Already a land of lavish royal ceremonies, Swaziland wasn’t about to let the 40th anniversary of its independence and of its monarch’s birth, pass without a party. Julie Davidson joined in to see what all the fuss was about.
I was in ‘the place of kings’ for one of its biggest-ever royal parties. It was the 40-40, the 40th anniversary of Swaziland’s independence from British administration, and of its monarch’s birth.
Cradled by South Africa’s northeast provinces and Mozambique, this tiny landlocked nation certainly punches above its weight when it comes to ceremony. It preserves its most cherished traditions in the mighty annual festivals of the Incwala and the Umhlanga, the latter of which brings thousands of tingabisa – unmarried maidens – to dance at the royal kraal. But the 40-40 was a one-off, and also attracted its share of controversy.
Swaziland is a rare survivor of the world’s absolute monarchies, and despite the disapproval of its big neighbours, for whom democracy is a recent novelty, it is vigorously proud of its identity as an authentic African kingdom. Royalty sets the example of its most enduring cultural feature: polygamous marriage. The birthday boy, King Mswati III, has 13 wives – a modest number by the standards of the past. His revered father, King Sobhuza II, was sage, progressive and frugal in everything except his relish for matrimony. He had 70 wives, and a total of 210 children.
It was the profligacy of the reigning king’s wives that triggered trade union demonstrations in the pleasant, hilly capital of Mbabane in the days leading up to the 40-40. The King’s spendthrift spouses had just returned from a shopping trip to Dubai, and on the day itself their traditional dress was accessorised with top-dollar handbags and designer sunglasses. Royal extravagance was also evident in the fleet of 20 limos that ferried visiting VIPs, including 10 regional heads of state, to and from the refurbished national stadium.
However, the modern facilities and handsome suburbs of Mbabane are deceptive. Swaziland has dire rural poverty, and its population of 1.1 million has the highest rate of HIV/Aids in the world. The official 40-40 budget was £1.4 million, money which many people say could have been usefully spent on health and rural infrastructure. Although there’s a growing demand for political reform, the majority of Swazis remain beguiled by the singular nature of their monarchy, and its unique if autocratic role in their lives. There were scuffles with the police, a bit of property damage and minor looting but no one was seriously hurt in the run-up to the 40-40.
When I came across a protest march of all-singing, all-dancing trade unionists outside the bus station the atmosphere was good-natured. Multi-party democracy was on their agenda, but few reformists were seeking to depose the King or the Queen Mother, known as the Great She Elephant, who is equally powerful. And it would be self-defeating to proscribe the elaborate ceremonies in which both royals are inextricably and intimately involved – they are the lucrative focus of Swaziland’s tourist industry.
Historically its visitors have been mainly South African, for whom Swaziland’s Ezulwini Valley was once the neighbourhood ‘Las Vegas’. Gambling was legal in Swaziland when still outlawed in South Africa, and in the 1960s Ezulwini was mildly infamous for its casinos, strip clubs and louche motels. The valley, overlooked by the twin peaks of Sheba’s Breasts and the formidable monolith of Execution Rock, where wrongdoers were once forced to leap to their death, is now the respectable site of the King Sobhuza II Memorial Park and the nation’s parliament. Yes, it does have one, although the prime minister and cabinet are chosen by the King, whose royal kraal is nearby, along with some of the country’s top hotels and restaurants. All that remains of seedier times is the decaying sign of a vanished whorehouse called Why Not?
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Since losing many of its visitors to the casinos of Sun City and elsewhere, Swaziland has rebuilt its tourist industry on less chancy, more durable foundations: its traditions and its gloriously diverse landscape. With mountains, gorges and waterfalls in the western highveld, floodplains and savannah in the eastern lowveld, broadleaf forests and managed conifers at one end of the country, umbrella thorns, sausage trees and sugar plantations at the other, it’s understandable that Swazis like to refer to their natural surroundings as ‘Africa in miniature’. You can drive on decent roads across the nation from border to border in two to three hours, exchanging opportunities to trek and ride in the west for game drives and bush walks in the east.
Tourists need to be flexible with the timing of their visits if they want to attend either of the two ceremonial highlights, whose timing is linked to phases of the moon. The Incwala, or ‘First Fruits’, is more a process of cleansing and renewal than a single event and starts during the last new moon of the year, in either December or January, when runners are sent to the sea to fetch water for the rites, some of them secret. It’s an all-male festival, profoundly important to the spirituality of the nation, with the King joining in the sacred songs and dances and, at the climax, ceremonially eating the first fruits of the new harvest – a signal for the whole nation to start eating the first produce of the season.
Attention shifts to the Queen Mother for the Umhlanga, or ‘Reed Dance’, which takes place in either August or September, again according to the moon’s phases. A record number of girls and young women, about 60,000 in total, had walked long distances with their chaperones from all over the country to attend the most recent festival, gathering bundles of reeds (umhlanga) to deliver to the Queen Mother as a symbol of loyalty. The reeds are then used to repair the windbreak of her royal residence. The girls arrive at the royal kraal in a stupendous procession, singing, dancing, ululating, bare of breast and high of hopes. After all, the King has been known to pluck a new bride from the comely ranks of the tingabisa.
I missed the spectacle by just a few days, but such is the King’s authority he was able to command the Reed Dance maidens to remain for the 40-40 celebrations, and the fields of the Ezulwini Valley were filled with their camps. On the day itself, traffic was halted for marching Swazi regiments in full warrior dress, and for all the controversy only the dourest killjoy could have remained untouched by the brilliance and exuberance of the events in the Somhlolo stadium: brass bands, Swazi drumming, prancing warriors, dancing maidens and, of course, joyful crowds. With traditional attire on full display, there were more leopard spots and purple-crested lourie feathers than I could ever hope to see in a lifetime of safaris.
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