Bokdrolspoegkompetisie

Today I became a man! Well, at least I proved my manhood in the Zulu tradition. Randall also became a man. I wish I could leave it at that, but I feel compelled to share the story of our Bokdrolspoegkompetisie.

I told you previously that we are getting some information about the Zulu culture from Victor and Andre. On our walk this morning, Victor asked if any of us were real men. Of course we were tentative to speak up because we all knew his question would have very little to do with anatomy. He prodded us again. “Who is a real man? Are any of you real men,” he asked. Still no response from us.

You see, we figured out quickly that this guy has a good sense of humor. I think he is genuinely enjoying our group. We are laughing a lot with him and he is giving us the full experience. I get the feeling that he is going the extra mile with some things because he is actually enjoying his job this week. This is exactly why we were timid with raising our hands to the manhood question. We were waiting to see what test would be. What the trick would be.

Victor had just finished telling us about Impalas. We had come across some dung on the trail and he picked up some of the small black pellets in his hands. He began to roll the half inch pellets in his hands as he described the small antelope with great detail. Basically they are small, plant eating deer. The males have horns while the smaller females do not. I realized that there must be a connection between fondling the dung and proving you’re a man, so I wasn’t going to step forward yet.

Sensing our hesitance, Victor continued with the story. As it turns out, there is a common right of passage competition with the Zulu people called a Bokdrolspoegkompetisie. This term is Afrikaans for Buck Poop Spitting Competition. Now you’re probably one step ahead of me in this story. As the name describes, they spit the dung out of their mouth to see who can spit it the farthest. I thought it had to be a joke, but Victor was insistent. I volunteered to participate. Randall stepped forward as well, but there were no other takers. It would be Victor, Andre, Randall and me.

Victor drew a line in the dirt with his boot about 2 meters from where we were standing. I watched Victor’s hands very closely to see if this was some sort of practical joke. Surely he was going to trick us by spitting a rock while we mouthed the dung. But, he said there was no trick. He kept rolling the dung in his hands like you would to make a ball out of dough. He wasn’t pressing them together, but just rolling them around. Then he placed one of the pellets in his mouth. He opened his mouth for each of us to see it resting on his tongue. He turned to the line and launched his pellet. It flew from his lips like a cherry pit across the line. Then he opened his hand to us so we could choose our pellet.

They all seemed the same so I selected one of medium size. Randall did the same. As I examined my pellet, Randall looked Victor straight in the eye and quietly asked, “Is this some sort of slight of hand trick or something?” Victor shook his head no and explained that it is a very common practice in the bush. We believed him. We trusted him.

I examined the dense pellet very carefully. It was dry and firm with no odor at all. It looked and felt like a large chocolate covered peanut, but I was not expecting this to be a treat. There was no turning back now, so decided to go first. I popped the pellet into my mouth and aimed for the line. I was in quite a hurry to send the tiny ball on its way, so I think I started blowing as soon as it hit my tongue. I spit it out with a weak attempt that barely made it halfway to the line.

Randall on the other hand, launched a beautiful shot that probably doubled my distance and easily cleared the line Victor had drawn. We were both pleased to be showing our manhood, but it was very clear that the competition was real. The others were cheering and egging us on as Randall heckled Andre and Victor, challenging them to beat his distance. Andre came close, but it didn’t quite reach Randall’s mark. Then it was Victor’s turn. Surely the only Zulu in the group could best our attempts. Sure enough, Victor’s pellet cleared the line and came to rest at least a foot past our longest attempt. We all gave a cheer of celebration at our successful ceremony ended.

Since I know you are all wondering the same thing I was right before I popped that piece of crap into my mouth, I can report that the pellet didn’t have any taste at all. But that didn’t keep me from spitting a few times afterwards just to be sure. The whole idea of this competition is much more disgusting than the actual practice.

Now that it’s over, I have to admit that I am very pleased with myself for participating. I’m proud to have proved my manhood in front of my tribe. I’m also thrilled to have experienced something so traditionally African. This was just one more fantastic experience on our amazing African adventure.