Back in the old days, two people of the same clan were regarded as relatives, even if they were not from the same family or house. People lived in villages where elders knew each other’s backgrounds, to the extent that they knew which village the people of a particular clan lived in, and they always made sure that children of the same clan knew and respected the fact that they were related.

They were not expected to date or marry each other, as it was a disgrace in the Xhosa culture.

This tradition sort of applies even today, but modern times have caused a bit of a controversy regarding the concept of clan sharing. In Port Elizabeth, for instance, you will notice that, almost everyone you meet somehow shares the same clan as you, whether it is your clan, or your mother’s maternal or paternal grandmother’s clan.

Clan sharing has somehow become a bit redundant these days, and it has lost its original value. People often defend themselves when dating or even marrying people of the same or close clan by saying that “at the end, we are all related”.

Azingca grew up in a household where she was taught to love and respect her traditions. From an early age, she was told that, if someone has the same clan as hers, they were regarded as family because, traditionally, they were related. She had always embraced that tradition, but now she has a mountain of questions.

Azingca is caught between love and tradition, and she always wonders where this new discovery will put her, and whether she will continue respecting her family’s tradition, or if she will hide behind the contemporary complexities of clan sharing in the city.

“Why would God bring me someone who looks my way and brings me so much joy, if He does not think we should be together?” She mutters to herself. “I cannot even talk to my sister about this because she will force me to confront him, and I am not ready to know yet.” Her voice gets raspy as she speaks. “I am not ready to lose him,” she says, sobbing.

**********

It is Sunday evening, and Azingca is packing her small luggage in preparation for the following morning. She is heading back to the student house she lives in, which is a kilometre away from campus. Zukiswa, who is her mother, is dishing up a warm Sunday meal for them.

“You do know that you can come back home anytime and keep this money you are giving out to these people for something else, right?” Zukiswa suggests.

“Mama, you know that I can no longer live here under these circumstances,” Azingca responds, putting the spoon down. “I need my liberty. I need to breathe.”

Zukiswa and Noluntu, who is Azingca’s little sister, look at each other with disappointed faces.

“I will visit you every now and then,” Azingca adds, smiling and brushing their hands. “I also cannot live without you as much as you cannot live without me.”

After Azingca speaks, the two sisters and their mother continue eating and conversing about old memories, and they laugh at the memories while listening to Metro FM.

“In whatever happens, Azingca mntwanam, you must always remember that family is the most important gift God has ever given you,” Zukiswa says.

The topic makes Azingca gulp down the last of her cool drink. “Uhm, so everyone who has our clan in this whole country is our family?” she asks with her face fixated on her plate, avoiding eye contact with her mother.

Zukiswa notices the sarcasm in her tone. “Where is this coming from?” she asks. “You know that anyone who has your clan, my clan, or any of your grandmothers’ clan is your relative, which makes them our family.”

Noluntu looks at her sister with both confusion and curiosity. She feels that there is something in the water.

“Wow, we must have a huge family then …” Azingca comments.

“You must come back from this student house of yours,” Zukiswa says, raising her tone out of annoyance. “It is already messing with your head.” She then takes the dishes to the kitchen.

Noluntu stares at her sister, dying to ask her what is happening.

Tell us: Do you think Zukiswa is right that living at university residence is making Azingca forget about her traditions?