The significance of ilobolo: why reversing traditional roles threatens South African heritage

When South Africa adopted its Constitution in 1994, the promise was not only political freedom but participatory governance. It was a commitment that laws would be shaped by the lived realities of the people they govern. And for many African communities in South Africa, this promise carried a clear meaning, as it meant the protection of culture, family systems, land (property rights) and customary law developed with communities and not imposed upon them, as was the case in colonial days.

Today a widening disconnect continues to emerge between lawmaking and lived experiences of African descent. Parliament, on the other hand, increasingly legislates on living social systems while relying on formal processes that fail to translate into real understanding. Nowhere is this disconnect more evident than in the growing attempt to normalise the idea of women paying ilobolo (bride price) to men.

One thing for sure is that ilobolo is not a transaction; it also is not a reward, as it is a living system that binds families, affirms responsibility and maintains social balance. In Zulu tradition, Venda tradition, Swati traditions, Pedi traditions, Xhosa traditions and across many South African customary systems, the notion of a woman paying lobolo is fundamentally incompatible with cultural order; it is not a variation, as it is a taboo even attempting to reverse this structure, and it does not modernise the custom. It removes its meaning and its purpose.

To many this proposed shift represents more than just a cultural discomfort, as it is a violation of ancestral order in African cosmology, where certain roles and responsibilities are inherited obligations designated by those who came before us on this planet, and these obligations cannot be altered through policy interpretation or legal drafting alone. They cannot be communicated afresh to the ancestors without consequence. So when established order is deliberately disrupted, our African belief systems warn of moral and social imbalance known as ulaka lwabaphansi (the wrath of the ancestors). This framework governs harmony, accountability and continuity for generations to come.

The consequences of this reversal are practical and dire, and expecting women to pay ilobolo places new financial burdens upon them, including debt incurred in pursuit of marriage. So, in the event of divorce, many women may still lose half of their assets despite having carried responsibilities traditionally assigned to the men they are marrying. Rather than empowering women, this creates vulnerability and also deepens household poverty and increases reliance on social support systems.

Families also suffer irreversible loss as parents are deprived of one of the most sacred moments in African family life: the blessing that comes with the recognised union of their daughter through proper custom. That loss is permanent, and once traditions are disrupted, families carry the damage across generations. Relationships between households weaken, ancestral lines are unsettled, and emotional and spiritual consequences endure long after laws have been changed.

There are further governance risks. Altering family structures and identity practices without clear safeguards weakens the state’s ability to track lineage, residency and eligibility for public resources. And when identity links are changed without robust systems, accountability is lost; this creates confusion rather than order and places additional strain on public services that are already under pressure.

Within households the erosion of customary safeguards creates instability when roles, responsibilities and expectations are blurred; families lose clear reference points for accountability. Tension increases, misunderstandings deepen and conflict escalates. Periods of social dislocation are often accompanied by increases in domestic violence, not because culture causes harm but because its protective structures have been removed. Laws that destabilise family systems without providing alternative forms of accountability place women and children at greater risk.

It must be stated clearly that consultation does take place; the problem is not absence but effectiveness. Public participation around proposed laws is often treated as a procedural requirement rather than a serious effort to achieve understanding, and also notices are issued, meetings are held, and submissions are received, yet little effort is made to ensure clarity, reach, or meaningful feedback. This stands in sharp contrast to election campaigns overseen by the IEC, where engagement is deliberate, accessible and effective even in the most remote rural areas. The difference reveals that the challenge is not capacity but commitment.

This situation forces us to ask serious questions about the actual power of traditional institutions within our democratic society. Traditional leadership is meant to be the custodian and watchdog of culture. These institutions exist precisely to safeguard customary law and to act as the gateway through which any engagement with living traditions must pass. If laws affecting custom are introduced without their firm intervention, then their authority is not merely weakened but rendered symbolic. Traditional institutions should be holding government and Parliament accountable whenever customary law is at stake. Their limited influence in moments such as the present raises concern not about their relevance but about the space afforded to them within the democratic system. A society cannot claim to respect culture while sidelining those entrusted to protect it.

Over time this weak engagement erodes trust. Communities begin to lose confidence in political leadership not because they reject democracy but because they no longer recognise themselves in decisions made on their behalf. When laws reshape family life, culture and identity without genuine understanding, people withdraw emotionally and morally from the state.

If this loss of confidence deepens, it creates conditions that history has shown to be dangerous, and internal confusion and social division invite external interest and influence. In such moments responsibility does not lie elsewhere. It lies with those who ignored early warnings and with societies that remained silent for too long.

As this path is not inevitable, lawmakers must return to communities before legislating on customary law and engage with seriousness, patience and respect. Communities have the right to say no, not in our time, not without effective consultation and not without respect for the foundations that hold society together.

South Africa does not suffer from a constitutional problem, but it suffers from an effectiveness deficit in how laws touching living traditions are made, so until Parliament reconnects laws which are based on lived reality and experiences, it will continue to pass laws that divide rather than protect. The warning is simple and urgent: reconnect the law with the people or risk governing a society that no longer recognises itself in its own laws within its own country.

(Prince Africa Zulu kaMxhegu kaBasekele kaShingana kaMpande of Onkweni Royal House, is the chairperson of the Prince Africa Zulu Foundation Trust and former spokesperson and head of communication for His Majesty King Misuzulu kaZwelithini. His views don't necessarily reflect those of the Sunday Tribune or IOL)

SUNDAY TRIBUNE