Bobo Cheeka - A Fair Trade Ambassador

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The Birth

It was a quiet afternoon in the Tshwa San village the sun slowly falling to the horizon as it shone onto the muddy floors below. A cry came from a small mud hut in the centre of the village. Members of the village began lugging their exhausted bodies towards the hut in curiosity of what was going on. Upon a glance inside the hut and jaws slowly dropping, they laid eyes on a mother, painfully going into birth... Members of the village began rushing about looking for someone to assist this helpless mother. 

Soon after a man, in his early 30's came darting towards the hut, holding on to his fur cap, his goat-skin jacket fluttering in the wind as he made his way closer. Upon his entry to the hut, the women (his wife) was cradling a frail child in here arm. The fathers face lit up, eyes widening as he reached his arms towards the child. He took the child carefully into his arms, gazing into his hazel eyes. The father lifted his vision from the child's eyes and redirected his focus towards the mother, "what should we call him?" the mother said in a soft yet weak voice. The father zoned out for a moment, thinking of his grandfather who passed away in recent days. His grandfather was a great man too him, always treating him like a prince in a palace, something he will never forget Bobo, his Babu (Grandfather). He slowly zoned back in, regaining focus back upon his wife, "we shall call him Bobo, after my late Grandfather, Dear." 

After the baby had been met by all of the tribe, the village animal handlers made their way to the goat pens. They slowly looked over their livestock, their eyes glowing in excitement. They were looking for the largest goat in the pen to sacrifice for Bobo's birth. They spotted one, it's hooves planted in the ground, making eye contact with the animal handlers, already knowing of its fait. The handler entered the pen with his flint-blade knife, slowly approaching the goat, grasping it by its ears and locking it into place in the wooden hold.

He moved his knife closer to goats throat, quickly swiping across as blood trickled onto the blade of his tool. The goats legs shook in pain, until it slowly lay to rest. The handler swiped his finger into the blood of the goat, then proceeded to draw a cross on its forehead in orders to show his respect to the animal for its sacrifice. The father then unlatched the carcass from the wooden hold and swung it over his back, carrying it towards the centre of the village.

He then blew the horn, alerting all the tribal members to gather round for the ceremony. As the crowd gathered, the mother and father of Bobo came forwards into the centre of the crowd, Bobo in the mothers arms, wrapped in a thin cloth. The father approached the handler, taking the knife from his hands and placing it onto the goat. He began skinning the goat, from the bottom up, the tender skin slowly being scraped away from the flesh of the lifeless carcass. Once the skin was off, it was washed with a small bowl of water then offered to Bobo, this was his gift of birth.

 

After the ceremony was over, the tribe had a celebration, filled with dancing and consuming of the goat as it was roasted over a small fire. The celebration went on as the sun slowly fell below the horizon and the moon began to arise from the distance. Smiles all around, traditional songs being sung, and overall happiness until the nights end..

 

Edited October 13, 2021 by Payn

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