that you don’t confuse anything.”
Traditional healers have also learned how to detect the symptoms of the HIV virus. Many have already developed remedies to treat some of the related ailments, such as diarrhea and thrush. Patients requiring additional medical attention are referred to local clinics for further treatment.
Mayise is one of 96 traditional healers that Africare has trained over the last two years to assess the needs of HIV positive patents. (Many often seek care from zangomas instead of, or prior to visiting a hospital or clinic.) As I entered her “surgery” (or doctors’ office), she greeted me with a warm welcome while hastily stirring a foaming, white concoction in a metal container. Then she ignited a piece of dried brush. As the smoke ascended, she called out to the ancestors.
“Traditional healers didn’t know anything about health measures,” Mayise said. Referring to a cutting technique that is used by zangomas to administer medicinal treatments she added: “In the old days, they would use one razor blade over ten (patients). But now Africare has said, be careful, AIDS is there and it is killing. So you must use one blade for one patient. And we won’t forget that.”
Atop a high shelf adorned with her cowtail and other zangoma accessories, she has a yellow box full of razors that is marked with the same mandate. It sits alongside a box of condoms, which are also in ample supply. Both are arranged among canisters of ground herbs and other traditional medicines that are clearly labeled .
“The way that I have arranged my surgery is through training,” she explained. “We’re told no more heaps of herbs. Label your medicines so that you don’t confuse anything.”
Traditional healers have also learned how to detect the symptoms of the HIV virus. Many have already developed remedies to treat some of the related ailments, such as diarrhea and thrush. Patients requiring additional medical attention are referred to local clinics for further treatment.
“We know we can’t cure AIDS, but we can help,” she said.
As I prepared to leave her surgery, Mayise beckoned to me. She carefully bent down and reached behind a small curtain, where she pulled out a silver tray of shot glasses filled with vodka and brandy. She offered me a shot and a sip of homemade beer. It’s what the ancestors like, she declared. I’ll drink to that!
As I prepared to leave her surgery, Mayise beckoned to me. She carefully bent down and reached behind a small curtain, where she pulled out a silver tray of shot glasses filled with vodka and brandy. She offered me a shot and a sip of homemade beer. It’s what the ancestors like, she declared. I’ll drink to that!
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