AFRICANEWS

Swaziland

Cow flounders as status symbol

Culture

In traditional Swazi society, a Swazi man determines his wealth, and even his personal self-worth, by the size of his herd. But a reduced supply of land, the incidence of foot-and-mouth disease, and new legislation may bring the status symbol of the cow down a few notches.

The story of the African man's passion for, and dependence on, cattle is best illustrated in the tiny kingdom of Swaziland, a rare, single-tribe state where centuries-old traditions are largely followed. But even here, new realities are changing attitudes.

"A Swazi man determines his wealth, and to a great extent his status in the community and even his personal self-worth, by the size of his herd," says Sipho Mahlalela, a soldier from a farming family. Sipho, like most young Swazi men, is amassing his own herd, which he keeps at a government-run feed ranch. His father owns about twenty head of cattle, which are kept in a branch enclosure on the edge of their rural homestead in Mananga.

But changes are coming to Swazis' unrestricted right to raise cattle. A branding law and an end to government subsidies are imminent. The Ministry of Agriculture is promoting a massive psychological and economic shift to move Swazi men away from the concept of cattle as status symbols. Says Minister of Agriculture Roy Fanourakis: "Cows represent cash on the hoof, and herd owners must think of themselves as businessmen."

Swaziland has about 650,000 head of cattle, according to statistics from the Ministry of Finance. The cattle literally roam where they please. The Ministry of Agriculture estimates that the kingdom's grazing land is capable of sustaining no more than 500,000 cows. The result is that cows are everywhere, from highway median strips to city centers, creating traffic accidents and environmental damage. Cows bring pestilence into the kingdom when their owners allow them to graze over the border in South Africa and Mozambique. If they are not stolen or confiscated by authorities, the cattle stand a chance of catching a disease.

Most small herd owners see no crisis; they persist in tending cattle like their forefathers did. As is the principle task of most young men, Sipho Mahlalela is acquiring cattle for lobola, or dowry, for his bride. Modernists condemn the custom as "bride price," but Sipho scoffs at the misconception he sees as intending to undermine Swazi traditions. "The cattle are a gift to my bride's parents for raising her properly," he says. "I am not 'buying' her."

Sociologists note that the labour of every person in a Swazi household contributes to the family's survival; the loss of a young woman affects the family unit's economy. Cattle, the "Swazi currency," are seen as fair compensation.

Cattle are used to show appreciation in other situations. The king, Mswati III, selects cows from his herd to reward the men of his warrior regiments, who these days perform symbolic tribute labour. The Swazi Observer newspaper reported that King Mswati owns a herd of 10,000 cattle, making him the largest private breeder in the country.

A chief will give cows to his subjects to celebrate the completion of community projects. When a diviner-healer called a sangoma finishes his study rituals, he gives two cows to the healer who provided instruction. Any important company function features a braai, or barbecue, where management provides a cow, or "beast," for employees to feast upon.

But by and large, the nation's cattle go to waste, laments the Ministry of Agriculture. "My hope is to introduce modern business practices to the small holder farmer," says Minister Fanourakis. "Instead of keeping a cow until it is too old for market, cattle should be sold when they are still in their prime."

"My father isn't interested in making money," replies Sipho. "He wants fat cows for his friends to admire, and only when they are old will he sell them to the butchery."

Sipho's father may have no choice but to change his attitude, or lose the use of land that has been given to him for free according to Swazi custom. By pledging allegiance to a chief, a Swazi man is granted a piece of land for building a homestead, a field for maize cultivation, and use of the chieftaincy grazing lands. Eighty percent of the population lives on communal Swazi Nation Land, and all Swazis including urban dwellers indicate on official documents their family homesteads as their permanent residences.

But a rising population resulting from one of the world's highest birth rates has cut into the available land. A surfeit of grazing cows has denuded hills of vegetation, leading to severe soil erosion. In some areas of the hot eastern lowveld, where the marginal plant life that once existed has been stripped away, desertification has begun.

"Someone once described cows as 'four-legged locusts,' and we are seeing that effect in some places," says Ministry of Agriculture Field Officer Jerry Dlamini.

Dlamini also notes a common complaint that peasant herd owners act as if Swaziland were still an undeveloped 19th century territory. "They open their kraal gates in the morning, let their cows roam without supervision, and trust them to come home at sunset," he says.

Traffic deaths due to collisions with cows on highways have indiscriminately claimed the lives of ordinary persons on up to Swaziland's deputy prime minister. Security fences were erected when the National Freeway was opened between the capital Mbabane and the central commercial hub Manzini. But cattle owners, coveting the highway's grassy embankments, cut the fences. Cows now saunter across the lanes where traffic hits 140 kilometres per hour. The cows have eaten all the route's decorative foliage.

No roadway is safe from cows, which are also a nuisance in urban centers. "My father, when he was a barefoot boy, drove cattle right through the centre of Manzini," recalls Vusi Matsebula, a town resident. "A lot of herd owners don't understand this is no longer acceptable, even though they see the dusty roads are now paved streets filled with people and cars."

Swazis pride themselves on the faithful retention of their customs and traditional beliefs. But some people complain this conservativism makes needed change difficult. On the subject of cattle, Matsebula notes that government cannot find a politically acceptable way to end herd subsidies. "Dipping chemicals have been provided free to protect cows from diseases. The farmers have been told they must now pay for them, but they refuse."

The herd owners say they would sooner invite cattle plague than pay for veterinary medicines. The cost is borne by the taxpayer, who is usually an urban resident. "We do not benefit from these cattle, but we must pay for their maintenance," says Matsebula.

In search of more grazing land, herd owners have also cut border fences. This resulted in a serious threat to all cattle in the country late last year, when an outbreak of foot and mouth disease caused extensive areas of Swaziland to be quarantined. Meat exports were banned, and the country lost heavily when lucrative trade deals with the European Union to purchase Swazi beef were terminated. Thousands of cattle were slaughtered in an effort to contain the disease. By June, foot-and-mouth disease appeared to have run its course.

Epidemiologists traced the origin of the disease to Kruger National Park in Mphumalanga, South Africa, not far from Swaziland's northern border. Swazi herd owners had cut the border fence to allow their cows access to Mphumalanga grazing lands, where disease detectives believe the animals were infected. When they returned to their kraals in Swaziland, they brought with them foot and mouth disease.

No one is yet speaking about limiting herd sizes, but one sign that reform is on the way is a new cattle branding act introduced to Parliament by the Minister of Agriculture. The law, when passed, will require the same type of identification for Swazi cows as those branded elsewhere in the world.

"Swazi men have always known their cattle personally," says Sipho. "They give their cows names, like Mnyama, 'the black one," and Lesibili, 'born on Tuesday.' They say they don't need to brand their cattle."

But a rising number of cattle thefts - with whole herds being driven across the border into Mozambique - has made branding essential for law enforcement. Police and urban authorities also want to know who is responsible for all the cows on the highways. When a cow is involved in a traffic fatality, the owner - who could be charged with culpable homicide according to police assistant superintendent Leckinah Magagula - escapes detection.

The Swazi man's love affair with his cattle will remain. But pressure is mounting for herding methods to change, and for individual rural homesteads to become economically viable or risk being incorporated into larger community co-operatives, or possibly be folded into massive sugar cane cultivation or commercial forestry schemes. Government's priority is to lure foreign direct investment into the country to cut down on Swaziland's 45 percent unemployment rate.

"To do that, we need to show we are a modern developing nation," says a source at the Ministry of Finance. "All those cows stopping traffic on the highway send the opposite message."

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