Spinning patriarchal discourses in a pivotal moment

This complicated dichotomy was tacit in the pivotal moment instigated by the Xhosa nurse. He stood by Xolile and, in so doing, straddled these two immensely powerful patriarchal discourses with their relational but distinctive philosophical tenets (Kepe, 2010). In the hospital setting a biomedical patriarchy and discourse on treatment and ethics held primacy because psychiatrists had affected Xolile’s containment in diagnosing him as acutely psychotic. This decision sublimated an African and, in this instance, amaXhosa patriarchal discourse on moral being and worth. In respect of biomedical ethics Xolile had been judged legally “to not be’’ a self-governing person or to have the capacity to take individual responsibility.¹ His consequent loss of autonomy meant that his grandfather and, in his absence, the State or hospital representatives assumed guardianship until he had recovered his faculties (Campbell, Gillett & Jones, 2001).² Xolile was in a highly compromised position as his loss of autonomy meant he did not have the capacity to act with agency. This meant he lacked the capacity to, “solve problems and enact or construct identities and relationships in order to maintain their place within institutions and structures” and this questioned his newly confirmed status as a Xhosa man (Hitlin & Elder, 2007, p. 185). In contradistinction, an amaXhosa moral philosophy did not judge his loss of conscious awareness as jeopardising his authority as a Xhosa man. His grandfather had brought him to the hospital saying that he was sick, but it still is doubtful whether a concept of “acting autonomously” had meaning for him. This suggests an absence of culturally aware communication from doctors in getting informed consent to treat his grandson but also points to the taboos in this patriarchal orthodox practice that made these issues unavailable for discussion (Betancourt, 2006). Given this consideration, it has occurred to me that the nurse’s intention was not to silence me, but to invoke Xolile’s emerging sense of agency by reminding him of the distinctions for secrecy embedded in his initiation.

Obeyesekere’s (1990) observations on how historically laid down ontologies continue to interleave in social discourse is well illustrated in this scenario where, despite the end of apartheid in 1994, these contending patriarchal discourses powerfully instantiated space and time, inferring how language, conduct, relationship and authority could be displayed (Vincent, 2008). My interview thus stood for the very moment when these patriarchal discourses stood in greatest contrast, signifying contention between their distinctive worldviews. At issue in Xolile’s medical treatment was that amaXhosa orthodoxy tabooed autochthons from talking about circumcision and so, doctors did not diagnose that he had suffered an acute psychotic breakdown. As a result, he stayed far too long in the hospital as the longer the ritual stayed a guarded secret, the greater the potential for harm. This posed a considerable ethical and moral dilemma for the nurse.

Moments of orthodoxy

Like all ritual, “Ulwaluko” entails more than a focus on the body. Rather, the body is an instrument or vehicle through which sets of meaning and ways of being in the world are negotiated. It is a complex socio-political and religious moment, with definitions of the sacred, protected information and gatekeeping during which masculinities are reshaped in the service of larger communal and patriarchal ends.

(Gqola, 2007, p. 150)

Gqola (2007) in this quotation, elucidates the complex, negotiated shaping of gender in a rite of passage that in holding to orthodoxy gains social acknowledgment for the youth’s transformed body and psyche. Her exposition pertains to my interview, showing why the nurse as an autochthon phenomenally demarcated cultural boundaries to protect Xolile and their orthodoxy. Interestingly, and this is debatable, this defence contradicted his clinical obligation to be his patient’s advocate. As a result of his intervention, our conversation could only superficially touch on circumcision issues and then reverted to cultural eclecticism, avoiding a deeper more meaningful discussion about Xolile’s feelings, identity, engendering and status as a Xhosa man. Working in hospitals in South Africa post-apartheid, I had experienced this before as many isiXhosa-speaking nurses confidently assumed authority as gatekeepers of cultural institutions and a patient’s ethnicity (Vincent, 2008; Vivian, 2011).

There is a quality of the phenomenal in orthodoxy as its transformational propensity embeds altered norms, values, and beliefs and it is this that engenders bodily substance and psychological disposition. Thereby the rite of passage works to coalesce the body and mind of an initiate, and amongst peers. The staging of a bi-annual event structures this across generations and relationally with women, for a socio-political, and ideological gendered transformation. Silverman (2004) offers this explanation, “Male circumcision is a dialogical rite that both sustains and subverts its own intended symbolism” (Silverman, 2004, p. 422). This describes the nurse’s reaction, who as an autochthon intimately knew how to respond without compunction. An ethnographer, having no intimate experience of the orthodox, lacks this intuition. Intimate knowing shows thereby in the moment of response. Its immediacy speaks to ‘knowing’ being inherently imbued with meaning, and held in silent, non-verbal communication and symbol (Obeyesekere, 1990). Whilst cultural meaning is open to interpretation into other ethnic discourses, media reports or government policy, each conscious translation erodes its authenticity. Gqola (2007) argues that the media describes circumcision as if it is a clinical, surgical procedure, thereby robbing its symbolic significance. Kepe (2010) points to another issue: the traditional leaders’ accusation that government regulation of the practice, usurps their cultural right to custodianship. Thus, representations of circumcision become part of political rhetoric and delinked from family tradition.

Importantly, Gqola’s (2007) article is unique in her sensitive appreciation of what engendering means in circumcision. Orthodoxy, she reminds her reader, is about the working through of intimate relations in ritual, for instance Xhosa women not being able to marry an uncircumcised man. It is not a public health issue as in the “problem" of injury. Commenting on media coverage of “botched circumcisions”, Gqola points out that it is not ‘the cut’ as a surgical technique that is critical, but the role of the circumciser as a carrier of culture. His cut begins a ritual process that comes to completion when the man has lived out his manhood and become an ancestor. Gqola reminds us that manhood is conditional upon men’s proper engagement with an amaXhosa body social. Agency is conditional upon a man keeping intimate relations amongst extended family, clan, and community. In this context, circumcision as a private family affair, falls under “umthetho” or traditional laws that govern family and social life “to promote the peaceful cohabitation of people” (Ntombana, 2011, p. 633). Explicitly, by virtue of this law and ritual taboo, no amaXhosa person should address either personal, familial circumstances or cultural circumcision in public domains. This preserves a space where familiars can observe ritual procedures and enable psychological and gendered shifts not just in initiates, but his family and peers. This ritualistically instantiates and protects gendered identity and social potentiality. This happens not as ideology or political rhetoric but in practice and taboos are thus supported and powerful; they pattern and safeguard the silent effect of the wound. Whilst practice affects personal and social distinctions, it is a man’s sense of agency that takes him into manhood (Mottier, 2002; Silverman, 2007).