Deepavali of my childhood

THE joys of observing and celebrating Deepavali cannot be taken for granted.

Growing up in my ancestral village of Chatsworth, Deepavali was always a joyous occasion not just for our family but for the entire neighbourhood, irrespective of which religion you practised. The Deepavali of my childhood saw us enjoying two days off from school with most working adults not given the day off in those dark apartheid years.

With Lord Rama making his way from the south, we got to celebrate before the Maharajs up the road from us.

The day itself, always signalled an early start. My exhausted Amma almost always baked through the night and got us up early for the morning ritual of the oil bath, signifying a cleansing of the mind and body. The oil rub, by no means a gentle one, resulted in a fragrant smell of heated oil removing any sleepy cobwebs.

The morning bath was followed by the excitement of wearing new clothes. On one occasion my waiter father was tipped generously the month before Deepavali. This resulted in me wearing new white (don’t ask) Martino shoes with powder blue pants and a paisley shirt.

I then swanked through Woodhurst, Unit 10, delivering Deepavali parcels for neighbours, friends and family.

The parcels were not as fancy as the Woolies strawberry and Ferrero Rocher substituted laddoo ladened, designer laser-cut boxes you see today. We delivered our paper-plated parcels, protected with only a serviette, to all our people.

In return, we received parcels in almost the same paper plate with different coloured, gheestained serviettes to determine the origins of the bearer.

As children, the best part of Deepavali was towards the evening. Naughty friends almost every year prepared borrowed almirahs (furniture) keys with shavings of matchstick ends stuffed into the hole of the key to be used as our version of fireworks for later that evening.

India’s cultural boycott of apartheid South Africa, resulted in the banning of fireworks in those years. As darkness set in, the prayer lamp was lit, followed with a prayer and service songs in tribute to Lord Rama.

Oil-filled clay lamps were then placed all over the verandah, the window sills and on all the steps to the entrance of our house. The entire neighbourhood lit up, while the story of Rama, Sita, Lutchman and the vanquished Ravanna was extolled.

A sumptuous vegetarian dinner followed with our eyes firmly set on the parcel sent by the next-door aunty, who always sent lamb mince samoosas after 6pm.

After the family dinner, the boys in the neighbourhood gathered on the roads as we lit stolen steel wool from the grocery cabinet strapped to old broomstick handles, whirling them around as we lit up the night sky.

Many moons later, close on three decades into our democracy, Deepavali has the same significance for many families. For purposes of appeasing the corporate world, we conveniently decided to choose one day in South Africa to celebrate Deepavali.

The celebrations have now been royally pimped up – that sees us fighting with our Sandton, uMhlanga and Durban North residents over the firework displays, almost annually contested with racist social media outbursts.

Sadly, during the last three years, Covid-19 denied us the opportunity to celebrate these rituals and traditions in the company of friends and family.

Historically, Deepavali was not part of the religious observance of our indentured ancestry living in South Africa.

In the years from 1860 to the 1890s, the worship of Village Guardians or Goddesses known as Gramadevata and Kula Deivam traditions, identified with specific villages, flourished in the plantations. This form of worship was originally seen in the South Coast and North Coast sugar plantations in Natal. More than 80% of the indentured workers who arrived in Port Natal were Hindus. The first official recognition of Deepavali in South Africa was in 1910, 50 years after the first ship, the Truro, landed on African soil on November 16, 1860.

According to Professor Ashwin Desai and Goolam Vahed’s seminal, Inside Indenture, it was only in 1908 that “divine intervention arrived in the struggle for some official recognition of Diwali. Swami Shankeranand arrived on these shores and immediately took up the struggle for Diwali (Deepavali) to be officially recognised. Initially, the colonial authorities fobbed him off, mockingly inquiring, ‘how many coolie Christmases do you want to have?’ But he persisted, sending letter after letter.

“In January 1910, the education department declared Diwali a school holiday. Encouraged by this, in April 1910, Shankeranand organised a massive Ram Navami

Festival. Participants met at the Umgeni Road Temple and after the speeches, a crowd of approximately 4 000, accompanied by chariots, marched through the streets of Durban chanting ‘Shree Ramchandraji’.

“When the procession returned to the temple, a feast was laid on and three wrestling bouts between North and South Indians, at which the African Chronicle newspaper reported ‘indentured Indian (South) was the best’. It was an impressive display and the white authorities took note, with the Durban Municipality granting employees a day off to celebrate Diwali.”

And so it came to be that in 1910, Deepavali took to the streets of Durban. Colonial and apartheid-era denials since then has ensured that the community has grown stronger together, in ensuring the observance of Deepavali, here in our African homes. Against the backdrop our troubled democracy, Covid-19, coupled with all the natural and self-inflicted disasters and a contracting economy, the observance of Deepavali cannot be taken for granted, for this year has special significance.

Amidst all this uncertainty and darkness that engulfs the world we live in, the light we seek to guide us through the forest of discontent must be our beacon of hope, for hope is all we have to cling on to.

Naidoo is the curator of the 1860 Heritage Centre.

SELVAN NAIDOO

Diwali through the years

PICTURE CAPTIONS:

1. Diwali shopping in the Casbah: 1973. | 1860 Heritage Centre 2. Diwali night: 1974. | 1860 Heritage Centre 3. Diwali preparations in the kitchen: 1963. | RANJIT KALLY 4. Festival of Lights in Kimberly: 1992. | 1860 Heritage Centre 5. Tamil plays during the Diwali weekend: 1963. | 1860 Heritage Centre 6.Deepavali at the Natal Tamil Vedic Society Hall: 1972. | 1860 Heritage Centre 7. Plays during Diwali: 1963. | 1860 Heritage Centre 8. Diwali night: 1983. | 1860 Heritage Centre