Residences of South Sotho Speakers

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Through complex interactions over a period of seven centuries, South Sotho populations have remained resilient in maintaining and asserting cultural affiliation and identity within a changing physical, social, and political environment. The history of the built environment among the South Sotho is a history of continuity, innovation, and change, and centers on active responses to changing situations. From the earliest cattle-centered settlements to contemporary visual expressions of litema and morella murals, South Sotho individuals continue to actively engage the physical environment by innovating and asserting long-established norms that link the past with the present and future.

In the 19th century, travelers, missionaries, and explorers who moved through the central interior of southern Africa recorded their observations of South Sotho residential structures, the most common of which was known locally as mahlongoa-fatse. These structures had evolved from earlier beehive and walled homes that dated to the Iron Age, a change that perhaps responded to the harsher environment of the central interior. Casalis describes mahlongoa-fatse as having a low, extended entryway made of soil and horse dung affixed to a larger domed wattle and daub frame and covered with thatching grass. The doors, which were often only two feet high, typically faced east or northeast, in order to catch the first warming rays of the sun.

In addition to its functional efficiency which insulated residents from harsh winter weather, the mahlongoa-fatse equally asserted cultural identity and affiliation through its unique shape, which differs from those of neighboring populations. For example, Zulu-speaking communities typically maintained so-called "beehive" structures made from thatch placed upon low platforms, rather than the plastered walls of the mahlongoa-fatse. 

In addition to the mahlongoa-fatse, other facets of the built environment hold layered symbolism within South Sotho social spaces. For example, upon exiting these domestic structures one typically finds a courtyard, or lapa, which was understood to be a gendered space. While the lapa was an active location for completing household duties such as cooking and cleaning, as well as brewing beer (joala) used for communing with ancestors (balimo), it was considered a space of female authority and demarcated by a reed screen called seotloana.

The use of reeds to delineate this female space has great significance among South Sotho communities and connects the built environment with notions of fecundity, creation, and rebirth. For example, after the delivery of a baby, which was attended only by women, a number of reeds were historically placed over the entrance of the home. The reeds informed passers-by of the new arrival and announced the sex of the newborn child, two reeds indicting a female child and three reeds signifying a male. A further example of reeds as a symbol of fertility can be found when examining South Sotho creation stories. In one version, humanity is said to have emerged from the bowels of the earth at a marshy place known as Ntsoana Tsatsi. This land of reeds is often regarded as the birthplace of the first South Sotho individuals, just as the reed-encircled home functioned as the birthplace for children in the community. Thus, the home both recalls and replicates this historic event, reinforcing cultural systems of belief through architectural design. In addition, many South Sotho females wear a reed mask called lesira when going through initiation, or lebollo. The lesira is essentially a grass veil that is worn to hide one's identity from strangers and outsiders, further emphasizing the absence of identity during this phase of transition and protecting the wearer from any malicious attack. This piece is also embedded with links to womanhood and fertility, making it a powerful signifier of the wearer's future identity.

One finds an interesting link between lesira and seotloana, as both provided privacy for "spaces" that are considered exclusively female. In the case of seotloana, the reed screen physically shielded and demarcated spaces of female authority. In a similar manner, lesira serves to shield the identity of the young woman during this time of transformation, and by enclosing the face of the wearer, delineates her identity as a "female space." Because lebollo symbolizes a rebirth into womanhood, it should come as no surprise that grasses and reeds play a prominent role in personal adornment and connect the female body with domestic spaces.

In addition to the layered significance of reeds and other flora used in South Sotho architecture, materials such as soil and clay equally carry powerful allusions to South Sotho belief systems. From the time of their arrival to the central interior of southern Africa in 1833, the French missionaries Eugene Casalis and Thomas Arbousset kept written accounts of their experiences among South Sotho communities, and explored such topics as history, religion, and the arts. It is from these early accounts that we find the first references to the earth as a sacred substance, embodying the powerful spirits of the past.

Not only does earth play a role in the creation story at Ntsoana Tsatsi, which embodied the forces of fertility and regeneration, but it was also believed that the bowels of the earth, or mosima, served as the dwelling of balimo, the familial ancestors of all South Sotho. The location of this spiritual afterlife wasn't coincidental, but rather completed a cycle that identified the earth as a powerful and life-giving locale, in both the physical and spiritual realms. This parallel comes full circle when one considers the historical practices surrounding death. Just as the home literally was the place where South Sotho individuals entered the world, so it also served as the place where one departed. Historically, people were taken inside the home to receive any final medical attention, surrounded by the familiar sights of family life. When the body of the deceased was removed from the home for burial, it was never taken through the front door, but through a hole that was cut in the rear of the house. This was done out of great fear and respect for the soul of the departed and ensured that the newly inducted ancestor would not find a door or entryway, and thus cause harm or misfortune if it returned to its former abode.

Although these written accounts highlighting the cycle of life among South Sotho communities were recorded over 150 years ago, the connection between the earth and the spirit realm is still widely regarded by many individuals today. For example, when setting up house, or moving to a new area, many South Sotho individuals collect some earth from their parent's gravesite and bring it to the new location. This sacred soil physically brings balimo to the new home, ensuring blessings and communion through their presence. Furthermore, if one visits any of the sacred caves throughout the Free State province of South Africa and the Kingdom of Lesotho, one immediately notices the presence of holes where visitors have collected soil. This spiritually charged substance is also taken back to the homes of pilgrims, and is seen as the embodiment of spiritual influence, invoking the presence of the departed among the living. Thus, these spiritual beings continue to serve as intermediaries between God itself (Molimo) and the living, and are believed to have the ability to influence the daily lives of their living descendants.

As the 19th century progressed and individuals of European descent created permanent settlements among South Sotho-speakers, such cross-cultural engagements had additional impacts on the built environment. For example, Casalis encouraged converts to the Christian belief system to progress towards “civilized life” by residing in rectangular cottages arranged in rows and built using stone with whitewashed faces, abandoning the circular arrangement of the domed mahlongoa-fatse that were considered "primitive" structures. While Casalis' intentions may have been grounded in Victorian-era notions that African societies needed cultivation in order to become viably “civil,” his lack of understanding of South Sotho belief systems and the centrality of the lesaka cattle enclosure added a level of gravity to such changes in the built environment.

Not only might a shift toward European-inspired settlement patterns visibly identify one as an adherent to a foreign belief system, but it may have also functioned as a severing of one's ties to a South Sotho identity as a whole, and the accompanying communal, genealogical, and spiritual benefits. In the case where converts were hesitant to make such drastic changes, a preference was made towards residing in European influenced circular structures, or mohoro, made of bricks consisting of soil and horse droppings, plastered over with soil and cow dung, and topped with a conical thatched roof of grass.

Ironically, Casalis and others soon discovered that the mahlongoa-fatse was an appropriate and economical design, as the low domed structure provided far better insulation than the high thatched roofs of mohoro and their own rectangular cottages. Although the mohoro was gradually adopted by many South Sotho-speakers and can still be found across the Free State province in the Republic of South Africa, as well as throughout the Kingdom of Lesotho, South Sotho architects initially included a porch extending from the doorway, recalling the entrance of the mahlomgoa-fatse.

While such innovations expressed both continuity and change within South Sotho built environments, the mahlomgoa-fatse form seems to have been used through the end of the nineteenth century, after which most structures were replaced by the European-inspired mohoro and rectangular structures (polata) of another origin. Afrikaans-speaking emigrants began to settle in the central interior, bringing new models for the built environment, including the polata. This rectangular structure typically had a slanted roof of corrugated iron or thatch and was initially made of bricks consisting of soil and horse droppings, plastered over with soil and cow dung. This square parapet form (polata, from the Afrikaans plaat, or "flat" roof) was used from the 1830s throughout the British-controlled Cape Colony, and eventually spread north and eastward with European expansion.

The legacy of this cross-cultural engagement remains today, as polata-type structures are still found throughout the Kingdom of Lesotho and the Republic of South Africa and commonly serve as homes for many contemporary South Sotho individuals, as well as residences for farm workers throughout the central interior. Given the historical ties between identity and the built environment in South Sotho communities, as well as the impact of land displacement resulting from colonial-era conflicts, treaties, and restrictive race-based policies that extended into the late 20th century, the dramatic changes to physical spaces across southern Africa have altered the spatial notions of how one asserts one's identity.

For example, according to land surveys conducted by the South African government at the beginning of the 21st century, 72% of private land across South Africa is owned by individuals of European descent. Much of it functions as farmland and largely draws upon local indigenous populations for contracted labor residencies. In such an instance, where historical ties to the built environment have dramatically shifted, how does one maintain a sense of identity? In response to these shifts, South Sotho individuals have developed innovative ways to maintain the important links between space, material, and identity. An example of this can be seen in the mural arts found on many South Sotho homes across southern Africa. This art form, known as morella and litema, is a unique public expression of South Sotho identity, and consists of surface design patterns created by soil, cow dung, paint, sgraffito, mosaic, or a combination of these techniques and media.

The term litema is used to describe unpainted patterns and is said to mimic plowed fields, whereas morella refers to painted surface design patterns. Although explorers, travelers, and missionaries documented mural arts among Sotho-speakers in the 1800s, archaeologists suggest that such approaches to architectural embellishment date back at least five centuries. Due to the longevity of this visual expression, one can connect this historical practice with balimo, who passed down this art form, and to whom the practice of this tradition pays homage. By honoring balimo though the maintenance of traditions such as litema and morella, one can bring blessings and prosperity to one's family.

The link between mural arts, media, and the spirit realm can be taken a step further when one considers the aforementioned South Sotho belief that the spirits of the deceased dwell within the earth--the same material that is used to create and resurface the home. Thus, many South Sotho families are physically surrounded by this sacred material, which metaphorically functions like a spiritual womb. The process, which is exclusively completed by women, typically takes place each December, and is comprised of two stages which take between one to two weeks to complete.

The first step consists of resurfacing the home, creating a fresh canvas upon which the new patterns may be applied. While much attention is paid to the striking designs appearing on the finished surface of the home, one must not overlook the significance of the media, which consists of earth and cow dung. While this mixture adheres very well to the walls of the home and serves as a very durable and efficient building material, it also embodies spiritual significance, drawing upon the aforementioned historical South Sotho beliefs. Although the process is very labor-intensive, it is notable that the senior woman of the house typically does it all on her own.

While many South Sotho individuals now work outside of the home, the domestic realm continues to fall under the authority of women, just as it did in the past. Because of this, litema and morella are a strictly gendered art, and embody many historical South Sotho female values that remain relevant today. For example, agricultural labor, such as the maintenance of fields, was historically considered women's work. Although a number of technological and social developments have since changed this, it should come as no surprise that mural designs often include both geometric and organic forms and are created using the same soil from which crops grow. This, in turn, reminds one that women are the human source of fertility, and continue the family line through childbirth. Thus, litema reflects the link between humanity and the spirit realm, the past and the present, and agricultural and human fertility.

This strong connection between female authority and the spiritual aspects of the earth is extremely relevant, especially when one considers the fact that many acts of communion with the ancestors take place within the female domestic space, and are overseen by women. In the same manner, women are primarily the artists who manipulate the sacred materials from the earth, creating forms whose contextual use gives honor to these powerful beings. In essence, form does follow function, insofar that materials from the earth often are used to create objects that are employed when venerating or appealing to balimo.

This can be taken a step further when considering the interior of many South Sotho homes, which often include a low earthen platform at the inner reaches, upon which numerous containers and household utensils are stored. This shelf, known as mohaolwana often bears clay pots (lefiso) that are also produced by women, and are used to serve beer to guests, as well as for provide offerings to balimo. This interior space of spiritual communion was overlooked by early travelers and missionaries who suggested that South Sotho communities did not maintain any altars or places of worship. Yet the significance of this intimate locale and the materials used to perpetuate the relationship between the physical and spirit realms suggest otherwise.

When turning to the formal aspects of litema and morella, one may suggest that the images represent prayers for the upcoming year and may also serve as a visual record of spiritual engagement as new designs are layered over the previous year's patterns. Thus, the annual cycle of litema and morella becomes a type of performance art that recalls the blessings of the past year and offers hope for the future. While great care is taken when painting the murals, one can sometimes notice traces of pigment splashed along the base of the wall. Although this may be purely incidental, there are some parallels between these drips of paint and historical methods of sacrifice and purification among South Sotho communities. For example, upon the death of an individual, an ox called khomo ea mohaba, or the ox of purification, was offered at the grave, its lifeblood soaking into the soil. Furthermore, at marriage ceremonies, an ox was slaughtered, and the parties were sprinkled with its gall and fat. This was believed to attract the favor of the ancestors upon the new union.

This same idea of attracting the favor of the ancestors can also be linked to the litema and morella process, which in itself is a form of annual sacrifice through time and labor. The notion of sacrifice within South Sotho mural arts can also be thought of in conceptual terms when one considers the fact that the materials used to create litema and morella equally function as a type of offering, returning to the sacred realm of the earth as the seasons weather them away. Thus, the murals function as a form of process art, ever-changing from day to day.

As the colors and patterns fade away and are renewed annually, the home becomes a constant prayer for peace and plenty throughout the year. When observing litema and morella murals on South Sotho homes from one year to the next, it is easy to see the changes in both design and color. While each artist is free to create any mural design, the patterns generally stay within a range of geometric or organic designs. While this is not always the case, such patterns are often very mathematically complex, relying on such concepts as symmetry, transformation geometry, and repetition. Often, one can locate a central axis within any given module of design, around which the patterns and colors rotate and alternate. This generally accepted style has been passed down from generation to generation, creating a highly unique and culture-specific genre.

After the main design has been completed, the paint is left to dry for a few days. At this time, a contrasting color may be added to the border of the designs as an accent. While the use of store-bought paint now provides each artist with a larger color palette, it also highlights the blending of old and new. The patterns themselves are often passed down from earlier generations, yet the bright hues show the influence of modernity. Because of this, one may suggest that the mural painting process is an active form of communion between the past and the present. The designs literally invoke the participation of past generations, while the use of new colors, and the innovations placed on old motifs make this an art that embraces both tradition and change. The uniquely South Sotho art of litema and morella is rich in both visual beauty and significance.

The murals may be regarded as symbolic religious works, feminist visual statements, portraits of identity, or complex performance pieces. Their annual cycle embraces the past, while remaining significant in the present. By employing different techniques, the artists are able to create a variety of surface types, each of which reveals a different and unique visual palette. In addition, the artists' creativity and uniqueness, as well as their methods, constantly evolve and are reworked to reveal further complexities in both aesthetics and symbolism. A clearly mathematical process, the art of litema is one of grand complexities mixed with the simplicities found in nature itself.