TRADITIONAL TERRAIN: LAND, GENDER, AND CULTURAL BIODIVERSITY
PRESERVATION IN VENDA, SOUTH AFRICA
By
Kimberly Bernita Ross

A DISSERTATION
Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of
African American and African Studies—Doctor of Philosophy
2017

ABSTRACT
TRADITIONAL TERRAIN: LAND, GENDER, AND CULTURAL BIODIVERSITY
PRESERVATION IN VENDA, SOUTH AFRICA
By
Kimberly Bernita Ross
This study examines the colonial and apartheid frameworks manifest in South Africa’s land act
legacies and the specific impact on land administration, gender, and the environment in the
former apartheid homeland of Venda, South Africa. These historical forces shape present-day
neocolonialism and globalization in the region which challenge the rights and citizenship of
Black South African women within traditional leadership structures—concurrent with the
country’s democracy. In Venda, politicians, traditional leaders, and multinational corporations
reinforce colonial and apartheid gender ideologies which undermine Vhomakhadzi roles and ecocultural knowledge practices. Vhomakhadzi are women who have historically played a central
role in their clans by advising Vhamusanda (chiefs) on community affairs and presiding over
customs that connect with environmental sustainability. Yet today, leaders and politicians ignore
Vhomakhadzi warnings that development projects threaten biodiversity and food and water
security in the region— instead commencing with deals to establish foreign coal mines,
commercial farms, casinos, and tourist resorts.
This empirical study in particular investigates the environmental and community activism
and cultural biodiversity preservation strategies of Vhomakhadzi of the community-based
organization Dzomo La Mupo. Through ethnographic-style interviews, participant observation,
and archival research, this scholarship analyzes the historical and present-day gender politics that
have diminished cultural biodiversity. The study reveals that colonial social formations

historically confronted the role of makhadzi and continues to undermine her authority today in a
globalized, post-apartheid era.

Copyright by
KIMBERLY BERNITA ROSS
2017

To my mother and father who always stressed the importance of education and made many
sacrifices over the years for me to achieve my goals. Also to my sister Tracey whose unwavering
encouragement gave me energy and confidence. It was the love and support of my family and the
spirit of my ancestors that carried me across the finish line.

v

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank the following people for supporting me through my dissertation research
and writing. First, I am especially indebted to Dr. Denise Troutman, my guidance committee
chair who like a lighthouse guided me through the fog and safely to my scholarly shore. She
consistently supported this research by providing practical tools and an analytical eye to help me
shape my work into a cogent and solid intellectual product. I am also incredibly appreciative for
the encouragement and reassurance of my remaining committee members, Dr. Galen Sibanda,
Dr. Stephanie Nawyn and Dr. Terrion Williamson. Each of them contributed to this
interdisciplinary project in invaluable ways.
I am equally grateful to those who were not on my committee but significantly
contributed to this research endeavor. I must extend a special thank you to Dr. John Metzler of
the African Studies Center who thoroughly combed through chapter drafts and was exceedingly
generous with his time and expertise. Likewise, I want to acknowledge Akil Cornelius in the
History Department whose advice bolstered the historical contextualization of this research. I
also want to thank Dr. Sekepe Matjila at The University of South Africa for assisting me with the
various paperwork and supporting documents to conduct fieldwork and the necessary in-country
research. Additionally, I must recognize Dr. Thambatshira Rabothata in Venda who welcomed
me into her home and with her protégé shared fundamental aspects of Vhavenda culture.
Finally, this research would never have been completed without the critical advice and
perspectives of Mphatheleni Makaulule and Mr. Mashudu Rubson Dima, whose lived
experiences, indigenous knowledge skills and expertise, and unremitting passion for their
community and culture invigorated this project. I thank them especially for allowing me to live

vi

in their home with their family. Their worldview deeply changed my understanding of research,
as well as the natural and spiritual world. Thank you also to Vhomakhadzi of the community
based organization Dzomo La Mupo. Not a single day passed that I did not revel in the rich
cultural heritage and wisdom that they shared with me. It was a privilege to learn from them.

vii

TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF TABLES ...............................................................................................................x
LIST OF FIGURES ........................................................................................................... xi
KEY TO ABBREVIATIONS .......................................................................................... xiii
CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION ..............................................................................1
1.1 Background ........................................................................................................1
1.2 Statement of the Problem ...................................................................................3
1.3 Purpose of the Study ..........................................................................................4
1.4 Need and Significance of the Study ...................................................................5
1.5 Research Questions ..........................................................................................10
1.6 Definition of Terms..........................................................................................10
CHAPTER TWO: LITERATURE REVIEW ...............................................................13
2.1 South African Land Politics .............................................................................14
2.2 Environmental Degradation .............................................................................23
2.3 Cultural Biodiversity and Conservation...........................................................31
2.4 Ecological Feminism and Environmentalism ..................................................41
CHAPTER THREE: SOCIO-HISTORICAL CONTEXTUALIZATIONS ..............53
3.1 Historical Debates ............................................................................................53
3.2 Venda Geography ............................................................................................57
3.3 Gender and Power ............................................................................................62
3.4 Colonialism and Apartheid ..............................................................................69
CHAPTER FOUR: METHODOLOGY ........................................................................75
4.1 Feminist Qualitative Research .........................................................................75
4.2 Black and African Feminism(s) .......................................................................79
4.3 Grounded Theory .............................................................................................86
4.4 Data Analysis and Procedures .........................................................................88
4.5 Data Collection ................................................................................................90
4.6 Participants .......................................................................................................94
4.7 Participant Observation ....................................................................................96
4.8 Archival Data ...................................................................................................98
CHAPTER FIVE: DATA ANALYSIS I ......................................................................101
5.1 Makhadzi Participants ....................................................................................102
5.2 Disenfranchisement of Vhomakhadzi: Land and Culture..............................105
5.3 The Politics of Cultural Biodiversity .............................................................114
5.4 The Phiphidi Waterfall Court Case ................................................................119
5.5 Engagement with The South African Heritage Resources Agency ...............130
viii

5.6 Colonialism and Traditional Leadership ........................................................137
5.7 Exogenous Influences on Gender ..................................................................146
CHAPTER SIX: DATA ANALYSIS AND RESULTS II ..........................................156
6.1 Vhomakhadzi Observations: Coal Mining.....................................................156
6.2 Vhomakhadzi Observations: Wetlands and Deforestation ............................169
6.3 Vhomakhadzi Observations: Seed Security and Food Sovereignty ..............174
CHAPTER SEVEN: DATA ANALYSIS AND RESULTS III ..................................183
7.1 Dzomo La Mupo Community Outreach ........................................................183
7.2 Empowering Vhangona Clans .......................................................................190
7.3 Community Mapping .....................................................................................195
7.4 Final Synthesis ...............................................................................................209
7.5 Globalization and Gender-Based Discrimination ..........................................209
7.6 Western Patriarchal Claims to Nature............................................................213
7.7 Vhomakhadzi Environmental Epistemologies ...............................................217
7.8 Makhadzi Political Praxis ..............................................................................219
CHAPTER EIGHT: CONCLUSION ..........................................................................224
8.1 Review of Findings .......................................................................................224
8.2 Gendered Implications ..................................................................................228
8.4 Recommendations .........................................................................................232
APPENDICES ................................................................................................................236
Appendix A Community Organization Profile ..................................................237
Appendix B Select DLM Staff Interviewed .......................................................239
BIBLIOGRAPHY ..........................................................................................................241

ix

LIST OF TABLES

Table 1: Interviews by Pseudonym, Clan, and Research Site..........................................104
Table 2: Summary of Land Acts, their provisions, and their impact ...............................107
Table 3: DLM’s legal correspondence excerpts with traditional leaders
preceding Phiphidi Waterfall court case ............................................................127

x

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1: Map: Venda, South Africa..................................................................................58
Figure 2: Map: This figure is a satellite image of my predominate research site in
Vuwani township (Google Maps) ......................................................................59
Figure 3: Diagram: This figure represents the study’s methodology
and its complimentary intersections...................................................................90
Figure 4: Diagram: This figure shows key links between pre and
post-apartheid era laws ....................................................................................109
Figure 5: Advertisement: This figure is a resort ad promoting
tours at Phiphidi Water Fall ...........................................................................129
Figure 6: Photograph: Meeting with SAHRA Administrator
at Musanda, (chief’s palace), Tshidzivhe (2014) ...........................................132
Figure 7: Photograph: Signage at the entrance of the
Thathe Sacred Forest (2014) ...........................................................................136
Figure 8: DLM Sacred Site Principles ...........................................................................137
Figure 9: Photograph: Vhomakhadzi Wetland’s Focus Group (2016) ...........................158
Figure 10: Photograph: Residents collecting firewood in
Vuwani (2015) ...............................................................................................161
Figure 11: Photograph: Nzhelele River.
(Picture by Mphatheleni Makaulule) ..............................................................164
Figure 12: Photograph: Vhavenda youth collecting water from a communal
pump between Vuwani Township and village ...............................................170
Figure 13: Photograph: Vhavenda Indigenous Seed Varieties
from Tshidzivhe Tree Nursery and Seed Project ...........................................177
Figure 14: Excerpt from Dzomo La Mupo Constitution .................................................185
Figure 15: Photograph: Makhadzi Tree Nursery .............................................................186
Figure 16: Photograph: Indigenous Tree Saplings...........................................................186
Figure 17: Photograph: Makaulule at DLM Meeting (2016)...........................................189
xi

Figure 18: Photograph: Vhomakhadzi at DLM Meeting (2016) .....................................189
Figure 19: Photograph: Makaulule and Dima (2015) ......................................................190
Figure 20: Photograph: DLM Meeting. Makaulule and
VhoJoyce, center-left. (2016) .........................................................................190
Figure 21: Photograph: Vhavenda men and Vhamusanda,
chiefs at DLM Meeting (2016) ......................................................................190
Figure 22: Photograph: Makaulule dialogue with Khwevha Clan (2014) .......................193
Figure 23: Photograph: Eco-Cultural Map of Thathe Forest,
Communities, and Rivers at Tshidzivhe ........................................................202
Figure 24: Photograph: DLM’s Vuvha River and
Mountain Envirocare Project .........................................................................202
Figure 25: Photograph: Vho-Joyce Explaining Map .......................................................203
Figure 26: Photograph: Makhadzi explaining Eco-Calendar ...........................................203
Figure 27: Photograph: Makaulule Discussing the Purpose
of Ecological-Calendars .................................................................................203
Figure 28: Photograph: Eco-Cultural Map of Nzhelele River
and its numerous tributaries ...........................................................................204
Figure 29: Photograph: Eco-Cultural Map Indicating
Development Changes ...................................................................................204
Figure 30: Photograph: Eco-Cultural Map Indicating Present-day
Development Changes ...................................................................................205
Figure 31: Photograph: Eco-Cultural Map Indicating threats to sacred sites ..................205
Figure 32: Photograph: ‘Profesa’ with Mphatheleni Makaulule (2012) ..........................223

xii

KEY TO ABBREVIATIONS

AfriMAB

African Regional Network of Biospheres

AU

African Union

CBO

Community Based Organization

DLM

Dzomo La Mupo

IUCN

International Union for The Conservation of Nature

LIRHA

The Limpopo Heritage Resources Agency

MAB

Man in the Biosphere Program

NGO

Non-Governmental Organization

SAHRA

South African Heritage Resources Agency

UNESCO

United Nations Educational Scientific and Cultural Organization

UNDRIP

The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples

UNECA

UN Economic Commission for Africa

VBR

Vhembe Biosphere Reserve

xiii

CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION
1.1 Background
Biological diversity is a common term that refers to the varied species, organisms, and
ecosystems in a region. We often hear members of the scientific, conservationist, and
environmentalist community discuss the need to safeguard biological diversity amidst threats of
climate change and environmental degradation—yet what is less referred to is cultural
biodiversity. This concept, sometimes referred to as biocultural diversity, is the embodiment of
cultural, linguistic, and environmental knowledge which coevolved over many centuries (Maffi
and Woodley, 2010; China Bioreserve Network 2008). Maffi and Woodley (2010) characterize
this process as a complex socio-ecological adaptive system—one that many Indigenous people
around the world and on the Continent have retained as centuries-long cultural, spiritual, and
ancestral beliefs. Akin to indigenous knowledge skills (IKS), cultural biodiversity is often
represented through rituals and an intricate spirituality, sometimes associated with sacred natural
sites and forests that have been protected by local communities for generations. In essence
cultural biodiversity includes diverse indigenous epistemologies expressed as a symbiotic,
context and culturally-specific relationship that human communities embody as inhabitants of
their natural world. What many intergovernmental and academic researchers are finally
conceding is that indigenous environmental knowledge is just as expansive and complex as
contemporary conservationist methods.
Indigenous women in particular have been acutely aware of the links between ecosystems and human communities for many centuries, and have observed that a loss of endemic
languages and cultures is directly linked with biodiversity loss (Maffi 2004; Zent and Maffi
2009). For example, in many African cultures women have customarily managed seed selection

1

and storage, utilize indigenous agricultural techniques, and pass on cultural taboos about plants
and nature to protect sustainability. Yet, as women are impacted the most when these techniques
are altered in the name of modernity, many communities of women are on the frontlines
defending indigenous knowledge systems, sacred lands, and human rights1.
Similarly, within the ancestral role of makhadzi (pl. Vhomakhadzi.) in Indigenous
Vhangona culture, women observe the ecological importance of sacred sites and forests in
Venda, South Africa in the Limpopo Province. Makhadzi eco-cultural knowledge is the
indigenous understanding of native plants and eco-systems including natural resource
management. Makhadzi ecological knowledge also focuses on seed, food, and seasonal cycles
rooted in an appreciation of the sacredness of life and nature. In Venda, specifically in the
Vhembe District Municipality there are many sacred sites in the forest, by rivers and lakes, and
in the mountains that are environmentally susceptible. The sacred sites serve different spiritual
purposes and have distinctive management customs and ceremonies. The spots include burial
sites, ritual only sites, and communal sites (Matshidzhe 2013; Tshigavo 2008). As custodians of
these areas, makhadzi have traditionally served a vital role in protecting these sacred
environments and maintaining a harmonious balance between community and spiritual life.
Moreover, for many centuries the role of makhadzi has extended to managing the relationships of
individuals to their family, clan, community, and society to nature. The literature describes
sacred areas identified around the world as retaining high rates of biodiversity with a range of
animal and plant life that need protection. The same is true among Venda’s sacred areas and
Vhomakhadzi have played a central role in upholding the sacred site culture (Tshivugho 2008).
Scholars (Maffi and Woodley 2010; Zent 2009) note that the interdependence between

1

See Lutz, for a comprehensive example of indigenous women’s organizing.

2

culture and nature or cultural biodiversity is not just among rural indigenous communities, but
exists among people in varied societies. Yet environmental and cultural connections have been
weakened in industrialized, urbanized communities where people are removed from subsistence
living (Maffi and Woodley 2010). Changes in gender roles, and global food and seed systems
have also altered women’s influence on environmental matters in indigenous communities.
Additionally, as many remaining indigenous cultures and communities have endured sociopolitical changes and strife, traditional environmental practices and knowledge have deteriorated.
Other external changes include “…loss of tenure over such lands and resources, displacement,
out-migration, impoverishment, forced or induced assimilation, loss of cultural identity and
acculturation to a dominant way of life” (Maffi and Woodley 2010; Zent 2009). The end result is
that Indigenous people lose self-determination due to the overt linguistic, economic, and political
influences of the dominant-culture. Ultimately, cultural biodiversity erosion leads to
environmental hazards that directly impact the resilience of ecosystems and human welfare and
is reflective of larger social, economic, and political processes at work.
1.2 Statement of the Problem
In the former apartheid homeland of Venda, South Africa, the Indigenous Vhangona
communities have endured many socio-political changes that have disturbed their way of life and
relationship to cultural biodiversity. A legacy of colonial and apartheid frameworks have
restricted Vhangona access to sacred sites, forests, and land. What is especially striking is the
gathering of local, national, and multinational actors who appropriate colonial and apartheid
frameworks and gender ideologies to disenfranchise women within the land administration
process. Specifically, politicians, chiefs, and multinational corporations reinforce imperialist
authority to undermine makhadzi traditional roles and eco-cultural knowledge practices.
Vhomakhadzi once played a central role in their clans by advising chiefs on community
3

affairs and presiding over customs that connect with environmental sustainability. Presently
however, chiefs and politicians ignore specific makhadzi community-organizers who warn that
development projects threaten biodiversity and food and water security in the region; instead
commencing with deals to establish foreign coalmines, casinos, and tourist resorts. In this
context, makhadzi and Vhangona women are socially and economically vulnerable within
national, provincial, and local traditional leadership structures—and subject to compromised
livelihoods, environmental and cultural degradation, and a basic lack of citizenship rights.
1.3 Purpose of the Study
This empirical study examines the environmentalism and cultural biodiversity
preservation efforts of Vhomakhadzi members of the community-based organization Dzomo La
Mupo (DLM). Through ethnographic-style interviews, participant observation, and archival
research, the study investigates the historical and present-day land legacies and gender politics
that have contributed to the erosion of cultural biodiversity, and DLM’s subsequent preservation
efforts. Through this qualitative research I analyze how political and corporate actors appropriate
colonial and apartheid gender ideologies that disenfranchise Indigenous Vhangona women in the
land administration process. Lastly, through the study I elucidate the ways that neocolonialism
and globalization impact gender-based discrimination and environmental sustainability in Venda.
As I investigate the politics of land reform and the subsequent effects on the role of makhadzi, I
consider how indigenous women are excluded from economic decisions and land tenure amidst
new power relations in South Africa’s post-apartheid era.

4

1.4 Need and Significance of the Study
The study is important for practical and theoretical reasons pertinent to conservation and
social science. To begin, the erosion of cultural biodiversity and women’s eco-cultural
knowledge in Venda is a post-colonial, post-apartheid issue. Land continues to be a contentious
issue in South Africa and women’s land rights feature prominently in this debate. Furthermore,
upon examining land-use, it is clear that climate change due to industrialization and
unsustainable development practices is a Continent wide concern. According to The African
Union (AU), the regional bloc comprised of 54 African states, sustainable development is a
crucial goal as outlined in its 14 constitutional objectives proposed, “to promote sustainable
development at the economic, social and cultural levels as well as the integration of African
economies” (German Commission for UNESCO, 2015). And climate change and sustainability
are among the AU’s strategic plans articulated in Africa Agenda 2063, the New Partnership for
Africa’s Development (NEPAD) and African sub-regional bodies/Regional Economic
Communities (RECs). Additionally, the UN Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA)
recognizes that companies predominantly from the global north, use unsustainable development
techniques evidenced by extractive industries and plantations. UNECA also identifies, in its two
“Sustainable Development Reports on Africa” the following problems:2
•
•
•
•
•
•

Inadequate institutional and legal frameworks for environmental management 

Weakly applied institutionalized environmental planning and management tools due
to inadequate capacities 

Unchecked population growth rates 

Transboundary management of environmental resources 

High turnover of national experts and officials
The following topical challenges of Africa are quoted again and again by many
international organizations: over-exploitation of natural resources, loss of

2 See German Commission for UNESCO (2015).

5

biodiversity, land degradation and desertification, agriculture and food security, social
protection for poor and marginal groups, gender equality, disaster and risk
management plans, access to water and sanitation facilities, as well as youth
unemployment.

It becomes clear that nongovernmental and regional organizations in Africa— from the AU to
UN agencies such as UNECA, UNESCO, the Man and the Biosphere Program (MAB) and
MAB’s African regional network of biospheres, AfriMAB— have prioritized human-centered
models of conservation and economic development. Consequently, the issues explored in this
dissertation are timely and relevant. Likewise, the study offers suggestions to scholars,
conservationists, and United Nation environmental and cultural agencies working in Venda’s
Vhembe District Municipality to integrate more explicit gender and cultural biodiversity
objectives into their development models and/or conservation strategies.
Regarding theoretical contributions, the research is significant because it dynamically
intersects with Black/Africana Studies, Women’s and Gender Studies, Cultural Anthropology, as
well as feminist political ecology and post-colonial studies. The field of African American and
African Studies engages research topics across the African diaspora, including continental Africa
to comprehend the global Black experience. The examination of structural racism and gender
bias contributes to research on discriminatory frameworks to illuminate the experiences of Black
South African women on the Continent. Furthermore, the study incorporates African feminist
and gender theories that offer oppositional knowledge and research paradigms which contest
hegemonic discourses about African women. Such models particularly examine the
intersectional dimensions of gender-based discrimination, such as race, class, gender,
colonialism, and neocolonialism. This is imperative because it problematizes assumptions about
African patriarchy and gender-based discrimination through a post-colonial lens. I draw on the

6

works of Filomina Chioma Steady, Oyeronke Oyewumi, Molara Ogundipe Leslie, Obioma
Nnaemeka, Catherine Ancholonu and more who challenge narrow epistemological discourses
about gender and globalization and women in development in Africa. Moreover, I employ the
theories of gender scholars who engage in dialogue about gender as a socio-cultural construct
with distinctive implications in an African context. I also incorporate research from Southern
African scholars such as Patricia McFadden, Desiree Lewis, and Winnie Wanzala, who explore
how resources and power are allocated and how historical forces have shaped present day
neocolonialism and globalization by reifying a colonial and imperialist world order that
challenges the rights and citizenship of South African women (McFadden 2001).
These approaches are reflective of the Black Studies-Africanist trained scholar who
embarks on a new genre of Africanist scholarship outside of the traditional African Studies
research framework that has been subsumed into a White, paternalistic, and Afro-pessimistic
view of the Continent (Edozie 2012). Alternatively, it supports Zeleza’s vision to, “…integrate
traditional Black studies and African-centered African Studies initiatives into a single academic
paradigm” (Edozie 33). The Black Studies Africanist scholar therefore uses Black diasporic
epistemologies to examine the global Black experience. For example, in my research I use
African gender theories that probe standpoint theory and intersectional research paradigms used
in Black diasporic feminisms to explore gender-based discrimination in South Africa.
The research encompasses ecological feminist philosophy, namely feminist political
ecology, feminist geography, as well as ecofeminist theories to explore gender and land reform
politics. This literature will explore neo-liberal development paradigms that marginalize Africa
through corporate globalization and the exploitation of resources— which has specific gendered
consequences such as feminized poverty, environmental degradation as well as the insecurity of

7

land tenure by women in South Africa’s former homelands. Exploring ecological feminist
philosophy as it connects with African gender theories frames oppositional knowledge that
challenges Eurocentric social science theories, such as acculturation resurrected in development
paradigms that imply that Vhavenda women or the elder makhadzi women as the custodians of
sacred environmental sites, must acclimate to a new global political economy and all of its
entanglements as a natural progression towards Western dominated economic models and values.
The study also draws from scholars such as Vandana Shiva and Rachel Carson, who in their
writings explore issues like water pollution, deforestation, toxic waste dumping, agricultural
development and sustainability, animal rights and nuclear weapons policies to explore
environmental issues as they intersect with women’s rights and the role of patriarchy in the
domination of women and nature3. Therefore, the study also interrogates derogatory metaphors
and representations of African women and their relationship to land and nature constructed in the
colonial era.
Significantly, the study adds to the growing gendered analysis of cultural biodiversity,
sacred natural sites, and women’s land rights, further exposing the relationship between
patriarchy and environmental degradation. This is accomplished through a broad exploration of
alarming environmental issues as they are outlined by researchers and scientists, and through an
evaluation of Indigenous Vhangona women’s perceptions of environmental risk factors and their
interpretation of the socio-cultural and political implications. Specifically, I examine issues of
water pollution, food and seed security, and biodiversity loss. Vhomakhadzi have identified these
issues in critical interviews, documentaries, community based organizing, letters of petition,
formal legal complaints, and eco-cultural mapping projects.
3 See Metz for a concise explanation of ecofeminism.

8

Lastly, reflecting on the study’s theoretical contributions, land, gender, and traditional
leadership have been explored extensively, nevertheless much of the literature focuses
disproportionately on custom, power, and African patriarchy. Such research examines to a lesser
extent how colonial and apartheid authority manipulated gender roles to establish a system of
indirect rule in the homelands and how current legislation reinforces that imperially imposed
framework. In the politics of land reform, South African feminist scholars also criticize the
technocratic approaches to women in development (WID) strategies, referencing gender
mainstreaming and inclusionary approaches to women’s rights as opposed to more
transformational and radical approaches that address the power imbalances in a male dominated
society (Britton 2009). Likewise, select research on post-colonialism—especially post-colonial,
African feminist discourse— periodically upholds binary categories of oppressed and oppressor,
or the politics of difference, ignoring situational authority based on local, national, and
international conditions that alter power dynamics and gender relations. Highly differentiated
scenarios determined by ethnicity, race, class, and gender, where heterogeneous populations
abuse power in innumerable ways exemplify these situational power dynamics. This study
neither ignores present-day African patriarchy nor the colonial and apartheid gender ideologies
with which it currently intersects. Instead it contributes a gendered analysis of land politics in
South Africa through an examination of the assemblage of local, national, and international
actors that reinforce global patriarchy. What is more, while much of the literature on this topic
critiques agrarian reform, and the politics thereof, gender as it intersects with environmental
sustainability in this region is scantily addressed. Venda’s historical, political, cultural, and
geographic discrepancies in South Africa which relegate this reserve as an outlier in the study of
homelands, is a far less explored topic in the nationwide conversation on women’s land rights.

9

Therefore, I hope this study presents new topics to explore in land administration, gender, and
conservation in South Africa.
1.5 Research Questions
The study was guided by four main questions: (1) How do colonial and apartheid
frameworks and gender ideologies manifest in South Africa’s land act legacies? (2) What impact
has South Africa’s land acts, in conjunction with traditional leadership, had on cultural
biodiversity in the Vhembe District Municipality? (3) What do Vhomakhadzi attribute to
environmental degradation in the Vhembe District Municipality? and (4) How do Vhomakhadzi
construct cultural biodiversity preservation? In other words, what do their efforts or positions
reveal about gender and cultural biodiversity and how they as women frame culture and
environment?
1.6 Definition of Terms
The following definition of terms are a mix of standard definitions along with a working
glossary defined by Mphatheleni Makaulule (currently volunteer director) of the community
based organization, Dzomo La Mupo, who was a key informant during my field research.
•

Agroecology: Consideration of ecologically beneficial techniques within agriculture.

•

Cultural biodiversity: sometimes referred to as biocultural diversity, is the phenomenon
of cultural, linguistic, and environmental knowledge which coevolved over many
centuries.

•

Dzomo La Mupo: Luvenda phrase, voice of the Earth, or voice of Mother Earth.

•

Eco-cultural knowledge: Akin to cultural biodiversity. Local knowledge pertaining to
resource management and conservation, indigenous agricultural food and seed systems,
and environmental systems relevant to ecosystems and biological diversity.

10

•

Finger Millet: Also known as

•

Indigenous Knowledge Skills (or systems) (IKS): Indigenous knowledge developed
outside of a formal classroom by indigenous inhabitants, about myriad aspects of
community living, such as agriculture, spirituality, medicine, and natural-resource
management.

•

Khadzi: The precursor to makhadzi.

•

Khosi: a term that denotes a pre-colonial traditional Venda leader. Used to indicate a
king, or sometimes the less preferred English term of chief.

•

Khotsimunene: The chief’s younger brother.

•

Luvenda/Tshivenda: the language spoken widely by Vhavenda people.

•

Makgoshi: Luvenda term for traditional male leaders.

•

Makhadzi: (pl. Vhomakhadzi) In addition to being the paternal aunt, makhadzi is not just
a name or title; it is a role. An indigenous ancestral role bestowed on Venda women to
safeguard spiritual connections, to maintain order in the clan and families, and to assist
royal leadership in community governance.

•

Masingo: The dominant sub-ethnicity in Venda.

•

Mufhoho: The sacred Finger Millet plant.

•

Mupo: Nature or Creations of the Universe.

•

Phangami: is a Luvenda word for one who initiates a journey, a leader who has a vision
which others are able to follow.

•

Ramunangi (Madau) clan: Vhangona clan and protectors of the sacred Phiphidi
Waterfall.

•

Riparian Vegetation: Vegetation growing alongside a river bank.

11

•

Sacred Site: There are many Zwifho zwa Venda (sacred sites of Venda). Also referred to
as sacred forests. The study focuses on three, yet there are over 54 located near rivers,
pools and other environmental areas. There are also manmade consecrated areas called:
1.) Zwiawelo, which is a place of rest for carrying the dead 2.) Zwiendeulu, royal graves
and zwitaka, a general name for shrubs, it is a dense forest with no entrance.

•

Shango: Territory, pl. mashango.

•

Vegetation biomass: Measured vegetation.

•

Venda: Former apartheid homeland.

•

Vhamusanda: Luvenda term for a chief.

•

Vhangona: An indigenous clan or ethnic group in Venda. They claim exclusive rights
over sacred sites.

•

Vhavenda: People within the Venda culture

•

Vhembe District Municipality: A District in the Limpopo Province historically the
region of the former apartheid homeland of Venda.

•

Zwifho: Luvenda term for one type of sacred site which is most referenced in this study.

12

CHAPTER TWO: LITERATURE REVIEW

This chapter investigates the correlation between colonial and apartheid gender ideologies,
land-policies, and cultural biodiversity erosion, which has resulted in the marginalization of
Vhomakhadzi in the Vhembe District Municipality of Venda. The surveyed literature therefore is
a synthesis of relevant intergovernmental and non-governmental reports, academic research,
blogs, and analysis of selected discourses on ecological feminist philosophy in the context of
environmental grassroots activism in Africa. This approach underscores the four main research
questions which guide the study: (1) How do colonial and apartheid frameworks and gender
ideologies manifest in South Africa’s land act legacies? (2) What impact has South Africa’s land
acts, in conjunction with traditional leadership, had on cultural biodiversity in the Vhembe
District Municipality? (3) What do Vhomakhadzi attribute to environmental degradation in the
Vhembe District Municipality? and (4) How do Vhomakhadzi construct cultural biodiversity
preservation? Thus drawing from core research on land, cultural biodiversity, conservation and
gender, I incorporate four subsections—South African Land Politics, Environmental
Degradation, Cultural Biodiversity and Conservation, and Ecological FeministEnvironmentalism.
Amidst shifting cultural and political landscapes, the eco-cultural knowledge practices of
Vhomakhadzi—the paternal aunts/women of Indigenous Vhavenda culture—have been
undermined (Tshiguvho 2008; Makaulule 2012; Matshidze 2013). The denigration of their
cultural role has occurred increasingly throughout South Africa’s history, during the colonial and
apartheid periods— to the current post-apartheid, globalized era. The intersections of
Vhomakhadzi responsibilities related to environmental well-being, such as their roles as
custodians of sacred natural sites and presiders over ceremonies pertinent to agricultural cycles

13

and harvesting of crops, encapsulates the concept of cultural biodiversity, also referred to as
biocultural diversity, or cultural and biological diversity. Research on cultural biodiversity, by
environmentalists, intergovernmental agencies and NGOs, has grown exponentially. Such
investigations inform a second generation of protected areas and biosphere reserve policies that
seek to create co-management solutions with indigenous populations and local communities.
Thus cultural biodiversity research addresses more expansively poverty reduction and gender
equality to develop livelihood strategies—and to better incorporate human welfare and
development goals into their conservation initiatives.
2.1 South African Land Politics
There is a wealth of historical evidence about South Africa’s land act legacies, the land
reform program, and the current challenges and contradictions between the country’s land
policies and post-apartheid constitutional rights. The evolution of laws as they exist today stifle
public involvement and equitable arbitration, and there remains a consistent struggle between the
separation of powers. Particularly, special attention is paid to the integration of customary law
and traditional leadership within South Africa’s democratic structures and the subsequent
vulnerabilities women face in the land administration process (Claassens and Cousins 2008;
Ntsebeza and Hall 2007; Claassens and Ngubane 2013; Hosegood 2013; Budlender et. al 2011;
De Soto 2007; Gray and Kevane 1999; Basa et al. 2014; Whitehead and Tsikata 2003; Wilmien
2013; Luwaya 2014). Comprehensively, these vulnerabilities manifest as structural inequalities
that disempower women due to poor legal representation, dominant systems of patrilineal
inheritance, low ratios of female political influence, female exclusion from select traditional
courts, tenuous access to land, insecure housing tenure, lack of public participation for proposed
development plans, degraded livelihoods, and lack of women’s access in shaping customary law,

14

environmental policy, and conservation. (Ntsebeza and Hall 2007; Basa et al. 2014; Cousins and
Walker 2014). The literature exposes traditional authority’s impact on the politics of land reform
today which has led researchers (Claassens and Cousins 2008; Cousins and Walker 2014;
Ntsebeza and Hall 2007; Heinbeck 2013; Claassens and Ngubane 2013; Hosegood 2013;
Budlender et. al 2011; De Soto 2007; Gray and Kevane 1999; Whitehead and Tsikata 2003;
Wilmien 2013; Luwaya 2014) to examine the historical linkages of the policies through the
colonial, apartheid, and democratic eras. Legacies of colonialism reveal the ways that indirect
colonial rule, is still intertwined in current land policies which uniquely impact women.
Historically, chiefly power as it is expressed today derives from South Africa’s White
settler colonialists. In an effort to take control of land, the 19th century White settle regime
appropriated South African customary laws as they observed — and mostly misinterpreted—and
began the process of forming the ethnic reserve system to control Black people and land (Sithole
2011). 1913 marked the beginning of a series of land acts that segmented Black land. Following
the South African War the Native Lands Act (1913) was intended to reduce the numbers of Black
people on designated White land (Christopher 2001). Through forced removals, Black South
Africans were ushered onto these lands and in 1927 the Natives Administration Act (1927)
established the governing structures of the ethnic reserves whereby homelands developed a
separate governing structure to be utilized and controlled by White settler colonialists through
the chiefs. Furthermore, the Bantu Trust and Land Act (1936) was designed to reorganize
agricultural ownership to further dispossess Black people of their land-dwelling (Christopher
2001). While these Land Acts essentially created a legal framework for racial discrimination,
they also cemented Black South African women’s marginalization in both traditional leadership
structures and within imperialist frameworks.

15

Once the White settle regime codified their interpretations of customary law, women who
contributed to indigenous agricultural labor were excluded from decision-making concerning
land and the products of their labor. Women thus inhabited the domestic sphere more exclusively
based on colonial notions about gender roles and the social division of labor and the desire to
control Black agriculture, women’s field labor, livelihoods, and their homesteads. Consequently,
colonialism altered gender relations in South Africa forcing women to be housebound. Rhampele
(2008) discusses how land dispossession disadvantaged women’s economic power and
marginalized African women in a society in which they had once been respected for their
contributions to agricultural labor and for stabilizing the homestead. Moreover, these
discriminatory laws undermined the legal status of women’s land rights and shifted power
relations in the family structure (Claassens and Cousins 2008; Claassens and Ngubane 2013;
Hosegood 2013; Budlender et. al 2011; De Soto 2007; Gray and Kevane 1999; Whitehead and
Tsikata 2003; Wilmien 2013; Luwaya 2014). The actions of the White settler colonialists to
undercut Black women’s roles in society disenfranchised them within traditional authority and
systemized patriarchal control, enforced through traditional leadership and the colonial
administration (Rhamphele 2008). Women, who once worked the land, therefore became
dependent on the wage labor of their fathers, husbands, and brothers, in a system of indirect rule
created by White settlers and supported by emergent colonial gender philosophies (Rhamphele
2008).
These segregationist policies became central principles of the National Party Government
first mandated on a large scale in 1948 at the onset of apartheid in the Afrikaner controlled
government (Kelso 1999). The National Party expanded indirect rule in the apartheid era to
control the Black population of which there was a great fear by Whites of Black rebellion and

16

revolution. In 1959, parliament passed the Bantu-Self Government Act, which changed the
reserves into homelands with the intent that they would ostensibly become sovereign ‘states.’ It
essentially delineated the shape of contemporary South Africa (Christopher 2001). Through
continued forced removals of Blacks such as Vhavenda people onto homelands— previously
referred to as Bantustans or Bantu reserves—Blacks and Whites were then further segregated in
South Africa with ten territories grouped by ethnic and linguistic affiliation determined by White
ethnographers. They included: KwaZulu, Bophuthatswana, Transkei, Ciskei, Venda, Gazankulu,
KaNgwane, KwaNdebele, Lebowa, and QwaQwa (Kelso 1999; Christopher 2001). South
Africa’s Land Acts thus formed the governance structure and court system of the homelands,
which has had long ranging implications for gender in the new, democratic South Africa.
Claassens' research with the Centre for Law and Society at the University of Cape Town
interrogates these heritages and the gendered implications of present-day customary laws and
policies. (Claassens and Cousins 2008; Ntsebeza and Hall 2007; Claassens and Ngubane 2013;
Hosegood 2013; Budlender et. al 2011; De Soto 2007; Gray and Kevane 1999; Whitehead and
Tsikata 2003; Wilmien 2013; Luwaya 2014). In South Africa’s former apartheid homelands,
Ngubane and Cousins’ research illustrates how women are still regarded as second-class citizens
(Claassens and Cousins 2008; Claassens and Ngubane 2013; Hosegood 2013; Budlender et. al
2011, De Soto 2007; Gray and Kevane 1999; Whitehead and Tsikata 2003; Wilmien 2013;
Luwaya 2014). The chiefs, headman, royalty, and court systems that comprise the traditional
leadership structures are criticized for being non-democratic. Women’s land rights for example,
feature prominently in these debates because the traditional leaders who are mostly male make
land administration decisions that privilege men. Colonial and apartheid era practices established
in the homelands still remain in contemporary legislation, which shape land administration and

17

traditional leadership, impacting women (Claassens and Cousins 2008). Current legislation such
as the Traditional Leadership and Governance Framework Act (2004) the Communal Rights Bill
(2004) and the Traditional Courts Bill (2008)—which was overturned in 20144 and reintroduced
to parliament in 2016— has given traditional authorities unrestrained governance over land
issues including the power to sanction national and multinational development projects. And
because women are considered minors in some rural areas of South Africa, these Land Acts have
further disenfranchised them within the traditional court system or village assemblies (Claassens
and Ngubane 2013; Hosegood 2013; Budlender et. al 2011; De Soto 2007; Gray and Kevane
1999; Whitehead and Tsikata 2003; Wilmien 2013).
It is argued by many women’s land rights activists and legal scholars (Claassens and
Cousins 2008; Ntsebeza and Hall; Luwaya 2014) that many of South Africa’s current land
policies are in conflict with the constitution. For example, the 2004 Traditional Leadership and
Governance Framework Act (TLGFA) reinforces colonial and apartheid era authority. TLGFA
also works with other laws such as the 2004 Communal Land Rights Act (CLRA) and the now
overturned 2008 Traditional Courts Bill (TCB) to provide traditional leaders with far-reaching,
semi-autonomous control over residents in the homelands (Claassens and Ngubane 2013;
Hosegood 2013; Budlender et. al 2011; De Soto 2007; Gray and Kevane 1999; Whitehead and
Tsikata 2003; Wilmien 2013; Claassens and Cousins 2008). Namely, TLGFA initially
incorporated a transitional provision that authorized existing traditional authorities to act as land
councils. Furthermore, CLRA enabled land administration committees to have extensive powers
over land, such as the power to represent the community as owner of such land, and the power to
assign and register land rights and claims. These Acts therefore entrenched the position of chiefs
4
See all Africa press release, “South Africa: Traditional Courts Bill is Dead!” All Africa, Alliance for Rural
Democracy. http://allafrica.com/stories/201402211306.html

18

appointed during apartheid (Claassens and Cousins 2008). Claassens and Cousins (2008)
contend that essentially, TLGFA as an umbrella to these other laws, incorporate groups who
oppose apartheid-imposed limitations within the boundaries of larger encompassing “tribes” yet
as a result, these ethnic factions become minorities subject to the powers of traditional leaders.
Additionally, traditional leaders are also enforcing tribal levies or obligatory fees paid by
residents within their jurisdiction.
Within these systems women are virtually defenseless. The Commission on Gender
Equality therefore challenged these Land Acts, submitting a legal complaint suggesting that
these constellations of laws threaten Black South African women’s rights. The Commission cited
in section 25(6) of the South African Constitution where African women are among people
whose tenure of land is legally insecure as a result of past racial discriminatory laws or practices.
In their formal legal complaint, they questioned the apartheid legislation that blocked land
ownership for African women rejecting them from permission to occupy (PTO) certificates
(Claassens and Cousins 2008). These policies present major dilemmas for the current
government, also reflected in the land administration and gender politics of my research site in
the former homeland of Venda, in the Vhembe District Municipality.
Researchers (Luwaya 2014; Claassens and Cousins 2008; Ntsebeza and Hall 2007; Basa
et al. 2014) continue to deconstruct South Africa’s complicated land reform program and its
various attempts to redistribute land back to Black South Africans from whom it was
dispossessed during colonialism and apartheid. Cousins and Heinbeck (2013) provide a sociohistorical analysis of South Africa’s land policies that impact agrarian livelihoods highlighting
the chasm between policies and progress. Given that the objective of South Africa’s land reform
program is to restore land and alleviate poverty (Cousins and Heinbeck 2013; Ntsebeza and Hall

19

2007; Claassens 2008; Cousins and Walker 2014) the current policies and procedures are
problematic and have catalyzed autocratic chiefly power and traditional leadership, and neotraditional ideals that prompt expansive land claims.
UCT’s Centre for Law and Society, now the Land and Accountability Research Centre
(LARC), manages a superb website, Custom Contested. LARC’s site is managed by a team of
multi-ethnic legal, scholarly, and activist contributors, who continuously track living laws. The
site provides up-to-date information on land claims, court proceedings, and current events that
detail parliamentary decisions about South African land politics and restitution. Custom
Contested is also an ideal source and digital repository for primary sources embedded in links to
a series of laws and bills published online. Once again, among the laws and policies that they are
particularly critical of, some of which were previously discussed, include: The Traditional
Leadership and Governance Framework Act (TLGFA), the Communal Land Rights Act (CLRA),
The Traditional Courts Bill (TCB), as well as The Restitution of Land Rights Amendment Act,
The Traditional and Khoi-San Leadership Bill (‘TKLB’), and The Spatial Planning and Land
Use Management Act (SPLUMA). A review of their positions on the latter bills is an important
component to understanding the nation’s land politics and current land reform perspectives from
advocates who oppose the evolution of laws as they currently stand.
When The Department of Rural Development and Land Reform reopened land claims
under the amended Restitution of Land Rights Amendment Act in 2014 (Here on referred to as the
Restitution act, first passed following the end of apartheid in 1994), many were and continue to
be skeptical about the outcome of such legislation. In February of 2016 civil society
organizations and representatives from 50 communities protested aspects of the amendment
(which stipulates a five-year window to file claims) to the Constitutional Court in Braamfonetein

20

outside of Johannesburg—to express grievances because as the, “Former Director of Land
Access Movement of South Africa (Lamosa) Constance Mogale explains, ‘Lamosa’s disapproval
of the Act…comes as 8000 claims are still not finalized” (50 Communities to challenge the
Restitution of Land Rights Act). Further, there are many people who have been waiting 20 years
for the first claims to be resolved. Custom Contested contributor’s express similar incredulity of
the reopening of claims with concerns that these new laws benefit traditional leaders and their
vested interests more than communities. They reference examples of conflicts and counter claims
over mineral rich regions such as lands restored to The Royal Bafokeng Nation in South Africa,
a region with a multitude of platinum, of which companies such as Impala Platinum Mining—
pay royalties to the nation in exchange for its deposits. In the 1960s deposits of valuable minerals
such as platinum, chrome, titanium and coal have been discovered in the former homelands of
North West, the Eastern Cape, KwaZulu-Natal and Limpopo.
A key traditional leader who also features prominently in many of Custom Contested
articles5 is Zulu king, Goodwill Zwelithini. Zwelithini has become the prototypical example in
recent years of neo-traditional ideology6 run amuck, as he continues to make newsworthy and
far-reaching land claims that extend to neighboring provinces beyond that which he governs in
KwaZulu-Natal (KZN). Critics of the Restitution Act regard it as a form of pacification for
traditional leaders like Zwelithini, who may be agitated when the Traditional Courts Bill (TCB)
did not pass. Some (Mkhize 2014) regard the act as a political bargaining chip that state officials
like President Jacob Zuma, use to appease traditional leaders who have been aggrieved in the
country’s complicated democracy which they feel is leaving them out. Moving forward, land
5

See the Custom Contested archives, for multiple land articles regarding land administration and Zulu King
Goodwill Zwelithini, http://www.customcontested.co.za/tag/king-goodwill-zwelithini/.
6
Neo-traditional ideology is a term used to describe traditional leaders who reference culture to file extensive land
claims.

21

rights researchers, speculate that the Restitution Act may lose its effectiveness as royal houses
make overlapping land claims, finding themselves, “in protracted legal battles over land
ownership” (Mkhize 2014).
The Traditional and Khoi-San Leadership Bill (‘TKLB’) was introduced by the Minister
of Cooperative Governance and Traditional Affairs in September of 2015. The bill replaces the
Traditional Leadership and Governance Framework Act of 2003 and now integrates Khoi-San7
leadership into the governing structure. Custom Contested asserts that the bill is problematic
because essentially it is a repackaged version of the Traditional Affairs Bill of 2013 which
maintains the boundaries of the former homelands much like the Framework Act of 2003 which
also disenfranchises populations through inexorable legal divisions. And much like the
Framework Act, it does not provide guidelines for how the national and local governments and
the traditional leaders will enact government functions, pertaining issues such as, health and
social services to traditional leaders and councils (clause 25)8. The main concern with the
introduction of a series of bills such as these, is that they work in concert with one another
forming a type of fourth tier of government out of the boundaries of South Africa’s democracy.
Finally, the Spatial Planning and Land Use Management Act (SPLUMA), first
introduced in 2013, with final regulations passing in 20159 permits the Department of Rural
Development and Land Reform (DRDLR) to make land decisions based on spatial planning data.
This framework law will be a blue print for the nine provinces to implement development plans.
It intends to resolve inconsistencies with the fragmented laws that once functioned under

7

The Khoi-San are a South African Indigenous ethnic group in the Northern Cape. They are comprised of the San
once prevalent hunter-gatherers, and the Khoi Khoi people.
8
See Classens, “Say Which of these facts are not true.”
9
See South African Government Gazette, 23 March 2015 for SPLUMA GG 38594 GN R239 regulations,
http://www.gov.za/sites/www.gov.za/files/38594_rg10397_gon239.pdf.

22

apartheid-era laws that have since been dismantled. There is a great deal of debate, as Custom
Contested relays, concerning the extension of powers to the traditional councils— although
traditional powers believe that they were not consulted enough during the legislative process.
One of the major complaints lies in provision of 19(1) and (2) of the SPLUMA Regulations.
These provisions permit in a small amount of land planning and land use powers with the
oversight of the municipality in some circumstances. As for women’s roles in traditional
leadership as it exists today, The Framework Act require all traditional or tribal authorities
enacted under apartheid to function as traditional council only if they adhere to a series of
transformation requirements such as, 40percent of traditional council members must undergo an
election process and one third must be women. Apparently, many of these standards have not
been met, in particular with regards to the quota for women and in some instances like the
Limpopo province where Venda is located, elections have not taken place in 10 years.
Land has always been and will continue to be controversial in South Africa. Colonialism
and Apartheid spatial planning has impacted people beyond racial segregation. The land legacies
mentioned have gendered and environmental consequences that uniquely affect women in the
post-apartheid era. In the next section I discuss how South Africa’s land policies have
detrimentally impacted people-environment relations, and what that means in the context of the
former homeland of Venda, in the Vhembe District Municipality. I also include the empirical
observations of Vhomakhahdzi based on their cultural practices and ontological perspectives.
2.2 Environmental Degradation
Pertinent data and literature derives from research specific to the environmental status of
the Vhembe district municipality. Here I exclusively include research from Vhavenda scholars,
as well as Vhavenda student dissertations from the University of Venda (UNIVEN). Examining

23

empirical studies of ecological issues in Vhembe and surrounding areas—joined with
information regarding the ecologically susceptible sacred sites identified by Vhomakhadzi—
provides a comprehensive picture of environmental degradation in the region. These Vhavenda
scholars corroborate the concerns and ecological knowledge assertions of Vhomakhadzi who
recognize many causes of climate change and loss of biodiversity due to deforestation,
commercial and mono-crop farming, mining, and threats to wetlands. And lastly, the literature
shows an interrelationship between environmental degradation, land policies, and South Africa’s
colonial and apartheid history, which is thematically relevant to the overall study.
Using remote sensing methodology10 and district demographic information, Munyati and
Kabanda (2008, 2010) have produced studies on human activity and environmental change in the
Vhembe District Municipality. In this territory the indigenous vegetation of the savanna biomes,
an ecosystem characterized by distinct plant and animal life, are officially categorized as
vulnerable (Munyati and Kabanda, 2008, 2010). Munyati and Kabanda’s research (2010) focuses
on anthropogenic-induced (human-induced) climate change, including additional observations
(2008) on deforestation of the region’s tropical forests— which offers a composite of human
activity that has depleted indigenous vegetation and ground cover, thereby altering rainfall
patterns. Rain pattern disruption has resulted in desertification, increased risk of floods and
declined agricultural productivity. These people-environment relations disclose a direct
correlation with urban expansion, poor agricultural practices, and land-use due to apartheid era
land policies. Further, the literature reveals how such a chain reaction of events inevitably
threatens human and food security owing to conflict over scarce resources and land. This
information is significant because it contextualizes how South Africa’s land act legacies have
10
Remote Sensing methodology and satellite imagery is used within the U.S. Landsat Program including
international Landsat signal receiving stations.

24

adversely reshaped people-environment relations contributing to environmental conflicts.
In the 1960s, forced removal of Black South Africans led to approximately four million
people being relocated to segregated areas. Therefore, in the Vhembe District Municipality, 87
percent of the population now resides in nine percent of the land (Munyati and Kabanda, 2010).
Overpopulation in the foothills and populations nestled in the Soutpansberg mountain area in
Venda in recent history has given rise to agriculture in place of forests. This has had a drying
effect on the land because these communities, including the major town of Thohoyandou (Toyyan-doh), sit on the eastern side of the mountain where upward winds once more consistently
contributed to condensation and evapo-transpiration11 important for rainfall. The rainfall
changes depending on microclimates on different sides of the mountain. The southern sides of
the mountain draw higher rainfall for the woodlands and small trees and what is called a rainshadow effect on the northern regions. Ultimately, mountains and indigenous vegetation and
trees are all important for rainfall and as a result of overpopulation and forced removals of Black
communities during apartheid, rainfall activity and all of its processes have dramatically
changed.
What is more, massive deforestation of the Soutpansberg region since 1979 continues to
affect the ecosystems of the villages and townships of Tshakhuma, Tsianda and Lwamondo
(Munyati and Kabanda 2010; Munyati and Kabanda 2008; Mphaphuli 1999), verified by
increased settlements and development. Deforestation and removal of woodland areas according
to Munyati and Kabanda (2008) is of great ecological concern and important to biodiversity
conservation and groundwater, and carbon stock provision in buffering the accumulation of CO2
which is a vitally important factor for regulating greenhouse gasses (Munyati and Kabanda

11

This is a process when water is transferred into the air from ground plants and soil.

25

2008). According to Munyati and Kabanda's 2008 study on land use pressure trends in
Vhembe— 1990 to 2006 saw a 20 percent reduction in natural forests, which has not shown
evidence of reversing today. The areas that saw this decrease include human settlements close to
the forest plantation zone near Makhado, and the towns of Elim and Tshakhuma. Deforestation is
attributed impart to commercial practices, climatic factors, land and government policies, as well
as economics and tenure. Yet Munyati and Kabanda (2008) also impute deforestation to
socioeconomic factors such as wood use for fuel for low-income to poor households.
To address these land tenure issues, poverty, and eco stressors, Munyati and Kabanda
(2010) recommend that South Africa establish a more progressive and equitable land reform
program in Vhembe. Such a plan by their estimation should invest in improving rural economies
and livelihoods, enfranchise women, and include rural people in the implementation and design
of land reform policies. Munyati and Kabanda bring a unique argument to the land reform
debate, not only in their call to recognize marginalized groups in Vhembe, but also in their
suggestion that compensation, whether financial or through restored lands— should also consider
recompense owing to the environmental ramifications incurred from draconian apartheid-era
policies.
One curious point however was in their recommendation that all land should be restored
in its entirety unless such land is a, fundamental government development such as forest
plantations (Munyati and Kabanda, 2010). This rebuts Vhomakhadzi members of the CBO
Dzomo La Mupo who claim that mono-crop plantations are bad for soil quality and local
ecosystems, due to chemical fertilizers used, or because of new seeds that also degrade the soil.
Not to mention that some of these government plantations encroach on sacred site areas
(Tshiguvho 2008; Khorombi 2000). Munyati and Kabanda's (2010) position also contradicts

26

their 2008 suppositions that nonnative eucalyptus and pine tree plantations, under the South
African Forestry Company Ltd (SAFCOL)—are also bad for vegetation biomass12. Nevertheless,
the ostensible reasoning is outlined in their article on land pressure, which cites how the forest
plantation industry is important for alleviating poverty, given that job creation was one goal of
the forestry and development cluster of 2004-2014, of the Limpopo Provincial Development
Plan. The 2015-2020 Development Plan’s, Land and Agrarian Reform policy, aims to integrate
agricultural trade and production with, the sustainable use and management of natural
agricultural resources. Policy makers acknowledge that former attempts to assuage climate
change such as through the LandCare Programme initiative did not adequately address these
issues (Limpopo Provincial Development Plan 2015). It can subsequently be gathered that there
are indeed tensions and challenges between alleviating poverty and creating sustainable
livelihoods in the midst of environmental and land degradation.
Makhado’s (2005) examination of forest management and road construction provides
alternative information on the consequences of deforestation and development on slope failure
and instability in the mountainous regions of the Thathe Forest. Thathe, a suburb of
Thohoyandou is also referred to as the Thathe Holy Forest and is in or near one of the many sites
of the Indigenous Vhangona or Vhongwaniwapo sacred groves—also known as zwifho. It should
be noted that most sacred natural site locations are unknown. The IUCN, Sacred Natural Sites,
Guidelines for Protected Area Managers (Wild, et al. 2008) firmly notes, “While the
identification of sacred natural sites within protected areas is useful for protected area
management, no pressure should be exerted on local communities to reveal the location of their
sacred natural sites, nor the details of their cultural values, practices, history or use” (Wild, et al.

12

Vegetation biomass in this context refers to the recuperation of indigenous vegetation.

27

37). Commercial ventures in Thathe include a timber and tea plantation, and the research site
also contains the Thathe Vondo Dam, which provides water for the plantations and surrounding
rivers such as Mutshindudi, Mutale, and Nzhelele (Je-lel-lay).
Slope instability and failure in Thathe causes landslides and flooding, which has great
economic and environmental implications. For example, soil erosion from slope failure decreases
soil quality and disrupts groundwater and aquatic ecosystems. The destruction of forests and
grass also contribute to this instability because they serve as protective layers to retain soil on
steep and rocky slopes (Makhado 2005). Moreover, according to Ryding (1998), these forests are
important ecosystems that regulate, “climate and water flow, produce oxygen, provide hardwood
timber and fuel wood, protect drainage basins for farmers, and provide ecosystems for invaluable
animals and plants” (qtd. in Makhado 2005). Therefore, the negative consequences from
deforestation are massive. Makhado (2005) attributes deforestation to new cultivation needs for
agriculture and grazing, the building of roads, dams, and for mining.
Despite the many reasons for deforestation and slope instability, Makhado (2005) identifies
forestry practices and road construction as the two most menacing development causes in
Thathe. Road construction has not given sufficient consideration to preventing soil erosion or silt
and sedimentation from rivers and excessive sediment taints water supplies, and degrades aquatic
and wild life. Returning to the chain reaction metaphor, when soil erosion spoils water quantity
and quality this further impacts infrastructure in devastating ways. Makhado (2005) notes that
this is already leading to damage of stream and land surfaces, obstructing breeding areas or
migration routes of animals, and obstructing proper water drainage. Lastly, Makhado (2005)
blames forestry practices from managed, commercial timber plantations for slope instability
owing to techniques of harvest site preparation and utilization of fertilizers and herbicides. Such

28

practices change the forest and soil composition leaving some areas vulnerable to mass
movement and slope failure.
The research presented above supports the eco-cultural knowledge claims of Vhomakhadzi,
who reference deforestation, government policies, commercial and mono-crop farming, mining,
and degradation of wetlands as the root causes of climate change, and reduced food and seed
security and food sovereignty. Vhomakhadzi of the CBO, DLM in particular make these claims
in the media through articles, radio and television interviews, court affidavits, and through
websites. They have also expressed their claims in sacred site profiles drafted for The South
African Heritage Resources Agency (SAHRA) in their attempt to register three of the 50 plus
sites as Provincial Heritage Sites. These mostly elder women also reiterated the profile verbiage
in the interviews and focus groups I conducted, as well as in casual conversations and will be
examined in detail in the data analysis and results chapter.
Water is the source of all life and Vhomakhadzi contend that watershed areas assist the
climatic cycle. The protection of springs, lakes, and rivers manage the entire water ecosystem in
Venda. Water is of particular concern for Vhomakhadzi given mining proposals that intend to
exploit ground water. Open-pit mining degrades the landscape and puts further stress on rivers,
as Vhomakhadzi and local farmers in Venda argue that there simply is not enough water
available. According to the Mupo Foundation, coal mining uses an exorbitant amount of water.
For example, approximately 70-260 million gallons of water a day is used in mining projects in
the United States by comparison. Further, mining is a major source of water pollution due to
toxic waste dumping, which threatens public health through the spread of disease (Mupo
Foundation Website; Fo, 2007). Coal companies in the region plan to get water from different
sources, such as Kruger National Park and Mozambique communities and, “they also plan to

29

pump partly reconstituted sewage water into underground aquifers as a reserve and of course the
justified fear is that this will contaminate other underground rivers and aquifers” (Mupo
Foundation). There is a national water conflict in South Africa and coal is literally and
figuratively fueling this problem. The Mupo Foundation website relayed that South Africa will
have a shortfall of 2.7 billion cubic meters of water by 2030, stating that experts are calling for
strict restrictions on mining. This is all intensified in Venda because it is one of the driest
regions in the nation.
Fo’s study (2007) on open-cast mining in Grootegeluk, Limpopo province— provides
additional, in-depth information on the effects of mining as one of the external environmental
threats in the territory. At the Grootegeluk mine, located 25 km east of Lephalale town, Fo tested
water samples from monitoring wells in a laboratory. He compared the selected water with what
the prescribed samples should be under common regulations, which revealed that toxins were too
high for drinking standards. The findings also revealed that some of the boreholes in proximity to
the mine waste dumps, also used for drinking, contained geochemically active wastes such as
nitrates and sulphates or the chemical compounds found in mine explosives, used for blasting.
Fo (2007) determined that Grootegeluk’s water management plan is in relative accordance
with environmental standards, but multiple sources of groundwater contamination exist and they
have not eliminated all of these sources. The sources of pollution at mines like Grootegeluk
include, the open pit, nitrogen based explosives (and the run-off transported during storms),
waste dumps, acid mine drainage, onsite mechanical workshops, and tailing dams. With such
pollutants lurking, water is still at risk. Acid mine drainage has been an especially pernicious
source of pollution and because of a long history of coal and gold mining in the area, ecosystems
and riparian vegetation along the Vaal and Limpopo Rivers are extraordinarily uncertain. Fo’s

30

study (2007) made specific recommendations for Grootegeluk’s water management plan, which
impacts human, plant, and animal life as it is located near five game reserves and approximately
18 farms, as well as surrounding communities. It is undetermined if those improvements have
been made since this study. Nevertheless, it is clear that mines are an ongoing threat and a source
of great concern for South African water safety. This safety concern is also recognized by the
country's water laws under the constitution and the National Water Act (NWA), of 1998 (Act 36
of 1998). For Vhomakhadzi of Dzomo La Mupo, mining has been an issue that they have fiercely
protested,13 much to the consternation of the Australian company Coal of Africa and their clients
who have been scoping out development sites since 2011.
Vhomakhadzi of DLM recognize threats to climate change and loss of biodiversity due to:
deforestation, commercial and mono-crop farming, mining, and threats to wetlands. Modern
conservation science from these Vhavenda scholars also support their assertions about these
many environmental threats14. Vhomakhadzi rely on their own empirical observations of
environmental degradation based on their roles as self-identified ecologists, rooted in a legacy of
eco-cultural wisdom, and indigenous knowledge practices. The next section addresses the issue
of integrating cultural biodiversity and indigenous knowledge with modern conservation.
2.3 Cultural Biodiversity and Conservation
I begin this section by briefly localizing the significance of cultural biodiversity and
indigenous knowledge systems in a South African context before discussing it more generally. In
South Africa in 2014, the Department of Science and Technology introduced the Protection,
Promotion, Development and Management of Indigenous Knowledge Systems Bill, in which the
13

To see footage of Dzomo La Mupo’s water protests and public participation see the YouTube clip,
https://youtu.be/CI2EebpiqNM.
14
I use this phrasing for people critical of indigenous knowledge claims, mostly to dispel myths about IKS not being
a legitimate source of scientific knowledge by Western standards.

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preamble states, “Recognizing that the liberation of South Africa and its people from centuries of
racially discriminatory colonial rule and domination and the establishment of a constitutional
democracy was is and will remain a historic achievement…” (IKS Bill 2014). The Bill, in some
respects, a clarified addendum to South Africa’s, National Heritage Resources Act of 1999, was
introduced to protect the rights of indigenous knowledge holders and the local and institutional
mechanisms that wish to revive these customs. Advocates for IKS in South Africa in particular,
have proclaimed the need to protect cultural rights that were so egregiously violated under
colonial and apartheid rule. This demonstrates that cultural biodiversity and indigenous
knowledge preservation indeed fit into a post-colonial narrative.
Intergovernmental and civil-society organizations such as: The United Nations
Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), including UNESCO’s crossdisciplinary, Man and the Biosphere Programme (MAB), The World Wide Fund for Nature
(WWF), Alliance of Religions and Conservation (ARC), and the International Union for The
Conservation of Nature (IUCN), represent the leading intergovernmental organizations, NGO’s,
and membership unions that are producing literature on the interconnection between
conservation, cultural biodiversity, and indigenous knowledge systems (IKS). IKS comprises the
local knowledge developed outside of a formal classroom by Indigenous inhabitants, about
myriad aspects of community living such as, agriculture, spirituality, medicine, and naturalresource management. UNESCO has pushed the issue of understanding cultural biodiversity
since the 1990s which has led to international conventions such as the Convention on Cultural
Diversity (2001), the Convention for Safeguarding Intangible Heritage (2003) and the Protection
of the Diversity in Cultural Expressions (2005). These conventions and subsequent studies
provide a plethora of reports and data available on the Internet.

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The increased research on this topic indicates the growing recognition of the
interrelationship between culture, sustainable development, and conservation, yet post-colonial
analysis of these issues is still sorely missing, especially within literature published from the
United Nations. Nevertheless, these various studies are incredibly essential for three reasons: (1)
To outline the mistakes that conservationists made in the past, by ignoring local people’s
perspectives in crafting initiatives and co-management solutions for protected areas and
biosphere reserves (which resulted in polices that exacerbated existing poverty, gender
inequities, and marginalization of Indigenous peoples) (2) to explain how a second generation of
protected areas and biosphere reserves are attempting to rectify these issues and (3) To
contextualize the ways that Protected Areas and Biosphere’s are at times ineffectual or limited
due to land politics.
Maffi and Woodley (2010) review 45 projects worldwide that contribute to existing
research on conservation from a socio-political and cultural perspective. Their writings provide
in-depth analysis about the inextricability of biodiversity and cultural diversity, thus
deconstructing the relationship between custom, language, and eco-cultural practices expressed
within indigenous knowledge systems. Maffi and Woodley assess the social upheaval in
indigenous communities that have endured severe socio-political changes and strife—
exemplified by Vhavenda, specifically Vhangona people, who underwent centuries of
colonialism, apartheid, and now land policies in the post-apartheid era. They remark that these
conditions alter traditional environmental practices and knowledge.
UNESCO’s report with the Christensen Fund, a report back from its international
workshop in Paris, Links between biological and cultural diversity (2007) explains the cultural
fissures induced by urbanization that have changed indigenous communities. Like the

33

Vhavenda— the amaXhosa and Mfengu people of the Eastern Cape of South Africa, despite
modernization attempt to retain their cultural connections to the environment. The report
identified the ways that plant taxa and the larger landscape areas have significant religious
meaning for the amaXhosa and Mfengu, who make offerings of corn and tobacco to their
ancestors to keep them content. Despite urban living, these ethnic groups can be found selling
various plants in the city in accordance with cultural beliefs and practices.
The literature revealed that many customs of the amaXhosa and Mfengu are dependent on
the availability of certain plant species that are not as readily accessible in a changing society.
For example, Ptaeroxylon obliquum which comprises the building materials for the ibhoma or
hut used during coming of age ceremonies like circumcision— provides a temporary shelter for
seclusion after the ritual. Although such ceremonies do not necessarily take place in urban areas,
the publication highlights how plant and animal life are interwoven into the culture as a means of
safeguarding the natural world and how those rituals are changing. The amaXhosa and Mfengu,
like Vhavenda people, revere certain natural spaces such as deep river pools and larger
landscapes, which are being transformed (Links Report 2007). Weakened by urbanization and
industrialization, the spiritual and religious components connected with the environment among
the amaXhosa, Mfengu, and Vhavenda, illustrate a small aspect of a larger complex system of
cultural and environmental practices that are of lesser value today.
Taboos and myths, which are also eroding, have for generations been important elements
of cultural biodiversity among many indigenous communities. Mutshinyalo and Siebert’s study
(2010) in the Vhembe District Municipality in Venda, situate myth and taboos as elements of
cultural biodiversity and/or conservation strategies. They describe the ways that these beliefs
have commonly been used by Vhavenda and all across the African continent as tactics for natural

34

resource management, to prevent the over use of plants and harvesting. Their research confirms
my own analysis of Vhomakhadzi interview statements that reflect similar use for myths and
taboos in the Vhembe District Municipality. As one makhadzi relayed to me in an interview,
regarding her clan’s belief that the wrong firewood transforms into snakes she stated, “They
[Vhomakhadzi] even teach us the names of trees which cannot be used for wood. If you take the
trees, if you fetch woods from sacred site they will change to become snakes. We have been
taught by Vhomakhadzi of the past.” Mutshinyalo and Siebert (2010) confirm that these “scary
myths”, were used to regulate plant collection, but also to protect entire forests and lakes and
sacred sites such as the Thathe Holy Forest and the sacred Lake Fundudzi in Venda
(Mutshinyalo and Siebert 2010; Van der Waal 2010; Khorombi 2007; Khorombi 2000).
These taboos and myths unravel the complexities of cultural biodiversity and the ways that
indigenous societies such as Vhavenda have protected their ecosystems. Mutshinyalo and
Siebert (2010) suggest that such approaches of selected plant use, such as makhadzi selection of
trees, allows plants to recuperate during different seasons to ensure that fauna, flora, and their
surrounding landscapes will be preserved for future use. Likewise, Mutshinyalo and Siebert
(2010) regard myth and taboos as significant elements of cultural biodiversity that should be
included in modern conservation practices.
Tshiguvho’s study (2008) provides anthropological evidence that supports Mutshinyalo
and Siebert’s (2010) research, noting that cultural ecological studies have suggested that
embedded in sacred site practices, including myths and taboos, are ecological functions.
Tshiguvho (2008) provides additional analysis of cultural biodiversity in relationship to this
dissertation’s research site and population, and the surrounding area. Tshiguvho (2008) examines
the effectiveness of sacred sites and related cultural practices in the Duthuni-Mapate-Lwamondo

35

region of Venda— in sustaining local native plants. Tshiguvho’s research examines, three units
of sacred sites, the derivation of the sacred practices their institutional arrangement, and their
long range development and present-day ecological status. In doing so, her study links these
three units to the current conservation value of sites to assess their future conservation potential,
contingent upon current and possible future practices (Tshiguvho 2008).
Tshiguvho’s study (2008) is also valuable because she perceives biodiversity conservation
as an issue of Western science and a national political agenda in South Africa. She includes the
arguments of some scholars who contend that sacred sites were established to serve a variety of
functions including economic and political (Malhotra and Ramakrishna qtd. in Tshiguvho 2008).
This supposition compliments the assessment that cultural biodiversity is a part of a larger postcolonial conversation and closely meshed with other socio-political phenomena— such as
gender, race, and land. This is further supported when Tshiguvho contends that particularly for
the Vhangona or Vhongwaniwapo people15 sacred site practices changed and adapted due to
politics and conflict; and she contends that post-colonial claims to sacred sites was and is a
means to assert political and cultural self-determination.
Tshighuvo (2008) provides a thorough analysis of the exogenous factors that contributed to
the erosion of cultural biodiversity and sacred sites in Venda. She argues that the colonial
encounter contributed to the emergence of harmful practices at sacred sites, as she focuses on: 1)
Christian Missions 2) mission and colonial education 3) modernization through technological
advances 4) colonial administrations and other foreign economic systems and 5) population
pressure. Missing from her description of external factors that have diminished sacred sites and
their conservation potency, is the influence of new food production and agricultural methods.

15

Vhangona are Indigenous Vhavenda people.

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While she does explain that the introduction of mono-crop plantations—such as the Tshivashe
Tea Plantation, have encroached on land and former sacred areas, she does not probe into the
ideological dimensions of Western dominance over agriculture, development, food production,
or natural resource management in a globalized era. I see this as an important entity and
distinction from my larger study. Analysis of Western influences explains the denigration of
sacred sites, the connected landscapes and Vhomakhadzi roles as female ecologists and sacred
site protectors. It further explains the activist rationale for Vhomakhadzi participants of the
community based organization Dzomo La Mupo.
Due to various societal changes and Western influences, cultural biodiversity in the form
of sacred sites, taboos, and myths are disintegrating. The next generation in Venda question the
legitimacy of such beliefs often viewing them in conflict with scientific and Western knowledge.
Once more, such social attitudes are indicative of cultural and political changes and/or forced
adaptations. The literature reviewed so far lays the foundation for understanding why
conservation science has not vigorously embraced local perspectives and concerns. Analyzing
the political and social upheaval, deconstructs western dominance and authoritative positions
within conservation science. Conservation and development policy gaps and lack of knowledge
about cultural biodiversity have thus exacerbated the marginalization of Indigenous people by
ignoring the concerns of local communities and the complex systems that these communities use
to protect their own natural resources.
It is purported (Safety Report 2008) that the earliest generation of protected areas were
thrust upon local communities by colonial administrators in the tropics, whereby indigenous
communities were forcibly removed from ancestral lands that many had resided on for centuries
(Safety Report 2008). Although protected areas in some form have been a method of many

37

Indigenous communities, “the modern concept of a ‘protected area’ – known variously as
national park, wilderness area, game reserve etc. – developed in the last years of the nineteenth
century as a response to the rapid changes brought to lands in former European colonies and
concern at the loss of ‘wilderness (Safety Report 13).” Thus colonizers first established protected
areas in the colonial era as a means of protecting landscapes they revered. It should be noted that
very few African people, no-less African women, are stake holders or owners of contemporary
national parks or game reserves on the Continent. The Safety Net Report (2008) published by the
World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) recaps the more recent history, tracking the trajectory of
protected areas through other eras of top-down, non-democratic approaches to conservation
protection. The report uncovers subsequent protected areas, as recent as the 80s and 90s, as
recorded by the World Rainforest Movement and Forest People’s Programme that resulted in the
forced removal of local people. Deemed environmental refugees, the prevailing wisdom of the
time period argued that protected areas should eliminate anthropogenic-induced environmental
degradation and should therefore remove people as threats to these eco-systems.
Consequently, scores of indigenous communities were removed from resources and
homelands that were significant to their cultural, spiritual, and ecological well-being, thereby
aggravating preexisting poverty among these populations by cutting them off from their
livelihoods and subsistence living. To assuage such problems, the Convention on Biological
Diversity, a multinational treaty was signed at the 1992 Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro, to
integrate development goals with the conservation of biological diversity. Additionally, The
United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) was drafted in 2007.
Together, these international laws, conventions, and treaties intend to alleviate poverty while
supporting ecosystem benefits. Some Protected areas should remain no-go areas because of the

38

magnitude of devastation or the fragility of the eco-systems. Yet protected areas and biosphere
reserves today advocate more so for human-centered models of conservation that seek to protect
biological diversity because of its inherent value to the planet and because of the benefits of
ecosystems for human welfare.
Efforts to safeguard indigenous knowledge systems in African countries have gained more
traction in the past 30 years and intergovernmental agencies continue to push for protections as
the increasing value of IKS and cultural biodiversity within conservation science and
development is finally being recognized. Indigenous knowledge systems and empirical
observations by local communities have for so long been ignored and devalued in Western
science, yet conservation reports reveal that local claims of high biodiversity in sacred areas is in
fact measurable. Following the 2002 Johannesburg World Summit on Sustainable Development,
when nearly 200 countries committed to tackling worldwide biodiversity loss by 2010, a call
came for the development of Traditional environmental knowledge indexes. Thus quantitative
tools have been devised for statistical comparisons of cultural and linguistic diversity with
biological diversity around the world to investigate the connections between culture and
environmental knowledge. The irony does not go unnoticed that the development of Western
tools of measurement is what is giving cultural biodiversity more credence.
Multiple NGO and intergovernmental agencies have supported the development of
cultural biodiversity Indices— or rely on external studies in the field to shape conservation
strategies such as : The Index for Linguistic Diversity (ILD) to track endemic languages, the
Index of Biocultural Diversity (IBCD) which supports data on global and regional correlations of
cultural biodiversity by comparing data on language, religion, and ethnic variation— with
biodiversity richness and land mass in a single country. It therefore calculates cultural

39

biodiversity proportional with the size and population of the country. An additional index
includes the Protected Areas Benefits Assessment Tool (PA-BAT) which charts the value of
resources and the population in a protected area (Protected Areas Report, Convention on
Biological Diversity 2008). Indices and Traditional Environmental Knowledge (TEK) Indicators
have also been implemented to gauge the effectiveness of social and scientific polices intended
to rectify exploitation of Indigenous people and their natural resources.
Zent (2009) with the NGO Terralingua, conducted a study to examine the methodology
used to design The Vitality Index of Traditional Environmental Knowledge (VITEK). VITEK
rates the vitality status and trends of Traditional Environmental Knowledge among various
indigenous groups comparing linguistic regions susceptible to weaknesses and political and
social change that may impact local knowledge systems. The methodological approaches to
studying indigenous knowledge show that trends have shifted from qualitative ethnographic
research for the purposes of ethno-biological theory-building and ethnographies—whereby
academics laid out detailed fieldwork agendas and in-depth interviews alone— to incorporating
quantitative methods that unearth more exacting results about conservation statistics, medicine,
ecological impact, and for the measurement of natural resources and biodiversity loss (Zent
2009). Maffi (2009) and Zent (2009) however, encourage and appreciate interdisciplinary
research to approach the goal of cultural biodiversity preservation holistically.
Zent predicts that indices such as VITEK, ILD, IBCD and PA-BAT, will be used for a
range of human rights projects in medicine, agriculture, rural development, environmental
protection, cultural protection and political empowerment—specifically for NGO’s and
governments that are desperately trying to assuage poverty, gender inequalities, disease, and
conflict due to scarcity of resources— all attributable to environmental degradation and loss of

40

biodiversity. Yet there remains concern about which authoritative voice will underscore the
value of cultural biodiversity, or what Zent refers to as Traditional Environmental Knowledge,
and the rationale for its preservation or lack thereof. Therefore, the development of TEK
indicators is just one of many strategies to inspire biodiversity-sustaining enterprises to utilize
TEK practices such as agro-ecology, increase in seed and crop varietals (which is better for soil
quality) and indigenous forest restoration strategies, and refugia protection. Those projects and
organizations that have adopted these techniques represent communities with healthier ecosystems (Zent 2009). Utilizing these strategies is important to the well-being of the whole
community as conservationists and proponents of green business solutions struggle to untangle
themselves from a history of marginalizing and exploiting indigenous populations.
Traditional environmental knowledge in Africa has been marginalized in favor of
industrialized agriculture and privatized seeds due to policies and laws that reinforce commercial
farmers, industrial models of agriculture, and multinational seed companies. Even the Alliance
for a Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA) through the Bill and Melinda Gates foundation,
regarded as the model for philanthropy— although positive in many respects, does little to
integrate the Traditional Environmental Knowledge of local communities, therefore traditional
environmental, and agricultural knowledge has been marginalized. And through the introduction
of GMO’s, hybrid varieties, and genetically engineered seed, these practices will be further
undermined. Within these industrialized models, indigenous rights are not protected or honored
and the disintegration of cultural biodiversity continues. (Mupo Foundation Grant Proposal
Swiderska et al, 2011; Tansey 2011).
2.4 Ecological Feminism and Environmentalism
Eighty percent of small-scale agricultural farmers in Africa today are women who rely on

41

Traditional Environmental Knowledge. Therefore, it can be surmised that the socioeconomic and
political contributing factors of cultural erosion have had a big effect on Vhavenda women and
Vhomakhadzi (Warren 1996). The implications of undermining women’s conservationist and
agricultural roles include thee loss of their self-determination and vulnerabilities during natural
disasters and ongoing environmental crises (Mukoni 2015). Moreover, data shows that policies
for food, forests, and water in the developing world complicate women’s roles to provide
adequately for themselves and their families (Warren 1996). Protected areas and biosphere
reserves are making greater strides towards understanding and addressing feminized poverty and
other gender-based eco-vulnerabilities through expansive development models.
For example, gender equality and women’s empowerment is a key millennium
development outlined in the UN Millennium Declaration for 2000-2015. The new target year for
those development objectives is 2030. Among the evolving objectives for gender equality and
empowerment—including eliminating all forms of violence against women, enhancing women’s
economic opportunities, eliminating discrimination in the private and public spheres and
ensuring access to reproductive health and rights—are provisions to support, “…access to
ownership and control over land and other forms of property, financial services, inheritance and
natural resources, in accordance with national laws” (#Envision2030 Goal 5: Gender Equality).
The unique environmental susceptibilities women and children face, described here, necessitate
feminist scholarly attention.
Vhomakhadzi themselves do not make feminist claims—yet as a feminist researcher this
dissertation relies on ecological feminism because it provides an additional theoretical
framework to deconstruct the social, economic, and political origins of what ecofeminist scholars
refer to as the twin dominations of women and nature. Ecological feminist philosophy, rooted in

42

empirical evidence and grounded in environmental and feminist social movements, requires
critical analysis and feminist epistemologies. Ecofeminists for example rely on strong empirical
evidence that documents the impact of pollutants—i.e. low-level radiation, pesticides, and
toxins—that disproportionately impact women and children (Warren 1996; Verchick 2004).
These empirical observations in the 1960s and 1970s shaped feminist legal theory and the
methods that ultimately contributed to the modern environmental justice movement.
Understanding the environmental justice movement’s connection to feminist legal methods
explains ecofeminist epistemologies and approaches that unearth the biases embedded in
environmental law, which expose policies that benefit men and critically examine the
experiences women (Verchick 2004).
As a framework of analysis, ecological feminist theories encompass a diverse spectrum of
approaches and theoretical perspectives that challenge positivistic research paradigms and
concepts of objectivity in the social and natural sciences (Warren 1996). From this branch of
feminist theory, I include eco-feminism, feminist political ecology and feminist geography.
These theories have methodological consequences for my study in Venda as my research
exposes the colonial and apartheid gender philosophies that comprise South Africa’s Land Act
legacies. Moreover, ecological feminist theories, such as Eco-feminism and feminist geography,
deconstruct the ways that neocolonialism and globalization dominate women, land, and the
environment (Shiva 1989; Rocheleau et al. 1996). For this review I begin with perspectives on
Ecofeminism and environmentalism in an African grassroots context to avoid essentializing
claims about African women made in ecofeminist, environmentalist, conservationist and
development discourses.
Amid the destruction of natural resources, Women in Africa often lose self-determination

43

and are often at risk during natural disasters and ongoing environmental crises (Mukoni 2015).
The social and natural emergencies described are predominantly attributed to resource extraction
in the global south by multinational companies, resulting in overlapping social problems and
gender-based disparities. The NGO, WoMin: African Women Unite Against Destructive
Resource Extraction, is an African gender and extractives alliance, that networks with
likeminded causes and organizations in 14 different countries in Africa. One of their five year
goals between 2014-2018 is to work, “towards a progressive post-extractivist, women-centered
and ecologically responsive African alternative to the current destructive model of extractivism”
(WoMin: African Women Unite Against Destructive Resource Extraction). The extraction of
fossil fuels, such as coal, gas, and oil— or as some would even suggest, corporatized renewable
energy are of great concern to many African women whose livelihoods, health, and social wellbeing are threatened. Further, women bear a greater burden during disasters such as oil spills,
land grabs, and climate change, such as poor health and high mortality and, “high levels of interpersonal, domestic and sexual violence, often linked to militarisation associated with energy
resources” (WoMin: African Women Unite Against Destructive Resource Extraction).
WoMin, in their article, “An African Ecofeminist Perspective on the Paris Climate
Negotiations” criticizes COP 2116 and the countries most culpable for perpetuating climate
change, including some nations from the global south such as South Africa. Their position is that
companies regularly participate in the global meetings yet disregard the recommendations,
proceeding with economic and political practices that harm women and the environment.
Deeming the extractive process as patriarchal, the blog reiterates the point that social, ecological,
reproductive, energy and climate change are the major proponents of war, militarization,
16

The Convention of Parties (COP) is the international governing body for overseeing the UN Convention on
Biological Diversity; they hold annual to biennial meetings.

44

violence and land conflict. Most devastating to women are the cases of sexual violence and rape
by male miners, soldiers, and male employees of private security companies who live or work in
communities fraught with resource extractive politics, and socioeconomic issues related to
environmental problems. For-profit models of renewable energy, as an alternative to the Fossil
Fuel industry, are also being criticized as they too contend with land and energy access
inequalities, the blog suggests. The solution that some African female environmentalists propose,
such as the NGO WoMin, is a return to indigenous agricultural methods and agro-ecology
strategies. Their proposal mirrors the many aims and objectives of Vhomakhadzi and Dzomo La
Mupo to revive such cultural practices.
WoMin’s article also situates African women’s experiences with environmental
degradation within the scope of sexual violence and domination. The debate leverages notions
ecofeminists raise about the twin supremacies over women and nature. Cultural ecofeminism
emphasizes that masculinity is formed in opposition to and separate from women and nature, and
a dominance of masculine thought is preoccupied with controlling both entities (Dodson 2002).
This point assumes greater significance in the context of South Africa which has struggled with
gender-based violence during colonialism and through apartheid. When WoMin’s article states
that, “Women’s bodies are typically one of the terrains upon which these [environmental]
conflicts are waged,” it conjures the increasing collection of research on African male and
female sexualities that frames sexual violence within the context of postcoloniality (Moffett
2009). Postcolonial analysis of gender-based violence in South Africa focuses on women’s
bodies and sexuality as potential political and cultural landscapes in the process of political
transformation. Thus in a nation that greatly politicized race, space, and land, the themes of
domination are clear. The environment likewise undertakes these motifs within the confines of

45

the country’s race-based socio spatial arrangement (Dodson 2002) orchestrated through forced
removals and through subsequent, severely compromised people-environment relations, and
exploitation and marginalization of women.
Dodson (2002) suggests that in South Africa, the environment was actually sacrificed in
the interests of racial and gendered segregation. Urban migration of Blacks was highly regulated
and restricted to those who worked in mines, factories, or as domestic laborers, until the mid1980s. According to Dodson (2002) a distorted demographic-distribution directly segmented
urban and rural populations based on gender, age, and race—therefore, while men’s work was
urbanized, “the rural ‘homelands’ became the preserve of women, children, and the elderly,
forced to deal with the day-to-day realities of land shortages, soil erosion, fuel wood depletion,
water scarcity and food insecurity” and a lack of decision-making power only aggravated these
problems (Dodson 95). Through this system Blacks and women were systematically excluded
from crafting policy about land and environmental issues. Instead Black South Africans were
displaced from their land often to establish wilderness areas largely accessible only to privileged
White males. On that account, the protection of plants and animals were prioritized above Black
people or their own particular natural resource needs (Dodson 2002).
Attending to global patriarchy and post-coloniality African male leaders are not absolved
from exploiting natural resources and putting women at risk. The late Wangari Mathaii faced
great opposition in Kenya to her Greenbelt Movement which challenged the land grabs of
President Daniel Arap Moi's regime. Her activism to plant trees and protect green spaces led to
jail time, beatings, and demonization in Kenya. To begin her tree planting initiatives to curtail
deforestation, she turned to village women to plant indigenous acacia, fig, cedar, and baobab
seedlings; instructing the women to, “Use your woman sense. These tree seedlings are very much

46

like the seeds you deal with— beans and maize and millet—every day,” (Economist 2006).
African women in rural contexts have been charged with seed selection for many generations and
Mathaii merely empowered them to reclaim their traditional agricultural skills.
Muthuki (2006) evaluates, though an ecofeminist lens, the implications of the colonial
encounter in Kenya, the ensuing disruption of pre-colonial systems of sustainability, and its
gendered, post-colonial ramifications expressed through Mathaii’s GreenBelt movement (GBM).
Muthuki (2006) asserts that changes in local economic systems, as a result of colonialism,
manipulated gender divisions in environmental management. Through the onset of gendered
labor divisions during the colonial period, she suggests that such divisions solidified public and
private economic gender roles, resulting in less power and respect for women’s unpaid labor.
Furthermore, Muthuki (2006) argues that the rise of global capitalism crystalized the
marginalization of women, as African male leaders in a post-colonial Kenya, by Muthuki’s
(2006) assessment, carried on a western, capitalist agenda—in what socialist ecofeminist
theorists would refer to as the patriarchal state. She references the economic policies of the
Kenyatta and Moi regimes which purportedly relied on foreign investments, foreign ownership
of resources, and capitalist principles of production, and resource exploitation (Muthuki, 2006).
Such policies favor resource extraction by foreign companies, amplifying environmental
destruction and poverty—especially among women. Therefore, like Vhavenda women, many
women in rural Kenya grapple with commercial agriculture which disturbs subsistence living,
and access to other pertinent household and medicinal resources.
Grassroots activism like Mathaii’s Greenbelt movement continues to empower many
women in Kenya, even after her death from ovarian cancer in 2011. Responding to rural
women’s lack of access to essential resources such as firewood, clean water, and vital

47

livelihoods, GBM began to focus on environmental conservation and community development.
Thousands of women have been trained in conservation management through GBM and many
have been empowered to start green initiatives in their own communities. By challenging the
capitalist-patriarchal state as Muthuki (2006) describes it, Mathaii was labeled a “mad woman”,
and accused of engaging in subversive activities that were harmful to the country by a
predominately male, Kenyan parliament, who incidentally also characterized her as a frustrated
divorcee (Muthuki, 2006). Mathaii’s experiences showcased the ways that global patriarchy comingles with the Western world in ways that perpetuate the need to govern women and nature to
usurp economic and natural resources, and to suppress women’s social movements and
grassroots organizing.
Sections of this dissertation utilize feminist geography, a theoretical branch of feminist
political ecology, to partially examine one of four research questions posed—namely, how do
Vhomakhadzi construct cultural biodiversity preservation? For this question, my analysis builds
upon pre-dissertation research on Vhomakhadzi community organizing to protect land and
culture through ongoing eco-cultural mapping workshops initially sponsored by the Gaia and
Mupo Foundations. My explication of Vhomakhadzi maps as tools for cultural biodiversity
preservation draws on discourses of traditional maps as visual representations of power,
including feminist geographical research on mapmaking and geographical information systems
(GIS) that provide cartographic and spatial analysis. These discourses and literature ultimately
aid in assessing Vhomakhadzi interpretations of how their cultural land is being appropriated and
degraded, and the various and accompanying intimations.
Feminist geographical studies argue that there is a noticeable absence of critical
engagement and social theories in the scientific practices of geographic research and

48

visualization technologies such as GIS. Kwan (2002) asserts that geographic research in the past
embraced a positivist viewpoint, while McLafferty (2010) assesses how feminist geography and
GIS has challenged traditional geographical research by including reflexive methodologies
and/or subjective approaches. Yet McLafferty (2010) also contends that although feminist
geography has invigorated the field and has changed the direction of exploration, there is still a
quantitative and qualitative gulf in research methods within geographic research. She asserts that
feminist geographers typically include more qualitative research methods such as interviews and
participant observation, or what is “subject-centered” research, which she argues is sorely
missing in geographic research. McLafferty includes a case study on the grassroots activism that
took place in Long Island New York in the 1980s to determine why the women of a Long Island
suburb had such high rates of breast cancer. She focuses on the pin maps and GIS that women in
the community used to determine spatial clustering with environmental risk factors.
McLafferty’s study reveals how the Long Island maps in the hands of women activists,
contributed an understanding of knowledge, perspective, and authority. Mclafferty and Kwan’s
articles are good companion pieces as they both use positivism as a point of departure to discuss
how female situational knowledge gives meaning to spacial data in ways that quantitative data
does not. They suggest that quantitative data alone masks statistics relevant to women’s
environmental concerns and problems. These debates are important for framing Vhomakhadzi
fears concerning how land is being used and how their customs are being subverted.
Additionally, Tshiguvho’s (2008) research on the sacred sites in the Forest Montane region in
Venda referenced earlier, provides the type of critical information on cultural-biodiversity and
conservationism that justifies how sacred natural sites in Venda are significant and why their
intersection with geography, ecology, and women’s land rights warrant more subject-centered,

49

qualitative research.
Traditional maps also represent power and patriarchy. During European exploration in
the colonial period maps were used to designate territory for conquest. In C. Kelso’s, Ideology of
Mapping South Africa, she states, “Explore, map and colonise. The theory that maps have an
ideology which is revealed within the image has been used to analyse many maps drawn during
the colonial period... they were drawn by the colonizers with a Eurocentric bias towards mapping
the relationship of authority and territory” (Kelso 17). In Kelso’s article she examines maps of
Phuthaditjhaba, a South African homeland of Qwaqwa. In maps of Phuthaditjhaba, it is revealed
that there are clear population distortions indicated by the mapping symbols used. She
determined that a 1994 atlas of the region was incorrect, after examining and verifying the actual
population numbers through the Phuthaditjhaba town council and census records (Kelso 1999).
On the atlas Phuthaditjhaba is given the same symbol as Clarens, a White town with thousands
less in population. Kelso states, “Through the use of selectivity, distortion and cartographic
generalization the landscape of Phuthaditjhaba was fictiously constructed in the map making
process. In this way the powerful manipulated the landscape in order to justify segregationist
policies” (Kelso18-20). These distorted maps are still in circulation. Such cartographic
manipulation affects the distribution of resources, regional planning, development and overall
landscape politics. Kelso’s article denotes that maps represent power in South Africa; they
emerged from a context of oppression, patriarchy and European empire building and
colonization. Thus maps are not merely scientific and rational representations as purported, but
rather discourses that privilege Western modes of thinking and dominance over geography and
resources in South Africa.
Maps as transmitters of colonial authority explain the vast land dispossession perpetrated

50

by European colonizers all over the African continent. The colonial encounter in Venda began a
complex relationship between the missionaries and the land. The Berlin Mission Society that first
occupied Venda in 1872 saw the impenetrable land as both an irritant and an evil, equating the
land with the people (Kirkaldy 2005). Alan Kirkaldy, author of, Capturing The Soul, The
Vhavenda and the Missionaries, 1870-1900 contends that for the missionaries the external
beauty of the landscape coexisted with a far more sinister core. This could provide the key to
understanding the shift in the way that the missionaries constructed, and related to the landscape
of Vendaland (Kirkaldy 2005). The dense an impassable area were frightening landscapes. The
relationship that missionaries and explorers developed with the land has, according to Kirkaldy,
created lasting opinions about rural landscapes and indigenous people. Kirkaldy describes how
Carl Ritter, the progenitor of modern geography and his apprentice, Friedrich Ratzel who
together controlled discourse on geography in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, used
land development as an index for civilization and development.
Kirkaldy’s supposition describes well, European conceptions of land and environment and
give context to their justification of conquest, mapping, and colonization. This contextualizes
Kelso’s argument that maps are not objective and it begins a conversation about how maps could
also be patriarchal tools for dominating women and nature in Africa and by contrast how
Vhomakhadzi eco-cultural mapping is a rebuttal to those conceptions of land and space.
The four subsections on South African Land Politics, Environmental Degradation, Cultural
Biodiversity and Conservation and Ecological Feminism and Environmentalism expose the
correlating themes that explain the current marginalization of Vhomakhadzi/ Vhavenda women
in the Limpopo Province. Through a synthesis of relevant intergovernmental and nongovernmental reports, academic research, and blogs, the aim of this review was to lay a

51

foundation to investigate the interaction between colonial and apartheid gender ideologies, landpolicies, and cultural biodiversity erosion. While the review highlighted selected discourses on
ecological feminist environmentalism in a grassroots African context, the next chapter on
methodology will include theoretical suppositions of African feminisms to further build a
rationale for the research methods executed for this dissertation.

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CHAPTER THREE: SOCIO-HISTORICAL CONTEXTUALIZATIONS
This chapter presents pertinent historical background information on Venda society
covering the pre-colonial, colonial, and apartheid eras. The research is comprised of the works of
Vhavenda scholars such as Matshidze (2013), Ralushai (1977, 2002) Ralushai and Gray (1977)
and Mabogo (1990, 1996), and sources from the libraries and special collection units of the
Universities of Venda, South Africa, and Pretoria—including the Berlin Mission Society records,
ethnographic data derived from the Van Warmelo collection (1932), and the Hugh A. Stayt
ethnographic series on The Bavenda (1931). I also reference more recent and pertinent books,
journal articles, and dissertations, including Vhavenda graduate scholarship. Vhavenda history is
complex and oral descriptions at times have been purposefully obscured from non-native
speakers and non-Vhavenda scholars for cultural-protection and defense. Given the intricacy of
Vhavenda history it is important to underscore that this portion of the research as a nonexhaustive historical account, rather, a focused investigation of the following subsections: (1)
Historical Debates (2) Venda Geography, (3) Gender and Power and (4) Colonialism &
Apartheid. The subsections contextualize interview statements and information on culture,
women’s roles, spirituality, land, and the socio-environmental, socio-political, and even marginal
ethnobotanical facts relevant to the study.
3.1 Historical Debates
It is imperative to elaborate on the challenges of researching Venda history. Historical
research on the origins of Vhavenda ethnic groups is often controversial and contested due to
politics, dominant ethnic perspectives, research- trends, and the positionality of researchers.
Great debate centers on the migration patterns and linguistic and cultural development of
numerous sub-ethnic groups that encompass Vhavenda people today and who settled in both

53

South Africa and Zimbabwe (Stayt 1968; Ralushai 1977; Loubser 1989). For instance, there are
disputes about the historical origins of non-Indigenous ethnicities as some scholars contend that
some groups, like the Masingo in Venda today migrated by way of the Lower Congo, while
others purport that they came from Africa’s Great Lakes region (Ralushai 1977; Loubser 1989).
There has also been speculation in recent history about how fully integrated some sub-ethnicities
are among Vhavenda people in the Soutpansberg17 area, such as Sotho or Lovhedu-speaking
people—the Lovhedu (Balobedu or Lobedu) being closely affiliated with the infamous Rain
Queen (Lestrade 1930; Schlosser 2002). Moreover, scholars conjecture about the impact of
Nguni and Shona cultural influences—with the latter sharing linguistic affinities (Lestrade 1927),
and similar kinship systems as Vhavenda through the incorporation of the role of the paternal
aunt known as samakhadzi, who presides over important matters after her brother’s death similar
to makhadzi of the Indigenous Vhangona (Loubser 1989; Buijs 2002). Further, there are many
enthusiastic studies and documentaries about Vhalemba (or Balemba) people whose AfricanSemite customs have garnered much scholarly attention and whose DNA analysis suggests a
further splintered, sub-ethnicity with Jewish ancestry (Junod 1908; Lestrade 1930). Ralushai and
Gray (1977) likewise highlight research trends that contribute to an incomplete Venda historical
compendium; they state, “Research into their history has tended to concentrate on what has been
termed the ‘Venda tribes proper’ in contrast to the aboriginal Mbedzi, Lembethu, and Ngona
[Vhangona] of the mountains, conquered by them and now largely assimilated” (Ralushai and
Gray 1977 qtd. in Mabogo 1990; Van Warmelo 1932). Thus, there are many cultural distinctions
and vast diversity among Vhavenda people.
Imbalanced accounts also emerge as a challenge when studying Vhavenda sub-

17

This is the northernmost mountain range in South Africa.

54

ethnicities, as scholars have been criticized for privileging the historical perspective of the
politically dominant Masingo in the region, thereby eclipsing the less powerful Indigenous
Vhangona (or Vhongwaniwapo) people of whom this study concentrates (Ralushai 1977).
Finally, amidst myriad cultural bearings, indigeneity itself is especially debated as groups assert
ancestry associated with the key archeological sites at K2 and Leopard’s Kopje B kingdom
excavated at Mapungubwe Hill where it is purported that kingdoms in Southern Africa began
(Kirkaldy 2005; Tshiguvho 2008). Proving indigeneity would connect one’s sub-group with a
technologically and culturally impressive people who originated in the region during the Early
Iron Age (Raluashai 1977; Kirkaldy 2005; Tshiguvho 2008). Recognizing a consistency of
opinion among Vhangona residents, for example Tshiguvho’s (2008) research interviewees, like
my own often referenced iron smelting as an advanced achievement unique to the Indigenous
Vhangona. These claims are very contentious because in a region with polemic land debates,
aboriginal status represents potential regional power in the post-apartheid era.18
Additional issues that surface researching Venda history involve historical ethnographies
by White or non-Vhavenda academics and/or missionaries. Such historians include Van
Warmelo (1932,1949,1949), Junod (1908), Stayt (1931), Wessman (1908), and others who
conducted ethnographies or kept travel notes and diaries during the colonial and apartheid eras
(Ralushai 1977, Tshiguvho 2008). Kirkaldy (2005) references the missionary historical accounts
which he characterizes as the “distorting ethnographic lens” or “missionary gaze” (reiterated in
chapter four) that portrayed Vhavenda people as primitive, and/or presented incomplete or
erroneous data, especially concerning Vhavenda cosmology. An example of historical
inaccuracies manifest in accounts from 19th century “…German missionaries that visited Khosi

18

See Schoeman, quoted in Business Day, 15 May 2008.

55

(King/Chief) Tshivhase to establish a mission station, [who] misinterpreted the "u luvha"
(bowing) greeting that local people expressed as Tshivhase approached the kraal19. They
interpreted the bowing as a sign of fear rather than respect for the chief. Based on this
misinterpretation, they interpreted Tshivhase as more of a dictator ruler” (Tshighuvo 47).
Tshiguvho also writes about ethnographers who, “…mistook the ruling power of other members
of the royal family particularly the makhadzi… and the roles of Vho-khotsimunene (the chief's
brothers)” (Tshighuvo 47). again showing a misconstruction of Vhavenda kinship systems and
political power, and crucial elements to understanding the roles of women and Vhomakhadzi.
Inconsistencies about Vhavenda spirituality have also emerged. While researching in
Thathe, Ralushai (1977) uncovered discrepancies about Stayt’s (1931) work and his reports of a
lion in the forest, believed to be the reincarnation of an important member of the Netshitongani
[Netshitangani] clan. This claim was considered dubious decades later by local elders when
Ralushai (1977), drawing from his interviews, writes “…other local women, strenuously denied
Stayt’s interpretation. [As] Mrs. Netshitangani put it to me: ‘As many Netshitangani descendants
are buried here, if it were true that our people after death, as your Mukhuwa20 reported, return to
earth in the form of animals, Thathe sacred grove would have been teeming with many lions, as
this grove is one of the oldest in Venda” (Ralushai 61). Considering these research distinctions,
this chapter presents information substantiated by Vhavenda scholars and contemporary
academics cognizant of these discrepancies. In concluding this section, it should be stressed
again that rather than a comprehensive approach to Venda history, this chapter again is a
concentrated account of historical events as they relate to key aspects of the study and interview
statements. Despite the heterogeneous cultural composition of Vhavenda people, and their grand
19
20

A kraal is the chief’s residence.
A mukhuwa is White person or Westerner.

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and elaborate dynastic history of successive rulers and chiefdoms, the only ethnic variation
highlighted in this dissertation centers on Masingo and European colonial dominance, in relation
to gender, Vhangona self-determination, sacred site management, and land politics.
3.2 Venda Geography
This section gives a basic review of Venda geography, useful to comprehend the study’s
descriptions of various sacred sites, vulnerable environmental locales, and larger landscapes.
Venda is located in the Limpopo province at the Zimbabwean border in the northern most region
of South Africa. This former apartheid homeland lies in the northeastern section of what was
once called the Transvaal, and west of the former apartheid homeland of Gazankulu (Mabogo
1990, Tshiguvho 2008). Further northeast Venda is split from Mozambique, “by Kruger National
Park, one of the oldest and largest (about 20,000 km) parks in Africa and worldwide”
(Tshiguvho 32).

57

Figure 1: Map: Venda, South Africa
Source, Encyclopedia Britannica, 2009.

Venda is swathed in bright red laterite soil possessing a mountainous terrain, with the
Soutspanberg range sprawling east-west through the landscape (Mabogo 1990). The Tshiendeulu
Mountains are the highest in the region, “separating the Nzehele Valley from Limpopo basin in
the north, followed by the Thathe Vondo Mountains (1439 m) to the east of Nzhelele which
gently slopes into the Sibasa region” (Mabogo 8). A substantial section of the Soutpansberg
mountains cuts through the Entebeni State Forest and Nature Reserve, while on the eastern side
of these mountains are the foothills of Thohoyandou district and its neighboring expanses
(Mabogo 1990). Throughout Venda history, mountains have been an important defense against
invaders because many settlements were strategically established atop these peaks (Stayt 1931;
Van Warmelo 1932; Mabogo 1990; Kirkaldy 2005; Loubser 2008; Tshiguvho 2008; Pikirayi
2011). Tshiguvho (2008) and Loubser (2008) convey that mountains have also been regarded as
sacred, conceivably because of this crucial defense. Moreover, mountains have often served as
analogies to the strength and longevity of a chief’s leadership and his mortality. Mountain forests
are also vitally important to Vhangona spirituality as the montane groves make up vitally
important Indigenous trees and vegetation. Finally, Makhado (Formerly Louis Trichardt) is level,

58

flanking the N1 route that runs through all of South Africa from Cape Town to Zimbabwe.

Figure 2: Map: This figure is a satellite image of my predominant research site in Vuwani township (Google
Maps).

Mabogo (1990) suggests that geography as it is described by Vhavenda is delineated
politically, while remarkably coinciding with vegetation and bushveld or grassland types. He
asserts that the Vhutavhatsindi belt which covers much of present-day Mutale District is
dominated by the north eastern mountain sourveld; the sourveld also expand into Southern
Vhupani. Also in Vhupani, is the Sibasa region which is very near to my initial lodging in
Thohoyandou, characterized by loweld sour bushveld. Also, further south of Vhupani is the area
called Vhuronga, incorporating the villages and townships of Tshakhuma and the Vuwani
District, where I conducted most of my interviews and lived the majority of my stay in Venda.
Mabogo (1990) describes sourish mixed bushveld covering Vhupani regions as well as wide
coverings of nearby grounds. Again, bushveld growth and vegetation biomass-loss feature in the
literature review in conversation with Venda forestry plantation use of chemical fertilizers and

59

regarding the impact on slope instability and soil erosion.
The Vhangona, who sometimes refer to themselves as the true Vhavenda, according to
oral history are credited with naming the geographical sites and flora and fauna in the area
(Ramunangi Claim of Rights 2008; Vhangona SAHRA Application 2012). At the time of
Mabogo’s (1990) ethnobotanical study, little research had been done in Venda on indigenous
vegetation and its medicinal and cultural uses. He describes a combination of Vhavenda accounts
of communicating with ancestors and the trial and error of plant ingestion by earlier generations
that developed into a sophisticated understanding of plant-knowledge and herbal remedies
among traditional healers in Venda. The Vhangona have traditionally sanctified the environment
and biodiversity in the various regions (mashango) since before written language (Vhangona
SAHRA Application 2012). The myriad Vhangona clans that populate the area share a common
and multifaceted spirituality that is linked with sacred natural sites; they believe that spirits dwell
in the air, water, forests and mountains (Ramunangi Claim of Rights 2008). Thus Vhavenda
have various ceremonies to honor ancestors and the relationship with mupo, meaning the earth or
the cosmos throughout the territories (mashango) (Vhangona SAHRA Application 2012).
Springs, waterfalls, rivers, and wetlands are also consecrated in Venda. The four main
rivers in the region flow from the Soutpansberg Mountains and empty into Limpopo River,21
including Nwanedi, Nzhelele, Mutale rivers, and Luvuvhu (Earle et al. 2006; Tshiguvho 2008).
Tshiguvho (2008) articulates how water shortages may have contributed to its significance in
Vhavenda cosmology as follows, “Water has always been a scarce resource in Venda, especially
in the drier regions of Nzhelele, Niani, Sinthumule and Kutama. Perhaps this has been the reason
why Vhavenda have treated water as sacred. Natural water bodies, such as lakes, rivers, and

21

See Tshiguvho, for Luvenda names of rivers and geography.

60

waterfalls have been treated with respect and declared sacred. Such examples include Lake
Fundudzi and the Phiphidi Waterfall” (Tshiguvho 32). Both Fundudzi and Phiphidi have been
important to Vhavenda spirituality as makhadzi attest to in chapter five.
The Nzhelele river also features prominently in the study’s makhadzi interview
statements. Earle (2006) describes how the tropical climate and the condensation and showers in
the mountains reach Nzhelele through various tributaries. Many rural settlements have been
established in the Upper Nzhelele Valley over time and today the water is still irrigated for
agriculture in what Earle (2006) describes as a region among Venda’s fertile valleys (Ralushai
1977; Earle et al. 2006). Although many makhadzi and specialists argue that the region was once
more fertile than it is today, Ralushai (1977) suggests that historically the whole Nzhelele river
valley area was never abundant:

The Government, after forcing Chief Mphephu22 to vacate the fertile hills of Louis
Trichardt [Makhado] and return to his ancestral home Nzhelele, had to introduce an
irrigation scheme, for without irrigation in this area, Nzhelele people can starve, as this
area suffers from constant drought. In fact, many people, when their fertile areas such as
Luonde, Tshindzivhani, Maulum, etc. were declared ‘White’,when told that they should
go live at Nzhelele, preferred to settle in the east (Sibasa District) which was undoubtedly
more fertile...(Ralushai 31).

Ralushai contends that the area has always been prone to droughts and food shortages
given the intense heat in the region. Because of the various threats to water historically, scholars
22

Chief Mphephu is a Vhavenda historical figure and leader among Venda’s ruling houses in the 19th century. He
was later defeated by the Transvaal government, which preceded the Transvaal province.

61

(Mabogo 1996; Tshiguvho 2008) describe how chiefs once enforced conservation procedures to
safeguard this precious resource through rules governing the use of rivers and water for domestic
and agricultural purposes.
3.3 Gender and Power
In the context of the study, this section on gender and power refers to women’s traditional
roles, access to land and property, and women’s status and power within the home and state.
Customary23 kinship systems clarify gendered responsibilities and traditional women’s roles and
legal rights in Venda society. Stayt (1931) and Van Warmelo (1932) describe a web of
relationships, hierarchies, and expectations within traditional kinship structures that are
represented by non-gendered terms. For example, regardless of sex, all great grandparents are
referred to as makhulukuku. This also pertains to the role of makhulu, which means big and great,
again sex notwithstanding this refers broadly to grandparents, a man’s sister-in-law through the
wife’s brother, an aunt by marriage through a man’s mother, and the wife’s parents and their
siblings. Makhulu on the man’s/father’s side, however, carries distinction and requires more
respect customarily (Stayt 1931; Van Warmelo 1932).
Explicit gender terms include the title of father, referred to as khotsi. A man’s father,
uncles, and cousins in the male line are called khotsi muhulu and khotsi munene (sometimes
written khotsimunene) or great father and little father. A woman may use these terms when
speaking to her husband’s brothers as well because her children use this terminology. At times
she will also refer to her brothers-in-law as munnawanga meaning “my husband” when speaking
of them abstractly or indirectly. The mother is referred to as mme and her sisters are called mme
muhulu or mmane, which means great mother and little mother. Vhavenda who practiced

23

Customary in this section refers to the colonial era and into apartheid to varying degrees.

62

polygamy in the past, or today, recognize a woman’s co-wives as her sisters and therefore the
terms mme muhulu or mmane also apply conventionally. Originally a man referred to his elder
brother’s wife as “sister” because traditionally he cannot inherit her as Stayt (1931) describes.
However, “He may refer to his younger brother’s wife as musadzi vha murathu, wife of the
brother—he can inherit the great wife of his brother next in age, as according to the system, he is
the man who paid the lobola24 for that woman and gave her to his brother…” (Stayt 173).
Historically, according to Stayt (1931), brothers may refer to each other’s wives as “our wife”
and wives may refer to each other as “co-wives” possibly in expectance of becoming the wife of
the same brother in the future.
In Pre-colonial and colonial Venda, within the household, married women enjoyed
privileges of land and agrarian control. Customarily, when married, a woman lived with her
husband’s mother until after the birth of her first baby (Stayt 1931; Van Warmelo 1932). In the
past, following the birth of her first child, “her husband builds her a hut for herself and allots to
her a portion of land as her own personal property. It is her duty to feed her husband and support
her own family, and she may dispose of her surplus produce as she wishes” (Stayt 142), yet in
consultation with her husband. In this sense personal property would more likely be interpreted
as decision making of harvests on designated plots of communal land. Overall, it was the duty of
the man to provide each wife with a separate hut, lands, and granaries. In a polygamous
marriage, which denotes the status necessary to support additional wives in this period, Stayt
describes occasional disputes among co-wives who were dissatisfied with the distribution of land
by their husband. Men have individual rights over land and their sons may continue to cultivate
the land as adults or acquire their own portions of communal land; requests for land are thus
24

The price of cattle to facilitate a marriage.

63

made to the headman. Stayt and Van Warmelo describe how land was communally allotted in
precolonial and colonial Venda. Although governed by the chief, land was not privately owned,
rather it was held in trust for the people, Stayt describes communal access to land and water for
shared hunting, fishing, and timber rights, available to all people—never to be hoarded by the
chief (Stayt 1931). In addition to land, comparable to a Vhavenda man, a woman may
individually possess movable property considered to be, livestock, household items, and again
surplus agriculture. These examples demonstrate how women’s access to land was determined
by a communal relationship to resources in Vhavenda culture. This communal approach to landuse and sharing resources within the family and society also denotes women’s agricultural
agency in pre-colonial Venda society.
Whether Vhavenda society overall is/was matriarchal is not firmly established.
Amadiume (1987) has suggested that patriarchal and matriarchal are not suitable terms to
describe pre-colonial African societies if interpreted through a Western archetype of power—
specified by influential decision making exclusively exerted in public and state forums. She
argues that women exercised power in both public and domestic settings that impacted state
making (then and now) in different ways. Furthermore, although great attention has been
dedicated to examining purported repressive African patriarchal structures, women in precolonial Africa accessed power through gender flexibility.
African gender theorists (Oyewumi 1997; Kopytoff 1997; Amdiume 1987; Achebe 2011)
have established important social science and historical research on the customary status of
gender in pre-colonial African societies—yet specifically regarding female masculinities and
positions of power. A “female father” a “male daughter” and a “female husband” (or woman-towoman marriage) in Africa was not a sex distinction, or indicator of sexuality, but alternatively

64

denoted birth order, political power, wealth and status, or the absence of a man relative to or
suitable for a position. These flexible gender systems (which will be further reviewed in the
study’s methodology in chapter four and five) were common among African kinship and precolonial African societies. Stayt (1931) for example references lobola paid by wealthier
Vhavenda women for wives, even if the head woman already had a husband of her own:

A [Vhavenda] woman may bring three wives to live with her at her own home, and may
allow her husband to have sexual relations with them, although he has no rights over
them without her permission. These women are really in the position of servants and are
obliged to do all the menial work; they may be given to different men for the purpose of
obtaining children, but these men, not having paid lobola for them, have no legal rights
over them or their children (Stayt 143).

Further, the children of these procured wives, at times referred to the head woman
as father. The wealthy Vhavenda women who could lobola wives in this manner were thus the
heads of these families, including the subsequent children of their wives, and were therefore
entitled to an heir. The eldest son of the first wife in this case would serve as heir; or if the first
wife did not have a son, her daughter would become the heir even over her brothers from other
mothers (Stayt 1931). This daughter would then become the only heir to her female father’s
property (Stayt 1931).
An additional aspect to lobola and the facilitation of marriage in the past was observed
through the role of makhadzi, who could also provide the cattle for the marriage. The role of
makhadzi or the paternal aunt was once a very strong position in Vhavenda families and society

65

at large. As the carrier of cattle to her brother, makhadzi was essentially responsible for
establishing her brother’s family and was previously considered the best judge of his heir to
maintain the strength and stability of the family Stayt (1931) writes, “In her nomination she must
be guided by the conditions of succession, and is expected to name the eldest son of her brother’s
great wife [senior wife], unless he is absolutely unfit for the position or has disgraced himself in
the eyes of the family. In this case the makhadzi, in conjunction with the deceased man’s
brothers, may appoint another son, usually the next in age of the same mother” (Stayt 167-168).
Matshidzhe (2013) indicates that makhadzi make this decision with the little father or the
kotsimunene, yet in most cases in the event of an impasse, it is makhadzi to whom the decision is
traditionally deferred. If the son is too young, makhadzi may assume the role of a regent.25
There is great historical importance of makhadzi to commoners and chiefdoms among the
Vhangona. Buijs (2002) describes matters of succession and the role of makahdzi among the
royal family, which essentially parallels the practices of commoners. After the death of the chief,
the makhadzi as the paternal aunt, along with the chief’s brother or paternal uncle, the
khotsimunene, once determined the chief’s heir among his sons. Together they also selected a
khadzi and ndumi among the newly installed chief’s siblings who would eventually assume the
roles of makhadzi and khotsimunene. Of the two roles, makhadzi in the royal family holds greater
status, and when the chief dies, the deference once paid to him by his children would then be
given to their makhadzi, or the “female father’ and ‘little father’ [khotsimunene], “and until their
deaths they have the right to command the person of their late brother’s son, whom they have
appointed to represent the family” (Stayt qtd. in Matshidze 44-45 ).
Makhadzi in both the royal family and among the commoners play a central role in the

25

This is a position under the chief/Vhamusanda.

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family and oversee important rituals relative to the family’s sacred objects, eco-cultural
knowledge, and communicating with the ancestors. Yet the makhadzi in the royal family has
state responsibilities that relate to governance with the chief, and public rituals of phasa and
thevhula or the libations and the thanksgiving after the harvest (Matshidze 2013); despite these
distinctions, all women in Venda society are respected for being spirit mediums (Matshidze
2013).
In matters of the state, makhadzi is a dominant advisor to the chief’s leadership. The chief
consults makhadzi on all issues related to those under his chieftaincy, and she is a member of his
“court.” Buijs (2002) writes, “She lives at the chief’s capital, with her husband and children
living elsewhere. She receives a percentage of all taxes given to the chief…” Buijs (2002)
continues, “Even men, Stayt says, to whom all other women kneel, must kneel to the
makhadzi…All this respect, notes Stayt, is the outward and visible sign of the real power she
wields in the state.” Makhadzi is also important in the traditional court or khoro. Regarding the
judgment of village cases in the khoro, Matshidze (2013) states, “The traditional leader does not
decide the case alone in some instances, but he does that in consultation with the makhadzi. This
confirms the fact that traditional leaders together with the makhadzi played a vital role regarding
judgment of the cases” (Matshidze 11). From Amadiume’s perspective, makhadzi would be an
example of women who exerted authority within the household—and in this case, that power
also extended to the state. Historically women outside of the institution of Vhomakhadzi also
held important public political roles, which proves relevant in the context of discussing the
potentially matriarchal features of Vhavenda culture.
Vhavenda populations in the Soutpansberg region have had various lineages of female
leaders from petty chieftainships and headwomen to advisers known as nduna or mukoma.

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Lestrade (1930) references examples of long successions of female leadership in some cases,
including the mukomaship at “Phephidi” (Phiphidi), a fact he relays from the Rev. P.E.
Schwellnus of Pretoria, who states, “It is said that only a woman can be mukoma there ‘because,
the particular ancestral spirit associated with the place is a female spirit’ (hune mudzimu ndi
tshisadzi)” (Lestrade 314). Historians and gender scholars have also examined the matrilineal
leadership of two mediums, for example, Tshisinavhute of Mianzwi an Mbedzi ruler, has been
historically female since the 18th century and again the Lovhedu Rain Queen Modjadji, both of
whom held power through their rainmaking gifts (Lestrade 1930; Schlosser 2002). Once more, as
Amadiume (1987) describes, patriarchal and matriarchal may not be appropriate terms to
describe pre-colonial African societies, yet what has been conveyed about gender historically in
this region is that women have traditionally enjoyed more status and positions of power
comparably with other South African ethnic groups (Stayt 1931; Lestrade 1930). As chapter
four relays, with the arrival of colonialism, women’s roles and status began to change. In
particular, the political dynamics set in motion during the colonial era explain the erosion of the
role of makhadzi through the apartheid and post-apartheid democratic eras—a fact that will be
analyzed at length in chapter five. Ultimately, as Amadiume (1987) suggests, classifying African
societies as matriarchal or patriarchal in the context of Western power structures, or from the
positionality of a Western researcher is not applicable. However, what can be determined is that
Vhavenda women’s access to land, political roles, and power differed in pre-colonial Venda,
which is a necessary argument to establish as the preceding chapters examine colonial influences
on gender. The next section gives an overview of the colonial encounter in Venda, and the
impact that colonialism and apartheid had on land and politics— and marginal facts related to
gender, which will be more keenly explored in chapter five.

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3.4 Colonialism and Apartheid
Beginning in the 19th century, the colonial and missionary presence disturbed the sociopolitical and cultural values of Venda society; including, religion, traditional leadership, gender
and land. Berlin missionaries for example developed a complicated relationship with the people
and their perceptions of wilderness and land-use. According to the Berlin Mission Society
records, these German settlers equated the untamable vegetation and their own vulnerability to
disease, due to the dense foliage in the region, with the perceived heathenism of Vhavenda
people (Kirkaldy 2005). Kirkaldy suggests that the missionaries regarded the difficulties of
converting Vhavenda as inextricably connected to the mysterious and malevolent terrain. At this
time, the Voortrekkers, or Dutch descendent Afrikaaners who ventured north from the Cape
Colony into the Transvaal, likewise had their own designs on ‘Vendaland.’ These Voortrekkers
laid claim to the area in 1848 and settled in what they called Schoemansdal, at the foot of the
mountain range that they first named Soutpansbergdorp and later Soutpansberg. Their settlement
in the region began a manipulative, exploitative, and volatile relationship with Vhavenda people
over forced labor and oppressive tax edicts, and they too left their mark on the geography by
renaming rivers, mountains, and general terrain.
The dominant Masingo also presented challenges in addition to the White settlers.
Tshiguvho (2008) writes about how the Indigenous Vhangona endured a type of dual
colonization as they were dominated politically by both the Masingo and Europeans. Although
they had been conquered by other Venda groups such as the Vhatavhatsindi, the Masingo
however used military force to attack and demoralize them (Kirkaldy 2005, Tshiguvho 2008).
Tshiguvho writes, “Khosi (Chief) Velelambeu, who led the Singo [Masingo] group when they
came to Venda in the 1600s, kidnapped and beheaded two Ngona chiefs, which made both

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Vhangona and Vhatavhatsindi (who had settled into Venda) surrender. Then the Laudzi group…
overpowered Vhangona by targeting their strong belief in the sacred practice. Sometime in the
early 1900s, Vhalaudzi burned what is now known as Lwamondo Mountain which was a sacred
site for Vhangona in the area, as a strategy to overpower Vhangona” (Tshiguvho 55). Both
European colonization and Masingo rule led to forced removals of Vhangona, leaving their
sacred sites, customs, and burial practices vulnerable. Vhangona today have aligned with the
Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organization (UNPO) as their sacred practices and land have
long been threatened by interethnic conflict, European colonization, and missionary proselytizing
(Tshiguvho 2008). Throughout various periods of this social and cultural upheaval, Vhangona
have been fervently committed to retaining their practices and safeguarding their sacred sites and
burial customs despite these exogenous influences.
Sacred site vulnerabilities should be incorporated in the overall changes in land-use after
the colonial encounter in Venda. As described, land was once held in trust by the chief and
regarded as a communal concern, including shared conservation. There were rules pertaining to
the cutting and use of trees, waterways and resources, and when plants and seeds could be
planted and harvested. For example, in pre-colonial Venda if a Marula tree was growing on
shared land, it could not be cut down but rather its fruit had to be shared with the chief (Stayt
1931). If these simple rules were violated, as Tshighuvho (2008) describes, these became matters
to be settled by the chief who would issue punishment to offenders, as misuse of plots threatened
sustainable land-use and resource management as well as important sacred customs.
Sacred sites and groves became a contentious issue between missionaries and all
Vhavenda. In 1874 following the erection of the Tshakhuma mission station by the Berlin
Mission Society, conflicts arose about collecting wood from the Thathe Holy Forest. Kirkaldy

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alludes to an occurrence between known Berlin missionaries, Rev. P.E. Schwellnus and Carl
Beuster, who developed tense relations with the king, Khosi Madzivhandila, after it was learned
of their intentions to cut down trees in the holy area. After multiple incidents of this nature,
where the king refused the missionaries’ permission to collect wood from the forest, Schwellnus
is recorded as telling King Madzivhandila, “God does not stay in the forest or in a river, but His
home is in heaven…I would like to believe that he, the King, will later see this and be convinced
of it that his opinion about the gods is false, because their gods are just lies of people, which the
devil has fed them” (Kirkaldy 173). The missionaries did not hold the same respect for forests as
the Vhavenda or Vhangona as they equated them with ‘the dark forests of Bawendaland and the
dark hearts of the heathen Bawenda.’ 26 The missionaries thus developed a reputation for being
destroyers of the land, to which they refuted this claim arguing that they were instead there to
bring blessings, even referring to their mission stations as ‘God’s gardens in the heathen
wilderness.’27 This contentious relationship between custom and land became even more deeply
entrenched following this era.
As traditional leadership and local politics changed in the homelands, so did traditional
conservation. Venda had gradually been recognized as an administrative unit apart from South
Africa, eventually gaining restricted self-government in the 1970s and nominal independence in
1979, yet not internationally recognized. Nevertheless, the White settler colonialists had already
greatly influenced the traditional politics by manipulating interethnic tensions, installing chiefs
through indirect rule, and crafting national policy. Ralushai (2002) characterizes this period as
one controlled by the central government that managed land allocation and introduced new, yet
unpopular farming techniques. During this period Native and or Bantu affairs commissioners
26
27

See Kirkaldy & Kriel for revealing information on missionary perceptions of Vhavenda people.
Kirkaldy & Kriel.

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contracted White agriculturalists to work with local Black officials to develop farming, cattle
rearing, and conservation approaches (Ralushai 2002). Native Conservation police were
commissioned (Madieme) to stop tree cutting, deforestation and soil erosion, and to safeguard
flora and fauna. Yet these police were unpopular as locals expressed discontent with their
policies by composing derogatory songs (Ralushai 2002). The rejection of the new farming
techniques led the government to implement gum and pine tree plantations to provide building
materials and firewood for citizens.
During Venda independence, regarding South African national conservation policy,
Tshiguvho (2008) remarks, “The tribal conservation systems continued even after colonization.
Under the old Bantu Authorities Act 68 of 1951 (BERCD 1979), the use and management of
natural resources was assigned to tribal authorities. The homelands then developed their own
conservation regulation, although the national regulations could overrule the tribal authority”
(Tshiguvho 44). Tshiguvho (2008) adds that although the semi-autonomous Venda government
in the 1980s recognized the Nature Conservation and National Parks Act 20 (1986), “which
controlled activities at the conservation areas in parks that were then established, including the
Makuya, the Nzhelele, and the Mphaphuli Cycad Reserves…These protected areas did not
adequately protect Montane Forests because they were located in semi-arid regions” (Tshiguvho
44). The Parks Act however, according to Tshiguvho, permitted Vhanghona to manage sacred
sites which safeguarded areas of original vegetation—yet this may not have been a consistent
privilege, given accounts by locals who reference the encroachment of such sacred areas such as
the Phiphidi waterfall, or the establishment of the tea plantation on Nevhutanda scared sites both
beginning in the 1980s in the latter years during apartheid.
The introduction of new farming and conservation techniques during the colonial and

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apartheid era and Venda’s quasi-independence was further reflection of White settler agrarian
policies and land control. Following the enactment of colonial and apartheid era land policies
explained in chapter two, Black land ownership in the western sense was reduced to 13percent
and women were consigned as mere peasant farmers (Ralushai 2002). Whites usurped the most
fertile and arable areas including the present day commercial farms of Levubu (Luvuvhu)
(Ralushai 2002). A Vhavenda song of protest portrayed this loss of land and self-determination
with the lyrics, “In our homes we used to live peacefully with abundance of food, fields and
domestic animals (mahaya ashu ro vha ro dzula nga mulalo)” (Ralushai 12). The dominion of
the land and the colonial and imperialist ideologies of the era, supported a power dynamic that is
discernable in present governing structures and traditional leadership.
During colonization and into the apartheid era, the government undermined and
manipulated traditional leaders and chiefs in the former apartheid homelands. In chapter five
makhadzi interview statements emphasize from their perspective that it is the non-Vhangona,
namely the Masingo chiefs who have been manipulated to support the interests of the
government over Vhavenda people. Seizing traditional authority has especially impacted the
former homelands as, “The apartheid government’s power of patronage was encapsulated in its
power to depose and install chiefs and it was an effective tool in implementing apartheid policies
in rural areas” (Matshidze 6). These changes in traditional leadership during colonialism and
apartheid marked when makhadzi first saw a deterioration of their own authority, which was
further cemented in the country’s democratic constitution post-apartheid (Matshidze 2013). Even
Venda’s ostensibly independent years did not sway the imbedded values of the White settler
regime, and its influences over traditional leadership and women’s access to land. On traditional
leadership, Matshidze contends that, “The encounter of chiefs with missionaries, merchant

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capital and colonialism significantly and ominously undermined traditional leadership.
Traditional leadership is an important relic of the pre-colonial and colonial orders that poses a
special challenge to post-colonial state makers.” Matshidze explains how under the current
democratic government, matters of succession that were once privately arbitrated are now
publically disputed and controlled by state authority. This is a direct result of the interference of
colonialism, apartheid, and the current democratic structures that never resolved these past
issues. The diminished role of makhadzi and women’s access to land will be further illuminated
in chapter five, including extensive gender analysis that corresponds with makhadzi interview
statements.
The subsections examined here, including: (1) Historical Debates (2) Venda Geography,
(3) Gender and Power, and (4) Colonialism & Apartheid, are intended to elucidate the
forthcoming interview statements and data analysis and results in chapters five, six and seven.
The ethnographic-style interviews lay the foundation of the study and reveal the arguments and
debates outlined throughout this chapter. It is anticipated that the interview statements may
conflict with the opinions of other Vhavenda ethnic groups, local politicians, traditional leaders,
or even Vhavenda Christians. As a researcher, my intention again is to highlight the claims and
oral history accounts of makhadzi members of the CBO, Dzomo La Mupo, who regard their
present customs as a true representation of the values of their ancestors, as they maintain that
they are the true Indigenous Vhavenda or Vhangona— and custodians of sacred sites.
Consequently, makhadzi interviewed for this research have firm opinions about the historical
impact of colonization, interethnic conflict, threats to their land and sacred sites as an
underrepresented group in the region.

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CHAPTER FOUR: METHODOLOGY

This chapter presents the rationale for utilizing a feminist methodological framework,
including African gender and broad feminist theories as guiding theoretical positions for the
study. Additionally, I describe the research design, data analysis, and procedures that justify the
adaptation and modification of grounded theory to analyze emerging themes within participant
discourse—and to analyze social processes based on my own empirical observations and
interpretations of the data. The theories outlined in this section offer oppositional knowledge and
research paradigms to contest hegemonic discourses about African women, particularly
examining the intersectional dimensions that impact gender-based discrimination such as race,
class, gender, Indigeneity, colonialism and neocolonialism. These perspectives problematize
assumptions about African patriarchy and gender bias in South Africa’s former apartheid
homeland of Venda through a post-colonial lens, and assist in answering the following research
questions: (1) How do colonial and apartheid frameworks and gender ideologies manifest in
South Africa’s land act legacies? (2) What impact has South Africa’s land acts, in conjunction
with traditional leadership, had on cultural biodiversity in the Vhembe District Municipality? (3)
What do Vhomakhadzi attribute to environmental degradation in the Vhembe District
Municipality? and (4) How do Vhomakhadzi construct cultural biodiversity preservation.
4.1 Feminist Qualitative Research
Feminist research in a diverse U.S. context is defined by analysis and theories of gender
and power, and their normative frameworks (Ramazanoglu 2002). Thus, feminist theories
deconstruct how and why women are systematically discriminated against across spectrums of
society, in legislation, economic and social institutions, or abstractly evidenced by language,
attitudes, and cultural beliefs. To analyze and dismantle these structures and beliefs, feminist

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theories also consider ethical research approaches with a commitment to social change. It is
therefore equally important how researchers choose their questions and techniques to engage in
gender-sensitive inquiries, to circumvent dominant epistemologies, and challenge ostensibly
objective positions that pose a threat to women as research subjects (Ramazanoglu 2002).
In fact, Harding (1987) and other feminist scholars (Doucet and Mauthner 2006;
Ramazanoglu 2002; Steady 2005; De Vault 1996) argue that objective research is essentially
unattainable given elite knowledge validation processes that determine who makes authoritative
knowledge claims and because of the various social filters that shape observations (qtd. in
DeVault 1996). As a social construct, knowledge historically situated within ethnocentric and
androcentric scholarship produces biased, racially distorted, and male centered results. Culture,
science, and even biology itself are socially constructed (Steady 2005; De Vault 1996) and,
“feminist epistemological discussions owe a great debt to feminist scientists who relentlessly
critiqued the effects of gender bias in the collection, interpretation, and organization of data on
sex differences in behavioral, biological, and biobehavioral scientific research” (Doucet and
Mauthner 36-37). Moreover, positivistic research paradigms have been used within science to
control women through medicine and psychiatry— used to define women as hysterical, mentally
ill, and “emotional,” or used to maintain social power relations over women’s reproductive
choices and health (Tamale 2011; De Vault 1999). Feminist research strategies reject these
legacies, and attempt to broaden inquiries that have been limited by the social and cultural
partialities of androcentric and Eurocentric/ Euro-American epistemologies and methodologies.
Feminist scholars (Hill- Collins 1999; Harding 1991; Wuest 1995; Smith 1980; Smith
1982; Lorde 1984; Davis 1981; Crenshaw 1989; Hill-Collins 1990) critique male centered
research paradigms —which impact studies of culture, race, and gender in the natural and social

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sciences, to create less harmful scholarly models. Harding (1987) contends that there are no
feminist methods but rather methodologies with attributes that support gender-sensitive research
designs, such as feminist empiricism, feminist standpoint epistemologies, and postmodern
epistemologies (qtd. in Doucet & Mauthner 37). According to Doucet and Mauthner (2006),
there are three characteristics that define feminist empiricism: 1) the acknowledgement that all
observations are “value-tinged”, thus empirical inquiry is shaped by value judgments, 2)
empiricism as a source of evidence is contingent on sensory evidence, and lastly 3) knowledge
does not come from a single knower but a community of knowers or epistemological
communities. Like feminist empiricism, feminist standpoint and postmodern epistemologies
question observable reality and serve as an example of the overlapping features Harding herself
acknowledged among her epistemological and methodological descriptions (Doucet and
Mauthner 2005). Feminist standpoint epistemologies by contrast, however, challenge
communities of knowers by granting epistemic privilege to women, asserting that research on
power asymmetries and marginalized populations should begin with the most disempowered
groups in society. Such groups, it is argued have special insight and perspectives from their
vantage point or standpoint that assist in analyzing power dynamics and domination, where
social contexts are shaped by the knower(s) (Collins 199; Harding 1991; Wuest 1995).
Moreover, Collins suggests that Black women’s standpoints and outsider-within location provide
optimal understanding of power hierarchies given experiences with multiple oppressions (Collins
1998).
Black feminists (Smith 1980; Lorde 1984; Davis 1981; Crenshaw 1989; Hill-Collins;
1990; Higginbotham and Scott 1982) have produced groundbreaking theories and intellectual
work to challenge harmful research used to construct pathological profiles of women of color as

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sexually deviant and criminal. In particular Black women’s critical social theories have
embraced intersectional research and standpoint epistemologies to challenge the authoritative
White and/or male voice that makes harmful knowledge claims in the natural and social sciences;
for example, according to Millman and Kanter (1975), harmful knowledge claims include
theories of family, work, sexuality, and other socio-cultural notions about African descendent
women through-out the diaspora (qtd. in De Vault 1996). These theories, often rooted in
historically racist studies such as the mock science of phrenology (Hull et. al 1982) have wrought
portrayals of intellectual delay and behavioral deviance among Black people.
Second wave Black feminists such as Barbara Smith (1980, 1982), Audrey Lorde
(1984), Angela Davis (1981), Kimberle Crenshaw (1989), and Patricia Hill Collins (1990) have
produced intersectional research critiquing Black matriarchy theory and the social science
theories on Black family studies that focus on Black mother-son dyads to draw conclusions on
the failures of Black mothers and female-headed households (Smith 1980; Higginbotham and
Scott 1982). These scholars have also engaged in research to subvert the deviant images
mentioned, used to disparage and stereotype Black women resulting in repressive policies, such
as eugenics, welfare reform, prison legislation and gaps in medical research on Black women.
Elevating Black women’s critical social theories above mere “thought” or “Folk Wisdom,” Black
feminists such as Patricia Hill-Collins have supported Black female epistemic privilege
particularly for those subjectivities outside of the academy—reiterating the supposition that,
“women’s lives are the ‘places from which to start off knowledge projects” (Doucet and
Mauthner (2006 ) Further, building Black women’s political collectivity by isolating social
justice issues pertinent to Black women’s realities challenges these stereotypes and images that
shape Black women’s social and political representation (Hill-Collins 2000). Thus, feminist

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epistemologies merely provide a framework for more critical analysis, where previous research
designs were non-reflexive and falsely centered on White men’s (and women’s) perspectives
about the world (De Vault 1996).
In an effort to analyze the social processes which have altered Vhomakhadzi traditional
roles and way of life, this dissertation strives towards social responsibility, articulated by
Vhavenda women and Vhomakhadzi of the community based organization, Dzomo La Mupo
(DLM). And from their own experiences the study analyzes their approaches towards
empowerment as self-identified ecologists and environmentalists. Thus, African gender theories
and feminisms are the guiding theoretical positions that underscore the study, emphasizing: (1)
the critical examination of gender as a socio-cultural construct through the pre-colonial, colonial,
and post-colonial eras in Africa (2) intersectional research paradigms that analyze gender as an
organizing principle in economic and corporate globalization and (3) critiques of hegemonic
development paradigms that marginalize African women, together complimenting feminist
methodologies in environmental research and eco-feminism that clarify the twin dominations of
women and nature.
4.2 Black and African Feminism(s)
Early iterations of feminism, particularly in the U.S., were articulated within a White
middle class framework of analysis. Within the feminist movement in the 19th to mid-20th
centuries throughout the longue durée of the Women’s Movement, feminism concentrated on
middle class White women’s experiences and gender equity in a White patriarchal society
(Springer 2002). Feminist politics and theory failed to acknowledge Black women’s intellectual
discourse including those intellectuals who had long observed how race, class, and gender
oppression together uniquely affect(ed) Black women (Barriteau 2007, Kraditor 1965, Collins

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1996). One such illustration is visible in Nancy Chodrow’s (1978) work on sex role socialization
and her scholarship shaped by psychoanalytic feminist theory, as well as Carol Gilligan’s (1982)
study of the moral development of women. Both scholars have been critiqued for their
disproportionate use of samples of White, middleclass, women in their research which makes
overarching claims about women’s behavior— again positioning White women’s experiences as
universal and normative (Collins 2000). Audrey Lorde famously addressed such theoretical
disparities, challenging the research of both Chodrow and scholar Mary Daly, author of
Gyn/Ecology: The Metaethics of Radical Feminism (1978). In an open letter to Daly in 1978,
Lorde emphasizes how White feminists continue to ignore the lived experiences of Black
women; she states, “What you excluded from Gyn/Ecology dismissed my heritage and the
heritage of all other non- European women and denied the real connections that exist between all
of us” (Lorde 66). Thus feminist theory and discourse narrowly defined women’s experiences
from a middle class, White, standpoint and could neither recognize White female privilege or
Black women’s gender-based discrimination within a patriarchal and capitalist society (Springer
2002; hooks 1984).
By its omission of Black women’s intellectual perspectives and experiences, feminist
theory in the U.S. has been heavily criticized for upholding patriarchal structures and elite
systems of knowledge validation. To reiterate an earlier point, Black feminist thought has
developed analysis that transcends standard epistemological criteria, which challenge the very
foundations of intellectual discourse to push against these hegemonic discourses that normalize
White women’s experiences (Collins 2000, 1998). Black feminism has reclaimed Black
women’s intellectual traditions, throughout the diaspora, from women both inside and outside of
the academy— to build upon theoretical cogitations in order to organize around specific political

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and social justice objectives. Black feminism is built upon the supposition that Black women’s
lived experiences shape meaning and require alternative knowledge validation due to the
academy’s dismissal of Black women’s intellectual work and its assumptions that Black feminist
thought lacks academic rigor and a solid theoretical foundation.
Likewise, African gender studies contest narrow epistemologies, which stem from
androcentric and Eurocentric research and narrow discussions in the field, by critically
examining constructions of gender through the pre-colonial, colonial and postcolonial eras.
African gender studies analyzes gender flexibility that is distinguished from Western gender
conceptions. Doing so challenges universal gender norms, explains differential power and
patriarchy, dispels normative Whiteness and deconstructs historically racist ideology.
Furthermore, African feminism uses intersectional research paradigms—identified as a
framework to interpret the social dimensions and structural components of repression as
interlocking systems. Therefore, African feminist theoretical frameworks draw from past
lineages to clarify the multiple forms of oppression African women continue to face due to race,
gender, colonialism and neocolonialism to offer solutions for African women’s empowerment
and transformation in Africa.
African gender scholars (Oyewumi 1997; Kopytoff 2005; Amadiume 1987; Achebe
2011; Osborn 2011) challenge universal notions of womanhood and constructions of gender that
feature prominently in Western gender discourse. These scholars question concepts and
approaches in gender studies steeped in Western experiences, asserting that because gender is a
socio-cultural concept and women’s and gender studies’ origination in the Western academy
cannot be applied to African realities. Oyewumi (1997) argues that because Western expressions
of feminism circulate the domestic sphere, gender studies likewise revolve around the nuclear

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family construct. This is regarded as an imposed normative framing of women’s issues that fails
to answer the necessary questions for gender research in Africa exclusively. African gender
theorists and African feminists (Oyewumi 2005; Amadiume 1987) reason that normative
Whiteness, the nuclear family construct, and strict gender norms are prominent aspects of
feminist theorizing, therefore they alternatively present models of non-gendered African cultures
and family structures as research paradigms.
Amadiume (1987) and Achebe’s (2011) research on constructions of gender in precolonial Nigerian societies deconstruct the limitations of Western gender research that adhere to
rigid gender conceptions and hierarchies and the inseparability of sex and gender. They have
paid special attention to areas of gender flexibility in culture, language/ etymology, divisions of
labor, domestic and family hierarchies, religion and African political systems that directly
contrast with the strict gender roles of the West and the resultant social constructions of gender
and power that portray African women, as a monolithic “oppressed” group under the thumb of
African patriarchy. Amadiume’s (1987) socio-cultural analysis of gender ideology in precolonial (Pre-1900) Nnobi society in Igboland, now Southeastern Nigeria, for example, reveals
great gender flexibility in culture and language. Her research asserts that realms of power were
not masculine or feminine in pre-colonial Nnobi society. Flexible gender systems were
represented by male roles that were open for women through such practices as nhanye, ‘male
daughter’, and igba ohu, ‘female husbands; daughters who are ‘male’ in ritual and political
matters, and female husbands who aid family in different matters and assist wives. There was no
sexual role to these identities, and therefore no gender confusion by these positions within a
family.
Achebe’s (2011) research on the historical figure, Ahebi Ugbabe in colonial Nigeria, who

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came to be known as a female king, is another noteworthy example in the same time period of
gender flexibility in African societies in Nigeria. Ahebi Ugbabe serves as another model for how
gender is a socio-cultural and historical construct and why gender in Africa cannot be understood
through Western theoretical frameworks alone. Like Amadiume, Achebe (2011) contends that in
pre-colonial Igbo societies, sex and gender did not coincide, as seen with the gendered
performances of the male daughters and female husbands, or in her analysis of Ahebi Ugbabe’s
gendered performance of headman, warrant chief, and eventually king of Enugu-Ezike which is
situated in the northernmost tip of present day Enugu state. (Achebe 2011; Amadiume 1987).
Historically, Ugbabe exhibited a range of female masculinities and married many women. Her
story models gender malleability in the practice of woman-to-woman marriage, which was a
distinction of wealth and status, not of homosexuality (Achebe 2011; Amadiume 1987). It was
colonial conquest by the British after 1900 that altered these flexible gender roles over time
(Oyewumi 2000; Amadiume 1987) shedding light on the modification of gender in European
colonies, and the construction and imposition of colonial gender ideologies. Amadiume and
Achebe’s research supports suppositions described in chapter two, that gender flexibility was
prevalent in Vhavenda/Vhangona culture underscoring the role of Vhomakhadzi who rule with
the Chief (Matshidzhe 2013; Buijs 2002).
Western thought embodied many sex and class disparities that were then foisted onto
African men and women in the colonies through fixed gender ideologies originated in the
European metropoles; a European woman was always female regardless of her social
achievement or status (Amadiume 1987). This difference represents many challenges concerning
how gender should be studied in Africa. Consequently, it is problematic when African societies
and political systems are likened to the West in academic research. Ignoring these distinctions

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conceals relevant information necessary to study how gender was ultimately constructed and
perceived, for example in South Africa’s apartheid homelands, and how these philosophies have
permeated present-day political systems.
McClintock (1995) and Magubane’s (2004) research examines the intersections of
imperial power, commerce, sexuality, race, and gender as they were articulated in the imperial
homelands in Europe, which explains the racialized and gendered scope of colonialism and
neocolonialism. Constructions of race and gender in this context were essential to Western
industrial modernity—and these social orders were also central to the evolution of capitalism.
McClintock (1995) argues that scholars must first look to the European metropoles as the
location from which race was constructed to make meaning out of new labor divisions and
hierarchies in African societies. The African body was defined in an economic framework and as
Magubane (2004) argues, became a metaphor for the body politic. Magubane’s (2004) analysis
of laws and rhetorical devices and imagery used to construct poverty discourses and gender in
Great Britain and its colonies during the 19th century, clarifies how portrayals of African people
proliferated throughout the European metropoles and their colonies, also shaping gender
conceptions of Black South African women in the emerging ethnic reserves and homelands. The
literature reveals the systematic way that women in colonial Africa were marginalized and how
their social roles were depoliticized (Achebe 2011; Amadiume 1987; Osborn 2011; Magubane
2004; McClintock 1995; Frankel 2008) in an effort to establish a natural social division of labor
and power conceived by colonial administrators. Depoliticizing women’s roles and influences
was typical of colonialism (Osborn 2011). African gender theorists would argue that ignoring
this pre-colonial and colonial history presents an incomplete examination of gender, which fails
to contextualize present day gender relations and gender-based discrimination in Africa.

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Analysis of contemporary social and economic conditions in Africa are also vulnerable to
an imposed normative framing positioned within Western gender studies and NGO initiatives.
Dominant Western epistemologies in this sense are regarded by many as harmful to African
women (Taiwo 2004; Kopytoff 2005; Haysom 2001). It is argued that Western feminist’s
concentrate on development, division of labor, and class in ways that do not fit the complex and
pluralistic needs of African societies, thus poverty of theory manifests most prominently in the
misrepresentation of African peoples. Described as safari scholarship (Taiwo 2004) such
frameworks are considered shallow, presumptuous, and simple given Africa’s massive
continental diversity — resulting in a fixation with the rural, the exotic and Afro-pessimistic
interpretations of African men, society, and gender relations (Taiwo 2004; Kopytoff 2005).
Yet alternatively, in examining the idea of differential power, many African gender scholars
(Wanzala 1998; Lewis 2001; McFadden 2001; McFadden 2009; McFadden 2011) feel hindered
by scholarship that focuses asymmetrically on the politics of difference between the West and
Africa, considered as pardoning African patriarchy, or romanticizing the notion that patriarchy
did not exist in pre-colonial Africa.
Wanzala (1998) frames her radical analysis and conceptual approach to understanding
women’s access to resources and development needs as being controlled by an influx of societal
powers, what she calls, a multidimensional conceptualization of power. Her radical analysis
considers patriarchy, and a hierarchical social relation based on class, race, and religion, and
does not posit that patriarchy and social hierarchies are due to colonialism exclusively. She
asserts that some of these structures resulted from pre-colonial African societies. McFadden
(2001) likewise recognizes the historical forces that shape present day neocolonialism and
globalization in reinforcing a contemporary imperialist world order, which has especially

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challenged the rights and citizenship of South African women. For example, the reinstitution of
traditional courts and the assemblage of local, national and multinational actors, who appropriate
imperialist authority and gender ideologies now unify men of different colors and class to
continue to control Black South African women in a “colorblind global patriarchy” in the postapartheid era (McFadden 2001).
So although colonialism did alter gender relations in Africa, there is debate about how
prevalent patriarchy was in pre-colonial societies. African patriarchy does manifest in
contemporary African social affairs and gender relations; and in effect colludes with other global
forms of patriarchy in a neocolonial context. Consequently, in many African countries women
find themselves vulnerable to both local and global economies that offer little support for land
tenure or economic security for women (Boko 2005; Mate 2011; Tsikata, D. and J Kerr. 2000),
which is significant because it explains how local and global systems of patriarchy disadvantage
women and privilege men (Boko 2005; Mate 2011; Tsikata, D. and J Kerr. 2000).
4.3 Grounded Theory
Grounded theory (GT) is an approach for developing theory that is “grounded in data
systematically gathered and analyzed” (Strauss & Corbin 217-285). Glaser and Strauss (1967) as
progenitors of the method, diverted from popular social-science research trends at the time, to
suggest that results could move beyond positivist claims (Bryant, et al. 2007; Charmaz, 2006).
Therefore, GT supports empirical observations derived from intensive interviews, documents,
observations and surveys in qualitative research and as secondary analysis of quantitative data
(Bryant, et al. 2007; Charmaz 2006; Creswell 1998). Using various stages of coding, GT relies
on emergent data from participant discourse and the construction of categories to make thematic
and conceptual links. GT can be used to generate new theories or generate analytical models,

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measure data against preexisting theoretical claims for further investigation, or to examine causal
relationships to analyze social phenomena (Bryant, et al. 2007; Charmaz, 2006). Yet what
grounded theory is not a method dependent on prevailing theoretical claims to build upon. Glaser
and Strauss’ departure from traditional research methods of the era in fact, were prompted by
two main concerns: (1) the primacy accorded to verification of existing theories; and (2) theory
generated by logical deduction from a priori assumptions (Glaser and Strauss 3), Bryant, et al.
2007; Charmaz 2006). In essence, these concerns parallel those of feminist researchers who
regard positivism and objectivity as anchored to privileged knowledge validation, as well as
historically determined and universalized by androcentric and Eurocentric/ Euro-American
research.
This study, however, relies on a modified grounded theory approach, as I adhere to a
preexisting feminist methodological framework, while concurrently following Gurd’s (2008)
four principle procedures of GT: (1) Iterative Data Collection, (2) Theoretical Sampling, (3)
Constant Comparison, and (4) Explicit Coding and Theory Building. The adapted grounded
theory approaches used for this project are complimentary to the study’s gender-sensitive
research design—and the feminist qualitative approaches that shaped the guiding theoretical
perspectives of the study. When Harding outlined the three types of feminist epistemologies: (1)
Feminist Standpoint, (2) Feminist Empiricism and (3) Postmodern Epistemologies (Harding
1987; Wuest 1995), her aim was to diminish bias, highlight the lived experiences of women
through their own voices, and examine patriarchy as an ever changing, non-static entity. Scholars
(Wuest 1995; Keddy 1996; Kushner et al., 2003; Allen 2010) who share the perspective that
grounded theory is complimentary to feminist qualitative research reference the preeminence of
lived experience as a source of knowledge as a means of enhancing deductive evidence (Wuest

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1995). Therefore, the study draws from African feminist and ecological feminist theories for the
researcher to explicate meaning from participant discourse, and to analyze the social processes
which have altered Vhomakhadzi traditional roles and way of life. The research in this sense is
subjective, giving epistemic privilege to Vhomakhadzi, and placing women at the center of
analysis to deepen the conversation about African gender and feminist theories through argument
and debate. The challenge that remains is to be reflexive and cognizant of one’s empirical
interpretation and the ensuing implications.
4.4 Data Analysis and Procedures
In the analytic process, grounded theory relies on focused attention on the data. For this
project, qualitative coding alone is not analysis. Rather the researcher reviews repeatedly the data
to glean emerging conceptual categories for further examination; described as conceptual
elements of theory, or to construct an analytical model (Glaser and Strauss 36). Grounded theorycoding comprises, “two main phases: 1) an initial phase involving naming each word, line, or
segment of data followed by 2) a focused, selective phase that uses the most significant or
frequent initial codes to sort, synthesize, integrate, and organize large amounts of data”
(Charmaz 46-47). The approach for this project deviates from surface qualitative coding, going
deeper to unearth the meaning of perspectives and language. A native speaker would
undoubtedly have an advantage, yet participant observation aided in this process by supporting
an added layer of understanding to interpret intonation and repeated phrasing and word choice.
Living in the home of a makhadzi also provided the opportunity for greater clarification and
discussion of data and guidance for rephrasing of questions. Lastly, listening to recorded
interviews repeatedly, especially listening and remembering the expression of emotion of either
frustration, sadness or humor, categorically assisted in the process of interpretation as well

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(Pichler 2008; Charmaz 2006).
Throughout the two phases of coding and constructing categories, analysis was facilitated
by extended research notes and the construction of research memos (Charmaz 2006). Memos and
extended notes allowed the researcher to develop ideas for analysis, data comparison, and further
development of conceptual categories (Charmaz 2006). The combined effort of coding data,
devising conceptual categories, and writing research memos helps the researcher make sense of
empirical observations. From the data the researcher may notice patterns and explore analytical
hunches to make meaning out of the experiences of participants and the discourse from
interviews (see Figure 3).

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A COMBINED
AFRICAN GENDER
AND ECOLOGICAL
FEMINIST
THEORETICAL
FRAMEWORK
Intersectionality

Challenges
Positivism &
Priori Knowledge

GROUNDED
THEORY

QUALITATIVE
FEMINIST
RESEARCH

Emergent Data in
Participant Discourse

Standpoint Theory

ETHNOGRAPHIC
-STYLE
INTERVIEWS

Figure 3: Diagram: This figure represents the study’s methodology and its complimentary intersections.

4.5 Data Collection
Supplemented by multiple sources of data from three data collection trips to South
Africa— between 2012 and 2016, this is an empirical study of the environmentalism and cultural
biodiversity preservation efforts of Vhomakhadzi who are members of the community-based
organization Dzomo La Mupo. Through ethnographic-style interviews, participant observations,
and archival research, the study investigates the historical and present-day land legacies and
gender politics that have contributed to the erosion of cultural biodiversity, as well as Dzomo La

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Mupo’s subsequent preservation efforts.
The research site and study population is located in the former apartheid homeland of
Venda—five hours north of the capital city of Pretoria and near the South African and Zimbabwe
border. Venda and its various districts are located in what was once the Northern Transvaal, later
renamed Limpopo Province, post-apartheid. Within present-day Limpopo Province, this study is
located in the Vhembe District Municipality, which encompasses all of the former Venda
communities and still reflects the culture and linguistics of Vhavenda people, including the
Indigenous Vhangona/Vhongwaniwapo people (SAHRA Application 2012). The research
examines the overall environmentalism of Vhomakhadzi in this municipality, also focusing on
their efforts to protect three of over 54 identified sacred sites: (1) Zwifho zwa Vhutanda, (2)
Zwifho zwa Guvhukuvu, La Nwadzongolo, and (3) Zwifho zwa Thathe.
The Vhembe District Municipality in Venda, like many districts in the former apartheid
homelands, contends with high rates of poverty and unemployment and again little access to
quality, arable land. And Although Vhembe, has a better infrastructure than most former
homeland districts, many village and township residents do not have indoor plumbing or
electricity. So while residents in the townships have access to water taps on their property, which
are provided by the Municipality, those who live in the villages that are governed by
Vhamusanda or chiefs often times only have access to communal water pumps. As for those who
are privileged enough to have electricity, many still rely largely on firewood for cooking
outdoors (Tshiguvho 2008). With this said, there are also wealthy pockets of communities with
sizable homes that exist, but are not representative of the average Vhavenda residence.
My lodging for the first month initially began at a lodge in Thohoyandou—the former

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capital of Venda. Mr. Ramunenyiwa, the owner of the lodge, a Balemba28 gentleman, explained
that the building was once the private residence of government officials during the homeland’s
nominal independence. During my initial time in Venda, I walked from the lodge to the
University for research, spending afternoons writing notes and charting out the week’s objectives
in the small dining hall of the lodge, in view of a family of Vervet monkeys that rambunctiously
passed through the backyard and on the tin roof covering most days.
The previous data collection trips to the region I relied on human rights lawyers,
professors, and Vhavenda residents either familiar with the specifics of Dzomo La Mupo’s
activism, the Phiphidi waterfall case and sacred site preservation efforts, or merely Vhavenda
culture. Nevertheless, I had not yet gained access to the inner circle of the Dzomo La Mupo
community based organization. Any resistance I met was in large part due to the controversial
nature of land politics in South Africa. In fact, according to Tshiguvho (2008), “During colonial
times, Venda people feared that data collected by White [Western] researchers could be used to
disadvantage them. My informants claim that such has been the case with regard to land
dispositions that occurred during the apartheid era. According to them, their lands were taken
from them after White agents learned more about these lands from the people themselves”
(Tshiguvho 48). Yet upon returning on this last data collection trip, organizational changes
within Dzomo La Mupo and their international partnerships— allowed me to negotiate entry
with director, Mphatheleni Makaulule (Mpthathe), to observe their regional environmentalism,
the threats they face, and the cultural factors that shape their preservation efforts in the
Municipality. Ultimately, Makaulule and her husband Mr. Mashudu Rubson Dima (AKA
“Doctor” Dima) were key informants in the field along with David Mulaudzi a resident of the
28

The Balemba or Lemba people, known as the Black Jews of Southern Africa have shared genealogy and DNA
with Jewish populations and likewise retain practices influenced by Judaism.

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village of Tshakhuma, and Khathutshelo Mphidi who at the time of the study worked in the
special collections unit at the University of Venda (UNIVEN) in Thohoyandou.
While nurturing my budding connections with Dzomo La Mupo, initially over e-mail and
on the phone, I also spent time driving to various sites with David Mulaudzi. In addition to
visiting various dams and reservoirs, such as the Vondo Dam and The Department of Water
Affairs and Forestry—and driving through many of the region’s commercial farms, such as
Levubu Farms— David and I spent part of my first week in Venda in the village of Tshakhuma.
In Tshakhuma we spoke to scholars off the record about Vhavenda culture, and talked to local
actors from the soapie29, Muvhango— and the first Vhavenda feature-length film, Elelwani,
many of whom live there in David’s community. In addition to compensating David for his time
and gas (or petrol as they say) I also purchased lunches for David and myself, and we therefore
spent time at grocery stores, mostly the local Spar, Shoprite, and even the Nandos and Galitos
fast food restaurants. We also occasionally ventured to the impressive fruit stands at the roadside
Tshakhuma Fruit Market where several times David facilitated my purchase of papayas, mangos,
bananas and oranges. My drives with David, a very affable and well-connected man, afforded me
the opportunity to learn important Luvenda greetings and phrases, hear many stories about
Vhavenda people, and oral history— and become familiar with the local geography and observe
the infrastructure of various towns and villages.
My first in-person contact with Mphatheleni Makaulule, director of Dzomo La Mupo was
during a five-hour meeting at her home with David, where I interviewed her husband and her in
the township of Vuwani. Interviews were proceeded by a walking tour of the township and
neighboring village to see the deforestation, dried up rivers, and pollution. It seemed that

29

Soapies are the South African equivalent to Soap Opera’s in the United States or Telenovelas in Latin America.

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Makaulule and I had an immediate connection and shortly after meeting her, she and I built
enough rapport that I was invited much of the first month to spend nights in their home in a guest
room in the Vuwani Township/Village where the majority of my interviews and research took
place. I soon found myself trekking from the lodge with an overnight bag to the taxi rink in
Thohoyandou, to take the 30-45-minute Kombi30 ride to Vuwani— where I then walked to her
family’s residence to spend the night which often led to two or three nights at a time. Thereafter,
I would return to my lodge to get clean clothes or to get alone time to focus on my research. I
made a good enough impression on Makaulule’s family— her husband, teenage son and twoyear old son, that we negotiated that I could spend an additional month at her home, followed by
archival research in Pretoria, yet with an open invitation to return if needed.
4.6 Participants
Vhomakhadzi (recognized as the paternal aunt as well as an ancestral role) are the focus of
this study, principally those who participate in the community based organization Dzomo La
Mupo (DLM), again formed in 2008, by Mphatheleni Makaulule. These women work to preserve
cultural biodiversity by restoring indigenous agricultural techniques through the implementation
of agro-ecology strategies, by empowering household farmers, and sometimes through protests
and litigation to protect land. DLM also works towards alleviating the massive destruction of
indigenous forests, rivers, and wetlands in Vhembe. Their community work stems from an
ancient cultural role Vhomakhadzi inhabit as protectors of sacred forests, as mediators between
the spirit and physical realms, and by presiding over ceremonies pertinent to agricultural cycles
and harvesting of crops (Matshidze 2013). Other environmental threats identified by DLM
include multinational development projects such as non-eco-tourism ventures and mining

30

Kumbis are informal mini bus taxis in South Africa and other parts of Africa.

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companies— namely the Australian based mining company, Coal of Africa (CoAL). Such
development projects in Vhembe, particularly mining, deeply impact water resources and climate
change and also fail to adhere to models of sustainable development. Interviewing this group of
women was of particular interest because, amidst the cultural erosion that has diminished the role
of Vhomakhadzi—or reduced them to the type of fictional portrayals seen on the soapie
Muvhango (see more in chapter five), Vhomakhadzi of DLM represent a contingent of Vhavenda
people—the majority of whom are elders—who retain a deep understanding of their culture, and
an acute awareness of the environmental, social, and political nuances which threaten their
indigenous way of life. After previous data collection trips and snowball sampling of other
makhadzi in the region, DLM was confirmed to be the most relevant group for interviews and
focus groups. DLM comprises the informants because it is the most relevant, wide-spread, and to
date, most effective community organizing in the district to tackle cultural biodiversity
preservation by Vhomakhadzi themselves31. Further, Mpathe—a relatively well-known
indigenous and environmental activist and Phangami32—represents in many ways a growing
movement and a resurgence of pride after centuries of cultural denigration post colonialism and
apartheid.
I conducted 32 semi-structured, qualitative interviews with Vhomakhadzi (paternal
aunts/women), between the ages of 20 and 90. All Vhomakhadzi interviewed are participants of
the Dzomo La Mupo (DLM) CBO, representing 11 different clans and 3,000 members and
households that support DLM’s mission. The interviews took place at participants’ homes in the

31

As of 2016, the Global Environment Facility, Small Grants Programme (GEF SGP) in South Africa plans to work
with pilot organizations that have used DLM as a model for aspects their work. Most are not formal organizations at
this point.
32
Phangami is a Luvenda word for one who initiates a journey, a leader who has a vision which others are able to
follow.

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villages and townships of Vuwani, Thohoyandou, Tshidzivhe, and Tshakuma. The majority of
the interviews were conducted in Vuwani at Makaulule’s home. I also hosted three focus groups
with 7-8 women per group of which Makaulule translated the discussions. Makaulule recruited
all participants for the focus groups based on the CBO’s strategic outreach programs on seeds,
sacred sites, and wetlands. Throughout the interviews and focus groups the conversation centered
on questions derived from the four main research questions, and covered topics such as the role
of a makhadzi, women’s roles in the environment, sacred sites, eco-cultural mapping,
environmental degradation, chiefs and their interaction with the government, and colonialism
and the impact of missionaries on Vhavenda culture. In the case of the focus groups, questions
included the basic questions devised from the main research questions— as well as questions
pertaining to their specific outreach program—i.e. additional questions of sacred sites, seeds, and
water or questions to identify women’s and/or Vhomakhadzi cultural roles specific to these
outreach activities.
4.7 Participant Observation
Living with Makaulule’s family was ideal for participant observation, granting me time to
learn about the family’s day-to-day lives and activities. Makaulule herself is a makhadzi; in
addition to her community activism through DLM, Makaulule and her husband are Indigenous
Knowledge Systems (IKS) experts and traditional healers, as well as wilderness retreat leaders.
They both appear in the media regularly, and Dima served as a cultural consultant for the first
large-scale Venda film mentioned earlier, Elelwani— directed by Ntshavheni wa Luruli, released
in 2012. Venda has the most college-educated population among the former homelands.
Makaulule has a B.A. degree in Education from UNIVEN and her family represents the average
socio-economic status of most village/ township residents; therefore, I was able to observe

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average Vhavenda family gatherings, cooking, TV watching, parties, interaction with neighbors,
including inter-ethnic perceptions of Tsonga33 people in the township. I was also attentive to
community policing and reports of nearby mob justice, like the stoning of a thief who was a
repeat offender in a nearby community. Moreover, I witnessed traditional healing sessions and
consultations, and attended activities largely inaccessible by Westerners. I ran many errands with
the family that varied from attending community organizing meetings, delivering packages to
chief’s and neighboring municipalities, to visiting both Mpathe and her husband’s mothers— the
latter of whom was over one-hundred-years old with a sharp mind and amazing recall about her
experiences during the colonial era, and witnessing firsthand the role of Vhomakhadzi in
safeguarding and maintaining wetlands.
For two months I also interacted with and on occasion babysat the Makaulule and Dima
children. I once watched the kids at night, while Makaulule and her husband attended a funeral—
as traditional Vhavenda funeral rituals are held at night and on the weekends typically. The
children and I played games, watched movies, and I heated up food on a newly acquired propane
stove in the back of the house. On another occasion I accompanied the family to a local clinic
and helped keep the youngest son calm during a vaccination. I wrote my interactions and
experiences down in a journal, and electronically—taking copious notes on the many stories they
shared about Venda history, such as the sacred drum, ngoma lungundu 34, or historical conflicts
with the Masingo, and the ceremony that Dima led for the reburial of the indigenous bones at
that UNESCO World heritage site at Mapungubwe. They also shared their disputes with

33

Tsonga people, are often referred to derogatorily as Shangaan(s). The incorporation of Tsonga residents within
Vhavenda municipalities causes ongoing tension and protests in Vuwani and surrounding areas.
34
These are oral history accounts of a sacred drum that warded off enemies, sometimes likened to or referred to as
the arc of the covenant and thought to be brought to Venda by the Balemba people. Scholars (Kirkaldy 2005;
Loubser 2008) reference the drums use by the Masingo mahosi to defeat his enemies.

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assertions made by the noteworthy Vhavenda scholar Victor Ralushai.
In addition to observing the family, I also engaged in direct participant observation as a
volunteer and research assistant for Makaulule and Dzomo La Mupo. In this role, I attended
Dzomo La Mupo meetings, conducted in English and Luvenda/ Tshivenda, attended the
Indigenous Knowledge System Interface Indaba Conference sponsored by UNIVEN, and cowrote a grant proposal with organizational support from the Eco-Catalyst Foundation located in
Virginia. This type of direct participation was an invaluable experience that allowed me to
interact with Vhomakhadzi, Vhamusanda, and learn about the inner workings of their CBO.
All observations were open, except for the concealed observations at the Tshivashe Tea
Plantation. Given the tensions around land disputes, I thought it best that I merely expressed an
interest in touring the grounds as a tourist. At the tea plantation I arranged an extensive tour of
the fields and plant facilities. My informal conversations with the plantation’s field manager and
plant staff and my observations of their activities, gave me insight into the worker’s opinions of
fragmented sacred sites on the property, as well as village gravesites also on the grounds
4.8 Archival Data
As outlined in the literature review, the research includes a wealth of studies, reports and
legislation available on the Internet including publications from non-governmental agencies and
conservationist organizations such as the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural
Organization (UNESCO), the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN), and
The World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF), and more. These reports provided information on
current conservationist strategies and policies, as well as international laws that impact
indigenous communities and cultural biodiversity—further, complete bills and land laws,
including the South African Constitution, were accessible from the Internet.

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Upon analyzing South Africa’s Land Acts, and pertinent secondary data, I focus on areas
of vulnerability for indigenous populations, women, and the environment including stipulations
that may conflict with the goals of the democratic constitution, especially the equality clauses
such as sections 9 (3) which specifies that the state may not unfairly discriminate directly or
indirectly against anyone on one or more grounds, including race, gender, sex, pregnancy,
marital status, ethnic or social origin, color, sexual orientation, age, disability, religion,
conscience, belief, culture, language and birth; and section 25(6) referencing people whose
tenure of land is legally insecure as a result of past racial discriminatory laws or practices under
apartheid (Constitution of The Republic of South Africa, 1996). Other important Internet
research comprised documentaries and websites that showcased the environmentalist and land
advocacy campaigns and activism on the ground in South Africa, including detailed media
accounts of the environmental organizing and protests led by Vhomakhadzi and Dzomo La
Mupo, CBO (See film and documentaries in bibliography).
Data retrieved from the field, as mentioned in chapter two, consist of sources from the
libraries and special collection units of the Universities of Venda, South Africa, and Pretoria.
Records included the Berlin Mission Society records, ethnographic data derived from the Van
Warmelo collection, and the Hugh A. Stayt ethnographic series on the Bavenda, the prolific
research of Vhavenda scholar Victor Ralushai —as well as a plethora of relevant secondary
academic sources and periodicals. From the University of Venda I also relied upon student
dissertations that provided invaluable science and conservation research from Vhavenda students
and scholars. Other key documents and materials obtained directly from informants in the field
in the townships and villages pertain to original court affidavits and legal letters, clan letters of
appeal, protected area applications submitted to the South African Heritage Resources Agency

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(SAHRA), Dzomo La Mupo meetings, A Global Positioning Systems (GPS) report detailing the
locations of fragmented remains of sacred areas, videos of public participation meetings to
discuss proposed mining projects, videos of eco-cultural mapping workshops, and original ecocultural maps (community maps) constructed by Vhomakhadi themselves. All materials from the
field are ethnographic data analyzed, and used to validate participant discourse.

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CHAPTER FIVE: DATA ANALYSIS I

Utilizing a qualitative feminist and grounded theory-methodological approach, the
following data analysis and results presented in chapters five, six, and seven utilize data from
periodicals, interviews, participant observation, and primary sources from the field. In particular,
an examination of Dzomo La Mupo (DLM)’s community-based organizing of Vhomakhadzi
revealed Indigenous/Vhangona women’s perspectives about gender, culture, land, and the
environment and their political correlations and implications. The data analysis and results
chapters are presented and organized according to the research questions and themes that
emerged from participant discourse and initial coding. Analysis and explication of the discourse
is rooted in the combined African gender and ecological feminist theoretical framework of the
study and the conceptual categories devised and articulated from later phases of coding, research
memos, and extended notes. Moreover, analysis is interspersed throughout the data presentation
for a comprehensive exposition of information and interpretive meaning followed by a final
synthesis of results, supplementary historical context, refined themes, and interpretation.
Following basic information about the community-based organization DLM, and its
members and staff, this specific chapter begins by investigating the first two research questions:
(1) How do colonial and apartheid frameworks and gender ideologies manifest in South Africa’s
land act legacies? (2) What impact has South Africa’s land acts, in conjunction with traditional
leadership, had on cultural biodiversity in the Vhembe District Municipality?

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5.1 Makhadzi Participants
Makhadzi, a term for the paternal aunt, is the eldest sister of the chief and would have
first occupied the position of khadzi to the forerunner chief (Matshidze 2013). More than just a
title or a name, Vhavenda35 stress that makhadzi is an ancestral role that manifests in several
ways. In a general sense, every woman is a makhadzi and is recognized and respected for her
connection to the ancestors. Next there is a makhadzi that is involved with sacred site rituals and
safeguarding spiritual matters to maintain order in the clan and a separate makhadzi who is
installed with the chief and assists with royal leadership and customary governance.
Traditionally, Vhomakhadzi who are involved with traditional governance, also learn from and
communicate with the makhadzi of sacred sites. Despite these varying roles, this trifecta of
positions usually command respect from the community and traditional leaders, and work in
tandem with one another for the good of their clans. While I had important and insightful
conversations with Vhavenda men, including chiefs, Vhamusanda, university employees, and
other residents—still adhering to the methodology – all interviewees with the exception of Mr.
Mashudu Rubson Dima’s were comprised of Vhomakhadzi. Interviewees were assigned a
pseudonym with the title of respect “Vho” to denote that the participant has children and/or is
married; the pseudonyms were selected by DLM’s director, Mphatheleni Makaulule and may
omit “Vho” in the text if the names are longer. Again, “Vho” is also a prefix of the word
Vhomakahdzi which is the plural form of makhadzi. Given the more conspicuous roles of Mr.
Mashudu Rubson Dima and Mphatheleni Makaulule in the community, their actual names are
used, as are the names of several staff members who have been featured in documentaries and

35

Vhavenda refers to the people and Venda refers to the land.

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those more publically integral to the organization. In the table of interview demographics, a
proxy clan is assigned to each pseudonym for additional anonymity as requested by
Vhomakhadzi. The names chosen represent the actual Vhangona/ Indigenous36 clan membership
and are included to demonstrate the representation within the organization.
Bearing in mind that I boarded with Dima and Makaulule during the majority of my
fieldwork, interviews with the two of them were sometimes conducted jointly, while other
conversations and interviews occurred separately. Moreover, the Dima and Makaulule discourse
features more prominently within the commentary because I spent considerable with their family
and sometimes among their extended relatives. Lastly, both husband and wife were present
during other makhadzi interviews as they provided translation, and occasionally added cultural
clarification. It appeared that private conversations with Vhomakhadzi are rare; however, my
interviews may have been conducted in a community or family setting due to my status as a
foreign-national. Therefore, the concept of an individual interview is loosely defined in the
context of the culture and household/extended family configuration(s).

36

The wording Vhangona/Indigenous, should be distinguished from the dominant Masingo whose historical origins
reside outside of the region.

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Table 1: Interviews by Pseudonym, Clan, and Research Site.
Pseudonym

Clan

Research Site

1) VhoDenga

Netshidzivhe

Tshivhase

2) VhoMutshekwa

Nevhutanda

Tshivhase

3) VhoAlillali

Netshidzivhe

Tshivhase

4) VhoTshinakaho

Nevhutanda

Tshivhase

5) VhoMunzhedzi

Ramunangi

Tshivhase

6) VhoTshavhungwa

Nevhutanda

Vuwani

7) VhoMudanalwo

NeKhwevha

Vuwani

8) VhoMakaulule

Rambuda

Vuwani

9) Mashudu Dima

Nemalale

Vuwani

10) VhoConnie

Nemalale

Vuwani

11) VhoNyadzanga

Ramunangi

Vuwani

12) VhoPhophi

Ramunangi

Vuwani

13) VhoMakwarela

NeKhwevha

Vuwani

14) VhoJoyce

Netshidzivhe

Vuwani

15) VhoNyadzawela

NeKhwevha

Vuwani

16) VhoTshisikhawe

Nemalale

Vuwani

17) VhoMukumela

NeKhwevha

Tshivhase

18) VhoMuofhe

Luvuvhu

Tshivhase

19) VhoAlidzuli

Luvuvhu

Thohoyandou

20) VhoNyawasedza

Kokwane

Vuwani

21) VhoMuyananlo

Nepile

Tshivhase

22) Mainganye

Magabweni

Tshivhase

23) VhoMarandela

Magabweni

Vuwani

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Table 1 (cont’d)
Pseudonym

Clan

Research Site

24) VhoMasindi

Nevhutanda

Vuwani

25) VhoBele

Nevhutanda

Vuwani

26) VhoAvheani

Ramunangi

Tshakhuma

27) VhoLuvhani

Magabweni

Tshakhuma

28) VhoLimani

Ramunangi

Vuwani

29) VhoLuvhengo

Nevhutanda

Vuwani

30) VhoNyamuladelo

Nevhutanda

Vuwani

31) VhoMatodzi

Nepile

Vuwani

32) VhoLalumbe

Kokwane

Thohoyandou

5.2 Disenfranchisement of Vhomakhadzi: Land and Culture
In the post-apartheid era, women’s land rights are compromised within the current land
administration process. Citizens and land rights advocates criticize traditional leadership and
court systems for being undemocratic as such leadership structures privilege men. Colonial and
apartheid era practices established in the homelands still remain in current legislation, which
shape land management and traditional leadership, greatly impacting women in the former
homelands in rural areas. Current legislation such as the Traditional Leadership and Governance
Framework Act (2004), the Communal Rights Bill (2004), the Traditional Courts Bill (2008), the
National House of Traditional Leaders Act of (2009), and other laws have given traditional
authorities unrestricted governance over land decisions, including the power to authorize national

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and multinational development projects. Because women are considered minors in many rural
areas of South Africa, these Land Acts have further alienated them within the traditional court
system or village assemblies (Claassens and Cousins 2008). Fundamentally, apartheid
frameworks and gender ideologies manifest in South Africa’s land act legacies and are further
managed by traditional male leadership (Table 2).

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Table 2: Summary of Land Acts, their provisions, and their impact
Land Act

Provision

Impact

Native Lands Act (1913)

Reduced the numbers of Black
people on designated White
land.

Natives Administration Act (1927)

Established the governing
structures of the ethnic
reserves.

Bantu Trust and Land Act (1936)

Reorganized agricultural
ownership to further dispossess
Black people of their landdwelling.

Bantu-Self Government Act (1959)

Implemented to change the
homelands into independent
states.

Traditional Leadership and
Governance Framework Act
(TLGFA), (2004)

Recognized traditional
communities and founded
traditional councils. It also
recognized traditional councils
and implemented a legislative
platform to support traditional
leadership.

Communal Land Rights Act (CLRA),
(2004)

Land reparation plan

Forced removals of Black
South Africans onto ethnic
reserves or homelands then
called Bantustans.
Homelands developed a
separate governing structure
to be utilized and controlled
by White settler colonialists
through the chiefs in a
system of indirect rule.
Ratified the separation of
White and Black South
African rural areas.
Adversely impacted Black
agricultural systems.
Blocked access to arable
land for farming and
grazing, and Black farmers
were evicted.
Receded parliamentary
presence for those
homelands within the
apartheid era under the
rationality of being selfgoverning states.
Extensive power given to
traditional leaders.
Reinforced colonial and
apartheid era authority and
gender ideologies and
provided traditional leaders
with far-reaching, and semiautonomous control over
residents in the homelands.
Criticism centered on the
lack of involvement of the
Provincial legislatures in
crafting the Act.
Vulnerable tenure of land
for residents in the former
homelands especially
women.

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Table 2 (cont’d)
Land Act

Provision

Impact

Traditional Courts Bill (TCB), (2008)

Grants power to traditional
leaders, namely chiefs and
headmen to oversee and try
cases and disputes.

Traditional Affairs Bill (TAB), (2013)

Consolidated traditional
leadership laws into a single
law and recognized Khoi-San
traditional leaders and
communities. Antecedent to the
Traditional and Khoi-San
Leadership Act (TKLB)

Used apartheid boundaries
to delineate traditional court
jurisdictions. Unrestricted
power to try civil
arguments. Was overturned
and reintroduced in 2016
with new checks and
balances currently being
debated.
Maintains the boundaries of
the former homelands much
like the Framework Act of
2003 which also
disenfranchises populations
through inexorable legal
divisions.

Restitution of Land Rights
Amendment Act (2014)

Equitable land administration
post-apartheid first passed in
1994. The 2014 Act reopened
unsettled land cases and claims.

The Act was heavily
protested and critics of the
new laws argue it benefits
traditional leaders and their
development interests more
than communities.

Traditional and Khoi-San Leadership
Bill (TKLB), (2015)

Integrates Khoi-San leadership
into the governing assembly.

Spatial Planning and Land Use
Management Act (SPLUMA), (2015)

Allows Department of Rural
Development and Land Reform
(DRDLR) to make land
decisions based on spatial
planning data. This framework
law will be a model for the nine
provinces to implement
development plans.

Provisions of TKLB allow
government departments to
offer traditional leaders
administrative roles (clause
25) without clear oversight.
Advocates also argue that
TKLB relies on apartheidera classifications and
boundaries.
Permits a small amount of
land planning and land use
powers, with supervision of
the municipality in some
circumstances. The concern
is with the extension of
powers to the traditional
councils in which many of
the quotas for female
leadership and participation
have not been met.

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Figure 4: Diagram: This figure shows key links between pre and post-apartheid era laws
Source: Land and Accountability Research Centre (LARC)

Principal pieces of legislation that affect women’s marginalization are exemplified by the
disenfranchisement of Vhomakhadzi in Venda. The 2004 Traditional Leadership and
Governance Framework Act (TLGFA) reinforces colonial and apartheid era authority through
provisions that provide far-reaching and semi-autonomous control over residents in the
homelands (Claassens and Cousins 2008). The purported aim of TLGFA is to integrate
traditional leadership in the post-apartheid democracy. Yet by excluding explicit protections
against gender-based discrimination, the legislation perpetuates the same gender philosophies
that prevented colonial and apartheid administrators from acknowledging the leadership roles of
women. TLGFA, for example, omits the role of the makhadzi, who were once a central part of
Venda leadership, which traditionally comprised the chief, the makhadzi, and the khotsimunene,
the chief’s brother or paternal uncle. By contrast, the Act disregards the role of the makhadzi and

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the khotsimunene refashioning the role of chief almost like that of a Western king or lower level
official who perhaps has a council of advisors instead. This is a glaring omission, as Matshidze
(2013) contends that there are some accounts that makhadzi in certain situations plays a greater
role than some men and “once enjoyed equal privilege with her male counterparts…even above
the role of the khotsimunene.” Matshidze writes, “This is also suggested by Stayt (1931:196)
when he writes that ‘all vital matters connected to the state must be referred to her [the
makhadzi]” (Matshidze 46).
As evidenced by present day legislation, structural inequalities persist from the traditional
governance’s complicity with colonial powers in omitting women from the upper echelons of
power. This is a crucial point in understanding how colonialism and now contemporary politics,
industrialization, and globalization have eroded the arguably matriarchal nuances of Vhavenda
culture, visible through the decline of the once prominent role of Vhomakhadzi. Determining
how Vhomakhadzi roles have changed, it was important to determine how Vhavenda people
themselves interpret their strength in the past. The following interview statements and focus
group data deconstruct the role of makhadzi traditionally, and her importance to Vhavenda
society:

Dima:

Makaulule:

The mouth of makhadzi is important because she is the one who has
to say the words. The knees of makhadzi is important because
when she prays she kneel down. The heart of makhadzi is also
important because she has to have a clean heart, a loving heart to
say prayers to us, The appearance of makhadzi, the presence of
makhadzi is a blessing. That’s why even if he [her brother] has his
own home, he will still need his sister to come there to
play makhadzi role in the family. Marriage cannot happen,
without makhadzi.

A chief cannot be a chief without a makhadzi. [If] you could be
there last week – the king, all the chiefs of Venda were there – we

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were installing another head chief; but including the king himself,
there was a moment when he said, “It’s not for me. This
makhadzi is the responsible and everybody, government people,
just sit down and let makhadzi to play a role.

Tshisikhawe:

Makhadzi also, when you are sick – if I am sick they can take me
to the hospital, to all the specialists. I cannot get healed, but when
they call my makhadzi to come there, when my makhadzi just
comes there, the present heals me; the word, the voice of
makhadzi. Makhadzi can mention my totem,37 and I got healed
without using any medicine. We cannot bury a person. Traditionally,
if we want to lay rest our beloved, take makhadzi there to do all
the tasks of makhadzi to bury the person. You will continue life
without any problem. But if you go around Venda and ask who
didn’t do traditional burial with makhadzi—they are going to
traditional healers, the pastors at the church— they are having
problems at home because they didn’t involve makhadzi.
Makhadzi is involved with marriage, when the baby is born, when
we go to initiation schools,38 when you grow up and go marriage,
when you die, makhadzi is also there. How can we disconnect
makhadzi?

Vhomakhadzi were indeed integral to all community life from birth to death and were once
quite an influential staple to the chief’s leadership. The role of makhadzi is crucial, and from
initial discourse, it appears that even her human form was and is considered to be a wholesome
vessel to impart ancestral wisdom. Vhomakhadzi are indistinguishably connected in this way to
the sacred, or as Tshisikhawe relayed to me, “There is no sacred site without makhadzi.” In
addition, as Makaulule stated, “A chief cannot be a chief without a makhadzi.” Makhadzi also
previously played a fundamental role in Vhangona culture as a channel of sacred site rituals and
by presiding over traditions deeply intertwined with ancestors, community and family life,
traditional healing, and eco-cultural wisdom. Therefore, the role of makhadzi was once a

37
38

Totems are spirit animals associated with each clan.
Initiation schools refer to cultural meetings during puberty where adolescent boys and girls separately learn about
responsibilities and roles of men and women in Vhavenda society.

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foundational aspect of Venda society and its governance. However, these once key roles within
the authentic traditional governing structure of Venda are not officially reflected within presentday statutes. For some Vhomakhadzi, due to present-day legislation, democracy is not equated
with freedom, even in the post-apartheid era:

Tshisikhawe:

A woman is respected at the chief’s palace [Musanda], when
you are staying together as women alone or as a group of women.
But only if you are at the clan meeting or chief meeting, or clan
members; not with other people outside the clan because they
see the role of makhadzi, makhadzi of the clan. Because the
clan naturally respects the role of makhadzi—but not at the government meeting, because it is a new governing system. But if we are
on our own as a clan they will listen.

Nyadzanga:

Apartheid has contributed a lot because apartheid has destroyed
things. The non-indigenous, they go well with the White people.
And they listened to what White people wanted to do. And these
chiefs of the non-indigenous listened to the White people. Freedom
also- this democracy also interfered.

Ross:

Because it changed traditional ways?

Nyadzanga:

The democracy and this freedom has interfered a lot. Because now you
have your own rights. You no longer can even discipline your child in
your home.

The perception that democracy and freedom has interfered with tradition may be
surprising given apartheid’s violent and degrading history. These are statements are samples of
the full data set, which convey that the local perspective among many Vhomakhadzi is that with
the advent of democracy, came a further weakening of their customary roles through the
entrenchment of colonial and apartheid era legal structures; This was also confirmed by all of my
interviewees. Vhomakhadzi associated with DLM perceive democracy as an intrusive element
that disrupts culture and home life. This notion has more significance when considering that it

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was Vhomakhadzi who traditionally arbitrated disputes, negotiated marriages, deliberated the
placement of new chiefs, and in general had great influence in the clan, family, home, and
civilization. Matshidze’s (2013) makhadzi informants corroborate that the traditional leadership
legislation post-apartheid has undermined makhadzi authority. Matshidze’s informant states, “the
government has stripped us of all powers. Firstly, it was the Traditional Leaders Act, the
makhadzi were not written anywhere but we are the custodians of traditional leadership. We are
in possession of the sacred artefacts. Now President Jacob Zuma has come up with the
Traditional Court Bill”39(Matshidze 203).
Further, post-apartheid legislation has strengthened the role of traditional male leaders,
makgoshi, who may or may not have a vested interest in community well-being and may be
controlled by outside influences such as politicians and multinational companies. Makaulule’s
recollection of the meeting where the king showed deference to Vhomakhadzi is noteworthy.
The king’s elevation of Vhomakhadzi above himself in that moment was an important public
acknowledgement of the role of makhadzi. It was significant and pleasing to Makaulule to see
the government officials and attendees concede to tradition. Makaulule’s commentary likewise
coincides with the distinction Tshisikhawe observes when comparing government meetings with
clan or village assemblies. Tshisikhawe suggests that the presence of government officials
changes the scope of a meeting and how it proceeds. Both women’s statements indicate that the
presence of the government officials modifies how Vhavenda traditional leaders proceed with
local affairs. Disenfranchisement of Vhomakhadzi will be explored more extensively in the
context of African gender theories and analysis in section 5.5.
Regarding the land debate, the Indigenous Vhangona claim authentic and exclusive rights

39

The Traditional Courts Bill was overturned in 2014 and was introduced in parliament in 2016 (See Table 5.2).

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to sacred sites, yet there are many cultures and corporate and political actors in the region who
compete for resources and land. The next section explores the impact South Africa’s land acts, in
conjunction with traditional leadership, have had on cultural biodiversity in the Vhembe District
Municipality.
5.3 The Politics of Cultural Biodiversity
The founding clans of the community based organization (CBO) Dzomo La Mupo
(DLM) in Venda include: Ramunangi, Nevhutanda, Netshitotsheni, Netshidzivhe, Netshivhale,
Nekhwevha, Nemavhola, and Netshitungulu.40 These clans are custodians of sacred sites in the
Vhembe District Municipality and through DLM have formed a network of protection for the
sites and their surrounding indigenous forests and larger landscapes. DLM’s work is grounded in
Vhomakhadzi cultural roles and rituals linked with agriculture, harvesting crops, and maintaining
healthy ecosystems. Sacred sites all over the world are considered biodiversity hotspots and as
cultural biodiversity research conveys, ecological knowledge and principles of stewardship coevolved with language in many Indigenous cultures.
While in Vhembe, an informant gave me access to DLM’s copies of their official heritage
nomination profiles and applications submitted to the South African Heritage Resource Agency
(SAHRA). Each application was prepared in 2012 by DLM’s legal representation at the time
(Chennells Albertyn, Attorney, Notaries, & Conveyancers) and submitted to SAHRA for
consideration of Provincial Heritage Status. The three sites that DLM hoped to register for
provisional protection were under consideration for over three years. From Vhomakhadzi
accounts, it appears that the applications are no longer being considered for Provincial Heritage
Status – a full account and update will be detailed later in this chapter. The unpublished profiles,
40
Most Vhangona clan names begin with “Ne” but are sometimes referred to by Luvenda speakers without this
prefix, in which case the root name is capitalized.

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however, provide invaluable information about why Vhomakhadzi regard sacred areas as
important for the environment and the current threats that leave the sites susceptible. The three
sites submitted for SAHRA’s consideration included: Zwifho zwa41 Vhutanda, Zwifho zwa
Guvhukuvu, La Nwadzongolo, and Zwifho zwa Thathe. Again, these are three sites of over 54
identified sacred areas. It should be noted that, the information on these sacred site profiles is
given to researchers like myself – who come from Western cultures and institutions – with
justifiable reluctance based on past exploitation and abuse. Nevertheless, information has been
given sparingly to the international environmentalist community about sacred sites because it is a
last recourse to procure funding to protect these natural environments and the Vhangona way of
life.
Protecting sacred areas is a key element identified by Vhomakhadzi for addressing climate
change and biodiversity loss. According to Vhomakhadzi interviewed to compile information for
the SAHRA applications, sacred sites play a vital role in perpetuating energy flow and sustaining
the health of their ecosystems by drawing rain (they also serve as important rainfall catchment
areas for the region). The sites function as networks and represent varied aspects of different
ecosystems. For example, sacred sites or zwifho can encircle bodies of water such as springs,
waterfalls, ponds, lakes, and watershed forests or mountains and caves. Above all, they are
connected to the landscape and indigenous forests, which they dwell in. As Dzomo La Mupo
(DLM) director, Mphatheleni Makaulule explains, all sacred sites are also sacred forests.
Vhomakhadzi and select others in their respective clans act as custodians of zwifho and manage
the sites through intricate rituals. The rituals were not revealed, yet the use of tobacco, sacred
Finger-millet drink, and ritual Mpambo are cultural elements used not necessarily inside the site.

41

This is translation from Luvenda/Tshivenda, zwifho zwa, “sacred site of.”

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Each ritual and communication with the ancestors enhances the ecological integrity of the
network of sacred sites, and the larger connected landscapes throughout their territory (shango,
pl. mashango), (SAHRA application 2012, Lestrade 1930).
Damaging the sacred sites, according to Vhomakhadzi, will have dire consequences for the
whole Earth community, including humans. They believe that there is a mutual understanding
with other indigenous practitioners that if these biodiversity hotspots are eroded, ecological
resilience will become unhinged (SAHRA application 2012). This point is also highlighted by
claims that sacred areas contain many rare and endemic species of plants, ancient trees, animals,
insects, and snakes that contribute to biological diversity. Hence, there is grave concern about
exogenous threats that are destroying the remaining biodiversity in what are now increasingly
fragmented areas.
In the SAHRA applications, fragmentation of sacred areas emerged as a cultural concern to
Vhomakhadzi as well as conservationists. Vhomakhadzi reference the Tshivhase Tea Estate,
established during apartheid in the 1980s, as one example of many plantations causing
biodiversity loss in the region; owing to the fact that indigenous medicinal plants, wild greens
and fruits, birds, and bee hives have become less prevalent in the area. The estate, which has
enveloped the Zwifho zwa Vhutanda sacred site, has left small patches of indigenous forest, a
fact that deeply disturbs Vhomakhadzi who explain that this disrupts even the air of the site.
Rehabilitation of the area is a goal of Vhomakhadzi of DLM given that the area is under land
claim. The hope is to reconnect the fragmented sites so that they may grow together again to
restore the already weakened biodiversity—and so that the Vhangona clans can resume their
rituals. Likewise, Tshiguvho (2008) recommends increasing sacred site biodiversity by
enhancing the site’s size and connectivity with other sacred spaces. This is what conservationists

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and advocates for protected areas refer to as larger landscape approaches (Safety Net Report,
2008). This is achieved by improving the areas surrounding the sites through restoration of the
montane forest area, which have been consumed by forest plantations.
Culturally, Vhomakhadzi regard the ecology of their sacred sites in a holistic and spiritual
way. Described in horizontal and vertical dimensions, Vhomakhadzi and their clans view a
sacred site and the spaces above and below as culturally and environmentally significant. Thus,
Vhomakhadzi describe nature as converging with its surrounding areas high into the cosmos and
deep into the earth’s soil like an energetic force field. Consequently, even minerals and metals in
the subsoil are essential (SAHRA application 2012). Removing such minerals through the
extraction of gold or coal through mining is infringing on indigenous laws of origin that
determine what are sound practices (SAHRA application 2012). The very soil of the sacred site
is revered in that this is where Vhangona bury their dead in the ancestral way. Therefore, they
believe that digging into the soil and damaging the ecosystem impacts their ancestors and will
bring misfortune due to the destruction of plants, animal life, and water.
The proceeding statements reveal the importance of zwifho, or sacred sites, and the
significance of Vhomakhadzi roles to protect the sites and surrounding shango,
territory/environment for the health and well-being of the community:

Ross:

Connie:

Why are zwifho important for the environment?

Zwifho was strengthened because of a special stone that is
important for the environment. If that stone is removed the
sacred site will be destroyed. Our ancestors say that that stone is
connected to the heat. They are saying now that at zwifho there is
coal that they need to dig up. Zwifho is the stronghold of all of
creation. Zwifho is important to the whole Earth. If we do ritual,

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the rain comes. This is the place where we pray, it is like our only
church.42
Tshisikhawe:

42

I want to explain to you about our zwifho indigenous forest.
There is a White person there who has take away our place, it
is now a farm. I want you to know the value of this forest cannot be lost.

Ross:

Why did you join Dzomo La Mupo/ Why do you participate?

Muofhe:

I am at Dzomo La Mupo because I am a makhadzi. I am the one
who takes the snuff, tobacco, to talk with the ancestors this is the
ways we do to connect with the ancestors. As I am a makhadzi, our
duty is to connect with the ancestors with tobacco for u phasa
[at the sacred site] and to pray and asking for the health of little
children like this, this is the duty of makhadzi. If the child is sick,
they will call makhadzi, “come to our home the child is sick,
come to our home and heal the child.” That knowledge – we have
learn it from our ancestors, those who gave birth to our parents.
To our fore, fore parents. When we are born, they teach us that
this tree is for scared site. It is important. This tree is for what,
and that tree is for what – its function. When we grow up, they teach
us. They also teach us this tree from sacred site, you cannot take it
as wood for fire at home. They teach us which tree to take as wood.
But trees from sacred site you don’t take as wood from sacred
sites. They even teach us the names of trees which cannot be used
for wood. If you take the trees, if you fetch woods from sacred site,
they will change to become snakes. We have been taught by the
makhadzi of the past and more makhadzi of the past and they
teach the next generation until they teach us. When young girls
go to fetch wood from the forest, when coming back with a bundle
of wood, the makhadzi will go and look and untie the bundle and
will say no this one is not for wood…this one is for wood.
This is how even little girls learn.

Ross:

Why is it important to protect the land?

Mukumela:

It is important for us to protect mupo, because Dzomo La Mupo
[colloquial meaning here: Voice of the Earth] is holding us. It is
important because Dzomo La Mupo is holding us, taking care of
us. And we don’t have to forsake Dzomo La Mupo. If we throw it
away, there will no longer be health because it also assists us in our
happiness and health.

Although true of all sacred sites, she is specifically referring to Zwifho zwa Guvhukuvu, La Nwadzongolo.

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Vhomakhadzi participation in DLM is how many women maintain their vital role in
connection to sacred sites, or zwifho, and ensure that they are protecting the sites, their customs,
and their communities. The following data relates to Vhomakhadzi and DLM’s efforts to protect
the three sites (of approximately 54 identified) outlined in the SAHRA heritage nomination
profiles, again those include: (1) The Phiphidi Waterfall, locally known as Zwifho zwa
Guvhukuvu, La Nwadzongolo, (2) Zwifho zwa Vhutanda, and (3) Zwifho zwa Thathe. The data
retrieved from the field includes DLM external and internal legal correspondences, clan letters of
appeal, DLM meeting minutes, the researcher’s analysis of excerpts of DLM’s legal
correspondences—referencing the litigation and case to protect the Phiphidi Waterfall—and
participant discourse. Efforts to protect the sacred Phiphidi waterfall by DLM have received
significant media attention in recent years. There has been an ongoing sporadic effort by the
Indigenous Vhangona to reclaim this area since the waterfall was usurped as a tourist venture in
the 1980s by the apartheid government. Following apartheid, local traditional leaders have
continued to support development of the site allowing the desecration of the most sanctified
areas above and below the falls.
5.4 The Phiphidi Waterfall Court Case
In 2007 the local headman Jerry Tshivhase sanctioned a new and expansive development
project. The Tshivhase Development Foundation Trust (TDFT) was then cleared to start building
the Phiphidi tourism development right above the falls. Soon after, The Ramunangi (Madau)
clan of the Vhangona people, who have traditionally been entrusted with the protection of
Phiphidi Waterfall, submitted letters of discontent and formal petitions against this site beginning

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in 2007 at the first signs of construction.43 The construction brought unwanted attention, traffic,
and trash to the holy area and contributed to the destruction of the overall ecosystem. Phiphidi
supports hundreds of plant and animal life; 30 percent of Africa’s tree species grow in the area
and 60 percent of South Africa’s birdlife; 40 percent of its mammals and 30 percent of its
reptiles live in the surrounding region.44
The director of TDFT and Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) millionaire Mashudu
Tshivhase45 is related to the former Venda King at that time, Kennedy Thivhase. Black
Economic Empowerment, post-apartheid legislation intended to redress the issues of social
stratification and oppression in South Africa, is controversial as critics question if it continues to
foster class disparities (Chennells, Roger. Skype Interview. 23 April 2012). While the king
claimed to know nothing about the Ramunangi petitions, the disregard of the Ramunangi’s pleas
or Vhomakhadzi influence demonstrates the shift in traditional roles that now favor lucrative
development plans. The Ramunangi at that time sought the help of human rights lawyer Roger
Chennells. Chennells, who worked on the case from 2007-2009, before handing it over to his
partner Johan Van Der Merwe (Chennells, Roger. Skype Interview. 23 April 2012). On the issue
of TDFT he states, “The Tshivhase trust is a modern vehicle for the benefit of the king and his
tribe. On the one hand, women are venerated spiritually, but in the power and political games of
the chiefs, women are all but invisible” (Chennells, Roger. Skype Interview. 23 April 2012).
As DLM’s legal counsel prepared for trial, they sent an internal briefing report,
“Ramunangi Situation Report,” e-mailed on April 6th, 2009 to Ramunangi supporters and DLM

43

See “Ramunangi Claim of Rights” Roger Chennells and Ramunangi Tribal Leaders. November 15, 2008.
https://www.sacredland.org/media/Ramunangi-Claim-of-Rights_15Nov08.pdf
44
See mailguardian.org.
45
See “Royal Battle Set for Court” City Press and News24. July 4, 2010. http://www.news24.com/Archives/CityPress/Royal-battle-set-for-court-20150430.

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staff. The report, as ethnographic data was analyzed in the field. The report reveals the obstacles
DLM faced as an organization and as Indigenous and ethnic minorities. It explains that the
sacred site and surrounding land in question is owned communally under a tribal trust land-form,
which permits the chief ostensible ownership of the land on behalf of his people. Yet it was
surmised by local people that the chief at the time allegedly managed the land as a private
development for personal gain.
The briefing describes how local government agencies, such as the Limpopo Heritage
Resources Agency (LIHRA), established to help people like the Ramunangi, are short-staffed
and underfunded. The statement conveys that communication with LIHRA’s CEO at that time,
explains that their agency does not have power over a landowner and therefore only work with
consensus based decisions. In other words, they are not equipped to deal with the legal,
political, and cultural complexities of South African land administration to provide useful
support for protecting the heritage of ethnic minorities among the more dominant ethnic groups
in Venda. Additionally, a noticeable revelation from the report uncovers that further
communication with various government departments and agencies denoted a reticence to
challenge the power of the chiefs—particularly given the forthcoming elections that year.
Ultimately, in the report, DLM’s former legal team likens the process of protecting the sacred
site to a land-claim, indicative of the similarly complicated political bureaucracy.
This briefing was the antecedent to formal attempts by DLM to register Phiphidi and the
two other sacred sites as culturally protected areas through Provincial Heritage Status. Without
a known precedent at that point for registering sacred sites as culturally protected areas in
Limpopo, the expressed danger was that it would be classified as a third degree heritage site—
in which case the three sites in question would only achieve local importance, thus subject to

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local level government. The apprehension was that this level of protection would still leave
them vulnerable to the governance of the Thohoyandou Municipality and chief. Provincial
Heritage Status by contrast would secure stronger protections. The 2009 report reveals that at
that time, both LIHRA and the South African Heritage Resource Agency (SAHRA) had become
aware of the Ramunangi—and subsequent communication with both agencies showed that they
were “serious about wanting to protect their site.” Therefore, based on this briefing, DLM and
Vhomakadzi, in addition to taking legal action to protect the Phiphidi waterfall, also began
preparation to apply formally through SAHRA for Provincial heritage status, to register: (1) The
Phiphidi Waterfall (locally known as Zwifho zwa Guvhukuvu, La Nwadzongolo), (2) Zwifho zwa
Vhutanda, and (3) Zwifho zwa Thathe, as culturally protected areas. DLM thus began interaction
with SAHR, which included site visits and meetings by their administrators.
In the interim, DLM continued with preparation for trial. Their lawyer, Roger Chennells,
worked directly with Vhomakhadzi who he says, “provided the primary information in our case
concerning the heritage and cultural rights of the Ramunangi to their sacred site” (Chennells,
Roger. Skype Interview. 23 April 2012). Chennells also discovered that the Environmental
Impact Assessment (EIA) used to approve the project was flawed making the development
project non-compliant. Despite this finding, the development project continued causing DLM to
continue their petition: “DLM then extended their petitioning to government departments and the
Commission for the Promotion and Protection of Cultural, Religion and Linguistic Minorities”
(Pinnock).
Regardless of Ramungani pleas, the traditional leaders continued to disregard their
culture and indigenous land rights. On July 20-21, 2010, Mr. Johannes Ramutangwa and Mrs.
Tshavhungwe Nemarude presented an open letter written by the Ramunangi for the Portfolio

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Committee on Land Reform and Rural Development at the Parliamentary Hearings to the
Repeal of the Black Authorities Act.46 The letter, shared with me in the field, describes
Ramunangi disagreements with Headman Jerry Tshivhase dating back to 2001 when they claim
that the site was converted into a picnic place from which the headman pocketed the entrance
fees. They state that the Ramunangi were not consulted in this decision and when they tried to
enter the site to perform their rituals, the security guards demanded entrance fees from them as
well. They performed their rituals despite these obstructions, and later complained to Headman
Jerry Tshivhase, who claimed that the waterfall area belonged to Tshivhase, not the Ramunangi.
The Ramunangi went through many people, even sending letters to king Kennedy Tshivhase
without success— eventually appealing to government departments, including the Department
of Land and Traditional Affairs, but no one would assist them at that time.
The open letter also details the timeline of development of the waterfall zone over the
years and how in 2010, bulldozers began to dig up the sacred site. Since this destruction, the
Ramunangi feel that many people in the clan have suffered illnesses as a result of angering their
ancestors. What is especially poignant about the letter is that they describe how they do not
want authority over the territory; they simply want their customs respected and honored so that
they may continue their rituals. Finally, the letter details why the Ramunangi support the repeal
of the Act stating, “The Black Authorities Act created tribal authorities that gave all powers to
the chiefs. It disregarded individuals, families, and clans living in the same area and having
particular rights over the same land, like the Ramunangi Clan” (Ramunangi open letter).
Vhomakhadzi of DLM, with the support of various clans, continued to protest this development
even through the Phiphidi Waterfall litigation. Vhomakhadzi interviewed reflect on their

46

This legislation was formerly called the Bantu Authorities Act of 1951.

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feelings about the litigation in relationship to the subversion of their traditional roles:
Ross:

Are you familiar with the Phiphidi Case?

Mukumela:

Yes, we used to go there. We were going there to Phiphidi, but
those people were carrying sticks even wanting to kill us
during the court case. We went there at Phiphidi during
these problems— with the Ramunangi. They even carried
the big sticks with big blocks wanting to kill us telling us not
to disturb. The Ramunangi said we are the custodians of this
place and we have to do rituals there. And they [the workers]
said no, we do not want anyone here and threatened us with
sticks. They said go away, go away don’t disturb us. We are
working here. These are the workers who are busy working
inside there.

Ross:

Have you seen things change a lot with the role of makhadzi
from when you were a young woman to now?

Mukumela:

Makhadzi is not respected. It’s never respected. In the past
when we were growing, makhadzi was seriously respected,
but nowadays because they [chiefs] are looking for money it is not
respected at all.

Mukumela was present with the Ramunangi clan during the Phiphidi court case and
witnessed their protests. Her accounts detail threats of violence and a lack of access to the site for
makhadzi to perform their rituals. Media accounts differ in the depiction, yet Mukumela is
resolute in her account that they were in danger during the trial. Mukumela believes that chiefs
are disposing of culture, but she ranks White people higher in culpability above the role of the
chief in denigrating culture:
Ross:

What do you think is threatening mupo?

Mukumela:

What is threatening or destroying mupo is the chiefs. Because
the chiefs are the ones who are selling the land. And they are
even sacred sites because they need money even more than

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the land. When you see our sacred sites, the chiefs allow the
people to go into the trees inside sacred sites and debush them.
They don’t even respect the sacred sites. The chiefs are disturbing
us because when we see ourselves they take people to disturb our
sacred sites for money. Like in our sacred site there. They have
removed – we have planted trees, to rehabilitate the forest that has
been destroyed. Now they have removed those trees to make a
garden of cabbages. It’s cabbages now. We don’t know what to do
because we tried to replant the trees again, but now they replanted
the cabbages there we don’t know what to do, which way to go.
They even put a fence around the place where they put the
cabbages and in the street.
Ross:

Is it White people and Black people in South Africa who are not
respecting makhadzi?

Mukumela:

It’s White people who do these things. And they give Black
people [chiefs] money to follow what they want. We Black
people, we have been conquered we can’t do anything about
our zwifho, our sacred sites. We have been defeated. We
the Black people. We have to go forward for what we are
doing and to go forward is to continue going to the place
we do rituals. We must continue to do rituals.

Mukumela describes how the chiefs are destroying mupo, nature, and the Earth by selling
the land, discussing their need for money more than land. Her narrative (depicting how the chiefs
permit deforestation; their willingness to exchange money for sacred sites; and the disrespect
they show by removing the trees that Dzomo La Mupo (DLM) planted to restore indigenous
forests) insinuates that the chiefs have directly changed how land is used and who has access to
it. Yet by highlighting the chief’s need for money, her account substantiates explanations by
other makhadzi who see the chief’s necessity for wealth as different than the actions of White
government officials and corporate representatives. Mukumela seemingly incorporates the chiefs
and their desire for capital into to her explanation that Blacks have been defeated. She insinuates
that the act of bribery itself, or the exploitation of development loopholes by the chiefs,

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somehow coincides with their collective legal and ethical defeat (this differentiation will be
explored later).

Ross:

Going back to the Phiphidi Case. Who is responsible for
allowing them to destroy or build there?

Mukumela:

Is the chief, who is governing there at Phiphidi. Jerry
Tshivashe. This is the headman of Phiphidi. For me it is the
chief at that village. The chiefs don't respect the makhadzi
because they are looking for money. Yes, people are saying
that he is involved. It is so difficult; it is so sad for Ramunangi people what they have done. But we are the same, as
Ramunangi because at our place they have planted the
cabbages. That place where we have planted the trees.

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Table 3: DLM’s legal correspondence excerpts with traditional leaders preceding Phiphidi Waterfall court
case
Source

Recipient(s)

Content

Chennells Albertyn Attorneys,
Notaries & Conveyancers
Letter October 28, 2008

The Director, South African
Heritage Resources Agency

Chennells Albertyn Attorneys,
Notaries & Conveyancers
Letter June 15, 2009

The Honorable Chief J. Tshivhase,
of Phiphidi

Chennells Albertyn Attorneys,
Notaries & Conveyancers
Letter January 22, 2010

The Member of Executive Council
Department of Economic
Development, Environment and
Tourism (LEDET)
Cc:
King Tshivhase of the Tshivhase
Royal Family; The CEO the
Limpopo Heritage Resource
Agency (LIHRA); The Director
General, Department of Arts and
Culture; The Director General, The
Department of Water and
Environmental Affairs; The CEO,
Commission for Promotion and
Protection of Cultural, Religious
and Linguistic Minorities.

Request sent to terminate mining
activity. Confirmation of road#:
3681, and destruction sacred site;
replaced with stone quarry.
Confirmation of application to
Limpopo Road Agency for copy
of EIA.
Asserts Ramunangi are
custodians of the sacred site
dating before recorded history.
Details accounts of several years
of appeals to the chief without
acknowledgment. Describes how
Ramunangi have been restricted
by chief to perform rituals—
describes desecration and
pollution. References tourism-use
beginning in the 1980s under the
apartheid government
Follow-up correspondence from
11/17/08. Urgent request to meet
regarding destruction at
site. References meeting on
12/15/08 with LEDET and
SAHRA reps regarding tourism
development proposal w/out
consulting the Ramunangi clan.
References timeline of
communication and assurances
for clan and sacred site custodian
protection by both agencies.

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Table 3 (cont’d)
Source

Recipient(s)

Content

Chennells Albertyn Attorneys,
Notaries & Conveyancers
Letter February 1, 2010

The Honorable King,
Royal Family of the Tshivhase
The Royal House

Hamman-Moosa Incorporated,
Attorneys, Conveyancers,
Administrators of estates
July 2, 2010

Mr. H. Smith

Chennells Albertyn Attorneys,
Notaries & Conveyancers
September 10th, 2012

The Director, South African
Heritage Resources Agency

Acknowledges Ramunangi clan
is under tribal authority of the
Tshivhase Royal Family; and
Chief Vho-Mphathiseni
Tshivhase. Reiterates
Ramunangi complaints have not
been heard. References a request
made on 12/4 to meet at the
Royal Palace at Luaname to
discuss desecration at site.
Describes Royal House
chairman in attendance denying
rights of land ownership or
access. Meeting was concluded
without Ramunangi clan
responses
DLM and the Ramunangi
custodians applied for an urgent
court interdict on June 25, 2010;
Heard by the High Court on July
6th, 2010.
Heritage Site Nomination.
Application for Zwifho zwa
Vhutanda, Zwifho zwa
Guvhukuvu, La Nwadzongolo,
and Zwifho zwa Thathe

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Figure 5: Advertisement: This figure is a resort ad promoting tours at Phiphidi Water Fall

After winning two court interdicts to stop building at the Phiphidi waterfall (see Table 3)
the development project was halted. Yet tourists are still admitted on the grounds and admission
fees are still collected for entrance to the falls and picnic areas that were installed. It is unknown
what future plans the Headman has for this area but what is apparent is that despite litigation—
and a court of law, which shows minimal support of Ramunangi claims—local leadership could
still make development decisions without consulting the clan.
Despite the legal pretenses, DLM and their organizational partners continued to explore
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applying for Provincial Heritage Status for the three sacred sites still in question. After a series of
meetings and collaboration with local clans and custodians of the sites in consideration, three indepth applications were submitted to SAHRA on September 10th, 2012 under Section 27 (3) of
the SAHR ACT. The reports detail the sanctity and cultural and ecological significance of the
sacred natural areas. Again, I retrieved copies of the unpublished reports in the field and
reviewed them for the study.
5.5 Engagement with The South African Heritage Resources Agency
DLM meeting minutes dated September 11, 2014 describe a meeting and site visit by the
South African Heritage Resources Agency (SAHRA) administrators.47 SAHRA is “a statutory
organisation established under the National Heritage Resources Act, No. 25 of 1999, as the
national administrative body responsible for the protection of South Africa’s cultural heritage.”48
According to the meeting notes and pictures, the staff visited all three sacred sites under
consideration for Provincial Heritage Status. Curiously, the transcripts begin by alluding to
strained relationships with the Agency because of previously alleged risks linked to the
Ramunangi site and declaration proposals connected to the protection status of sacred Lake
Fundudzi and unidentified interference. The notes also specify that DLM and the communities of
the Vhembe District Municipality had yet to hear a response related to the status of their
nominations submitted two years earlier stating, “we were waiting for respond [sic] since then,
and there was also a threat that document will be in the hands of LIHRA [Limpopo Heritage
Resources Agency] and that was a huge threat. This [SAHRA] meeting is a huge breakthrough.”
This statement echoes previous DLM briefings, and the fear that the sacred areas could be

47

It is significant to note, that given South Africa’s history, the administrators who visited were a man and woman
of Black South African and Afrikaaner heritage respectively.
48
See The South African Heritage Resources Agency official website, sahra.org.za/about-sahra/.

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classified as a third degree heritage site leaving them subject to the same local level of protection
as before such with agencies such as LIHRA. The fear is justifiable. As internal communication
with DLM’s legal counsel and other accounts revealed, appeals to various local government
departments and agencies, such as the Limpopo Heritage Resources Agency (LIHRA), the
Commission for the Promotion and Protection of Cultural, Religion and Linguistic Minorities,
and the Department of Land and Traditional Affairs, had all failed them. Increasingly, it would
appear that national and local departments in South Africa are ineffective or burdened by the
biases of a democracy that is intertwined with traditional leadership and the vestiges of colonial
and apartheid legal platforms. As a result, ethnic minorities and indigenous communities,
particularly women, are egregiously marginalized.
The meeting minutes for SAHRA’s site visit illustrates the skepticism and fear that
Vhomakhadzi, Vhangona chiefs, and other community members feel about relying on yet another
government agency that could either fail them, prove ineffectual, or simply lack the cultural
understanding and sensitivity to negotiate the process. Makaulule’s notes state, “I detailed them
about the sensitive reactions of the clans on the relationship with SAHRA and from that we
agreed to come with an approach which will guide the meeting towards positive understanding
with SAHRA and clans. We even formulate the questions on approaching them and also to be
aware on how to respond if clans comes with questions that are sensitive” (Makaulule meeting
minutes).

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Figure 6: Photograph: Meeting with SAHRA Administrator at Musanda,
(chief’s palace), Tshidzivhe (2014)

Each site visit that day chronicled the fears and concerns of the three communities visited. Those
excerpts of the transcript are consolidated below:

Vhangona Chief:
‘…The SAHRA people can come as people who want to assist us, while there is an agenda of
controlling us that we fall under control of SAHRA in way that whenever we want to do our
tasks in our zwifho we will be bound to first seek permission from SAHRA. We do not want
anyone to control our zwifho as we do not want to be blocked to have access to our zwifho or to
be in a situation where we should first get permission from anywhere for access’… “The chief
said that we should have a written agreement with you, the SAHRA people that in that zwifho
we do not want any changes that affect well-being of zwifho.”

“The chief explained further that, ‘sometimes when thinking about SAHRA people, there is a
doubt. What do SAHRA aim to achieve by saying that they protect zwifho? The SAHRA always
said they want to protect and they are one who protect zwifho’… “The chief then explained
that,‘if is that case then this should be a written agreement with SAHRA and that signed
agreement should be in the clan constitution.’ “He said that if that written agreement happen, he
do not have any problem or concern.”

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First Makhadzi:
“We as elders, we are doing this work for the future generations, so that the future generations
should not blame us that we have sell the zwifho.”

Deputy Chair Person of DLM:
“I am requesting to be clarified by SAHRA people. We do not have common understanding with
SAHRA about zwifho and last time we denied SAHRA because they were telling us that Lake
Fundudzi is the bigger or mother zwifho of all other and there were plans of developing
Fundudzi for tourism. Ourselves here, we do not want that as our zwifho cannot be treated in the
plan which is happening on Lake Fundudzi and we do not want to be included in the Lake
Fundudzi process. I want to understand if you are involving this process with plans of Lake
Fundudzi? ”

Second Makhadzi:
“When the message came that we are required for meeting with the SAHRA people, I first deny
as I know SAHRA people do not agree with us. Then the message came again that SAHRA
people should meet us for our registration documents, and then I decided to come to hear what
SAHRA are planning to do about our documents. To SAHRA people, zwifho zwa Vhutanda are
not for the Tshivhase, the Ramabulana, the government, or SAHRA it is only the responsibilities
of Vhutanda clan. Zwifho is a place which is highly respected. Everybody of Vhutanda clan
when pass on, he or she comes back home, the remains cannot be buried anywhere, they are
buried only where Vhutanda are buried, that is according to the ancestors of Vhutanda. Even if a
child of Vhutanda relocate and stay in Joburg or America, the home for remains is only here at
Vhutanda. We do not want the SAHRA to control our zwifho and at the end we found ourselves
in a situation where our zwifho is controlled by SAHRA and we will be bound to ask permission
from SAHRA.”

Throughout the various SAHRA site visits that day, the trepidations of the community
were numerous. The clans are distrustful of the process— and the fears range from broken
promises and concerns that communication with the government will lead to a betrayal in the
form of a lack of access to sacred sites; a homogenizing of the various clans and their practices;
the burial of their dead in sites other than the respective clan sites; lack of differentiation between
sacred areas; the absence of a formal written agreement with clans; and an overall lack of

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transparency with clans and communities. Given that many sacred site rules are no longer
followed, including when and how the dead are buried, and who has access to sacred sites, there
is a fear of working with the government. The apprehensions are reasonable given the long
history of duplicity of political leaders and regimes from the colonial era and apartheid to the
present day. To this point, the transcript do reveal that the SAHRA representatives continuously
tried to assuage their worries, assuring them that SAHRA is there to protect their sites and
engage in open and well-defined conversations and ongoing dialogue for continued clarity, yet
the doubts remain. It is unclear whether the communities’ fears have been realized in this postapartheid era. A record of SAHRA’s actions do not suggest that as an agency they overtly work
to exploit communities. What is more evident is that local and national politics could impede the
efforts of agencies like SAHRA. Reflecting back about working with SAHRA, Mphathe shares:

The SAHRA keep quiet while they [development
companies] are building a hotel inside the sacred forest
there at Phiphidi. We had this big court case, SAHRA
was there. SAHRA was there, before they even start to plan; we
heard rumors. We called SAHRA in 2007. We sit with SAHRA,
They are going to put lights. I was sitting there translating.
Makhadzi said if you are going to build a hotel there, this people
it’s a zwifho, they are going to put electricity there. Light is not
allowed there at Phiphidi, SAHRA said to us there is no plan to
build anything there and we SAHRA are the only ones who can
authorize this; but 2011, 2012, they started building while SAHRA
was there, when they start building SAHRA just hides. We wrote
letters and letters, our lawyer went to SAHRA’s office many times.
SAHRA said we are no longer working in Limpopo we are in Cape
Town. SAHRA is useless. This book….they told us to do the
profiles, of why the sites are sacred. Three of them. It is a lot of
work to be done but up to now there is no response from SAHRA.
They came and said we agree with the book, this is nice information. 2012 they received this [booklet]. But up to now they don’t
declare it as a sacred site. Government is manipulating people.

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DLM claims that they never heard back from SAHRA representatives.
An update in 2017, however, reveals that LIHRA is restructuring its organization and is
open to working with DLM and the Vhangona on this issue. This may mean that Provincial
Heritage Status may be unattainable at this juncture. This is a minor setback to DLM, who
contend that they will work with LIHRA on the local level until they get funds to continue
appealing to SAHRA for Provincial or even National Heritage Status. Partial transcripts of the
2014 site visit give insight into the SAHRA grading process used to determine how sites are
selected for heritage status. The representatives describe how the purpose of a site visit is to meet
the community members following a formal application or nomination for protection status.
After the review, multiple committees make a decision of declaration. Finally, the committees
make a recommendation of whether the nomination will be catalogued as a national, provincial,
or local heritage site. Yet, it is unclear whether SAHRA communicated their decision to DLM or
directly to LIHRA.
During SAHRA’s site visit, according to the transcript, the group also toured the sacred
areas and there seemed to be agreement and support by all participants about an action plan to
plant indigenous trees to revive the blanket of their zwifho— and to rehabilitate the barren places
where the trees were removed, which are a part of the zwifho buffer zones. In addition, signs
were supposed to be placed at the beginning of the buffer zones and the roads entering the
various zwifho to be closed to trespassers (see also table 4 below). There appeared to be a sincere
concern by the representatives to assist. Whether SAHRA conversed to the communities about
the ultimate status or subsequent plans again is vague— and I have yet to receive an answer
based on independent outreach as well. Regardless, from the perspective of community
members, the issue is not resolved and Vhomakhdzi and DLM have been persistently frustrated.

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Figure 7: Photograph: Signage at the entrance of the Thathe Sacred Forest (2014).

Cultural biodiversity research linked with conservation has gained traction in recent years,
but in Vhembe District Municipality this work is outwardly inhibited by colonial and apartheid
legacies similarly found in land legislation. Vhomakhadzi and DLM will continue attempts to
register sacred sites under Protected Heritage Status through the South African Heritage
Resource Agency (SAHRA). Again, the ranking of the applications remains ambiguous. This
research does not make claims to know the exact motivation of why SAHRA will not consider
these sites under Provincial or National protection status; however, accounts from Vhomakhadzi,
and the efforts of community and other non-governmental and civil society agencies, reveal that
any stalemate on community assistance may be due to the fact that attempts to assist are in
conflict with local politics or regional development. And as indicated in other communication,
government agencies at times are afraid of contradicting traditional governance.

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DLM members are required to adhere to 12 principles regarding sacred sites:
1.

Sacred sites are not places of entertainment or for playing sports, they are to be protected and respected.

2.

Construction work of any kind, especially hotels or entertainment centers, is not allowed in sacred sites.

3.

Those who are not the custodians or guardians of the sacred site have to respect the boundaries, and should
not enter within.

4.

Sacred sites are not tourist attractions, they play an important role within the ecosystem and society.

5.

Sacred sites are not dumping grounds for litter or rubbish.

6.

It is forbidden for anyone to chop down a tree in the sacred site, or to fetch firewood.

7.

Sacred sites are places for ritual activities and spirituality, only chosen clan members from origin can be
custodians who perform the rituals on behalf of the whole community.

8.

Sacred sites are to be respected by everyone; including the custodians, the whole community and people
passing by.

9.

Sacred sites should remain as undisturbed ecosystems; the trees and the atmosphere are essential for
creating the right conditions for rain across the

10.

It is taboo to move or replace any object in a sacred site from its original place.
whole region.

11.

Sacred sites should be respected by the government, and they should know that they have to discuss with
the custodians first before proposing any project involving the sacred site.

12.

The sacred site is not only the forest on the surface, it goes far down to the under-soil and far above to the
sky and the stars.

Figure 8: DLM Sacred Site Principles

If apparent colonial and apartheid gender ideologies and legal frameworks permeate today’s land
acts and traditional leadership, it is essential to understand how such philosophies became
embedded norms. Who and what is impeding the centuries old institution of Vhomakhadzi? Why
is it that the women of DLM now find themselves organizing independently from local
government, even seeking litigation to lobby for their indigenous rights to land, culture, and
environmental protections?
5.6 Colonialism and Traditional Leadership
Interview statements provide useful data for unearthing Vhomakhadzi perspectives about
gender and exogenous influences from the West. The following statements lay a foundation for

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understanding how the colonial encounter altered gender roles, and how emergent colonial and
apartheid gender philosophies have endured—impacting land policies and the environment. The
commentary also reveals the influence that these legacies, in conjunction with traditional
leadership, have had on cultural biodiversity in the region. I begin with Makaulule’s extensive
reflections as director of DLM. It is her vision that drives these efforts and contributes to a
growing movement in the region to preserve culture. For DLM, Makaulule’s philosophical
outlook has a great deal of influence on the activities and community organizing executed:

Ross:

Why have Vhomakhadzi been undermined in their role with
sacred sites?

Makaulule:

When I was at University, we were taught in sociology about this
thing of hegemony, and African women were undermined when
this new governing system came. As Dr. Dima was saying, Venda
culture was respecting women but if you talk about the Venda
culture or African culture you see that women were undermined;
women were dominated by the men. We Venda people we do not
have that…The companies continue with this hegemony that men
are superior to women, and our chiefs also, but most of them go
with women in the elder way. Outside forces, they came with
the principles of undermining the cultural customs and these cultural customs when they are undermined is when women are
undermined…This foreign role, outside forces, they undermine
culture and if you undermine culture, you undermine women’s
role, because culture is held in the hands of women.

Makaulule’s reflections here describe broadly a sociological concept she learned about the
supposition that African women have been undermined by state control. She seemingly
recognizes a semblance of collaboration by Western and/or White men, and African traditional
male leaders in South Africa, yet adding a distinct caveat that this phenomenon is not the norm
within Vhavenda culture. Among these outside influences, she includes companies. She directly
states that, “the companies continue the domination of women” as if the companies themselves

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are a continuation or extension of the colonial era and an outgrowth of the era’s gender
philosophies.
Women’s liberation in the context of Vhomakhadzi cultural roles is framed as a reclaiming
of agency for the benefit of the entire community. Customarily, a “Makhadzi is the one who
makes sure that there is order in the family, order in the clan, order in the community. And
through her knowledge, which continues to develop within her, and which is brought to her by
the ancestors, she becomes a guide...The chief cannot rule without the makhadzi” (Gaia
Foundation). Concerns for community well-being amidst shifting values is a characterization of
women’s empowerment in an African context.
Vhomakhadzi members of DLM identify these changes in Vhavenda culture as a result of
historical, political, and industrial changes over time. In an interview posted on the Gaia
Foundation’s website, Makaulule shares her ideas of women’s liberation in South Africa and
Venda, stating, “Today, we the women in South Africa, we have got our platform on which to
raise our voices. As South Africa has been liberated from the previous colonization, we have our
own space now. We can stand up as a woman. Which is what we mean when we say ‘women
empowerment” (Gaia Foundation). For Makaulule, it is colonialism that eroded women’s selfdetermination.
From this history, she sees disparities between Vhavenda women who live in the city and
those who live in Venda among the elders in their community; to her they seem lost and
vulnerable. Vhavenda are affected by the high rates of HIV and poverty, which impact all of
South Africa, a country where one in five adults is HIV positive.49 There is also a concern in

49

See dosomething.org

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Venda communities about single mothers, and/or increasing rates of teenage pregnancy.50,51
Makaulule is hoping to bridge this gap between the old and the young, and stop this annihilation
of culture and environment. She continues, “We have a great challenge because the younger
women are disconnected from creation, disconnected from their ancestors. The modern world is
consuming the younger generation.” She explains how Vhomakhadzi are dismayed by this
situation and are committed to reviving their eco-cultural knowledge and clan roles in order to
stabilize the community. There is a keen recognition here that outside influences throughout
South Africa’s history have contributed to the destabilizing of their roles as women and
makhadzi—and thus destabilizing their communities. Vhomakhadzi have traditionally been seen
as centering the community through a connection with mupo.52 Mupo according to many
makhadzi, gives everybody a role and function in society, for women, men, and children. To
restore order in the community again would be to return to those roles. Therefore, the
undermining of the role of makhadzi is inescapably connected to the destruction of sacred sites,
cultural biodiversity, and Vhavenda communities’ way of life.
In the proceeding interviews, participants discuss missionary influences and colonialism.
The commentary reveals a perception of observable inextricability between the two
institutions— neatly exemplified in an interview statement by Makaulule who reflects, “The
undermining the makhadzi is not only the company or anyone, it has started somewhere. The
colonization people, when they come here to defeat the Venda people, they say that ‘we cannot

50
See, Ramalebana, Masilo Euclid. Problems related to the learning situation of schoolgirl mothers in Venda
secondary schools, University of South Africa, Pretoria. 1995.
51
See, Mothiba, Tebogo M. et al., “Factors contributing to teenage pregnancy in the Capricorn District of the
Limpopo Province”. Curationis. vol.35, n.1 (Online).
52
This is a Luvenda word that means natural creations of the Universe.

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win’... I used to ask is it missionary or colonization that comes first?” Other makhadzi
commentary on this topic unearth Vhomakhadzi standpoint on the colonial/missionary encounter
as it intersects with the role of women:

53

Makaulule:

Colonization come first. They see that they cannot defeat the
Venda people, then they send the missionary. After colonization
was defeated, to win us, to colonize us, they send the missionaries.
And when the missionaries came here, they bring another way of
spirituality, the new allegiance. They teach people that makhadzi
play a wrong role, evil role, because they use their ancestors.

Mutshekwa:

Missionaries demonize our dead people. They say that ancestral
spirits is hedon53 or is not accepted by Jesus. And through that they
take away the role of makhadzi, and place a man, a priest, and they
take away the shrine. They take away the zwifho, and build a house—
name it church that people no longer want this zwifho or at the
shrine to pray there.

Nyadzawela:

Already the women were undermined. They don’t have power.
Women don’t have power, the men have power, but even when
problems arise in the home, they need the skill of the women,
but they say we are powerless. If they need to do ritual prayers,
they need women, but they say we are powerless. They need
women to carry out marriage rituals, women have a lot of
responsibility.

Connie:

In church, a woman cannot pray, it is only a man who can pray,
this is when they start to undermine the makhadzi. They take
away the Finger millet [a sacred plant], for us when we pray, we
take the snuff [ground tobacco] we take the Finger millet, we take
the water from the spring, not the table water, the clean water.
Then they take away the Finger millet and place a book, a bible.
They take away the makhadzi role and place a priest. They take
away the sacred forest and zwifho and shrine, and put a church.

Joyce:

We don’t pray in the house; we pray outside. The shrine is outside,

This term is a colloquial reference to heathen.

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or go to the forest or go to the tree, the Marula tree. Or indigenous
trees. We cannot pray inside the house. This is why they took
away the role of makhadzi; and they took away our water. Which we
use for praying. They [missionaries] placed the wine, because our
drink, when we pray, is a drink from Finger millet and water…the
missionaries demonized that, that drink from Finger millet and
water we used to pray, it’s wrong, they use the wine. And when
you remove that you remove the role of makhadzi, because these
were the tasks of makhadzi and because they put fears into the people.

Connie:

There was a time if you wanted to go to Joburg [Johannesburg],
you could not go, you could not wear the nwenda,54 they would say
that if you wore the nwenda you were a hedon; and to Christians,
you were just a person of demons, wearing just nwenda.

Interview statements reveal that colonialism and missionaries began the erosion of
Vhavenda culture and the devaluing of the role of makhadzi. The statements divulge
Vhomakhadzi knowledge that Christianity undermined culture by replacing the role of makhadzi
with a male priest. The priest replaced Vhangona sacred traditions of communicating to
ancestors with snuff, Finger millet, and other rituals in the sacred site with his own sacred
articles and church objects of wine and an altar. From this discourse, an historical trajectory of
silencing and shaming is exposed through the demonization of ancestral rituals. This silencing of
Vhomakhadzi, which in many ways prevented them from asserting their cultural roles in the postapartheid era, represents external and internal processes linked with cultural denigration and state
control. The missionary presence cultivated a warped perception of Vhavenda culture, therefore
traditional meanings are diminishing among younger Vhavenda people. When casually talking to
Vhavenda strangers about my research on Vhomakhadzi, many assumed I was a broadcast and
communications student because the dominant portrayal of Vhomakhadzi today derives from the

54

A Nwenda is a traditional cloth worn by Vhavenda women.

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Venda “Soapie,” or Soap Opera, Muvhango— a dramatization that sometimes mischaracterizes
the role of Vhomakhadzi. For example, makhadzi of DLM argue that their role was exaggerated
for entertainment and portrayed as a person who torments and forces decisions aggressively.55
Those depictions may, arguably, reflect changes in how a woman’s power is perceived and
shaped by colonial influences. Hence, the growing point of reference for the idea of a makhadzi
derives from fiction rather than one’s family.
In colonial Venda, the government and missionaries worked together to construct an
Africanist discourse of inferiority. Makhadzi and Vhavenda people were coerced into
Christianity through attacks on their culture. Consequently, the missionary arms of colonialism
and apartheid have resulted in Christian fundamentalism in present-day Venda. This
fundamentalism often reinforces long held and sometimes internal cultural vilification.
The condemnation of Vhavenda life was pervasive and lasting. Missionary attacks
specifically targeted cultural artifacts such as clothing, including the traditional nwenda, and
significant jewelry such as Vhukunda—bangles used to denote the marriage status of women. All
these attacks fostered a suppression and indignity among makhadzi. They felt abashed of most
components of their culture and role in their communities. The Berlin Mission Society records
detail a distressing example in the 19th century of a Vhavenda woman who, as a symbol of her
Christian faith, renounces her traditional Venda beads before baptism. The record states, “When
we [Missionaries] arrived at the house of an old lady, who was about to be baptised, she had
presented him with her heathen amulets and necklaces…she presented them with two stones and
told him to crush the beads; to destroy her last link with the heathen world” (Berlin Mission
55

Likewise, in the first large-scale and critically-acclaimed independent Venda film, Elelwani, released in 2012,
starring Vhavenda actress, Florence Masebe one makhadzi of the “royal court” is portrayed as conniving and power
hungry.

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Society Records). A more recent example in the last 20 years is one story relayed to me by
Makaulule of her college years:

Makaulule:

When I was at University [University of Venda] I was not
allowed to wear these things [Vhukunda bangles], but when I
was born, my big sister was wearing this and when I was
born my father give me these. But when I arrive at University
people said "ha! don’t wear these don’t wear these, is demon.”
I survive a lot. I could not mention makhadzi at University because
the students of these church meetings, when you say makhadzi you
are talking demons.”

Makaulule adeptly negotiates the cultural paradoxes of Christian fundamentalism in
Vhavenda culture. However, years before, she endured persecution in her own family when
living with a very religious uncle who tried to convert her—even attempting exorcism when she
refused to renounce traditional healing. Makaulule is the 11th of 24 children and comes from a
long line of traditional healers. Her father played a prominent role in her life; from him, she
gleaned a great deal of ancestral wisdom and a once treasured scrapbook of information with her
father’s indigenous medicinal notes. Her uncle later incinerated all of these notes because they
were perceived to be evil. Makaulule has since forgiven her uncle, but this rejection and
intimidation left a deep impression on her, and although imbued with passion and excitement for
her work to revive Vhangona culture, there is lingering pain over these events.
Other conceivably cultural incongruities can be found within DLM’s ranks as well, as
numerous Vhomakhadzi are also Christians. I recall seeing many Vhomakhadzi with the “Zet56
Cee Cee” star, emblematic of the Zion Christian Church (ZCC), which has a prolific presence in
Southern Africa. In Pretoria, people occasionally proselytized to me about the religion as well.
56
Zet Cee Cee is the alphabetical pronunciation for the letter ‘Z’ in many Black South African languages; it is also
often used to describe Zion Christian Church.

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These Christian makhadzi pin these stars on their traditional nwenda. There does not seem to be
a contradiction or fundamentalist position for these particular makhadzi who see value in both
traditions. Makaulule herself speaks about God and Jesus broadly in the way people do who
come from ethnic groups with multiple cultural influences.
However, the defamation of Vhangona culture and Vhomakhadzi still manifests today. In
Venda, even cultivating and growing the sacred Finger millet may be perceived by some to be
sacrilegious; thus, preachers at times lecture about these dangers on local radio stations. Dima,
too, shared that he was one of the traditional healers in Venda who bore death threats during
apartheid for his beliefs, surviving verbal attacks and pressures in the media. Again, the resultant
shame and silencing is framed within an Africanist discourse of inferiority, nurtured by colonial
administrators, missionaries, the Apartheid regime, and disseminated by present-day Christian
fundamentalists. Some fundamentalist Vhavenda Christians even criticize the association of
Vhomakhadzi with nature:

Denga:

It said that sacred sites are a demon thing, and people moved
away from these traditions and adopted new religions. This is
why people were no longer valuing sacred sites…They say that
if you follow your ancestral religion ways you are following the
foreign or hedonistic or demonic ways. But for us, we know that
our ancestral religion is not foreign. But they labeled it as foreign
and not accepted by God.

Ross:

[In asking follow-up questions] What are the modern reasons that
zwifho are being destroyed?

Mutshekwa:

People who preach the bible are threatening the people who
practice at her sacred sites…They say that if you are still
connected to the sacred site you are a mad person…[inaudible]
The government is interfering a lot. The government is taking the
places where there are sacred sites and selling them to the people.
It is selling the land where there is sacred site. The sacred site of

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the Malale clan. They White people fenced off the area and made
it a game park.
Mutshekwa:

The government is not respecting us. They aren't even scared to
enter the sacred sites and destroy it. In this land of Venda, the first
things which take away the value of the sacred site were the
missionaries, second is the government who supported the missionaries, and the government development projects— this mining
and pipeline.

Ross:

What happens if someone in the community is against these projects?

Mutshekwa:

The government will pay them for information and sign papers
that they consulted with the community— and they will dominate
against those who believe in the rituals. Division of the clan.
The government then gains power.

For Vhomakhadzi, the issue of Christian fundamentalism and the government is
interwoven. Among all Vhomakhadzi interviewed, it was also universally accepted that the chiefs
are being enticed by the government and/or development companies. Yet Vhomakhadzi were
adamant that the true Indigenous Vhangona chiefs adhere to the elder ways. Vhomakhadzi blame
the dominant Masingo leadership for disorder in the shango, or territory. As articulated in
chapter three, the Masingo historically conquered the Indigenous populations,57 and refused to
acknowledge Vhangona chiefs, even assisting the colonists to subdue and displace the
Vhangona. The following statements discuss the Masingo chiefs in relationship to recent
development projects in the region:
5.7 Exogenous Influences on Gender

57

Ross:

Who here gives permission to the government to take the land?

Denga:

From the chiefs. There are other groups that dominated the
Indigenous. The chief that was given power from the
government is from the new group (Masingo) because while

Vhalaudzi also conquered Vhangona nevertheless interview statements focus on the Masingo.

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they chase away the custodians of the sacred sites, it is a
chief who came and dominated the Indigenous.
It is easy for them to sell the land and develop the place.

Joyce:

That’s why you will see Makaulule in many papers because
she is fighting for our culture. That’s why she is leading us to
get up and get our guns. But not real guns, our mouths,
talking. These are our guns…talking. When you keep on
asking we remember a lot.

Denga:

You see the place like Thohoyandou. That place has a new
chief and they developed the whole area. You will no longer
see where there was sacred site, because they built the whole
town on the sacred sites.

Ross:

Denga:

So if they were true Vhangona chiefs, do you think they
would listen more?
Yes. Even the environment would be clean all over, no
cutting trees. Vhangona person respects the trees the Earth,
the snakes, everything.

Ross:

So these new chiefs are not Vhangona?

Denga:

The chiefs who are destroying the land are not Vhangona.

Tshinakaho:

We have many chiefs, but Vhangona chiefs are few. This
issue is very serious. We are also having lawyers who are
talking for each clan. And when we gather and they hear
that we need to collect money to pay the lawyers they go
away. It’s the whole disorder, which have cost. And we the
Vhangona move from our original homes and we are very
far. They [Masingo]occupied our place. That relocation was
not our choice. They burned our homesteads. We Vhangona
are scattered far all over Venda. We are no longer in our
home place. The other Vhangona, don’t want to be called
Vhangona, they have even changed their surnames. When
they make us to relocate others were killed.

In these statements Vhomakhadzi explain that Vhangona chiefs would be more respectful of the
Earth and its wildlife, unlike the dominant Masingo. Vhomakhadzi describe their historical

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removal and consequently their decentralized residency and power. What can be interpreted by
these statements is that their physical removal away from their homelands and sacred sites is the
cause of environmental and cultural upheaval by a dominant group that does not respect nature.
Further, the refusal of Masingo chiefs to acknowledge or respect Vhangona chiefs demonstrates
the marginalization and disenfranchisement they face as an ethnic-minority and reveals the
implications to the cultural institution of makhadzi.
An additional layer of land politics emerges in Venda with the historical conflicts between
the Vhangona and the Masingo. Therefore, to claim sacred sites takes on varied political
dimensions predating colonial frameworks. Vhangona are unwavering in their assertion that as a
custom, zwifho or sacred sites and the accompanying rituals of Thevhula and u Phasa overseen
by Vhomakhadzi precede the arrival of the Masingo, Vhalemba, and other non- Vhangona (Nonindigenous) clans who migrated from other parts of Africa centuries ago. This special claim to
sacred sites, Vhomakhadzi explain, set Vhangona leaders apart from Masingo ones and is how
they explain the exploitation by Masingo chiefs.

Makaulule:

They take the chiefs to the nice hotels and the say they will give
them money. So they get access to mining. They take out chiefs
to the hotels and give them food there, after that they also give
them alcohol then they give them a big file and ask for their signature here [mimics a signature line]. You will see the technical
language…this colonization thing is still continuing.

Dima:

The chief is poor, then they take him to the hotel and they make
him to sign this and they buy him a car. He [a chief] came with
that car in the public participation [meeting]….and they are promising him that he get royalties, money, when this mining continues,
he forgot about the people, he says I got all this money, I will be
rich and the people will recognize me as a good chief. It’s manipulating.

Makaulule:

They [chiefs] don’t know, it is part of this colonization. They

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have been brainwashed; they are manipulating the chiefs because
if you are poor, then they [government] come with the strategies
of this ‘we give you money. Because they are poor, the chiefs,
they lose their fields; they no longer have the place where they
can plough and have enough water, crops that they have, so they
become poor. That’s why they are manipulated. That’s why if you
resign [as a chief] you cannot even buy a cow. Then if they come
and they [government] want 15 hectares and [say] we will buy you a
car then the chiefs will allow, if they said mining is coming with
lots of money—[if] you are poor—then you will just sign.

Vhomakhadzi make a distinction between the opposition they get from the national
government compared with local Masingo chiefs who fail to represent their perspectives.
Vhomakhadzi concede that there are chiefs who sell land for bribes but they attribute this to
manipulation due to “recolonization” and “brainwashing.” However, Vhomakhadzi and
Vhangona are clearly conflicted on this topic, as Dima expresses disapproval of the chief who
brings his new car—assumed to be a government gift—to a public participation meeting. This
presumed “recolonization” impacts land tenure, culture, and the environment through the
development projects sanctioned by the non-indigenous chiefs:

Mudanalwo:

It is continuing that colonization because Coal of Africa did not
do public participation with the real people. They did public
participation somewhere and brainwashed our chief that
[Coal of Africa] are going to create jobs for you, while they
know they are lying, that there is no job that can satisfy the
whole thing; it’s a part of brainwashing people, colonizing the
minds of people.

The great irony is that while many chiefs are using tradition and custom to secure land in
the post-apartheid era, by contrast, in Dzomo La Mupo it is Vhomakhadzi who organize to retain
authentic pre-colonial indigenous traditions to protect land. DLM’s strategic efforts to protect
indigenous trees, wetlands and cultural biodiversity is rooted in a desire to safeguard indigenous
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Vhangona agricultural techniques which are in conflict with large-scale mono-crop plantations
and other corporate development projects. Moreover, although Vhomakhadzi powers and
influence have receded in Western democratic and capitalist institutions, the power of chiefs is
ever dependent on global capitalism. It is therefore important to examine the power differentials
among men and women in many African societies, such as Venda, and further analyze how
colonialism impacted gender relations and women’s power in the colonial, post-colonial, and
now globalized era. This analysis will consider the current power disparities between men and
women, particularly addressing the declining role of makhadzi in Venda society.
In Venda and throughout Africa, colonialism dramatically transformed constructions of
gender (Oyewumi 1997; Chacha 2005; Achebe 2011; Bolich 2007). Colonial authoritative
regimes reorganized indigenous customs to exert control over African economies and social
formations exemplified by systematic male hegemony. Women were confined to rigid
Eurocentric gender norms, which catalyzed power disparities between African men and women.
These imposed gender ideologies contributed to the invention of the ‘African woman’ as a
second class colonial subject determined by her race and gender (Oyewumi 1997; Chacha 2005).
African women, therefore, lost significant power endemic to precolonial African societies
situated in gender flexibility, seniority, communal access to land, and household and family
influence.
Same sex marriage was practiced throughout the Continent in regions such as precolonial Bukuria on the border of Tanzania and Kenya, among the Uchendu of the Igbo of
Southern Nigeria, in Dahomey in present-day Benin, and within the Nuer culture in Ethiopa and
South Sudan. In Southern Africa, woman-to-woman marriage was also found among the
Lovhedu of the Sotho group, the Zulu of Natal (KwaZulu-Natal), and in pre-colonial Venda

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society (Chacha 2005; Bolich 2007; Stayt 1931). Chacha’s (2005) research illuminates gender
malleability and agency in woman-to-woman marriage in Africa. According to Chacha, this form
of same-sex marriage mediated male domination and allowed women to transcend potential
gender barriers to assuage social, reproductive, and economic problems in African societies
(Stayt 1931; Amadiume 1987; Chacha 2005; Achebe 2011). In Bukuria, this marriage custom
aided barren women, or sonless widows, affording them the opportunity to be respected within
their society. It was socially acceptable for young wives, comparable to surrogates, to conceive
through a male consort (umutwari) in order to bare a son for an older female husband (Chacha
2005). It has been documented among the Nandi of Kenya, that a woman who took a female wife
even stopped sexual intercourse with men, dressed as a man, and was thus regarded as a man, or
what scholars refer to a cultural or ritual man (Oboler 1980, qtd. in Chacha 2005). Many
societies that accepted this marriage practice regarded a sonless house as a poor one, thus the
expression of female masculinities was considered beneficial to the prosperity of the household
(Chacha 2005; Bolich 2007).
Woman-to-woman marriages eventually dissolved at the onset of colonialism or emerged
as a covert practice, as the concept ran contrary to Christian values. Missionaries regarded these
same-sex unions as either homosexual, adulterous, or a form of prostitution (Chacha 2005). The
moral and authoritative interference of missionaries in indigenous cultures was largely indicative
of the patriarchal framework of the Church. Even the notion of African maturation to
womanhood was characterized disdainfully, reflective of Victorian mores (Tamal 2011). This is
also corroborated by Southern Africanist and missionary Henri-Alexandre Junod’s work, The
Life of a South African Tribe (1912), which included an appendix written in Latin to conceal
what he described as the ‘vile and immoral’ subject of female sexuality and puberty in African

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cultures (Arnfred 169). Likewise, among the Masasi in Southern Tanzania, missionaries
characterized their female initiation rights and customs as sexually explicit (Arnfred 2005); again
showing the Church’s disdain for indigenous customs and women’s bodily rituals, existence, or
power. Ultimately, the White settler regimes that abolished same-sex marriage and polygamy as
moral abominations, disregarding the economic and social benefit for women (see chapter three).
As a patriarchal institution, the Church targeted social formations that allotted women power
through gender flexibility, or embodiment as cultural or ritual men. Consequently, colonial social
formations affected women in myriad ways both socially and economically.
The literature (Rwezaura’s 1985; Arnfred’s 2011; Tamal 201; Chacha 2005, Bolich 2007)
deduces that African women’s power and status was largely confronted at the intersection of the
Church, the nuclear family construct, and wage labor. In colonial society, African women’s lives
were limited to the roles of wife and mother in contrast to the range of identities accessible
through pre-colonial gendered flexibility. This in part was due to imperialist systems of wage
labor predicated on Christian values that favored male-headed households. Thus, colonial
authorities reconstituted African women’s gendered identities to meet Christian and capitalist
aims, clarifying Rwezaura’s (1985) assertion that woman-to-woman marriage in Bakuria was a
pre-capitalist custom. Attempts to dismantle or phase out same sex marriage throughout the
Continent underscores the meeting between the Church and capitalism as a joint civilizing
mission of colonial regimes.
Arnfred’s (2011) research on Portuguese Mozambique supplies additional textual
evidence on colonial influence over gender in Southern Africa. Colonial speeches and documents
reveal that administrators were disturbed by the matrilineal features of marriage in northern
Mozambique— particularly customs that encouraged men to leave their villages to marry, and

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women’s freedom to seek divorce. Colonial reports note the perceived instability of these unions
given the judgment that there was no solid position for a husband as the natural head of the
household. Additionally, it was assumed that “patrilineal societies [were] better suited than
matrilineal ones for adaptation to rapid social and economic change” (Rita Ferreira et al
1964:78). Marriage in this context was interpreted as unnatural as, “Matriliny conforms neither
to the demands of Christianity, nor to the demands of development; and furthermore these
societies are irritatingly resistant to change” (Arnfred 123). By restricting African women to the
social identity of wife, compared with the extended family configuration of many traditional
African families, colonial administrators normalized the nuclear family whereby women and
children relied on the wage labor of men. Before these gendered and economic constructs,
women were very active in farming and work interpreted to be men’s labor. Moreover, beyond
Christian moralisms, subverting women’s work was also a means of controlling agriculture,
pastoral living, and land ownership by altering their agricultural production and gendered
division of labor.
By governing African female identity and the woman’s role in the institution of marriage,
colonial authorities were reorganizing divisions of labor, agriculture, and patrilineal inheritance
within a male-dominated capitalist hierarchy (Miescher, 2007). In South Africa, particularly in
Natal, White settlers restructured production within the Black family by seizing the chief’s
control of women’s lives and work. McClintock (1995) describes, how the mid-19th century
British politician, Theophilus Shepstone, engineered this agenda which he executed during his
residency and authoritative reign over Fengu and Zulu peoples58 in the Eastern Cape.
Shepstone’s objective, according to McClintock (1995), was to undermine Zulu male power and
58

Fengu people were once more closely related to Zulus, but are now more absorbed into the Xhosa culture.

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economic control by altering his wives’ labor roles. Colonial administrators in other regions
adopted this land confiscation policy to control African systems of production and women’s
agricultural labor owing to the excess labor that a Zulu man controlled through his wives; as
women’s work was seen as competition and an immense threat to the profits of the settlers.
McClintock states, “Black women in Natal [KwaZulu Natal] became the ground over which
White men fought Black men for control of their land and labor...pre-capitalist societies in
southern Africa depended on the control of labor power, rather than the control of products”
(254). McClintock describes how men’s authority over the homestead and women’s agricultural
labor essentially translated symbolically into Zulu male social and political power. In other
words, women’s labor was the foundation of the Zulu economy, which directly threatened the
economy of the settlers and their nascent systems of wage labor; essentially, Black women’s
agricultural labor exceeded the production capacity of White farmers. Magubane (2004)
similarly describes how vagrancy laws were enacted to force Khoisan tribes in South Africa to
adopt systems of wage labor over subsistence farming. Vagrancy laws were created to punish the
nomadic, sometimes described as indolent Khoisan tribes, who retained subsistence living
despite the colonial penchant towards wage labor and capitalism (Magubane 2004). White
settlers thought it peculiar that Khoisan women were laboring in the fields, thus White settlers
exerted control over Black women’s work and the fruits of her labor.
This history explains the socio-cultural and economic changes that have affected the
ancestral role of makhadzi throughout colonialism and into the post-apartheid era—particularly
as it relates to makhadzi and her relationship to land and agriculture. Vhomakhadzi have been
relegated from agricultural influence and as a cultural institution are limited in an increasingly
industrialized and male dominated capitalist society. Multinational companies neither consult

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them nor do they play a prominent role in public participation meetings, such as recent
consultations for Coal of Africa, Ltd development plans. The next chapter explores the wideranging environmental threats Vhomakhadzi have identified, which are attributed to
industrialization and local and international commercial business, and highlights their
devaluation from agricultural and development decisions in the Vhembe District Municipality.

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CHAPTER SIX: DATA ANALYSIS AND RESULTS II

An examination of media accounts, articles, interviews, website content, documentaries
and Vhavenda student dissertations assisted in answering the third research question: What do
Vhomakhadzi attribute to environmental degradation in the Vhembe District Municipality? This
chapter centers on Coal of Africa Limited (CoAL) and their development scheme and
participation meetings hosted in Venda. Makhadzi share their experiences protesting CoAL’s
colliery plans with Dzomo La Mupo (DLM), and describe the impact that mining has had on
ecosystems and wetlands in the region. In this section, Vhomakhadzi also compare and contrast
mono-crop plantations with indigenous agricultural techniques, local food and seed systems, and
explain their definition of food sovereignty. Lastly, the research and interview statements in this
section underscore how global capitalist enterprises evade women’s contributions and give way
to hegemonic systems of power.
6.1 Vhomakhadzi Observations: Coal Mining
Environmental degradation is inherently intertwined, which is also true for Venda’s
Vhembe District Municipality. In Vhembe, one cannot describe deforestation without explaining
the impact on rainfall, soil erosion, or sedimentation run-off that disturbs rivers, springs, and
livestock. The cutting down of indigenous trees also impacts vegetation biomass and/or riparian
vegetation growing along rivers—causing receding riverbanks, stunted aquatic wildlife, and an
altered climate. Similarly, when discussing coal mining and extractive activities to excavate
fossil fuels, environmentalists would be remiss to ignore the chemical bearing on rivers and
quality drinking water, exorbitant water use, or the shock to human welfare. Fundamentally, any
threat to one component of the environment – people, water, trees, or soil – is a danger to them
all due to the delicate balance and connectivity of ecosystems. Metaphorically, it is like the game
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Jenga as the more blocks you pull the closer you come to toppling the entire tower of
biodiversity.
As self-identified ecologists, Vhomakhadzi of DLM are acutely aware of the
interdependent relationship between people and nature. Therefore, they organize
environmentally comprehensive campaigns that address multiple environmental dangers. For
example, DLM’s campaign against Coal of Africa Limited’s (CoAL) Makhado Coking Coal
Project, proposed in 2012, is a fight to protect health and human welfare and preserve water for
communities, livestock, household farmers, and agricultural livelihoods. CoAL is an Australian
company and one of several extractive enterprises that have submitted excavation proposals in
the Limpopo Province. CoAL has communicated their development timeline and goals primarily
with the local and provincial male leadership. The company projects production of 5.5 million
tons of coal a year for domestic and export markets.59 In addition to local tourism developments,
CoAL represents an increased presence of multinational development companies with schemes
for land in the Vhembe District Municipality and greater Venda region in Limpopo.
CoAL shareholders include ArcelorMittal Steel of South Africa, a subsidiary of the
ArcelorMittal Steel group based in Luxembourg, which has ventures in 60 countries worldwide
and the largest steel company in the EU.60 Although merely one company, CoAL represents a
larger network of multinational companies and strategic investors that rely on extraction and
excavation in this indigenous community. The company has three operating coalmines: Vele
Colliery, the Makhado Project, and the Mooiplaats Colliery. They also manage the Makhado
hard coking and thermal coal resources project. After DLM observed the effects of other coal
mining projects in the region, they joined community members to protest the proposal to protect
59
60

See Ismail, “Coal of Africa suffers water blow” to read about the water license procedures required for mining.
See ArcelorMittal Steel website for corporate information http://corporate.arcelormittal.com.

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their communities.61

Figure 9: Photograph: Vhomakhadzi Wetland’s Focus Group (2016)

In the March 18, 2012 City Press article, “BlackGold Versus Blue Water,” by Yolandi
Groenewald, Johnathan Mudimeli, chairperson of the Mudimeli Royal Council is quoted stating,
“There is a huge fight coming…Our community will be surrounded by a mine and no one is
talking to us.” A delegation of local advocates, farmers, and community members accompanied
Mudimeli to the Department of Mineral Resources in Limpopo to contest the mining plans. The
entire community was alarmed about the impact that this proposed mining project could have on
water. Although there are people supportive of the project because of the prospect of jobs—with
a projection of 1,000 jobs alone expected during the operational phase of the mine62— regardless
mining is still a huge threat to water supplies in the region. In her article, Groenewald infers that
the project has initiated a water war. She describes an additional meeting the following day
stating, “the workshop is packed and the greenshirts of Dzomo La Mupo…dominate the
61
62

See Groenewald for extensive information on South Africa’s impending water crisis.
See Wallington’s editorial, “The right perspective” to learn about one phase of Coal of Africa’s development
plan.

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room…the group made up mostly of women is not popular with Coal of Africa. The company’s
chief executive John Wallington even suggested legal action against the group if it continued to
oppose the mine.” In addition to protests by Vhomakhadzi of DLM, CoAL has met up against
other obstacles, including a R9.2 million fine for environmental offences indicated by
Environmental Management Inspectors (EMIs), commonly referred to as the Green Scorpions,
appointed under South Africa’s National Environmental Management Act (NEMA) of 2008, and
by farmers who acquired a court interdict to stop portions of work on the R4bn project in 2014
(Mantshantsha 2015).
Vhomakhadzi have been vocal about their water concerns and distressed about where the
company will siphon the millions of gallons of water a day needed for coal production. CoAL
has several phases of water plans they must traverse. First, they must acquire a water license to
use groundwater, followed by applying for a bulk-water license from the department of water
affairs—to pipe in 4.6 million liters of water from the Nzhelele dam. Lastly, they must buy water
rights from regional farmers (Groenewald 2012). In anticipation of the company securing the
necessary water licenses, CoAL began proactively negotiating the purchase of water rights from
farmers in the area, despite the suspension of an integrated water-use license acquired in January
2015. The deferral followed an appeal by the Department of Water and Sanitation, and filed by
the Vhembe Mineral Resources Forum, which is comprised of Limpopo citizens and farmers.
According to reports, the “…appeal automatically suspends the IWUL in terms of Section 148
(2) (b) of the South African National Water Act No 36 of 1998” (Ismail 2016). In addition,
350Africa, a Johannesburg-based environmental organization, called for a climate change state
of emergency, citing the destruction to surrounding communities, including the UNESCO world
heritage site Mapungubwe.

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Despite these protests, CoAL has not been deterred, and according to the current CEO
David Brown, the company will file a counter claim with the minister of Water and Sanitation.
Brown contends that CoAL’s proposal will be a sustainable project that will also create
socioeconomic transformation in the region (Ismail 2016) and will work cooperatively with local
farmers and world heritage sites. Likewise, as Groenewald reports, Eugene O’Brien, Makhado
Coking Coal Project site manager, reassured residents that no water will be taken to the
detriment of farmers without compensation. The implication of these reassurances is that if these
communities do suffer environmental harm, recompense is an equitable solution by the company,
despite threats to human or environmental well-being.
If internationally recognized world heritage sites such as Mapungubwe cannot ward off
mining, then what happens to smaller communities in the region, including sacred natural sites?
According to the Makhado Coking Coal Project fact sheet, available on Coal of Africa’s website,
the project is situated on five nearby farms, identified as Fripp 645 MS, Tanga 648 MS,
Windhoek 649 MS, Lukin 643 MS and Salaita 188 MT. The company claims the Makhado
Project affects seven communities total, yet Vhomakhadzi believe that this is a modest estimation
of the damage that the region will incur. To assuage fears about water supplies, CoAL’s
environmental consultant, Mias van der Walt, assured residents that Coal of Africa will pay for
new connections of water for every household affected (Groenewald 2012); however, once again,
this payment would be in exchange for certain environmental degradation. Of the various fossil
fuel extractive processes, coal mining is the most water intensive. The project threatens an
already water-stressed area, local livelihoods, and a network of sacred forests including Thathe.
Vhomakhadzi are particularly concerned about the Nzhelele river, which begins in Thathe
and flows through many communities before feeding into the massive Limpopo river. Drinking

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water, land-irrigation, and livestock would all be impacted. Vhembe and all of Limpopo province
is already the driest region in South Africa, and Vhomakhadzi speculate that this mining proposal
would finish the Nzhelele, which is already lower than in previous years. Nzhelele’s river banks
have already eroded, and its path and support have dissipated because of deforestation at its
banksides. Deforestation in the region is largely due to commercial farms, but in this case, it is
also due to residents who use firewood for cooking and for home dwellings and fields planted
closer to the banks of the river, which also absorb the water.

Figure 10: Photograph: Residents collecting firewood in Vuwani (2015).

Consequently, Vhomakhadzi anticipate that this river will be further stressed, if not
completely evaporated by coal mining. Vhomakhadzi interview statements about DLM’s
campaign against the Makhado Coking Coal Project provide additional insight about their
environmental concerns and lack of public participation in the colliery planning phases:
Ross:

I know that DLM has tried to get makhadzi the
opportunity to participate in public participation meetings
for mining projects, how successful have you been?

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Makaulule:

We went there to the public participation meeting. When we
were there, they told us that they were going to mine the area
because there is something there they want to take out from the
ground. Then we asked them as DLM, when you dig
down there, you’re going to affect the Nzhelele river, and that will
affect farming and many things because the river is already
getting dry. Because we know they will dig deep and take more
water, we asked them where they will get the water. They
answered that the water which we will be using, we will clean it
again which will be water that is drinkable. Then we say that we
don't want their mining. They are quiet and no longer talking
about it…There was a chief who was there, and the mining people
bought him a car and a suit but we protested so much that the
chief ran away.

Tshinakaho:

These people are going far. They say they are starting where the
Makhado Colliery is and we tell them, you are only starting here,
but you are going to disturb the water all over like the spring there.
It starts there from Thathe [yet] it’s going to affect this river; we
clarify them that we know how the system works, like ecosystem.
And we ask them a lot about the water issue because they were
mentioning the Thathe Vondo Dam…they said they are going to
take the water from Thathe Vondo Dam, from Levubu, from
Nzhelele dam; then we say don’t touch that water, that is for us
to use it.

Makaulule:

They talk a lot about Zimbabwe. And we see the impact
of mining. People no longer drink water there because
mining is destroying the river; it’s mud. We even told them that
when you destroy these rivers, you’re even going to destroy the
animals, even the things we don’t understand, we know how
mining is going to bring a bad impact around here. And we
showed them the way we understand the rivers, the wetlands,
the springs, how mining is going to destroy them, because
we remind them that in the past we [women] were not allowed
to say anything…Now we have the right and we are telling
you, as women, we will stand against your mining.

Vhomakhadzi are disheartened by CoAL’s Makhado Coking Coal Project. Despite
attempts to impart their eco-cultural knowledge onto the attending representatives, it would seem

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that their cries fell on deaf ears. In fact, John Wallinton, the CEO of CoAL at the time, depicted
DLM’s protestations as “a circus”(Groenewald 2012). Nevertheless, Vhomakhadzi continue to
educate the community, and raise important questions that are not addressed in full by CoAL’s
press releases, company literature, or public statements. For instance, DLM clarifies questions
about the impact of mining on the connectivity of ecosystems, about water-use for household
farmers, and the finite life of a mine.
Vhomakhadzi members of DLM try to envisage what will remain of regional biodiversity
after Coal of Africa leaves and closes their mines. The women demonstrate a sophisticated
understanding of ecosystem vulnerabilities, which contradict CoAL’s public relations claims
purporting sustainability. CoAL’s assertions are also refuted by the frequent accounts of acid
mine drainage, black lung disease, and contamination of drinking water due to coal mining.
Water use is also a particular concern, as DLM members are fearful of contaminants and toxins
in the water, the disruption of watersheds and fresh water aquifers, and the dangers to
ecosystems that have ecological and spiritual significance. Ultimately, Vhomakhadzi are
distressed about the socio-environmental effects of “mining water grabs” and the seizing of land
and water by coal undertakings throughout rural South Africa.

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Figure 11: Photograph: Nzhelele River. (Picture by Mphatheleni Makaulule).

Many residents question where CoAL will get the amount of water needed for their
enterprise, given that the average rain fall in Limpopo is low and has even been compared to the
Kalahari Desert” (Groenewald, Greenpeace Africa, 2012). In the piece “How Coal Mining
Already Threatens an Already Water-stressed Area, Local Livelihoods, and a Network of Sacred
Forests,” by Makaulule, for the Gaia Foundation, Vhomakhadzi express the hope that CoAL will
come and see the communities whose water they will be using. In her editorial, Makaulule asks
local community members, who rely on water for household needs and agriculture, if they know
about the CoAL mine. “No-one knows!” she writes, “many people in the community do not
know that the mine is coming and that it will take the water. They depend on the water of
Nzhelele river. They take it to boil and drink. They use it for everything. They will simply wake
one day and find that there is no more water” (Mupo Foundation). Vhomakhadzi demand
transparency by Coal of Africa. Makaulule concedes that Coal of Africa has posted information
on the Internet but states, “These villages don’t have Internet connection! How can people know
that there is an application for a water license to take the water from this river? They cannot

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access this information.” The Gaia Foundation and DLM videotaped63 CoAL’s ‘Water Open
Day’ to share their concerns with the larger environmentalist community. In the video, the
farmers present at the meeting express anger at the public participation program regarding the
mining proposal. Wallington, however, refutes claims that CoAL lacks transparency with the
community.
In a News24 follow-up article in response to Groenewald’s piece, Wallington rebuked the
journalist’s generalities. In addition, he was frustrated by Johnathan Mudimemli’s assertion that
there was no public participation stating, “It was disappointing to read a community leader
saying ‘no-one is talking to us’ when I personally have attended meetings with this community,
often in the presence of both local and provincial government representatives” (Wallington
2012). Wallington continues, describing the underdeveloped mineral wealth in the region that
could assuage the socioeconomic problems of the historically disadvantaged Venda apartheid
homeland. He cites examples of CoAL’s dual memorandums of understanding with the
Department of Environment and Sanparks, and the Save Mapungubwe coalition; evidence, he
suggests, of the company’s commitment to conservation and development. Wallington even
alludes that the mining efforts will see an “enhancement” of the environment and regional
biodiversity. For example, he contends that improvements to the bulk water pipelines will
improve water reticulation systems, further claiming that over the lifetime of the mine only 3
percent of Nzhelele Dam’s reserves will be utilized.
Wallington is correct that both local and provincial government representatives have been
consulted, yet the public participation appears to be a pretense to communicate with local leaders
exclusively for the purposes of launching their development project with expediency. When the

63

To see footage of Coal of Africa’s, “Water Open Day” see the YouTube clip http://youtu.be/CI2EebpiqNM

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proposal was first made, Khosi Kennedy Tshivhase was king, but now CoAL is engaging in talks
with the new Khosi, Khulu Toni Mphephu Ramabulana. The Makhado Coking Coal Project fact
sheet online provides a pyramid chart of “Engagement Structures” where the company outlines
forums of communication and public participation with provincial, regional, and local
government assemblies. The “King’s forum”— which CoAL seemingly uses to assure
stakeholders of their community engagement—is chaired by Chief Musekwa and includes
representatives and traditional authorities of affected communities, as well as other elected
representatives. At the bottom there is a space that represents a nebulous set of community
members.
Gender has not been a categorical consideration during the public participation process;
nor has it been reflected in CoAL’s fact sheet, which stresses their expected socioeconomic
contributions and their community development approach. The company’s priority above
community and gender interests was to first secure a new-order mining right (NOMR) from the
Department of Mineral Resources (DMR),64 clearing a final hurdle of compliance with Black
Economic Empowerment (BEE) legislation. Therefore, CoAL entered an agreement with
community BEE empowerment representatives to have them purchase 26 percent stake in the
Makhado Coking Coal Project—20 percent held by the Makhado Colliery Community
Development Trust, and 6 percent gained by Mike Nkuna’s, Yoright Investments, which would
include historically disadvantaged South Africans and Black entrepreneurs. Such communitybased alliances and shareholders do not explicitly represent the interests of indigenous women.
What is apparent, is that the most lucrative and advantageous approach for CoAL is to appeal to
local and provincial male leadership and business partnerships, with powerful organizations that

64

See Odendaal, for information on mining in the region.

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can provide the legislative clearances and capital needed to proceed with operations. The public
participation is ultimately tenuous and Vhomakhadzi, and other community members, must rely
on rumors to understand what future development plans may be imposed on their communities:

Tshinakaho:

There is a rumors now, it will come out, that they have
discovered gold there. At the tea plantations they discovered
coal. They are going to mine the whole Soutpansberg. It’s
5 projects of mining: Mapungubwe, Makhado Colliery, these
three ones they are not disclosing them, but we have heard
the other one is going to Kruger. Venda is going to be like
Mpumalanga.

Coal of Africa’s activities highlight the ways neocolonialism replicates hegemonic
systems of exploitation and privilege shaped by colonialism and globalization (Ogundipe-Leslie
1993; McFadden 2001; Taiwo 2004; Haysom 2001; Chepyator-Thompson 2005; Turshen 2010;
Chioma Steady 2002; Boko 2005). Research reveals how globalization erodes economic and
social progress, resulting in explosive poverty, illiteracy, disease, and infant mortality rates that
are aggravated by the stronghold of contemporary Western control over the Continent’s
resources. Multinational corporations inhibit African self-governance, and are intended to extract
the Continent’s wealth to the detriment of African people and the most vulnerable among them,
women and children (Chepyator-Thomson 2005; Turshen 2010; Haysom 2001; Chioma-Steady
2002; Boko 2005).
CoAL’s interaction with Vhomakhadzi of DLM and women in the region epitomizes
globalization’s link with gender-based discrimination. The study reveals in particular the
marginalization of Vhomakhadzi in the public participation process for the proposed Makhado
Coking Coal project, which is especially egregious given the historically vital role of makhadzi
to the leadership of the chief as stewards of land and agriculture and as ecologists. When former
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CoAL CEO John Wallington characterizes Vhomakhadzi protests as a circus, threatening legal
action against the women for exerting their cultural roles within their own nation and ancestral
land, it becomes clear how corporations supersede and delegitimize culture, and indigenous
women’s rights. An intersectional analysis of Vhavenda or Vhangona women’s discrimination
within these structures reveals a differentiation compared with the citizenship rights of men.
CoAL ignores women by appealing almost exclusively to national, provincial, and local male
leadership. This is unmistakable in the company’s informational pyramid chart of community
engagement structures, whereby CoAL showcases its hierarchal public participation with local
populations. CoAL’s pyramid chart65 depicts the king, Khulu Toni Mphephu Ramabulana at the
apex, followed by male chiefs and other leadership. This representation shows no explicit
interaction with women, no consideration of environmental impact on gender, and no recognition
of Vhomakhadzi. Likewise, CoAL circumvents community and Vhomakhadzi protests, using
Black Economic Empowerment legislation and strategic investors to illustrate community
involvement with historically disadvantaged communities and Black entrepreneurs, yet these
sectors are not largely represented by women, and even fewer if any indigenous women among
the Vhangona.
6.2 Vhomakhadzi Observations: Wetlands and Deforestation
Amid extractive industries, there are many environmental threats to water in the Vhembe
District Municipality. Vhomakhadzi members of DLM disclose a correlation between mining,
deforestation, modern agricultural practices, and commercial farming as threats to the wetlands.
Although cultural safeguarding is referenced in the following sections, chapter seven more
explicitly addresses cultural biodiversity preservation.
65

See coalofafrica.com for stakeholder literature and community engagement structures.

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The last section illustrated how much water has become a commodity amidst local
mining politics. While noting the activities of Makaulule’s family through participant
observation, I witnessed other problems with access to water. In the townships, homes usually
have one tap outside and there are few dwellings with indoor plumbing. As stated in chapter
four, the townships are run by the municipality, while many of the villages managed by
Vhamusanda or chiefs, have access to communal water pumps. Makaulule’s home had one
spigot in front of the house, connected to a hose to water the garden and to provide water for
bathing, cooking, and drinking. Water was drained into a large, uncovered plastic barrel around
four feet high. The family had a bucket system in which one small pail, used like a ladle, was
dipped into the barrel to fill a series of smaller plastic buckets to be stored in the house for
drinking and cooking—or carried off to fill up bathing tubs.
The Vhembe District Municipality is also fraught with water politics, rations, and strikes.
The Department of Water Affairs (DWA) have periodically restricted water or shut it off
completely while negotiating wages. On one such occasion, I accompanied the family to the
house of a generous neighbor who was willing to share water from his tank. In 100-degree
weather, we made two trips to the neighbor’s home and loaded up the family’s truck with as
many buckets as we could. We then carried the water to the backyard using a wheel barrel.
Whether transporting water to the family’s house on that particular day, or managing the daily
household water use, lifting heavy buckets together was an everyday routine.

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Figure 12: Photograph: Vhavenda youth collecting water from a
communal pump between Vuwani Township and village.

Water is sanctified among the varied sacred sites and forests or zwifho, such as Phiphidi
Waterfall and Lake Fundudzi, yet regardless of the source water is consecrated. Whether
groundwater, cascades, springs, pools, and watersheds, all aquatic ecosystems are culturally and
environmentally significant. Vhangona culture is filled with taboos and myths represented as
either blessings or “scary myths” used as conservation strategies to ensure sustainable land-use
and to protect water. The wetlands are susceptible to many hazards of development and modern
agricultural practices that negate Vhomakhadzi eco-cultural wisdom and methods of
conservation. Participant discourse further reveals what Vhomakhadzi identify as environmental
threats and how they face these challenges through efforts to preserve customary beliefs:

Ross:

Makwarela:

What are the urgent problems threatening water? What is
threatening water, the most? All water; rivers, wetlands,
springs.

Mining and boreholes are disturbing the water. The people who
are cutting down trees near the rivers, the people who are making fires in
the forest…There is government people they are going to the rivers and

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cutting down the [indigenous fruit tree] because they say it is
taking up a lot of water. We grow up eating the fruit of these
trees and we don’t understand why now they are saying that it is
taking up a lot ofcwater. There are lots of people now patenting
things— they say don't eat this fruits now, we are going to plant
these new things. We have lots of wild fruits, you will see now
that people are using GMOs, genetically modified food that
we should eat these new fruits and things, disconnecting people
from the wild fruits and vegetables.
Phophi:

We can’t survive. Rivers and wetlands are very important, we
can’t survive without them. Without them we are disrupting the
traditional healers. Wetlands are very important for traditional
healing. If a woman has a miscarriage, the healer must bury the
fetus in the wetlands to keep them calm and that person will
conceive again. But if we lose the wetlands, where are we going
to do the burials of the unborn?

Phophi:

They are very important we cannot survive without the wetlands.
In that wet place, there is a lot of life there – it is a part of our life,
too. There are things like frogs, small reptiles, insects, and the
earthworms, it’s their home. If we lose all these things we are
losing a lot. There are frogs, there is grass, and trees, and it is
important because they provide shade for the water and animals.
The wetlands and springs work together.

Luvhani:

Mupo, here in and around Venda in different places in villages and
different territories. I will talk about the experiences in my
home in Vuvha. In Vuvha, there are so many boreholes, and these
boreholes are blocking people from going to the river, we used to
have many wetlands, but that place they have destroyed. People
are destroying the wetlands, they are making their homesteads
on the wetlands, building them on top of the wetlands. In our rivers,
we used to have many big trees that would attract rain and now
the people have debushed them. We used to have the Marula trees,
which is important for Venda people and our rituals, but now they
are not there. They have been cut down.

Ross:

How did Vhomakhadzi traditionally protect springs and
wetlands?

Nyamuladelo:

Makhadzi is the one who would go to the spring,
and then she would go back home and call the elders…
Then the elder men would go and get a big log, and then the
elder women would clean the spring and touch the water.
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The spring was not allowed to be cleaned by a woman who
was still matured, only by the women who had menopause.
Mainganye:

There was traditional way that you fetch water from the
spring. You could not take just any container, only the calabash.
And you would not take a pot that had already been put on fire,
the black pot. The clay pot, which passes through fire, was not
allowed; not enamel or anything. Only a clean clay pot or the
calabash, that is how you fetched water. That's how the spring
was protected. Now the children go to the spring and see the
snake, the frog, the beetle and they kill. And once you kill those
things the spring gets dry.

Muofhe:

We used to protect the spring, because it was connected to our
customs. Like when we grew up we did not know issues about
birth, that a woman become pregnant and give birth. We were
taught that the children came from the river. And this is why
we respect the river because we know that this is where we get
our little brother or sisters.

Masindi:

We have taboos, but now children will say what is that taboo?
People have made things upside down. Like if we say, don’t kill
this snake, they will say that you are a witch because they
associate snakes with witches. We are saying that Makuwa66
is allowed to do a snake park, where people pay to see the snakes,
for them they say snake should be saved. For us it is witchcraft.
We traveled to Durban for this permaculture training and they
have a snake park, we say open the gate we know snake more than
you; we cannot pay to see snakes. We can’t pay money to see the
snake we know the snake at home. There were persons there who
said maybe you take the snakes from our mountains.

For Vhomakhadzi, cultural biodiversity preservation is an act of survival. It is evident
from the interview statements how important particular taboos have been for protecting nature,
including the cultural elements linked with water, such as womanhood, birth, and healing. The
Gaia and Mupo Foundation websites have included Vhomakhadzi concerns about bankside

66

This term refers to a Western/ White person.

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erosion and dried up rivers throughout Vhembe. For example, Vhomakhadzi are alarmed about
the condition of 24 rivers flowing out of the Thathe Holy Forest. Vhomakhadzi contend that
deforestation and erosion of the rivers will eliminate the irrigation for household and small scale
farmers, and eventually all farms. Makaulule writes, “Sacred sites are places that make
evaporation that makes rain. If you don’t protect the pools and waterfalls, where do the people
get clean water to drink? Rituals aren’t empty things. They’re the Earth wisdom of hundreds of
generations of wisdom” (Gaia Foundation). The negation of indigenous farming systems and the
destruction of the surrounding rivers and springs is putting their communities at risk. The next
interview statements reveal Vhomakhadzi knowledge about harvesting and traditional farming
systems referred to as Mutanga and Tshikovha, which have changed over time through the
introduction of Western farming and agricultural techniques
6.3 Vhomakhadzi Observations: Seed Security and Food Sovereignty
Ross:

I’ve heard people mention Mutanga and Tshikovha as
traditional farming methods. Do people still farm in the
traditional way?

Luvhengo:

People no longer respect the traditional ways of plowing
because farms is near the wetlands. Because the way of
ploughing near the wetlands is that people wait near the wetlands
and when we plant there we have to make some furloughed where
the water is not disturbed. But now people just plow and don't
follow the traditional way of farming. There is no longer a place
of Mutanga because people are making their homes at the banks
of the river.

Makaulule:

Who is responsible for Mutanga and Tshikovha? Who took
away the power from these women and elder men, so that
they no longer respect the Mutanga and Tshikovha?

Luvhani:

The government, the agriculture people introduced an orchard,
another farming system. If the government is demarcating that
this is a field for mono-culture or for one crop, how can you fight
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with the government, if they say people have to relocate and make
room for the fields?

Makaulule:

When the government makes this orchard, didn't the women have
an opportunity to advise?

Luvhani:

Over them like they are people who have nothing to say. They
were not allowed to speak as makhadzi. That’s why they even
destroy the springs in front of our eyes.

Bele:

There was a traditional gathering of women in the community.
The women didn't advise. No women were allowed to say a word.
It started during apartheid time; even the chiefs are keeping quiet
because the government was imposing not giving space for people
to speak or advise.

Vhomakhadzi statements explain how the National Party government under apartheid,
prevented Vhavenda people from exercising self-determination over their own land.
Vhomakhadzi corroborate historical accounts by recalling the removal of the Nevhutanda clan in
place of the Tshivashe Tea Plantation. They also clarify Vhavenda people’s marginalization from
overseeing land-use strategies and policies, demonstrated by the implementation of mono-crop
systems, Western agriculture, and commercial farming during apartheid. Moreover, interview
statements explain how new agricultural systems have fragmented sacred sites and disrupted
cultural practices like Mutanga and Tshikovha. Furthermore, during the traditional agricultural
cycle, Vhomakhadzi conventionally summon vhadzimu, or the ancestral spirits at the first
harvest. During this “first fruits” ceremony prior to the community’s preparation of the harvest,
Vhomakhadzi oversee ritual libation and pacification sacrifices, whereby they communicate to
vhadzimu in a rite called ‘u luma’ (Matshidze 2013, Stayt 1931, qtd. in Matshidze).
Unsurprisingly, Vhomakhadzi have strong opinions about new agricultural practices and
commercial farming due to the subversion of their roles linked with selecting and storing seeds,

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and the relationship they have with agricultural cycles. They are essentially caretakers of the
traditional knowledge of broader seasonal cycles, and abide by their own ecological calendar for
planting, harvesting, seed selection, storage and saving seeds. Indigenous seeds, along with 120
species of wild greens eaten as vegetables, are threatened by mono-crop farming. These
indigenous crops are under threat by Levubu farms, the Komatiland Forests (KLF) company, and
the Tshivashe Tea Plantations, which rely heavily on chemical fertilizers that degrade the soil.
As a result, Vhomakhadzi work to preserve the sacred plant Mufhoho (Mu-fofo), or Finger millet,
to protect their rituals, food and seed security, and food sovereignty. For Vhomakhadzi the
disturbance of their roles, attributed to Western interference, has severe consequences in their
communities:

Ross:

How do makhadzi, or DLM define seed sovereignty?

Nyadzawela:

when we eat this food from the seeds we plant on our own we
feel happy, and when we eat this food we feel healthy because
we are eating the food which we have chosen to eat, not going
to buy food which we have no choice and we are forced to eat,
but the one that we plant. We feel happy when we plant, and feel
happy when we eat, and in our bodies we also feel that health.

Avheani:

In this seeds we love this seeds, and we want to keep these seeds,
because these are the seeds of our ancestors; and when we look
back at our ancestors they lived long life, healthy because theywe’re eating food that was healthy. Yes, we know we have turned
and gone to the Western way of food, and we were feeling that
this food was not going well with our bodies. That’s why we are
reviving the food from these seeds. We are reviving what our
grandparents were using.

Nyadzawela:

When we plant these seeds we are not using the chemical
fertilizers, we are using the manure and compost. We know
that somewhere we have turned away from the ways of our
ancestors, and turned to the Western ways of planting, but when
we were planting the Western way, or the other way that was not

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the way of our ancestors, we see the way they impacted our health
and on the soil and environment and we have gone back to our
ancestors’ ways of planting and plowing, and we will never
forsake their ways of planting again.

Ross:

Why are seed varietals important? Instead of just
mono-cropping?

Makaulule:

When you see different seeds here, after we harvest we can
mix different things here to produce one meal. Maize, peanuts,
beans in that one meal we have mixed different seeds
to create a healthy meal. And millet also, we can create different
meals from millet.

Matodzi:

When we have this variety of seed, when we plant them it is also
determined by the ecological calendar, from these seeds we have
different food, which are seasonal food. We have food we eat when
it is fresh like in summer and autumn, we also have food which
we save for winter and we also have food we save for spring.
This variety of seed produce a variety of food which we can save
for dry season, or cold season. And the whole year according got
to the calendar, the ecological calendar, we have different seasonal
food, we last it the whole year without lacking food, without
shortage of food. We also get the leaves to eat them as greens.

Ross:

What are the indigenous seeds that are most important in Venda?

Matodzi:

Finger Millet is very important because we are doing different
things by finger millet. We do the homemade alcohol and beer,
we also do the mpambo, which is very important.
We also do the beverages, and the millet is important because you
do it with your own strength, because we don't take it to a mill we
have to do it on our own.

Alillali:

Finger millet is the mother of all seed, because Mupo is the one
that communicates with the ancestors and God to ask for good
farming system or planting the growth of all these seeds, because
we use mpambo [made from finger millet] to ask for a good harvest,
that is why finger millet to me is the mother of all seeds.

Avheani:

There is a very important issues around seed. As I have explained

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that we learned from our ancestors, we learn from the elders,
during the time we were children, they leave us with that knowledge. This knowledge of seed we must pass it on to the next
generation. This knowledge must not be cut, this is about
generation after generation for many times to come. And when
we are here at Mupo organization we don’t feel like it is a heavy
job or burden, it is a responsibility, we must not leave this seed to
vanish or get lost.

Figure 13: Photograph: Vhavenda indigenous Seed Varieties from
Tshidzivhe Tree Nursery and Seed Project

Ross:

In addition to Western ways, what else threatens seed
sovereignty?

Nyawasedza:

The other thing that contributed to the threat…Venda seeds take
a long time to harvest. The other new seeds grow quickly and can
be harvested very quickly. The Venda way is a long process. The
new Western seeds, with chemical fertilizers, is harvested very fast,
which has caused us to turn away from the old ways. The Venda
harvest is less, but the Western harvest is big.

Alidzuli:

What makes the Finger millet to vanish; the White people came
with a book called bible. And they come with it to teach people
not to do rituals- this millet thing, do away with mpambo.
It’s hidden, it’s the issue of Satan. And they criticize. And this
makes people to no longer value the millet, and the people turn
away from millet and stopped planting it, because they were no
longer allowed to do their rituals.

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Nyawasedza:

These Christian ways have eroded a lot, and the Christian way
came and criticized millet, so that the Venda people would no
longer do rituals in their sacred sites. But if you look at the Zulu
people, they are holding onto their culture and if you look at the
Zimbabwean people, they are still holding on to their culture and
still planting finger millet. They don't have any problem with the
millet, but here in Venda, if a person sees Finger millet they will
say “hey I am a Christian. I don’t do these hedon ways”. People
will say “I don’t want this millet” and if you enter a person’s house
with the millet they will say “I don’t want this millet here.” I don’t
know why Venda culture has eroded so much when other cultures
have remained.

Limani:

People are going to the Western life and they are told that
everything they like and need is in the shop. That’s why they no
longer care about the land, because what they want will be in the
shop. We used to plant our indigenous seed and crops and we care
about the land. But nowadays, we depend on the shop, and people
are no longer healthy because the food in the shop is frozen like
meat, and the mealie meal, which is full of chemicals which has
a big impact on our bodies; like if you want to stand up and walk,
we are not as strong because the bones are not as strong. They
are destroying everything through this Western life.

Lalumbe:

The diet of the population is deteriorating without these diverse
wild foods and elders are expressing their concern that they are
less healthy today and the new generations are dying young.
With the introduction of seeds from foreign countries, advertising
benefits of high yields or resistance to insects, our own indigenous
crops are being polluted with their pollen and becoming contaminated. We need to save our indigenous seeds to retain biodiversity
for the next generations. The Mupo Foundation advises and
encourages seed saving and the benefits of growing indigenous
seed.

The consensus among Vhomakhadzi is that food sovereignty is defined as having access to
healthy and culturally appropriate food. Vhomakhadzi regard the seeds and food of their
ancestors as purer and more nutritious compared to choices from the grocery stores and local
shops. Likewise, they have observed that their ancestors did not have high blood pressure and
diabetes the way people do in Venda today. Casual inspection could also link these modern day

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diseases with the growing presence of Western fast food restaurants in the region. While in
Venda, I observed a large consumption of soda, especially among people in Thohoyandou in the
town. According to a recent analysis, South African “consumption of sodas was 104 liters per
person per year in 2011 and volumes of consumption have increased by 4.3 percent between
2008 and 2012” (“Why South Africans need to can soft drinks”). Since 2012, South Africa
became the most obese nation in Africa, with an estimated eight million people, largely
attributable to processed foods and sugary drinks. What is more, that figure is expected to
increase by 1.2 million people by 2017 (“Why South Africans need to can soft drinks”). In
Venda, I saw fast food specials offering large pitchers of soda for certain meals at fast food
chains, such as Wimpy's, KFC, Galitos, and Nandos. It was not uncommon to see a family of
four seated at a fast food establishment with two pitchers of soda with their meals, or individuals
walking around town with a liter of soda for personal consumption.
There was also heavily processed, packaged food in the shops. While grocery shopping, I
tried to buy healthy food, selecting an assortment of vegetables packaged in Styrofoam and
wrapped in cellophane from nearby farms; I was unclear where other produce may have come
from. There was however, a nearby outdoor market where women sold fresh produce, grains,
Mopane worms, and termites, which are also common foods and snacks. It was also typical to
see women selling roadside vegetables and fruit. Yet I could not help but think that the fresh
organic food from outdoor markets may diminish over time as well.
Life in Thohoyandou, and access to food, was markedly different than in Vuwani with
Makaulule’s family, where household farmers and home gardens were prevalent. Nevertheless,
they too had challenges accessing the food they preferred. To assist with preparing meals, I
picked vegetables out of the home garden, and went grocery shopping with the whole family.

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However, some of the townships and villages could be characterized as food deserts as local
shops carry limited items, and the closest large grocery store was 30 minutes away in either
direction in the towns of Elim or Thohoyandou. Makaulule cooked traditional food, vhuswa nad
muroho, or pap and tanga which is sautéed pumpkin leaves with onions, tomatoes, pumpkin
flowers, and peanuts, which her eldest son crushed in a large mortar and pestle—some variation
of which is served in many parts of Southern Africa.67 She also cooked three types of organic
starchy pap made from maize— yellow, a sour fermented pap, and a White pap that was much
softer and more desirable to the family than the store bought and processed kind; I also ate
sorghum pap at a family friend’s home. For meat, we typically bought live chickens to
slaughter— available in the community by the many breeders who have backyard chickens for
sale, indicated by a sign visible from the road that reads Khuhu. Healthy eating was very
important to Makaulule’s family, but I could see that they struggled with options especially in
inconvenient times or for example, when I returned to visit the family after research in Pretoria,
only to find that their vegetable garden dried up due to the intense heat and ongoing drought.
Again, Vhomakhadzi favor their indigenous seeds over non-native plants and vegetation
due to rituals, health, and food quality. Through indigenous tree nurseries, such as the Tshidzivhe
Tree Nursery and Seed Project, Vhomakhadzi and DLM are recuperating seed varieties. In
particular, the sacred Mufhoho Finger millet plant is very important to maintain for Vhavenda
culture and Vhomakhadzi. Mupo Foundation literature describes the plant’s use “for rituals
mpambo, as well as for Vhuswa and the traditional drink Mabundu. Mufhoho, native to Africa,
was the staple crop in Southern Africa before maize.” However, as Vhomakhadzi describe, plants
that are faster and easier to grow are relied upon the most now. Thus, the agricultural practice

67

Vhuswa nad muroho is a pap and pumpkin vegetable dish.

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and reliance upon GMOs, chemicals, and pesticides is the norm. There are many practical
reasons to revive Finger millet, such as conservation of biodiversity and food security; the seeds
are resistant to insects and can be stored for up to 10 years without decaying or losing value, and
it is not affected by cross-fertilization or debilitating diseases (“Lost crops of Africa”). Finger
millet is one of the healthiest cereals rich in minerals and calcium, with 5000 percent more
calcium than maize, and 350 percent more iron. The protein and minerals are imperative to
maintaining human welfare, compared to most cereals (“Lost crops of Africa”).
A salient viewpoint in the interview statements, once more equates the colonial and
missionary presence with the destruction of Vhavenda culture, seemingly setting a precedent for
the erosion of indigenous agricultural practices and harvesting. Specifically, the inference that
Christianity devalued nature and mupo was a striking statement. I will speak more to this concept
in the next chapter. Still, it continues to be clear how the women construe Western domination as
an uninterrupted occurrence, past to present. Throughout Vhomakhadzi oral accounts and
reflections on Vhavenda history, no distinction is made between colonialism and neocolonialism.
The subsequent interpretation is that the elder makhadzi of DLM believe that colonialism never
ended but rather transmuted, validated by the occurrence of multinational companies and
plantations that occupy their land.
As the participant discourse reveals, Vhomakhadzi use many strategies to preserve cultural
biodiversity through DLM. This is demonstrated through their activism to protect the Phiphidi
Waterfall and other nearby sacred sites through litigation and formal appeals to government
agencies, and through protests against Coal of Africa—including their insistence to attend public
participation meetings. The next chapter explores the community and educational component of
DLM’s organizing in more depth to bring awareness about environmental issues. Through

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supplementary discourse, the following outreach activities shape a prescriptive lens to begin a
dialogue about what Vhomakhadzi see as women’s empowerment within the organization, their
cultural biodiversity preservation goals, and long-term solutions for maintaining environmental
sustainability in the Vhembe District Municipality.

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CHAPTER SEVEN DATA ANALYSIS AND RESULTS III

A review of primary sources, interview data, and direct participant observation allowed
me to gather a strong body of information to answer the fourth and final research question: How
do Vhomakhadzi construct cultural biodiversity preservation? Observing a number of Dzomo La
Mupo (DLM) activities was imperative to understanding Vhomakhadzi cultural biodiversity
preservation strategies. In particular, co-constructing a grant proposal for DLM, evaluating the
organization’s community dialogue notes, watching video recordings of community mapping,
and analyzing the maps in person with Vhomakhadzi all proved to be essential for the research.
7.1 Dzomo La Mupo Community Outreach
In November 2015, as a volunteer research assistant, I co-wrote a grant proposal with
Makaulule for the EcoCatalyst Foundation to secure future funding for capacity building and to
lend support to Dzomo La Mupo (DLM) as a newly independent community-based organization.
The proposal has become a template to revise and edit for future grant applications, as the
organization needs greater ongoing help to survive. The process of co-writing the grant proposal
as a direct participant and through participant observation was an invaluable research opportunity
to learn in detail about DLM’s objectives and strategic programs; therefore, that process must be
discussed here. In addition to interviews and other data, assisting with the grant gave me deep
insight into Vhomakhadzi values and perspectives about cultural biodiversity preservation
strategies. To write the proposal, Makaulule and I had long dialogues over the course of
approximately three weeks, whereby adhering to a grant writing schematic, she explained her
vision, we reviewed program literature, and I wrote paragraphs based on our conversations with
her oversight and editing. The process was arduous, as the weather was very hot and we were all
attending to Makaulule’s youngest son too, who was two years old at the time. Each paragraph

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was meticulously revised based on over a decade of Makaulule’s community work and
generations of ancestral wisdom that had been passed down to her. Parenthetically, I have never
witnessed anyone as dedicated to one’s community as Makaulule and DLM is her life’s work
and intellectual and spiritual pursuit.
DLM’s efforts to raise awareness around environmental degradation in the Vhembe
District Municipality is apparent in the data. In addition to emphasizing their public activism, the
grant proposal describes how DLM’s grassroots organizing has worked to restore indigenous
agricultural practices through seed revival, permaculture training, and the restoration of
traditional agricultural skills to educate communities about agro-ecology (Makaulule and Ross
2015), seed and food security, and land-based livelihood strategies for household farmers. This is
achieved through the preservation of indigenous seeds, mulching, and the promotion of fertility
beds and gray water68 for irrigation. By co-writing the grant proposal, I learned that since 2008
with the support of the Mupo Foundation, the African Biodiversity Network, and the Gaia
Foundation, DLM has worked with 13 villages and 15 schools, providing outreach that has
assisted approximately 90,000 people. Additionally, DLM is heavily engaged in the tactical
efforts of their strategic programs on seeds, sacred forest, intergenerational learning and
indigenous forests and wetlands. They continue to organize workshops, tree planting initiatives,
territorial eco-cultural mapping workshops, wilderness retreats, community discussion, and
paralegal training on land and environmental rights (Makaulule and Ross 2015).

68

This refers to non-sewage or toxic recycled water from household use.

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GOALS:
The goal of Dzomo la Mupo is to protect nature in all its form, and especially indigenous forests, rivers, wetlands,
sacred sites and enhancing indigenous skills of traditional agriculture which support agro ecology. The aim is to
enable the communities to take responsibilities for orientating community knowledge towards the future that is
ecological socially and spiritually sustaining. This transition is needed to stop the destruction and to heal the
suffering of the Earth through community’s ecological governance dialogues.
Figure 14: Excerpt from Dzomo La Mupo Constitution.

Further review of the grant proposal reveals that by way of 200 community meetings and
intergenerational workshops, DLM has educated the public about the linkages between the loss
of cultural biodiversity, indigenous knowledge systems, traditional ecological governance, and
the detrimental impact this has had on the quality of life in the Vhembe District Municipality
(See Figure 14).
This public outreach is a growing movement to revive Vhavenda culture and preserve
indigenous knowledge and traditional agricultural practices to combat these various
environmental problems (Makaulule and Ross 2015). For example, after witnessing the problem
at the Nzhelele River and after subsequent ecological education programs and workshops, 3,000
of DLM’s members, principally women, revived 7,000 indigenous saplings in community
nurseries with the hope of restoring Nzhelele’s bank-side and to regenerate the river and its
surrounding indigenous forest. Moreover, through community workshops, DLM facilitates
intergenerational dialogue for younger community members to learn about indigenous
knowledge systems, cultural biodiversity, and traditional ecological governance from the elders.
Lastly, “by co-constructing territorial ecological maps and traditional ecological calendars,
community members are learning through ancestral maps of the past that show the land before
development and environmental degradation. These maps also document current problems and

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outline a vision for sustainable land use through traditional farming practices” (Makaulule and
Ross 2015).

Figure 15: Photograph: Makhadzi Tree Nursery

Figure 16: Photograph: indigenous Tree Saplings

The work that Vhomakhadzi have dedicated themselves to is something that is much
greater than merely a community-based organization. Just as this is Mpthathe’s passion, these
labors are also an integral part of Vhomakhadzi daily lives as members of the organization. For
Vhomakhadzi, it is essential to restore mupo, revive Vhavenda indigenous practices, and return
pride to the institution of makhadzi after vehement denigration due to inter-ethnic conflict,
colonialism, missionaries, and present-day Christian fundamentalism. DLM encourages
indigenous women’s leadership roles in the community through wilderness retreats and seasonal
community gatherings to discuss the role of makhadzi as ecologists and community advocates.
The grant outlines efforts to achieve these goals through the integration of annual five-day
wilderness retreats, guided by a leader trained in indigenous knowledge skills. The retreats,

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through discourse and activities, help restore makhadzi confidence as conservationists—
including a separate wilderness retreat for men, emphasizing the belief in Vhavenda/Vhangona
culture that through mupo, women, men, and children have distinctive roles in society. DLM also
coordinates four seasonal meetings associated with the traditional ecological calendar to examine
corresponding seed and food systems. The expressed aim is to revive the traditional role of
makhadzi in community life. In the following interview statements, Vhomakhadzi share the
importance of their work with DLM and how it has impacted their traditional roles:
Ross:

What is DLM doing to preserve or restore mupo?

Mudanalwo:

DLM is doing a lot because DLM has raised
awareness all over as now we are hearing on the
radio that people should protect zwifho, people should no longer
cut down trees, people should protect mupo and the environment.
I think DLM has done a big awareness because the radio is
talking about protecting these things. People were destroying
rivers, and now there is a big awareness because people were
throwing away the napkins in the river.

Connie:

DLM is doing a lot. DLM is planting trees, like you see these
trees here. They are the trees from the nursery. DLM is reviving
the indigenous seed for food. We were using the chemical seed
and buying food from the shops only, but now through DLM
we are able to plant things in our own homes. There are many
things which DLM is doing in relation to seed, in relation to food,
in relation to the trees. DLM is doing a lot, it has revived the
Finger millet. Planting again the Finger millet, DLM has restored
back the role of makhadzi; makhadzi was undermined, and we
were only a makhadzi because I was sister to my brother
[the chief].

Joyce:

DLM has restored different roles of makhadzi to the rituals,
makhadzi to the Finger millet, makhadzi to the soil, and marriage.
And it has really bring back the strength of makhadzi.

Alidzuli:

The value of makhadzi now is a big dignity. They know
now if makhadzi is happy or unhappy. She says DLM has fought
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for us to bring back to the role of makhadzi. Even in marriage, if
they can’t do marriage without the makhadzi, if they don’t go to us,
things weren’t work well. We now feel our strength. Now everyone greets us saying “makhadzi, makhadzi…. makhadzi.” Like
people were associating makhadzi with the drama Muvhango.69
That one at the drama is not a makhadzi. That drama is
not talking about the real makhadzi.

Mutshekwa:

DLM has revived the role of makhadzi. DLM we love it because
it help us in our sacred site. Because there was a lot of trespassing
in the sacred sites, but through DLM we bring back the value.
And DLM encourage a lot about the value of trees and the forest
and the environment. A lot of people now respect the environment.
Even our children know that it is wrong to cut down trees
through our meetings.

Denga:

We thank makhadzi Makaululeleni because she has the
courage to address the nation about how everything is
vanishing. Why can’t we come together to value our
ancestors? And we are able to do that and we will never
give up, and we will continue to value our ancestors and
we will continue to protect mupo and sacred sites, because
the next generation should continue to maintain that way of
life.

Nyawasedza:

DLM has enabled us to stand. And we will never give up, and
through DLM we will win this struggle. That’s why even while
we are sitting here, our strength is DLM. Because DLM has
opened our eyes and our mind to see where we are going. We
thank DLM. Even our children now, they are aware now since
we started this work with DLM. They know now and respect
sacred sites. Because they were no longer knowing the value of
sacred sites.

Throughout participant discourse and casual conversation, the sentiment of restored confidence
owing to Dzomo La Mupo’s (DLM) work was restated numerous times. DLM has been a literal
revival of spirit for many makhadzi members. The efforts of Vhomakhadzi through DLM is
69

Luvenda language “Soapie.”

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motivated by their expressed desire to ensure their survival and continued way of life as an
indigenous community.

Figure 17: Photograph: Makaulule at DLM Meeting (2016)

Figure 18: Photograph: Vhomakhadzi at DLM Meeting (2016)

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Figure 19: Photograph: Makaulule and Dima (2015)

Figure 20: Photograph: DLM Meeting. Makaulule and VhoJoyce, center-left. (2016)

Figure 21: Photograph: Vhavenda men and Vhamusanda, chiefs at DLM Meeting (2016)

7.2 Empowering Vhangona Clans
In addition to the work DLM has done to protect the sacred sites of the Ramunangi
(Madau), Nevhutanda, and Tshidsivhe clans, they began expanding their work to safeguard the

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territory and sites of the Khwevha clan beginning in 2013. DLM meeting minutes transcribed by
Makaulule provide insight into community dialogues on these topics and the consultation with
the elders—often referred to by Dima and Makaulule as “living libraries.” The meeting minutes
also provide a brief oral history account of the story of the Khwevha clan. The clan originated in
the Khwevha territory yet due to forced removals through varied historical periods by Masingo,
as well as Afrikaner’s during apartheid, they have since scattered. According to the record, new
settlements were developed (years were not specified) with new chiefs and territorial precincts.
The newly formed boundaries of Tshisaulu and Itsani are the new Khwevha villages. The
original Khwevha chieftainship is engulfed by Tshisaulu, an occurrence that mirrors similar
events that have affected other Vhangona clans, such as Nevhutanda. Makaulule and DLM
conducted dialogues to understand the state of their zwifho and the clan before they dispersed.
Elder accounts describe how the development of roads has fragmented the Khwevha clans’
sacred sites or zwifho, with only a few old trees remaining. In the report, the elders describe how
the trees are far apart from each other, indicating that there is no longer a forest. In other areas,
fragmented zwifho still have forest cover, surrounded by homesteads and roads with some
development of businesses and a vegetable garden. The zwifho is now used as the graveyard of
the Khwevha clan but in previous years they faced challenges when the government wanted to
make it a public graveyard or develop homesteads.
Development of homesteads by the municipality, or approved by local leadership,
creates an additional set of problems demonstrated by deforestation and the unintentional
desecration of gravesites and cracked tombstones. The notes reveal that there has been a court
case, and a commission assisting them in these matters. Makaulule even asked them how the

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clans distinguish between what is a sacred site and what is a burial site, Tshiendeulu.70 The group
expressed wanting more time to discuss this distinction as a matter to be pondered among the
entire clan. There is concern about tombstones overlapping into sacred spaces, which according
to the notes, was determined to be unlawful by custom. On the topic of the Khwevha’s zwifho
and territorial changes, Makaulule’s transcription included remarks by a Khwevha elder:

Khwevha Elder:
It was because people were removed and were denied to stay
according to the laws of origin, the Western life and governance
system came with the rule of making many homesteads in our
territory. By those new laws we were denied to bury our loved
ones at home as it was our ways, traditionally that we burry at
home, we were forced to go to graveyards done by new government and new chiefs who overcome us, the Indigenous
people. They said we should use one graveyards. As clan we
explained that we cannot be buried mixed with other people
as our spirits knows only our homes and the zwifho and
again we have different ways of burials. That become difficult
and we end up using our zwifho portion as burials place. In the
clan, this new way disorganized us and our zwifho become
what you see this day. That zwifho is not a burial site, it was
only forest for rituals alone.

From the transcript, the major concerns that remain for the Kwhevha clan and their elders, is
encroachment of development onto their zwifho zones by the construction of homes and private
yards, roads, and public graves. The local government in particular is not abiding by burial
customs and wants to continue installing public graveyards and burial sites, all without out the
clan’s permission.
Through DLM’s community interviews with the Khwevha elders, and other Vhavenda
elders knowledgeable about zwifho zwa Venda — as well as a dedicated young makhadzi
70

See Makaulule, for more information on tshiendeulu (pl. zwiendeulu). Zwiendeulu are the demarcated sacred
burial forests of the (vhakololo) royalties.

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described by Makaulule as a leader, phangami—the group deepened their understanding of the
Khwevha clan’s story of origin and the contemporary challenges they are facing. Through
continued gatherings, the clan formed a committee, The Khwevha Council for the Protection of
Zwifho zwa Khwevha and has since drafted a sacred site profile and clan constitution for the
protection of the remaining territory. The profiles and constitutions are similar to those
documents previously submitted to SAHRA for the consideration of provincial heritage status for
Zwifho zwa Guvhukuvu, La Nwadzongolo, Zwifho zwa Thathe, and Zwifho zwa Vhutanda, and,
therefore, serve as a precursor for lobbying for formal protection of their original ancestral lands.
In the clan constitution, the council describes their clan, their totem, and the families which
comprise Khwevha clan members—also Vhomakhadzi define their rituals and the expressed
importance of the Khwevha rituals to the clan and community at large (See Figure 22).

Figure 22: Photograph: Makaulule dialogue with Khwevha Clan (2014)

Ongoing visits with the community included drafting ecological maps and calendars to
draw out the elders’ knowledge on environmental sustainability, seasonal cycles, and agriculture,

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as well as to help determine the location of Zwifho zwa Khwevha and larger landscapes that have
changed over time. Khwevha elders contributed their knowledge to the maps to sketch a
relationship between past conditions and present-day challenges in order to track the destruction
of their land and to chart future action. DLM has also begun dialogues with the chiefs of other
Vhangona clans from Vuu and Malale, with the hope that by instilling confidence in them about
their rights, and through paralegal training and conversation, that they will be empowered to use
the law through their own independent organizing.
Through the Khwevha conversation notes, Makaulule also expressed happiness to report
the mentoring of the young makhadzi, because it is the younger generation that has drifted away
from culture; without intergenerational interchange, DLM will only make limited progress. All
the elders interviewed continuously expressed concern about the younger generation’s lack of
awareness about culture, and their hope that DLM will nurture intergenerational learning and
reach out to young people. On this point, Makaulule remarks:

Intergenerational learning is not in the classroom. Intergenerational learning is life experience. Trusting the indigenous
knowledge is intergenerational learning. The knowledge passed
through generation to generation from children like NdiMashudu,
my little boy, he already knows that when he sees the moon, he
says makhadzi.71 He will already know it’s makhadzi, it is a part
of intergenerational learning. He will grow up knowing the moon
is makhadzi, not in the classroom. We are told as little girls when
you go to the river don’t kill the frog. The elders will tell you just
that. We know that you must not kill the frog. When you grow up,
you will hear the sound of frog and you will see the rain coming.

The construction of ecological maps and calendars are the tools DLM uses for inspiring
intergenerational engagement and to draw out the elders’ knowledge and observations, such as

71

Vhavenda/Vhangona often refer to the moon as makhadzi.

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those just highlighted among the Khwevha clan. Ecological maps and calendars also help
communities understand the progression of environmental degradation and the changes in landuse in the community due to development. Makaulule states:

We work with schools [around Venda] on the ecological calendars
and eco-mapping. We take the school children for five days in the
lodges far from town, we do meetings, dialogues and start to
disconnect them from technology, their cell phones. Not to force
them, we take the remote controls for their rooms. When they arrive
there, it is a room without a remote, TV cannot play, but we do it in
the form of song then we do first two days’ dialogues to bring the
ecological calendar maps. Then we divide them, the children. The
other group was doing it – a water map. The children do a water map.
We just do a dialogue to talk about water, but it will end up on the
table on the water map. When we do the water map, it’s just like
frogs you will see them in the map, rain, mountains, everything
connecting to water.

7.3 Community Mapping
Western maps represent images of conquest and imperialism in Africa. Cartesian Atlases
are accepted as objective, scientific data used to inform; nevertheless, such maps represent
knowledge validation and a legacy of social stratification (Kelso 1999). Kelso (1999) explains
the implications of analyzing maps subjectively, from a post-structuralist or reflexive lens, “...the
map is viewed as a subjective, socially-produced image which reflects, not reality, but the social,
political and cultural context from which it emerged” (Kelso 15-16). Thus, it is helpful to
understand that standard maps used today come from a cultural context of European exploration
and empire building. Likewise, geographical information systems (GIS), which represent modes
of Western technology, are also socially constructed within a cultural context of European
dominance and land grabbing. GIS, although a map of the digital age, continues the legacies of
patriarchy and power associated with traditional maps.

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As demonstrated in the data, during apartheid, South Africans endured volatile and
violent shifts in residency due to landscape politics. These changes are distinctly reflected in the
country’s geography today. Yet, in the context of participatory or community mapping,
ownership of the land, as it is defined in a Western sense, is not a requisite for delineating
boundaries in Indigenous communities. Indigenous rights advocates describe ancestral titles to
land in ways that contrast with estate laws and European-derived legal systems and dominion
(Alison 2006). Such land claims by Indigenous populations are categorized as Indigenous human
and civil rights, recognized under international law, which, in the scope of the study, supports
religious or cultural traditions and sacred areas, community livelihoods, food security, food and
seed systems, and sovereignty, and self-determination over sustainable development and
conservation (Alison 2006). For Vhavenda people, particularly the Vhangona, ancestral titles
may also be described as laws of origin, as there is no legal record of how the community came
to be stewards of their land, or what may be more aptly described as a cultural and spiritual
belonging to an area for hundreds of years from time immemorial (DLM SAHRA Application
2012).
According to the United Nations Environment Programme and World Conservation
Monitoring Centre (UNEP-WCMC), mapping territorial boundaries is a crucial step towards
building capacity and sharing knowledge for Indigenous peoples and their land. In UNEPWCMC’s published toolkit for conservation (2013), multiple mapping methods are outlined as
tools for managing what the Centre calls Indigenous Community Conserved Territories and
Areas (ICCAs) including, kite mapping and balloon mapping to create aerial photos, and
computer technology such as participatory geographic information systems (PGIS) whereby
participants are trained to make scientific measurements and assessments of land. Based on the

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presentation of data, mapping and boundaries is an especially relevant concern in countries
historically embedded in land conflicts and/or conflicting land claims. Within the study, this is
substantiated by the presence of multinational development companies and extractive industries,
threats to all sacred areas epitomized by the Phiphidi court case and encroaching tourism
developments onto Ramunangi sacred sites, or the Kwhevha clan’s disputes with development,
construction, and the private graveyards that overlap onto their sacred areas. This is also
evidenced in general by Vhangona elder historical accounts of forced removals of clans by both
Masingo leadership and the Apartheid regime.
UNEP-WCMC promotes documenting territorial presence and cultural boundaries for
communities that wish to establish a clear relationship between Indigenous people and their land.
The justification (Corrigan, et al. 2013) that coincides with DLM’s purposes for using ecocultural and GPS mapping include:
•
•
•
•
•
•

The transfer of knowledge between generations.
Providing information about the existence of a community and the management
of biodiversity.
Facilitating effective management by providing a spatial reference for monitoring
and assessment.
Creating opportunities for the community to “come together” and discuss future
plans for the ICCA.
Registration of ICCAs within the UNEP WCMC Global Registry; or other forms
of national and international recognition.
Generating photos as evidence and presence (Corrigan, et al. 2013).

Additionally, mapping Indigenous territories is essential because it documents current
boundaries and traditional dwellings, clarifying a relationship with the land and changes over
time. Corrigan and Edie (2013) explain that maps are significant for securing protection and land
titles from the government. By using traditional eco-cultural mapping, and supplementary
technology, such as Global Positioning Systems, DLM is creating intergenerational dialogue,

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clarifying the evolution of unsustainable development projects, and creating a sustainable landuse plan for the future in the Vhembe District Municipality.
Through DLM’s international partnership with the Gaia Foundation, Makaulule first
learned the eco-cultural mapping technique in the Northwest Amazon— through the Columbian
based NGO, Gaia Amazonas.72,73 Following that experience, Makaulule and DLM returned to
Africa, and through the non-profit organization, African Biodiversity Network (ABN), shared the
mapping process with communities from Benin, Uganda, Kenya, and Ethiopia. Vhomakhadzi use
simple materials to compose the maps, including construction paper and markers. The final
product is a colorful collage of pictographs and images, portraying the remaining Indigenous
forests and wetlands in Venda that need protection from mining, chemical and pesticidedependent mono-crop farming, and unsustainable tourist ventures.
DLM members trained in territorial eco-cultural mapping and traditional eco- calendar
composition, like VhoJoyce, Makaulule, Alillali and select others, have led trainings with many
villages and schools. The process begins with community workshops where students and
residents are taught instructional methods to chart landscapes through drawings and sketches to
characterize the progression of land-use. The maps, which are conceptualized by Vhomakhadzi,
elders, and students function as an intergenerational tool to empower Venda communities. The
elders, both men and women, lead this process by first constructing an ancestral map of the past
to develop awareness about the territory before environmental degradation and harmful
development projects. The ecological calendars require similar training based on traditional food
and seed systems to teach communities about traditional agricultural practices.

72
73

To see footage of Makaulule’s trip with Gaia Amazonas to the Amazon, visit https://youtu.be/NrPuzEQomiw
See the inter-cultural indigenous exchange in South Africa, documented in the short film, Reviving our Culture,
Mapping our Future, https://youtu.be/l5Drol4kmMA.

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The mapping and calendar construction are practical tools that supplement hands-on
fieldwork experiences. For instance, DLM’s previously funded work provided environmental
education on the value of trees and supported work with students to plant trees on their
campuses. Moreover, through DLM’s 5-day wilderness retreats with educators, teachers
reconnect with nature through intergenerational exchange about mupo, “preparing them to
transfer knowledge about cultural biodiversity and eco-systems through the curriculum, and by
leading educational forest walks with students” (Makaulule and Ross 7). Vhomakhadzi are
integral to the mapping process and they find that both the intergenerational and inter-cultural
exchanges energize their efforts to preserve culture and the environment:

Ross:

I would like to ask about the ecological maps. What was the
process like for you to make the maps?

Mudanalwo:

I enjoyed that a lot – the process of mapping. Because since the
Amazon [Indigenous Columbians] came to teach us the mapping
process, I have learned a lot about my territory. How the
connection of the land there, rivers that they start there, and I
have learned through the mapping process where are the rivers
and where they are flowing to. Through the mapping, I also see
that the rivers that start there at Thathe they flow up to Kruger
park, to different places in Venda. And many rivers there – they
are the tributaries there – flow from Thathe. And through the
mapping, I also learned that at Thathe is a watershed area.
Like there is a pool, that is flowing down to make the other springs
in other areas as Thathe is the highest peak there. I learned a lot
about the territory. Before eco-mapping I didn’t know the
connection in the land.

Joyce:

In that process we learned about the ecological calendar,
and we know how the connection between the calendar and what
happened in this season, and that season. And our children know
about the ecological calendar. For me I learned a lot about the
ecological calendar and the mapping, Like I myself am able to
teach about the ecological maps and calendar; I went to Kenya and
I teach them, I also went to Zimbabwe and teach them. We the
Mupo people, the process of the mapping is an important thing,

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now we're are teaching the people in Zimbabwe and Kenya. We
are spreading that knowledge.

Ross:

Was it intergenerational or were makhadzi leading the process?

Bele:

It was mixed: men, women, girls, elders. Like here at Vu, they
have mapped the whole area of the township. Like we started by
mapping the ancestral map of the past. That is when the elders
were showing us what was here before all the development.
Then we rely on the elders’ knowledge because we were not there.
Then when we draw the present, the young people were drawn the
roads and everything that was here, and it was a mixture of
ourselves and the youth. In maps, there are three maps that should
be drawn. The map of the past, present, and future.

Ross:

So the maps have been very empowering for the makhadzi.
How will you use them moving forward?

Bele:

These maps are to show how the disorder came. Ourselves living
now, we have that knowledge and we explain by our mouths, but
the children – we have the maps to show what we left them and
explain what they mean. It’s nice today, we are back where we
belong, our minds were getting tired, we were no longer gathering
we are very happy. We are happy to meet you.

Ross:

How are the ecological maps and calendars important for
establishing seed sovereignty?

Avheani:

The eco-calendars have assisted us to remember about planting
different seeds and the eco-calendar assisted us to remember how
long from when you plant the seed to when it needs to be
harvested; and it teaches about all the seeds need to be planted
and harvested. In the ecological calendar we have revived the
knowledge about this seed, like now we are in the moon setting.
It is October now, but through eco-calendar, we have determined
that it is germinating season and now we know it is time to plant
and we only have three months for planting all these seeds. In
December, when the moon goes to darkness – then according to
the eco-calendar, when is the right time to plant which seeds.

Ross:

How does constructing the eco cultural maps help protect the
wetlands?

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Joyce:

The maps help a lot because while we were drawing the maps
we were also drawing the boundaries, and when we draw this,
this is where we see that here there was a spring, and here there
is a wetland. Maps help us to discover where are the wetlands
and springs. The other thing, when we were drawing the map,
we were seeing the disorder – the people were building a house
where there was a wetland. Because people were putting their
homestead on top of the wetlands. We also discovered that
farming systems by plowing by the river is making the springs
dry. Because people have put a field of maize where there was a
wetland that’s why the spring is no longer there.

Marandela:

When we were drawing, we also see in the map of the past that
when people make homestead, they don't make homestead on the
top of the wetlands, they put them on the side, not on the top, and
we see that people are no longer on the right side.

Makaulule:

We see through mapping that the bluegum pine plantation – we see that
they are also causing the wetlands to be dry because we see that
they are absorbing the water. That was a big disturbance. Sacred
sites should be protected. Are we not breathing fresh air from these
trees? If you go to another home with no trees, you will see there
is no fresh air. That’s why we are fighting with them not to cut
the trees in the sacred sites.

The interview statements clarify the value of the eco-cultural maps as preservation tools.
Through the maps Vhomakhadzi show community members the evolution of land-use, the
origins of eco-systems and reinstruct the community on the indigenous agricultural techniques.
Through the mapping workshops Vhomakhadzi of DLM are empowered as educators as they
instruct people from nearby townships and villages, and even other indigenous African
communities about their traditional roles and agricultural techniques. In this sense they are both
preserving their culture and reestablishing their voice of authority.

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Figure 23: Photograph: Eco-Cultural Map of Thathe Forest, Communities, and Rivers at Tshidzivhe

Figure 24: Photograph: DLM’s Vuvha River and Mountain Envirocare Project

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Figure 25: Photograph: Vho-Joyce Explaining Map

Figure 26: Photograph: Makhadzi explaining EcoCalendar

Figure 27: Photograph: Makaulule Discussing the Purpose of Ecological-Calendars

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Figure 28: Photograph: Eco-Cultural Map of Nzhelele River and its numerous tributaries

Figure 29: Photograph: Eco-Cultural Map Indicating Development Changes

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Figure 30: Photograph: Eco-Cultural Map Indicating Present-day Development Changes

Figure 31: Photograph: Eco-Cultural Map Indicating threats to sacred sites.

What is exceptionally powerful about the maps is how they encompass the lived experiences of
Vhomakhadzi and their perception of land use as the drawings tell a story of industrialism and
modernity. As illustrated in Figure 28, the various springs and tributaries that emerge from

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Nzhelele River— a valley area that many Vhavenda people were forced to relocate to during
apartheid, which remains a water-stressed region. The communities there contend with low
rainfall and receding riverbanks, which impact household farmers and the hydration of cattle.
Again, future plans to mine in this area by Coal of Africa would further devastate the Nzhelele
River and its residents due to the large use of groundwater needed for mining coal. Moreover,
through these maps, a culture under threat becomes evident. For example, in Figure 31, as it was
explained by VhoJoyce, “This is a business man who offers money for a development project
while a woman, no longer wearing the [traditional] Nwenda, stomps around the sacred forest in
high heels— but here we come [pointing to the drawing of a car or Kombi], Vhomakhadzi, to
stop this destruction.” Her interpretation of the map shows Vhomakhadzi perceptions about
Western influences and the destruction of land, culture, and the environment. In her statement,
she positions Vhomakhadzi within their cultural roles, and as self-identified ecologists, as the
remedy for these problems. Of all the data presented, this simple statement is the most effective
in demonstrating how Vhomakhadzi, as women, frame both the environment and cultural
biodiversity preservation.
Indigenous maps represent epistemological and ontological perspectives (Pearce and
Louis 2008). They differ from Western maps in that they denote various conceived dimensions
of the material and spiritual world, and may represent past, present, and future. Local cultures
have their own mapping traditions that deviate from the standard Western mapping techniques,
which surface within these eco-cultural atlases. Indigenous maps, for example, are often times
more multifaceted, referred to by researchers as process cartography, which “connects oral,
written, performative, and experiential modes of mapping as a means to transmit situated
indigenous, cultural knowledge from one generation to the next” (Pearce and Louis 2008).

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Aboriginal mapping may appear in various genres of art such as storytelling, dance, poetry and
even carvings. Such methods of revived cultural practices and knowledge are increasingly
proving to be very applicable means in articulating self-determinism in Indigenous communities.
Indigenous mapping, or eco-cultural mapping, is being used as a tool for resource management
and for restoring sustainability in many communities around the world. What is more, the
integration of this mapping method with GPS, GIS, and other technologies provides further
strategies to map local territory and protect local communities.
In December YZ[Y, DLM, chiefs and Vhomakhadzi worked with environmental
consultant, Phillipa Holden, to map the boundaries of the three sacred sites whose profiles were
being drafted at that time for SAHRA’s consideration for Provincial Heritage Status. Thus,
Holden accompanied community members to sacred site regions, and utilized a GPS system to
create digital maps of original territories and sacred sites of: ([) Zwifho zwa Guvhukuvu, La
Nwadzongolo (Phiphidi Waterfall), (Y) Zwifho zwa Vhutanda, and (\) Zwifho zwa Thathe. The
following data derives from the boundary mapping report released from Holden’s firm, shared
with me by Makaulule.
Each clan is responsible for maintaining their sacred sites. The clans lead ceremonies in
thanks for rain and land, and to talk to the ancestors to thank mupo for the well-being of the
shango and territory. Clans abide by traditional ecological calendars to determine which prayers
to use, and Vhomakhadzi adhere to ecological patterns and the flow of seasons to communicate
with the ancestors using prayers connected to seeds and plants. Yet, there are both environmental
and political reasons for mapping boundaries and protecting the sacred areas. In his report,
Holden explains the political necessity of maintaining the network of sacred sites: “…if they fail
to protect one sacred site, the others will also become vulnerable. In addition, the intention is to

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reclaim the areas of the sacred sites that have been lost to development.” Preserving the sacred
locations, and the moisture and water within, are vitally important for regulating the climate, and
therefore make the mapping process important in protecting the overall network of sites, and
locating and restoring fragmented areas. The goal would be to rehabilitate fragmented areas such
as those among the Zwifho zwa Vhutanda within the Tea Plantation. Restoring connectivity could
increase sacred site biodiversity and provide the necessary landscape to resume suitable clan
rituals (Tshiguvho 2008, DLM SAHRA Application 2012). Holden and community members set
out on foot and in vehicles to clarify boundaries, utilizing his mapping methodology – in
collaboration with Vhomakhadzi and community perspectives site visits, discussions with
Vhomakhadzi and elders, and by utilizing traditional eco-cultural maps.
Borderlines were recorded with a standard Garmin GPS unit. Some areas were inaccessible
due to rivers and jagged roads, in which case areas were recorded on a [:]Z,ZZZ topographical
map. According to Holden (YZ[Y), “Photographs were also taken of specific natural, environmental
and man-made features as well as the surrounding land-uses. The GPS information was then
downloaded and mapped using Arc View and satellite imagery” (^). and the final report provides
the coordinates and topography descriptions. To honor my agreement with the informant who
gave me access to the SAHRA applications, I will not include a written or visual depiction of the
sacred site locations and boundaries. Also, clans ask that pictures of the sacred sites not be
included in any research or supplementary materials. The integration of the eco-cultural maps
and the contemporary technological and digital maps together are essential methods as both an
intergenerational tool, and a way of working within South Africa’s democratic structures to
claim Indigenous rights.

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7.4 Final Synthesis
This section of the data presentation is a final synthesis of results, supplementary
historical context, emergent themes, and interpretation. Guided by all four research questions: (1)
How do colonial and apartheid frameworks and gender ideologies manifest in South Africa’s
land act legacies? (2) What impact has South Africa’s land acts, in conjunction with traditional
leadership, had on cultural biodiversity in the Vhembe District Municipality? (3) What do
Vhomakhadzi attribute to environmental degradation in the Vhembe District Municipality? and
(4) How do Vhomakhadzi construct cultural biodiversity preservation? In other words, what do
their efforts or positions reveal about gender and cultural biodiversity and how they as women
frame culture and environment? From there, I then examined the data. From Vhomakhadzi
participant discourse and attending data related to their community organizing,
environmentalism, and cultural biodiversity preservation efforts in the CBO, Dzomo La Mupo
(DLM), the predominant emergent themes include: Globalization and Gender-Based
Discrimination, Western Patriarchal Claims to Nature, Vhomakhadzi Environmental
Epistemologies and through DLM membership, Makhadzi Political Praxis.
7.5 Globalization and Gender-Based Discrimination
Analyzing the data, it is patently clear that varying development projects and extractive
industries in the Vhembe District Municipality are driven by a complex, interconnected
outgrowth of globalization that systematically excludes women and Vhomakhadzi. This is
evidenced by a confluence of land acts and traditional governance legislation spanning the
colonial, apartheid, and post-apartheid eras that have historically disadvantaged women within
the land administration process. Beginning with the Native Administration act of 1927, and the

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Bantu Authorities Act of 1951, these acts catalyzed unaccountable authority74 in the former
apartheid homelands, setting a precedent whereby local leadership could abuse traditional courts,
often to deprive communities of natural resources and land. These land policies live on in the
post-apartheid era, through key legislation such as the Traditional Leadership and Governance
Framework Act (2004), the Communal Rights Bill (2004), the now defunct Traditional Courts
Bill (2008), and the National House of Traditional Leaders Act (2009), thus compromising South
Africa’s democratic structures. This legislation is why South Africa’s commission on gender
equality has made multiple inquiries about these laws, highlighting legislative statutes that
conflict with gender protections as outlined in the country’s constitution – and which were
historically absent during the colonial and apartheid eras.
The evolution of laws, as they exist today, stifle public involvement and equitable
arbitration and there remains a consistent struggle between the separation of powers of courts,
traditional governance and land administration. Further, through statutes, such as the Spatial
Planning and Land Use Management Act (SPLUMA) and the Restitution of Land Rights
Amendment Act, many land advocates and citizens are concerned about far-reaching land claims
and the extension of powers to the traditional councils and local municipalities in the former
apartheid homelands. Comprehensively, this results in structural inequalities that disempower
women due to poor legal representation, cases of patrilineal inheritance, low ratios of female
political influence, female exclusion from select traditional courts, tenuous access to land,
insecure housing tenure, lack of public participation for proposed development plans, degraded
livelihoods, and lack of women’s access in shaping customary law, environmental policy, and
conservation.

74

Custom Contested is a blog/website affiliated with the Land Accountability Research Centre.

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This convergence of legislation empowers local leaders to uphold a network of legislative
gaps and democratic ambiguities that embolden multinational corporate development schemes,
land acquisitions, and rural-based extractive industries. South Africa possesses vast mineral
commodities in the form of platinum and the largest world reserves of diamonds, gold, vanadium
and chromite ore— vital for mineral exports, foreign exchange, and manufacturing. Within fossil
fuel commerce, the country has the fifth largest mining industry internationally, all of which
attracts multinational conglomerates. Platinum, for instance, has sparked vehement land conflicts
in the rural areas of North West Province among the Bakgatla-ba-Kgafela tribal authority area
(Sonwabile Mnwana 2016) and among the Royal Bafokeng Nation, which receives royalties in
exchange for its deposits from the Impala Platinum Mining Corporation. Moreover, as
demonstrated in the study, large interconnected multinationals, such as Coal of Africa (CoAL),
extend their global reach through shareholders, strategic investors, and clients such as the
Arcelor Mittal Steel Group, which traverses multiple industrial markets in Australia, Canada,
Europe, the United States and other countries worldwide. In the context of South Africa, this web
of activity depends on national, provincial, and local powers to support their enterprises to the
exclusion of community interests; and in this scenario, no one is more vulnerable than women
and children.
Globalization and gender-based discrimination is rooted in colonial and apartheid
gender ideologies. Frenkel (2008) references colonial influences on gender roles in Africa
stating, “In most histories of colonial conquest, the colonising power refused to negotiate with
women or acknowledge women as leaders in a public context. The collusion between colonial
powers and indigenous male leaders led to female exclusion from higher structures of power...”
(Frenkel 3). This historical and continental phenomenon not only altered labor divisions, but also

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gender roles in the context of state-making and political contributions in public and household
spaces – i.e. Vhomakhadzi leadership roles within the clan, family, and community. It is this
calcified attitude in the 21st century that Vhavenda women and Vhomakhadzi find themselves
entangled with today. The reinstitution of traditional courts and the assemblage of local, national,
and multinational actors – who appropriate imperialist authority and gender ideologies – now
unify men of different colors and classes to control Vhavenda women and Vhomakhadzi in a
colorblind global patriarchy in the post-apartheid era. (McFadden 2001).
McFadden (2001) recognizes the historical forces that shape present day neocolonialism
and globalization in reifying an old colonial and imperialist world order, which has especially
challenged the rights and citizenship of South African women in rural areas (McFadden 2001).
Examining notions of patriarchy in a post-colonial context, in both public and private spaces,
reveals the limitations of women as fully functioning citizens, as they contend with global and
local gender stratification. McFadden (2001), upon analyzing these concepts, does not excuse
“African patriarchy” or gender-based discrimination in her critique of colonial and neocolonial
oppression. Rather, she ignores binarisms of oppressor and oppressed to portray a comprehensive
scenario where global patriarchy has colluded to absolve women’s rights. This is ever more
present in the former homelands and amidst Venda’s traditional leadership structures, land act
legacies, and the presence of multinational companies.
Upon analyzing participant discourse, the commentary likewise dismantles binarisms.
Although Vhomakhadzi acknowledge abuse of power among chiefs, mainly Masingo traditional
leaders, they also maintain a distinction between the Masingo chiefs and other political and
multinational corporate actors – suggesting that patriarchal structures also maintain their own
hierarchy given the economic disparities that many chiefs themselves endure. The commentary

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reveals a perception by Vhomakhadzi that chiefs are less culpable in discrimination compared
with Western/White influences because they are also impacted by structural inequalities in their
society. Interpretation of the interview statements uncover disparate or hierarchal expressions of
patriarchy in the Vhembe District Municipality, among Vhavenda local leadership – and
national, international, political and corporate actors. Furthermore, the neo-traditionalist ideology
which fuels extensive land claims by chiefs, who use culture as a pretense to manipulate
democracy in order to acquire more land, is reliant upon the intertwining, vituperative laws that
disenfranchise women. Thus, in another example of colorblind global patriarchy by redefining
custom, traditional male leaders silence women.
7.6 Western Patriarchal Claims to Nature
Upon analyzing statements concerning Vhomakhadzi and cultural biodiversity
preservation efforts, the emergent and prominent theme is Western authoritative claims to nature,
both past and present. Through the literature, it has become clear that cultural biodiversity is the
expression of cultural, linguistic, and environmental knowledge, which coevolved over many
centuries (Maffi and Woodley 2010; China Bioreserve Network 2008) a process which
Vhomakhadzi have been intimately connected. Language has therefore been a point of
contention for Vhavenda traditional healers, medicinal practitioners, and Vhomakhadzi who see
that Luvenda and Tshivenda words have been devalued. Vhomakhadzi frequently reminded me
with great pride, that it was Vhavenda people who had myriad Luvenda names for flora and
fauna well before the arrival of Whites. They were also adamant that the best indicator for
tracking, planting, and harvesting seasons was through the Indigenous ecological calendar as
opposed to Western calendars. The Vhangona people claim to have originated in Venda with the
Luvenda language and, through oral accounts, describe how their ancestors gave names to the

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rivers, forests, caves and pools (SAHRA Application 2012). The Vhangona confirm that all
forms of life in the shango (territory) have a name in Luvenda with deep meaning. This is
especially important due to both cultural and linguistic attacks – a tragic outcome of the National
Party government during the apartheid regime. The apartheid government accordingly pushed for
instruction to be in the Afrikaans and English languages – a notion subsequently met with
vehement social unrest and protests throughout the country. The point being that even African
languages, including the Luvenda words to describe nature, were also depreciated.
Understanding the historical context clarifies Dzomo La Mupo participants’ frustration with
Western dominance over nature and the words that describe environmental phenomena.
Participant discourse also revealed feelings of frustration at the audacity of Western
domination over environmental policies, conservation, control of land, and agricultural practices.
This frustration was perfectly exemplified in VhoMasindi’s statement about a White-owned
snake park in Durban, visited by Vhomakhadzi and DLM. To restate:
We have taboos, but now children will say what is that taboo?
People have made things upside down. Like if we say, don’t kill
this snake, they will say that you are a witch because they
associate snakes with witches. We are saying that Makuwa
is allowed to do a snake park, where people pay to see the snakes,
for them they say snake should be saved. For us it is witchcraft.
We traveled to Durban for this permaculture training and they
have a snake park, we say open the gate we know snake more than
you; we cannot pay to see snakes. We can’t pay money to see the
snake we know the snake at home. There were persons there who
said maybe you take the snakes from our mountains.

VhoMasindi’s observation is a commentary on how nature and conservation are socially and
culturally constructed. Vhomakhadzi here discern both the irony of Vhavenda people’s
convoluted relationship to nature due to Westernism – and the hypocrisy latent in Western
conservationism. Vhavenda culture – once portrayed through a reverence for nature and sacred
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sites as exemplified by Indigenous agricultural skills, Vhomakhadzi eco-cultural knowledge, and
through a complex system of taboos that assisted the management of sustainable land-use – now
associates snakes with witchery. Accusations of sorcery are still common, as I frequently heard
people speculate that misfortune encountered by community members may have been a result of
witchcraft. The irony is that snakes and nature, which were once respected, have now become a
cultural distortion first created by missionaries and now perpetuated by present-day Vhavenda
Christian fundamentalism. For example, some Vhavenda Christians have referenced biblical
scriptures as evidence of witchcraft in Exodus 22:18, Deuteronomy 18:10-1, or Acts 8:18-20
(Ralushai 1996). Through a dominant Western framework, the snake park becomes emblematic
of control, owing to a historical struggle to define nature and its value as a commodity in which
Vhomakhadzi, who have been robbed of their roles to protect biodiversity, must now pay to see
the snakes from their own mountains. This simple example and Vhomakhadzi observations that
“…for them [Westerners] they say snake should be saved. For us it is witchcraft,” underscores
how conservation fits into a post-colonial narrative as Vhomakhadzi reveal an acute awareness of
double standards that have been created by the West, but are now reinforced by Vhavenda
people.
These concepts are equally apparent in the emergence of the witch as a symbol
representative of woman’s suspicious relationship to nature cross-culturally – including in
Venda, as police statistics reveal during a resurgence of witchcraft accusations in the late 1990s,
women were predominantly accused of being witches (Ralushai 1996). Although a belief in
witchcraft is a fear substantiated in cultural belief, this takes on new connotations through the
parallel accusations of Vhomakhadzi demonic kinship to sacred plants and indigenous customs.
The conclusion drawn is that these symbols, as vestiges from the past are still used to manage

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women’s interaction with the environment. In the broader scope of the study, the challenge for
feminists and environmental scholars, then, is to “seek to overcome metaphors and models which
feminize nature and naturalize women to the mutual detriment of both nature and women”
(Warren introduction).
Vhavenda Christian fundamentalist positions about Vhomakhadzi and their relationship to
nature is a result of colonial Africanist discourse, or what I refer to by contrast as an Africanist
Discourse of inferiority, or the internalized other, which perpetuates cultural denigration,
silencing, and shame. Through Kirkaldy’s (2005) review of the Berlin Mission Society records
and missionary newsletters, he likewise likens this shame to the “Missionary gaze” or the
“distorting missionary ethnographic lens...” (Kirkaldy 13), which depicts Vhavenda people as
barbaric and unsophisticated. Similarly, these accounts reveal how the missionaries connect the
‘wild’ and untamable land with the perceived primitiveness of the people. Kirkaldy examines the
intricate relationship between these perceptions of the land and an enduring legacy that connects
all wilderness with a sort of Christian-less wilderness of the soul. His take on the iconography of
forest people and dwellings, as it has been conjured by missionaries and explorers, explains
Western justification for land grabbing and a patriarchal moral position, or manifest destiny. This
missionary gaze can be further expanded within the context of gender, exemplified by deviant
portrayals of sexually deviant African women – thus validating through a logic of domination the
need to control African women and land.
Ultimately, eco-cultural knowledge practices over time have been stifled by Western
patriarchal claims to nature. Thus, the systematic devaluing of Vhomakhadzi is in essence a
devaluing of women and nature, in view of the fact that the elimination of their ancestral rituals
of thuvela and u pasa and their responsibilities, such as ritualistic use of snuff from the tobacco

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plant and the use and cultivation of the sacred finger millet plant to make mpambo; the disregard
of taboos and myths used as conservation strategies; and the disdain for the custodianship of
sacred sites has subverted an entire generation’s environmental consciousness and understanding
of Vhavenda women’s ties to ecology.
7.7 Vhomakhadzi Environmental Epistemologies
As the study reveals, historically within Vhavenda culture, the role of makhadzi has been
central among the clans as she advises chiefs on community and family affairs and presides over
customs linked with environmental sustainability and agronomy. Vhomakhadzi, of both the royal
and non-royal families, conduct rituals for their own kin, but makhadzi of the royal-house
perform both public and private rituals of Thevula in thanksgiving for the harvest, and to ask for
rain in the coming year (Matshidze 2013). Additionally, makhadzi are mediums between this
world and the ancestral one, and are custodians of sacred sites where many of the rituals take
place. Their customary roles and responsibilities support vast eco-cultural knowledge and
understanding of harvesting and traditional farming. For example, the two farming strategies of
Mutanga and Tshikovha, incorporate harvesting crops in strategic areas away from the wetlands
and not in areas that absorb the water. Another example of traditional roles and farming is
evidenced by protection of the wetlands, when menopausal makhadzi were selected to protect
springs and water – accordingly communicating with the community of elders when debris and
branches needed removal. Then a clean, unused calabash bowl was the only receptacle pure
enough to collect the water from the spring. Vhomakhadzi and women in Vhavenda culture also
customarily manage seed selection and storage. Among these many Indigenous agricultural
skills, makhadzi also observe the myths and taboos used to maintain a harmonious (Shothodzo)
balance among people-environment relations.

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These ancestral rituals and activities have shaped Vhomakhadzi understanding of
environmental sustainability, ecosystems, and food systems for healthy living. The women of
DLM are the only makhadzi sampled for the study, although informal conversations with two
non-DLM makhadzi corroborate the customary links with the environment and agricultural
cycles as previously described. Adhering to a traditional ecological calendar, makhadzi observe
the customary methods of harvesting food. The traditional ecological seasons in the Luvenda
language include: Nyendavhusiku, Phando, Luhuhi, Thafamuhwe, Lambamai, Shundunthule,
Fulwi, Fulwana, Thangule, Khubvumedzi, Tshimedzi, and Lara. Selecting and storing a variety
of seeds is important for a healthy meal of proteins and organic wild fruits and vegetables. Plus,
different plants are harvested for different seasons based on preservation under different weather
conditions. And although Finger Millet is a sacred plant used for important rituals and
ceremonies, it too has very nutritious value. From this knowledge Vhomakhadzi believe in
planting an assortment of crops for a diverse yield. Diverse crops planted through Indigenous
agricultural methods or within an agro-ecological model is good for the quality of the food and
the soil, compared with DLM’s perspectives about GMOs or chemical pesticides used in monocrop farming and commercial agriculture. This access to the Indigenous and culturally
appropriate food is what Vhomakhadzi refer to today as food and seed sovereignty, which is
essential for good health.
Vhomakhadzi of DLM, as indicated previously, rely on their cultural roles to discern
many areas of environmental degradation in the Vhembe District Municipality today. In addition
to the subversion of their roles, they are concerned about deforestation, commercial and monocrop farming, mining, degradation of wetlands as the root causes of climate change, reduced
food and seed security, and food sovereignty. They regard sacred sites as holy environs rich in

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biological diversity. Therefore, the separation or fragmentation of these sites disturbs the
ecosystems and biodiversity within the zones, as well as the larger landscapes around them.
7.8 Makhadzi Political Praxis
Dzomo La Mupo (DLM) does not advocate an ecofeminist or African feminist politic.
Yet African feminism(s) and Ecological feminist philosophies are useful theoretical positions for
analyzing the broad based themes that emerge from Vhomakhadzi interview statements—and for
deconstructing DLM’s grassroots organizing. Juxtaposing Vhomakhadzi community-based
organizing with aspects of ecofeminism and feminist political ecology, and their associated
strategies, frames Vhomakhadzi preservation efforts and reveals a critical standpoint. What is
evident through this analysis is that they possess their own distinctive political praxis,
environmental epistemology, and an environmental ethic that positions their Indigenous
Knowledge Skills (IKS) and eco-cultural practices within contemporary conservation efforts.
DLM, through their international partnerships from 2008-2014, established community
wilderness retreats for Vhomakhadzi and education programs grounded in the revival of
traditional agricultural practices, ecological governance, and cultural biodiversity preservation.
Together they formed a platform that focuses on the ecosystem, seed and healthy food systems,
and cultural biodiversity continuation. DLM addresses degraded ecosystems by strategically
focusing on ways to maintain indigenous forests, rivers, wetlands, and sacred natural sites/
forests. Efforts on seed and healthy food systems is realized through securing food sovereignty,
protecting indigenous local seeds, establishing tree nurseries, and by reviving traditional
agricultural knowledge and indigenous farming systems; additionally, DLM approaches cultural
biodiversity preservation through intergenerational learning in schools – working with elders,
teachers, curriculum advisors, and students.

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Now, as an independent community-based organization, DLM intends to: empower
women; strengthen community resilience to retain food sovereignty and communities through
increased land-based livelihood strategies grounded in Indigenous knowledge systems; and
significantly reverse the effects of climate change and the deterioration of biodiversity in the
Vhembe district municipality in Venda (Makaulule and Ross 2015).
Vhomakhadzi of DLM rely on their cultural roles to discern many areas of environmental
degradation in the Vhembe District Municipality today. In 2013, Makaulule received the Global
Leadership Award through the International Indigenous Women’s Forum, or Foro Internacional
de Mujeres Indigenes (FIMI). At the ceremony in New York City, her acceptance speech gives
insight into how Vhomakhadzi, concerned with a loss of cultural biodiversity, envision their roles
as environmentalists:
To all women around the world, we must remember our role as
mothers and healers. Today, we need to heal our Earth from all
challenges we are facing through climate change, biodiversity
extinctions, water shortages. We need to learn from our knowledgeable women, elder women, before they pass away….Venda people
know that they cannot be chiefs or leaders without the leadership
of the makhadzi, the women. We women are natural leaders; our
leadership is a sacred role (Makaulule Global Leadership Award
acceptance speech).

This speech reframes makhadzi responsibilities within a global context as a call to all women and
mothers to protect nature worldwide. Makaulule sees her role as a makhadzi and mother as the
impetus for protecting life, similarly to how Catherine Acholonu’s theory of motherism positions
African women’s empowerment and civic engagement in the context of motherhood. By
identifying as ecologists in the post-apartheid era, Vhomakhadzi members of DLM are
energizing their cultural roles as women and reasserting their authoritative knowledge about
nature and the environment. Makaulule conveyed further, “We as women hold the responsibility

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for custodianship of life, because the ancestors chose us to be Makhadzi. Makhadzi is not just a
name or title; it is a role – a spiritual role. We are the custodians of water, soil, seed and forests,
and traditional medicine that come from Indigenous trees…we cannot stand back and watch life
be destroyed” (Makaulule Global Leadership Award acceptance speech). Through her leadership
as a Phangami, Makaulule is restoring confidence to Vhomakhadzi of DLM to regain their
leadership roles to advocate for their communities in the Vhembe District Municipality.
DLM’s community grassroots organizing begins with women’s empowerment by
restoring confidence in Vhomakhadzi to resume their roles within community ecological
governance. Women’s empowerment in this context is defined in conjunction with the
community and its well-being. Therefore, to rebuild makhadzi roles includes targeted educational
cohorts for women, men, youth, and intergenerational dialogue. Intergenerational learning is a
crucial component of DLM’s community education programs because it is the young people who
are losing culture, as they are influenced the most by Westernism and modernity. Vhomakhadzi
and DLM see their roles as makhadzi as closing this gap to fortify the community.
Likewise, the traditional eco-cultural maps also serve as an intergenerational tool. By
constructing an ancestral map of the past, and one of the present and future, all generations can
come together to discuss the evolution of the land over time, as well as the changes due to
unsustainable development projects and future land-use plans as envisioned by the whole
community. DLM members, trained in territorial eco-cultural mapping and traditional ecocalendar composition, facilitate the workshops with villages and schools. These maps also
become practical tools when educators use them to teach students about nature through forest
walks and in Earth sciences curriculum.
Through an integrated model, utilizing Indigenous knowledge and skills with modern

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conservationist practices, DLM seeks to educate the community about sustainable agricultural
practices. Through continued capacity building and fundraising, the CBO intends to establish
community-wide research teams, to document the elder’s knowledge of traditional farming
systems adapted within an agro-ecological framework. DLM’s hope is that through continued
capacity building of their organization, they will one day be able organize research teams to
exchange this knowledge about permaculture, seed saving, mulching, composting, and the use of
gray water with household farmers across towns and villages (Makaulule and Ross 2015). They
specifically wish to raise awareness about ecological knowledge with Vhavenda citizens,
household farmers, and schools, but also among commercial farmers and government
departments.
Finally, in 2012, DLM began offering paralegal training to educate community
members about customary law and to protect sacred natural sites and forests. At this time, the
organization submitted applications for registration of three sacred forests as protected areas
under the South African Heritage Resources Agency (SAHRA). Although SAHRA has appeared
unresponsive, according to community accounts, and while there has been perceived hindrances
over the years, Makaulule and DLM are still optimistic and intend to continue lobbying for the
protection of sacred forests. DLM’s intention is to expand legal training through a lawyer or
community organizer, well versed in environmental and indigenous law, to educate community
members about customary and constitutional rights, the integration of indigenous knowledge into
the Vhembe school curriculum, and environmental policies, including policies on seed and food
systems, and health and nutrition.

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Figure 32: Photograph: ‘Profesa’ with Mphatheleni Makaulule (2012)

I end this section by sharing the words of Makaulule’s mentor Vhomakhadzi Vho
Tshavhungwa Nemarude Ramunangi, known as ‘Profesa.’ Profesa died in 2012 at 87 and was an
important friend to Makaulule, a link for her to the ancestral ways of the past, and an important
makhadzi in the formation of Dzomo La Mupo. In a speech about the destruction at Phiphidi
Waterfall, given on October 20, 2012 during Mupo-Zwifho Day, Profesa stated:

I thank the people who allow and arranged for me to have the
opportunity to speak here. We are in pain, we are in a very painful
situation. For me, the way I look at what happened to our clan, is
that we are left naked, we have been undressed from our clothes.
We have been left naked, and where shall we go to hide? In our
Zwifho, it is now a place of tourists to visit, a place for people to
play and entertain themselves…I am amazed and surprised by
people when they say today’s youths are misbehaving. People
should not blame the children and youths. The people who should
be blamed are those who are destroying the zwifho… I am
requesting assistance. Let’s find way to bring order to zwifho so
that zwifho remain zwifho (Mupo Foundation).

Profesa eloquently offers a metaphor for the vulnerabilities makhadzi face and all women who
are susceptible to unwarranted exposure either through the stripping of one’s clothes or one’s
culture.

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CHAPTER EIGHT: CONCLUSION

This empirical study has examined the environmentalism and cultural biodiversity
preservation efforts of Vhomakhadzi, the paternal aunts/women who are members of the
community-based organization Dzomo La Mupo (DLM). Through ethnographic-style interviews,
participant observation, and archival research, the study has investigated the historical and
present-day land legacies and gender politics that have contributed to the erosion of cultural
biodiversity, and DLM’s subsequent preservation efforts.
8.1 Review of Findings
The analysis focused on three program areas within DLM’s organization: (1) Indigenous
agriculture, (2) cultural biodiversity preservation, and (3) community organizing. Accordingly,
through the research I evaluated the organization’s strategic efforts to protect ecosystems, seed
and healthy food systems, litigation to protect the sacred Phiphidi Waterfall, subsequent efforts
to register a total of three sacred areas and forests as Provincial Heritage sites and finally, the
study included a review of DLM’s campaign to stop Coal of Africa’s colliery development plan.
Concurrently, I investigated the following research questions: (1) How do colonial and apartheid
frameworks and gender ideologies manifest in South Africa’s land act legacies? (2) What impact
has South Africa’s land acts, in conjunction with traditional leadership, had on cultural
biodiversity in the Vhembe District Municipality? (3) What do Vhomakhadzi attribute to
environmental degradation in the Vhembe District Municipality? and (4) How do Vhomakhadzi
construct cultural biodiversity preservation? More precisely, how do they envisage cultural
linkages with the environment?
The results presented in this conclusion emerged from archival research, interviews,
participant observation, and were further extrapolated within a combined African feminist and

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ecological feminist theoretical framework. The major findings disclosed several ways that South
African politicians, chiefs, and multinational corporations reinforce colonial or White settler
ideologies that undermine Vhomakhadzi traditional roles and eco-cultural knowledge practices.
From these findings I make recommendations to conservation-based United Nations agencies
and programs in the region and make suggestions to scholars for future research.
As the testimonies reveal, all Vhangona women are generally makhadzi. Yet some
makhadzi have been bestowed by their ancestors to assist with royalty and customary governance
or serve as custodians of sacred sites and forests. As custodians of sacred natural sites, makhadzi
environmental knowledge derives from ancestral insight, Indigenous customs, and ecocultural
wisdom. Vhomakhadzi officiate over traditions interconnected with environmental sustainability
and agriculture. They also customarily manage seed selection and storage and adhere to
ecological calendars to determine harvesting for different seasons. The elders in particular
preserve their approaches to harvesting, traditional farming, and agriculture, which determines
healthy food and seed systems and their conception of food sovereignty.
Vhomakhadzi ecological interpretations of sacred sites are formed through a spiritual lens.
It is believed that only women can communicate directly with ancestors and for the purpose of
rituals their presence at sacred sites is essential. The power of these locations is explained in
horizontal and vertical dimensions, which is culturally and environmentally significant. The soil,
sky, and surrounding air are a part of a sacred space. Therefore, even minerals and metals in the
subsoil are critical. Removing such minerals through the extraction of gold or coal through
mining infringes on Vhavenda Indigenous laws of origin that determine what are sound practices
(SAHRA application 2012). The very soil of the sacred site is revered in that this is where they
bury their dead in the ancestral way. Therefore, Indigenous Vhangona believe that digging into

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the soil and damaging the ecosystem impacts their ancestors and will bring misfortune due to the
destruction of plants, animal life, and water. Vhomakhadzi recognize many taboos that aid in
sustainable land-use practices as well. From all of these various traditions, Vhomakhadzi as
members of the community based organization, Dzomo La Mupo (DLM), identify as ecologists
and assert that they have important perspectives to add to the dialogue on climate change,
agroecology, and modern conservation techniques.
DLM is working to reverse the effects of climate change and the deterioration of
biodiversity in the Vhembe District Municipality. The study reveals a distinctive political praxis
and environmental ethic among DLM members grounded in makhadzi environmental
epistemologies and customary beliefs. Accordingly, DLM members work to empower women
and restore makhadzi traditional roles, strengthen community resilience through retaining food
sovereignty and by expanding land-based livelihood strategies grounded in indigenous
knowledge systems. DLM founder and director, Mphatheleni Makaulule, has orchestrated her
vision for defending the environment and culture based on her desire as a mother to protect her
children and the next generation. As a mother, Makaulule regards her work as a call to action to
mothers worldwide to protect nature and the environment. Therefore, it is unmistakable that
safeguarding Venda’s sacred sites are important, as is protecting larger landscapes and the whole
Earth community.
With regards to their activism, interviews with Vhomakhadzi revealed micro and macro
forms of gender-based discrimination that infringe on women’s citizenship rights in Venda’s
Vhembe District Municipality. During DLM’s efforts to protect the Phiphidi Waterfall and a
total of three sacred sites and forests in the Municipality, their legal representation met with
opposition from local headmen, chiefs/Vhamusanda and Venda royalty—and dealt with

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ineffectual local and national government agencies, such as The Limpopo Heritage Resources
Agency (LIHRA), The CRL Rights Commission or Commission for the Promotion and
Protection of Cultural, Religion and Linguistic Minorities, The Department of Land and
Traditional Affairs, and the South African Heritage Resources Agency (SAHRA). Internal
correspondences with DLM staff suggested that some of these agencies did not want to engage
with local leadership on controversial land and cultural issues. This denotes a conflict of interest
between traditional leadership and democratic structures. Through these thwarted appeals to
government agencies evidenced by e-mail correspondences, DLM meeting minutes, and letters,
what is revealed is that neocolonialism manifests through the presence of international
companies and is further supported by local and national leadership. This is also illustrated when
companies like Coal of Africa use Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) legislative benchmarks
to circumvent women’s public participation– alternatively appealing to male community leaders
and entrepreneurs to secure the strategic investors needed to proceed with development plans. It
can be deduced from these accounts that by ignoring the centuries-old traditional role and
cultural institution of makhadzi, contemporary legislation that portends to work within customary
frameworks is calculatedly discriminating against the roles of women in the post-apartheid
democratic era.
Gender-based discrimination as an outgrowth of globalization has been studied at length.
African gender scholars (Chepyator-Thomson 2005; Turshen 2010; Haysom 2001; Chioma
Steady 2002; Boko 2005) have noted a trajectory of exploitation and marginalization of African
women in development paradigms from colonialism to today. In the former apartheid homelands,
specifically in Venda, this systematic exclusion is rooted in colonial and apartheid gender
ideologies expressed through the country’s land acts which are heavily influenced by ongoing

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discriminatory scaffolds. Examination of the evolution of South African land legislation shows
explicit provisions that disenfranchise women not only through a confluence of inequitable land
policies but in way that the laws function within traditional leadership structures and courts.
Now, owing to unaccountable governance in many rural areas, this legislation empowers local,
provincial, and national politicians to arrange development schemes that leave the former
homelands and rural areas intensely vulnerable to multinational companies such as commercial
farming or extractive industries that seek the nation’s high deposits of fossil fuels and mineral
wealth. This negatively impacts Indigenous Vhavenda communities and women especially.
8.2 Gendered Implications
Historically, female power in Venda was reflective of the gender flexibility of many precolonial African societies. As articulated in chapter three, in pre-colonial Venda households
married women enjoyed privileges of land and agrarian decision-making. Additionally,
Vhavenda populations in the Soutpansberg region had assorted lineages of female leaders from
petty chieftainships and headwomen, to advisers known as nduna or mukoma. Likewise,
historians and gender scholars (Lestrade 1930; Schlosser 2002) have examined the matrilineal
leadership of two spirit mediums, Tshisinavhute of Mianzwi, an Mbedzi who are among a
succession of female leaders/mediums since the 18th century, including the Lovhedu Rain Queen,
Modjadji, all of whom held power through their rainmaking gifts (Lestrade 1930; Schlosser
2002). Lastly as described at length, among Vhangona, makhadzi historically played a critical
role in the family and the royal leadership within customary governance. Nevertheless, following
contact with White settler colonialists and missionaries these constructions of gender and
women’s power receded.
The manifestation of colonial gender ideologies in Venda, particularly at the intersection

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of the Church, the nuclear family, and wage labor critically impacted the corporeal existence of
makhadzi. Interview statements describe makhadzi as a conduit between this realm and the
ancestral one, a belief particularly contested within colonial and apartheid social formations. Her
role is a multi-layered example of gender flexibility and this, paired with her connection to the
sacred, challenged the cultural values of White settlers and missionaries. Makhadzi was heretical
in nature and her added ascendancy to ‘female father’ and an authority figure in pre-colonial
Venda society was disparaged. The moral and social denigration of makhadzi in colonial Venda
is not surprising, as the literature attests that African female embodiment that conflicted with
colonial social conventions was considered deviant. This also reflects the post-colonial analysis
of gender-based violence in South Africa that again focuses on women’s bodies and sexuality as
potential political and cultural landscapes in the process of political transformation. In the
context of colonial social formations and the impact on the role of makhadzi, I would add that
her relegation is a form of symbolic violence in an attempt to control her citizenship rights and
physical relationship to the sacred. This is substantiated by the demonization of sacred site
practices, which explains the subordination of makhadzi with a male priest and the replacement
of sacred land with the sanctity of the Church. Whether it be the contempt of girl’s initiation rites
into womanhood, gender flexibility, or matrilineal customs, these flexible gender expressions
were not acceptable to colonial societies forged on Christian, male, and capitalist values.
Further, the agricultural implications of introducing wage labor also disrupted
Vhomakhadzi. While it is true that approximately 80 percent of small-scale agricultural farmers
in Africa today are women, colonial social formations dismissed women’s input on agricultural
systems and recanted female inheritance and access to communal land. Accordingly, makhadzi
were cleaved from their pastoral roles, including guardianship of sacred environments. This is a

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reflection of women’s overall removal from land and agrarian decision-making due to
colonialism and the gender divisions of labor within capitalist economic systems. These social
progressions are clarified, “Recognizing that gender roles are, in part, a product of wider social,
economic, and political processes, and that those processes are likewise affected by prevailing
gender norms, thus generates a more complex understanding of the foundations and forms of
power in…Africa” (Osborn 4). Hereafter, these gendered and social arrangements of the colonial
and apartheid eras exist in Venda today and determine gendered power disparities. This is
revealed through the agreement of local, national, and international actors who enact
development schemes with little input from women, particularly Vhomakhadzi who were once
so integral to Venda communities.
Analyzing the advancement of corporate activities in the Venda region from the colonial
era to today exposes an authoritative and patriarchal relationship between Westernism and
nature. Colonial and apartheid era land policies, ranging from the displacement of indigenous
communities for designated protected areas and wildlife reserves, forced removals based on
racial ideology and segregation, and the country’s overall spatial politics, have altered peopleenvironment relations and access to resources. For example, the rejection of indigenous
agriculture and traditional ecological knowledge in place of commercial farms and mono-cropplantations, or the extraction of the country’s mineral wealth exposes a dominance of Western
ideology manifest in food and seed systems, and economic and development paradigms. Further,
dominant metaphors about gender and nature have co-evolved within a Westernized global
capitalist agenda. Christian fundamentalism as an integral component of Western patriarchal
claims to nature is deeply engrained in South Africa’s White settler philosophy of authority. This
analysis of the erosion of Vhomakhadzi roles helps to explain women’s marginalization from

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land and environmental legislative decision making.
The imposed gender norms of White settler colonialists have become embedded in local,
provincial, and national governing structures in South Africa post-apartheid. As local Vhavenda
male leadership increases through capitalist means, Vhomakhadzi by contrast lose power. This
claim further supports the notion that global patriarchy is a dominant characteristic of
capitalism— which determines economic models, land-use strategies, global food and seed
systems, and environmental and conservation approaches. Furthermore, in an effort to gain
capitalist power by acquiring land and authority through traditional governance male leaders
recast culture and manipulate South Africa’s democratic structures.
This legacy has been particularly detrimental to women in rural areas in the former
homelands. Women’s citizenship rights have been diminished due to poor legal representation,
dominant systems of patrilineal inheritance, low ratios of female political influence, female
exclusion from select traditional courts, tenuous access to land, insecure housing tenure, and
degraded livelihoods. Furthermore, in this scenario women disproportionately lack access to
shape customary law, environmental policy, and conservation, especially in Venda’s Limpopo
province. The presence of multinational corporations and their current development paradigms
merely exacerbate these issues due to shoddy public participation meetings, unsustainable
development practices and meager career opportunities for women. In Venda, the study reveals
that these discriminatory frameworks and multinational development schemes have impacted the
role of makhadzi uniquely given her traditional positon as custodian to sacred natural sites, and
her role overseeing customs integral to ecological systems.

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8.3 Recommendations
The implications of the study and recommendations are directed towards conservationists,
United Nation environmental and cultural agencies, and scholars. As illustrated, multinational
corporations and extractive industries exploit South Africa’s land acts and enact a legacy of
discriminatory frameworks. By examining DLM’s community organizing and legal action what
can be further gleaned is the probability that government agencies likely feel restricted to enact
full protection for its citizens against local and corporate development due to the complicity of
traditional and provincial leaders with the national government. In the government’s ostensible
attempt to ensure constitutional protections for former homeland residents, they are actually
reinscribing colonial and apartheid era laws and philosophies that are weakening South Africa’s
democracy. Although agencies faced challenges in the past, today there is a greater opportunity
to include a radical platform to protect women and Vhomakhadzi in The Vhembe District
Municipality, among a second generation of protected areas and biosphere reserves.
Recently, the Global Environment Facility’s Small Grants Programme (GEF, SGP) in
South Africa selected the Vhembe Bioshphere Reserve (VBR) as its focus landscape for
operational phase 6 (2015 – 2018) to determine its community conservation initiatives in the
Municipality. This could be an important opportunity for the biosphere. Based on the findings of
the study I make four recommendations for regional NGOs, U.N. agencies, programs, and the
VBR to create more progressive, gender inclusive, and culturally relevant development
objectives, including: (1) developing a participatory VBR platform for the protection of sacred
sites and forests (2) utilizing consistent language about sacred sites across U.N. agencies and
supporting programs (3) integrating social science and gender research; and (4) generating policy
recommendations to protect women in the region crafted by Vhavenda women and

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Vhomakhadzi. These suggestions support the VBR’s mission to establish a development
framework that integrates socio-economic opportunities for the people of the area. This
approach is reinforced by the U.N. Man and the Biosphere Program (MAB) and MAB’s African
regional network of biospheres—AfriMAB—both of which encourage human-centered models
of conservation. Recommendations (1) and (2) are consistent with The International Union for
Conservation of Nature (IUCN) and the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural
Organization (UNESCO), including:

(1)

Recognizing sacred natural sites already located in protected areas 


(2)

Integrate sacred natural sites located in protected areas in planning
processes 


(3)

Promote stakeholder consent, participation, inclusion and collaboration 


(4)

Encourage improved knowledge and understanding of sacred sites 


(5)

Protect sacred sites whilst providing appropriate management and access 


(6)

Respect the rights of sacred natural site custodians within an appropriate
framework of national policy (Wild, Robert G. Table of Contents).

In Limpopo province, The Vhembe District Municipality is an outlier compared with other
regions, as it encompasses the remaining indigenous sacred site cultures in the country.
Accordingly, the VBR would benefit from adopting language consistent with other agencies that
have sacred site guidelines as it expands its development model.
Recommendation (3) to integrate social science and gender research is necessary to
highlight the socio-political causes of poverty in the region, and to underscore the gendered
implications of environmental degradation. This will help broaden the scope of the VBR’s

233

research and platform. Thus, social science studies produced at The University of Venda should
be prioritized for publication followed by international scholarship. Ultimately, the plurality of
biosphere development models should not be considered complete without social science and
gender research.
The fourth and final recommendation for South Africa’s regional U.N. agencies,
programs, and the VBR, again incorporates Vhavenda women and Vhomakhadzi in key policy
proposals—as indigenous women’s equality and decision making are also outlined in the UN
Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. As a progressive model of development for the
biosphere this approach addresses gender and culture, as Vhomakhadzi possess vast eco-cultural
knowledge grounded in centuries old traditions and ancestral wisdom. In fact if the VBR
collaborated with organizations such as Dzomo La Mupo, such a collaborative effort would
garner community based organizations more international funding opportunities and aid in the
preservation of cultural biodiversity.
As the present research disclosed, colonial social formations reordered African customs
and society, which created lasting metaphors about African women’s corporeal existence parallel
to the domination of land and nature. These representations have been further solidified in
Western liberal democracies and within a global capitalist agenda. To further analyze African
women’s lived experiences as they intersect with topics such as unsustainable development,
globalization, global capitalism, agriculture and food justice, I encourage scholars to construct a
paradigm specific to African women’s environmental experiences. To begin thinking about such
a theory, I make two suggestions: (1) expand research that combines an African gender studies
and Ecological feminist and/or a political ecology, methodological framework and (2)
incorporate corresponding analysis of both nature and gender as socio-cultural constructs

234

through the pre-colonial, colonial, and post-colonial eras to further clarify symbolic
representations of African women’s bodies in relationship to land and the environment.
African women’s environmental experiences are most often framed within a critique of
exploitation, economic development, and global capitalism. Creating a paradigm specific to
African women’s environmental experiences as a socio-cultural construction brings new analysis
to Africana and post-colonial studies that would track the trajectory of African women’s
relationships to land and nature in different historical eras. The benefits of such a model include
theories that may be applicable across disciplines and a paradigm for comparative research
throughout the African diaspora, supporting Patterson’s (2015) assertion that, “Africana studies
is uniquely positioned to educate and prepare students for African transnational projects, if not
Pan-African projects related to environmental sustainability” (Patterson 173-199). Further,
deconstructing the symbolic representations of African women’s bodies contrasted with
environmental degradation provides an additional interpretive lens to understand the pathological
depictions that might impede African(a) women’s health and wellness in both urban and rural
areas globally.

235

APPENDICES

236

Appendix A Community Organization Profile
In 2008 the community based organization (CBO) Dzomo La Mupo (DLM), formed
international partnerships with the African Biodiversity Network of Kenya, and the Gaia
Foundation in the United Kingdom to create the Mupo Foundation. Before that period, the
network of NGOs was already actively working on the ground based on Makaulule’s vision as
founder of DLM, to protect local eco-systems and biodiversity. DLM ultimately works to restore
community ecological governance and foster greater awareness about environmental degradation
in the region. DLM’s mission strategically focuses on:
1. Ecosystems—particularly indigenous forests, rivers, wetlands, and sacred natural sites/
forests.
2. Seed and Healthy Food Systems— achieved through food sovereignty, protecting
indigenous local seed, establishing tree nurseries, and by reviving traditional agricultural
knowledge and indigenous farming systems.
3. Cultural Biodiversity Preservation—through Intergenerational learning in schools by
working with elders, teachers, curriculum advisors, and students.
Vhomakhadzi members of DLM have occupied varying roles depending on organizational need
and subsidy. At the time that the research was conducted, shifts in the CBO’s structure and their
emergence as an independent organization apart from their international partners, required
additional capacity building and funding. Through their previous network they received many
grants from the international conservationist and environmentalist community, which yielded
some paid positions for Vhomakhadzi. Yet today DLM is mostly run by volunteers until they
gain additional support. Despite this, DLM has dozens of members and their work has impacted
thousands of people within a larger linkage in the Vhembe District Municipality. It should also
be emphasized again that the former Mupo Foundation was/is a distinctive organization from
Dzomo La Mupo (DLM), nevertheless Vhomakhadzi interview statements sometimes refer to
past activities from their joint collaboration interchangeably, as “Mupo” with a capital “M”, not
to be confused with its lower-case Luvenda namesake mupo, meaning Earth, nature, or creations
of the Universe. Although the goals and strategic programs of DLM are essentially the same as
what was achieved with their international partnership organizations— my observation and
participation with the CBO during the research period is reflective of this transition to an
independent organization, which further impacted certain activities and interviews. For example,
pending funding to conduct new community mapping workshops limited my observations to
videos of previous workshops—with the exception of one specially arranged, in-person mapping
lecture by Vhomakhadzi. Lastly, the three focus groups were delineated according to the
organization’s outreach programs on seed, sacred site/forests, and wetlands. This arrangement
had dual benefit for my research and the organization itself which had not had the opportunity to
meet and discuss these topics in some months due to funding. Organizing the focus groups this
way provided the transportation and refreshments necessary for proper meetings. Since that
period, the organization is receiving marginal support.

237

Thus, focus groups were often followed by long fellowship, sharing stories, and even ongoing
and overnight stays for Vhomakhadzi who lived far away from the township and had traveled by
public transportation. This provided the opportunity for follow up questions, additional
interviews, and conversation that benefited the research. Vhomakhadzi participants hail from
different Vhangona clans and communities, but again the interviews were conducted primarily in
the township of Vuwani, in the Vhembe District Municipality. Again to ensure anonymity,
participant information regarding clans may not match pseudonyms— yet more broadly
represent the general diverse clan membership among the Vhangona who participate in the
organization.

238

Appendix B Select DLM Staff Interviewed75
VhoMphatheleni Makaulule
Makaulule is an award-winning, internationally known environmental and indigenous-rights
activist from Venda, South Africa. Her first name, Mphatheleni, means “build for me.” She
strongly believes that through this name, her father was setting her on a path to rebuild the
ancestors’ knowledge and restore the order of mupo, meaning Earth, nature, or creations of the
Universe, within Vhavenda culture. Therefore, like her father, Makaulule is a traditional healer
and leader in her community. After graduating from the University of Venda with a B.A. in
Education, Makaulule began working with elders, chiefs, and schools to build an
intergenerational model of learning that respects the value of Vhavenda culture and its
connection with nature through the Luvhola Cultural Village. In 2004, Makaulule was selected
for a Clinton Democracy Fellowship at City Year and spent two months in the United States
deepening her vision and program goals. In 2013, she received a Global Leadership Award by
the International Indigenous Women’s Forum (FIMI) for her work to empower indigenous
women.
VhoConnie
Mrs. Ratovhowani Ntshengedzeni Constance is a representative of the Malale clan and the
custodians of Tshishokoshwe sacred lake and Malale hills. She is a traditional healer; within
DLM she focuses on the role of makhadzi, medicinal indigenous trees, and the role of sacred
sites. Constance is a makhadzi in her paternal clan, as well her maternal clan of Netshituni.
Through her experiences in DLM meetings and workshops, Constance began documenting
information on forests and sacred sites for the Malale and Netshituni clans. She has also been
instrumental in recruiting makhadzi from various clans to join DLM. In 2014 Constance was
elected to be the vice chairperson of DLM. With basic computer skills, she has assisted by
recording, filing, and organizing DLM meeting minutes.
VhoAlillali
Alillali is a representative of the Tshidzivhe clan and the custodians of Thathe sacred forest. She
has been a member of DLM since 2011 and her work focuses on the role of indigenous forests
and sacred sites. Through DLM community outreach, program work, and conference
presentations, Alillali highlights the importance of indigenous forests and women’s critical roles
in forests and rituals. Most recently she presented on the role of youth and forests at the World
Forest Congress. She has also received permaculture and agro-ecology training through urban
farming workshops. Through DLM, Alillali has gained experience in composing and teaching
ecological cultural mapping, constructing ecological traditional calendars, and seed and food
systems programs of DLM. Additionally, Alillali studied Credit Management, Management
Communication, and End-user computing at Tshwane University of Technology. She and
Makaulule are the only makhadzi interviewed who have a formal and technical education.
75

Mphatheleni Makaulule and Kimberly B. Ross (2015), DLM Grant proposal, submitted to the Ecocatalyst
Foundation.

239

VhoJoyce
VhoJoyce focuses her work on the role of indigenous forests, rivers, and sacred sites. She is a
leader of the makhadzi group of the Tshidzivhe Tree Nursery and Seed Project. VhoJoyce is a
makhadzi to the Netshidzivhe clan of the Tshidzivhe territory of the Thathe Sacred forest.
VhoJoyce has been trained to draw cultural ecological maps of the territory and lead mapping
workshops. She received training on constructing ecological maps and ecological calendars and
has shared her knowledge with communities in Kenya, Zimbabwe, and Botswana in
collaboration with the African Biodiversity Network. VhoJoyce was featured in a short film
called Reviving our Culture, Mapping our Future for the Mupo and Gaia Foundations.

240

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