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G17M8368 Indigenous knowledge of ecosystem services in rural communities of the Eastern Cape, South Africa Chenai Murata A thesis submitted in fulfilment of a Doctor of Philosophy in Environmental Science Department of Environmental Science Faculty of Science Rhodes University Supervised by Professor Anthony R Palmer and Professor Gladman Thondhlana November 2020 Declaration I, Chenai Murata hereby declare that this thesis is my own original work, has not been submitted for any degree or examination at any other university, and that the sources I have used have been fully acknowledged by complete references. This thesis is submitted in fulfilment of a PhD in Environmental Science in the Faculty of Science at Rhodes University, South Africa. Signature: Date 17/11/2020 i Dedication I dedicate this thesis to the living sprit of my late father, Philemon Murata, a man who during his life never set foot in an institution of formal learning, a traditional healer of note, a rainwater manager, and an informed, albeit illiterate, oral historian, who introduced me to both the ontology and epistemology of indigenous knowledge systems at a very tender age. ii Acknowledgements I conducted this study under the National Research Foundation (NRF) research project entitled Indigenous Knowledge Systems (IKS) to enhance rewards for ecosystem services in rangelands infested with invasive alien plants in South Africa. I thank the NRF for financial support, and Dr Sukhmani Mantel for administering the NRF bursary. I thank my supervisors, Prof. Anthony R Palmer and Dr Gladman Thondhlana, for providing intellectual guidance, reading my draft chapters thoroughly, and making insightful suggestions. I thank my wife, Loveness, for her support and care of the family when I was away working on this thesis. To my mother Elina, I say that thank you for your words of encouragement: “zvichanaka chete, chazvo kunonoka” (although it may take time, it will be all right in the end). To my children, Chenai, Elina and Phillip: your existence in my life is why I persevered until I completed this thesis. My study journey, from Grade 1, was a family project to which every family member contributed in various ways, including financing. I thank all my siblings, Margret, Judith, Eva, Rachel, Samson, Wilson, Edson, Phoebe, Phillip, Ephraim, Violet, Daniel, Taurai and Petros, for supporting me since Grade 1. To the spirits of those who passed on before this day, I thank you for being with me always, and all your spouses and children. Thank you, Mr Rob Sacco, for sponsoring my Advanced Level Education, and the Zimbabwean government for sponsoring my first degree. This PhD would not have been possible without your support from the beginning. Many thanks go to the traditional and political leadership of Mgwalana, Mahlungulu, Colana, Gogela and Nozitshena for allowing me to conduct this study in your villages. I thank my respondents for patiently responding to my interview questions, and the community members who gave context to my work. Thank you to the field assistants who made this work possible: Mvuyisi Senior Tsalu, Lindiwe Mafuya, Noloyiso Otso Ngxakweni, Nombongo Somkhwitshi, Zinande Gogela, Msawenkosi Ntulini and Yamkela Gogela. Mrs Magaba Tsalu. Ms Nothembile Beatrice Ngxakweni, generously hosted me during my fieldwork. I extend my gratitude to members of the Department of Environmental Science and the Institute for Water Research for supporting me throughout my PhD. Finally, I thank my friend Dr Hlanganipai Ngirande for helping me throughout the process of putting this work together. iii Foreword A brief account of my initiation into the world of indigenous knowledge systems Circumstances of my personal upbringing exerted substantial influence on the focus I adopted in this study. I was born to strongly traditional parents and grew up in remote rural village under chief Chikukwa in the Chimanimani District of Zimbabwe. Neither my father nor all his polygamous wives, had any formal education. All my sisters and brothers from the polygamous family ended formal education at primary level, except one brother who completed Ordinary level (Form 4) through support from external funders. My parents were unemployed and had no money to send children to secondary school. My father was a traditionalist, an oral historian, a traditional healer and a rain-spirit medium. I grew up seeing groups of people, some from local universities and others from governmen flocking to our home to interview my father about historical events, especially wars of colonial conquest and liberation. Because he was a rain-spirit medium, he was the person to whom elders from our village and several other neighbouring villages went in times of rain-problems: late rains, prolonged heavy rains, and lightning. He also attended to other village natural disasters, such as outbreak of pests, like locusts and stalk-borers that destroyed crops. In 1993 when we had very heavy rains in Chikukwa village, rivers overflowed and arable lands were washed away. The village had stopped functioning; no one could work in the fields, and overflowing rivers prevented children from going to school. One day a group of elderly women, came home singing and shouting, mainly in obscene language. In a poetic fashion, they recited my father’s praise verses, calling him by his clan names (Beta, Hanzu, Dhliwayo), narrating how he was connected with the ancestral world. Finally, they kotowed and begged my father to stop the rain. Without saying a word, my father stood up and went into his hut, the hut he used for consulting with his clients, and locked himself inside. When he came out after about half an hour, the rain had already subsided, and there was no lightning anymore. The women thanked him and went back to their homes. The following day there was no rain at all. The village started to function again. My father was also a renowned traditional healer providing health and spiritual services to many people of our village and beyond. He often asked me to fetch the roots, bark, or leaves iv of medicinal plants from the forest. Many people came to our home to consult with him, some as individuals and others as groups of family members. Among his patients, there was a special group of the formally educated people: teachers, nurses and local government officials, as well as ordinary Christians, pastors and prophets. Members of this special group visited my father late at night, usually after 22h00. They knocked on the boys’ hut in which I slept with my elder brothers. After one of us opened the door, the visitors would whisper in low voices, asking us to go and tell our father that they had arrived. As the youngest in the hut, I was often tasked to inform my father. After attending to them, the next morning my father would give me a few bundles of things wrapped in paper to take on my way to school. The bundles ranged from the size of a lollipop sweet to the size of a naartjie. In a stern, low, hoarse voice, he commanded me to put the things in the bottom of my plastic bag of books and make sure no one saw them. I would have to give these things to pastor so-and-so or teacher so-and-so after school. I obeyed my father in whatever he asked me to do, out of both genuine respect for him and fear. He was not an easy person to ask questions, especially if you were young. When I got to school, I kept the bag clutched under my armpit, even when playing football during morning break and lunchtime. I ran and fell in the playground with my bag; it did not matter to me. I had to keep the things safe and secrete. After school, I left my friends and walked to the pastor’s home, making sure I walked alone. It appeared the pastor did not want his children to see the things. As soon as he or his wife heard that I had arrived, they would quickly step towards me, sit me down, isolating me from their children. When everyone was gone, the pastor asked me to give him his things. The word ‘things’ was the vocabulary all parties, my father and his clients, regularly used. They never told me what these things were, but I knew they were bundles of traditional medicine. All this happened at the time I had converted to Christianity in a Pentecostal church of which I was member from 1988 to 2000. In the church, one preacher after the other, including members of my father’s special group of clients, vehemently spoke against the practices of consulting traditional healers and of worshipping ancestors. They alleged that ancestors were demons, and traditional healers were witchdoctors who should not be associate with the holy Christians. They advised that, when in difficulties, rather than consulting traditional healers or performing rituals ceremonies to supplicate ancestors, Christians should pray hard and fast; the Holy Spirit v would solve all their problems. And yet, after preaching this gospel in daylight, some of them would come to my father in the privacy of a dark night to get things. As a young child in a patriarchal society in which the young are taught to obey but not to ask questions, I resisted the temptation to ask my father what was going on. I could not ask his clients either. My curiosity was further whetted by the reality that my father never explained anything to me or to my siblings. He told me what to do, when to do it, and how to do it, but not the reasons for doing it. I grew up with a lot of questions about his world of knowing.

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