VENDA EDUCATION AND THE FUNCTION OF MILAYO A feature of all Venda initiation schools which is one of the most striking to the visitor and most important to the Venda is the learning of milayo. Milayo means literally 'laws' or 'instruction', but in the context of initiation it might be better translated as 'esoteric knowledge' or 'wisdom', because it refers primarily to a series of formulae in which certain familiar objects are given special names, rules of conduct and etiquette are reiterated, and the meaning of rites and symbolic objects is explained. In the Sibasa district the traditional Venda system of education operates along with the 'Western' system, introduced in the 1870's and developed first by the Berlin Lutheran missionaries, but taken over and controlled since 1956 by the national government. Most children experience something of both systems, but there are still many, especially girls, who are brought up almost exclusively within the traditional system. Tshikolo (the coined word referring to 'modern' schools) 'makes people mad', say many parents with some justification (see Blacking 1964:87). Both systems are designed more to indoctrinate young people into acceptance of the given social system, than to 'educate' them in the true sense of the word, to reveal and develop their individual qualities and abilities. In spite of its obvious limitations in a modern society, the traditional system at least has the advantage that it can almost guarantee fulfilment of the promises that it holds out. The modern system, on the other hand, acquaints its victims with the challenge of industrial technology and a diversified, cosmopolitan society supposedly based on the ideals of Christian brotherhood, but pitches them into a world in which their new skills are not wanted, or are at best inadequately rewarded, and some Christians are found to be more equal than others. Small wonder, then, that the hopes of all but the bravest and dullest are dampened by the time they reach Standard 6, and often before, and that their creative talents become dissipated in competition for a spurious social status in a corner of the open society that is closed to them. The traditional system guarantees social status in a closed society which is open to all, and recognises every sort of individual contribution to its welfare. There is no lack of competition, but for those who do not wish to become involved in the 'rat race', there is also no fear of failure. People are not expected to do more than carry out as efficiently as possible the duties that are thrust on them by their social inheritance. Above all, they should be polite, neighbourly and kind. The most admired ability is to be fully human, and the main purpose of traditional Venda public education is to prepare the average Venda man and woman for a style of life that everyone should and could pursue. Being fully human is not confused with mere popularity or public prominence, although these goals may satisfy some people's private ambitions for self realisation. Nor is the system of education slapdash. In a sense, it is no less technical than crafts like medicine or drum-making; it is concerned with etiquette, behaviour towards seniors, child-birth, sex in marriage, and other cultural techniques designed to maintain good relations between people. The apparent conformity and mediocrity of Venda rural society may suggest to the casual observer that individuality is not highly valued; and it is indeed true that many do not bother to develop their talents, and that the few who do are often harshly criticised and 'dragged down to the level of their fellows'. Whether or not such behaviour is motivated by the fear of witchcraft or by jealousy, it is not approved in Venda society. No individual should refuse a call to action which is either received in or confirmed by dreams; and no ambitious individual will be criticised, provided he really uses his ability for the welfare of others as well as himself. Individuals are not criticised for doing the minimum in life, but neither are they automatically praised for doing more than is expected of them. They are judged in terms of what they set out to do, and above all by what they are as people. This explains many patterns of Venda behaviour and reactions to education, ambition and 'progress', which some outsiders find paradoxical and irritating. The crippling rack of apartheid is enough to tear apart any young person's ambition or his desire to acquire skill. But, in addition, there are other restraints on anyone within the loose framework of Venda society. The overriding importance of being human explains two apparently contradictory social situations: Mrs X. may be a poor cook and her gardens may not be as neat as her neighbours', but she need never feel an outcast as long as her intentions and behaviour are charitable. On the other hand Mr Y., who has ventured into a specialist field such as medicine or teaching because he wants to help his people, is harshly criticised because he is incompetent. It is obvious, of course, that both Mrs X. and Mr Y. would be harshly criticised if they were not good people; the important point is why Mr Y. is expected to be technically competent and Mrs X. is not. The explanation is not that the Venda abhor individualism, but that they do not accept individualism which has no social relevance or which, having social relevance, is unsuccessful. Mastery of special techniques is the first step towards using them for the public good; but if a man continues to aspire to do what he cannot do properly, he is being less than fully human, because he is unaware of his limitations. Extraordinary ability in a skill that is not expected of every Venda man or woman is a 'gift' which a grateful individual should cherish; but if a person imagines that he has such a gift and cannot prove it by being technologically competent, his apparently good intentions are doubted and he is suspected of arrogance and self-deception, which are not qualities of humanity. The good actions of the incompetent Mrs X., however, are seen in a different light, because she is not trying to do more than she is expected to do. Technical incompetence in human relations is, of course, never accepted in adults, however prominent they may be, though it may be forgiven. I found masters of initiation who were uncompromising in their judgments of worldly success; and one in particular criticised the moral behaviour of his chief whilst teaching milayo in the chief's village. Such men may be written off by some as 'good for nothing but teaching milayo', but at least they play a part in keeping human conscience alive. Formal public education in traditional Venda society was never intended to give people technological training for earning a living: domestic crafts were learnt in families, and other techniques were acquired by serving apprenticeships privately to specialists (who often happened to be close kinsmen). Public education was designed to prepare people for life by emphasising Venda techniques of human relationships, and by forming associations of young people of the same age, regardless of their rank, family and clan affiliations. After puberty, boys and girls attended separate schools (vhutuka and vhusha respectively), in which the instruction was concerned with their new sexual powers and the social responsibilities arising therefrom. There were different schools for nobles and commoners, but when boys and girls came together for the premarital domba, all trained and graduated together, and the instruction centred on the duties and etiquette of marriage. The boys' school is now virtually obsolete, and so this paper will be concerned with the milayo of the girls' school and of domba. My discussion of the nature and function of Venda public education should help to explain why novices are not expected to remember all milayo, unless they are personally interested; why there are no competitive examinations; and why milayo are nevertheless considered very important. One instructor frequently warned the novices, "If you don't listen to me carefully, you won't get any beer!" He was not referring to an immediate reward for learning milayo or graduating from the school: he was reminding them that initiation is a preparation for membership of an association, and that a graduate must be able to produce some certificate of attainment if she wishes to enjoy privileges in a place where she is not known. With some knowledge of the symbolic milayo, she will be able to go anywhere in Vendaland and establish her right to participate in any feast that is held in honour of a novice, or drink beer which is paid as part of a novice's initiation fee. Although most initiated women know the milayo, very few understand or are concerned about their symbolism. What I call the 'symbolic milayo' are often obscure even to acknowledged experts on initiation. Others that are straightforward lessons in good behaviour, are not difficult to understand. The 'symbolic milayo' suggest a special classification of the world which should have significance in the daily life of the Venda. My own experience was that for the experts, who liked to add a few of their own invention, they were primarily an exercise in memory and imagination; and for the average man and woman their chief value was as the passwords of a mutual-aid society. Although many symbolise the re-birth of the novice, such as the ideas of the baby in the womb (girl in the water at vhusha), or the chickens in the nest (dancers in the khoro at domba), I failed to arouse interest in discussions on these aspects of milayo in anyone but the four masters of initiation whom I knew well. I admit that the fault may have been mine, and I would be glad if anyone can provide evidence to the contrary. Although for social anthropologists the symbolic milayo provide a fascinating insight into Venda culture, I believe that for most Venda it is the consequences of knowing them and the situation in which are learnt, rather than the milayo themselves, that are important. Next