Umhlabuyalingana, known for its mystic roots and powerful magic, welcomes visitors seeking guidance in money matters, love, and ancestral affairs. Just across from the Hlulabantu Chess Club, a prominent road sign marks the entrance to this enchanting place, often capturing the attention of passersby who stop for a quick photo to share on social media.

Two weeks ago on a  Saturday morning before the national elections in South Africa, the air buzzed with excitement as children prepared for a chess tournament. A young man, adorned with bravado and scarification marks from a recent visit to the sangoma, arrived proclaiming his invincibility. Mxolisi, the eleven-year-old Hlulabantu Chess Club champion, took on the challenge. Despite being off his game recently, Mxolisi faced the challenger but ultimately lost. Lucky, the club’s founder, acknowledged the victor’s strength with humility, “Indeed, your magic was stronger than the power of the minds that learn chess with me.” 

Arriving the day before, I sat down with Lucky at one of the little tables to catch up. The growth of the chess club is a community effort. Maria Kouvarellis and her father Nick donated woodwork tools, pink paint for outdoor furniture, and some of the chess sets. The plasticized boards are nailed to tables, and pieces from twenty-five sets harmoniously mix in a large woven Zulu basket. The children respectfully pick up the pieces and place them on the boards, each understanding its role in the chess village.

Elizabeth Billis donated paving and a giant chess set with a dedication hand-painted in memory of Andrew , my father’s godson, marking the thirty-year anniversary of his passing. Lucky reverently transports the giant chess pieces from his homestead to the chess garden for tournaments in his 1980’s Toyota Corolla.

Maré Worthmann, a dietician at Netcare Kingsway Hospital, contributed foodstuffs and treats as prizes for the tournament.

The tournament began slowly. In rural areas, high school students attend compulsory extra lessons on Saturday mornings, leaving them exhausted by the time they arrived for the final competition in the afternoon. Lucky organized the tournament meticulously, with students diligently recording names in school exercise books that doubled as prizes. The display of prizes, especially a kilogram of brown sugar, elicited audible gasps of excitement.

The final eight players competed with intense concentration, timed on new chess clocks for five-minute games. Winners were decided based on remaining pieces if the game didn’t end in checkmate. The final match between Mxolisi and Kholeka took place on the new giant chess set. Mxolisi, regaining his chess mojo, won on points. A sizeable crowd, some seated on newly constructed spectator benches, watched the thrilling game.

Proudly, Lucky presented the prizes to the winners on the giant chess board. Mxolisi beamed as he unpacked his prize, with the kilogram of sugar being the most impressive component. As I chatted with Lucky about the tournament, Mxolisi and Kholeka excitedly ran home to show their families the prizes.

Every participant received something, fostering a sense of community. I left meat and charcoal for a shisa nyama (barbeque) celebration, knowing they would have a good time. 

The tournament taught us valuable lessons. The best time for competitions is Sunday afternoons, avoiding conflicts with Saturday school and Sunday church. Prizes entice participation, and a small monetary prize could further motivate the children. In the spirit of Ubuntu, winners often share their prizes with others, making prize money a palatable incentive. Moving forward, we need support for Lucky to manage the club’s social media accounts effectively, amplifying the club’s reach and impact.

The Hlulabantu Chess Club’s tournament wasn’t just a competition—it was a celebration of community, learning, and the timeless magic of chess.