27.08.2011 African Wedding
Kelvin and I went on a short tour around Mwanza today. This town is beautiful! We woke up early to take a ferry to a close island. We didn’t know our way around, so Kelvin asked a random guy on the street. Instead of giving us directions, he took us. That is one of the biggest and most splendid differences between here and home. People go out of their way to help you, and it’s normal. He was great for conversation, and so pleasant. His name was Ollie.
I was the only mzungu that I saw this morning, and all the mbongos made sure to let me know that it wasn’t a common occurrence to see mzungus in Mwanza . Not many mzungus come to mwanza, and they all told me that. I wonder if it bothers Kelvin when people catcall me just because I have white skin. It bothers me. I wish I could change the color of my skin so I could blend in. If I’m going to be noticed, I want it to be for something that I do, not because I have blond hair and pale skin.
The ferry ride was nice. Mwanza’s nickname is Rock City, and for good reason. The rock formations are absolutely beautiful. They look impossible, like gravity should cause them to fall apart. Along the coast line, there were also homes and churches built into the rock walls. I was standing at the rail, and Kelvin’s arms were around me. It was nice. Ollie had decided to join us for the ferry ride. We arrived to the island, let the cars drive off, and then left the ferry to explore a bit. There were flowering trees and bushes everywhere, of all different colors. Lizards were running around the rocks and sun bathing. It was relaxing. We grabbed lunch and caught a ferry back, and then went back to the hotel to prepare for the wedding. Ollie walked with us most of the way, and then we said our good byes. He is an amazing guy! Less than a block from our hotel was a large compost pile full of rotten food. I hadn’t noticed it this morning or last night, but walking back I couldn’t help but notice it because there were cows, dogs, children, and large storks feeding on the rotten fruit. I bought chips for the kids, and had a hotel boy run it down there to them while I started to get ready for the wedding.
Kaylee had given me a dress before she left for home. Good thing, because it was the only appropriate thing I had to wear. It was long, to my ankles, and black, pink, and tan. I had no shoes to match, so I just wore my white sandals. When I arrived to the wedding , I was warmly welcomed by all. In fact, I was ushered to the front (although I much rather would have hid in the back), and Kelvin and I were given seats next to the bride’s parents. A woman came and asked what I would like to drink, and I ordered a Kilimanjaro. She brought me five, all warm. I don’t know why mbongos like warm beer. It’s always asked, “Moto or baridi?” Maybe most of them have gotten used to drinking it warm because of the lack of power and refrigeration, and so it is now their preference. I guess I’m getting used to it, but it still disappoints me every time.
The wedding started with the bride and groom dancing down the aisle with the rest of the wedding party. When they reached the front, they cut a ribbon to signify entry to their new life, a new beginning with each other. There were no vows spoken. Instead, a woman with a microphone did a lot of very loud talking and wild dancing. I asked Kelvin who she was, and he said she was the MC of the wedding. Basically, she is supposed to keep the party going and keep the wedding on track. The bride and groom seemed to be part of the background compared to her. I wish I understood everything that she was saying.
The wedding cake was small. Actually, there were three wedding cakes, all matching. The first one was taken by the maid of honor. She cut three small pieces off. The first piece, the bride put halfway into her mouth. The groom joined mouths with her and bit off the other half. The second was taken by the groom, and fed to his best man. The same was done with the third piece between the bride and her maid of honor. Then, the groom and best man linked arms, and danced the second cake to the bride’s parents. The bride and maid of honor danced the third cake to the groom’s parents. Everywhere anyone went, they danced. Mbongos sure can dance well too.
After the cakes, the father of the groom and the father of the bride both spoke. Then it was time for each tribe to be recognized. There were several tribes represented at the wedding, and each was called up to do a dance. Three tribes danced, and then it was the Maasai tribe’s turn. Since Kelvin is Maasai, he went to dance, but asked me to accompany him. I said no several times, and so he gave up and went to dance on his own. Victor, who calls me his shimegi, grabbed my hands and so we went. Victor is Kelvin’s cousin, and took me under his wing and guidance as soon as we met. Shimegi translates to mean, “my brother’s wife/partner/girlfriend/etc.” He says that as his shimegi, it is his responsibility to make sure I am always well and if I ever get into any type of trouble, he will be by my side to protect me. He had been so kind to me, I would have felt rude to not accept his hand when he offered it to dance. I linked hands with the rest of the dancers and danced with them. It was fun, although I didn’t know what I was doing and it looked so.
At this point, I really had to use the washroom. So badly that it was making me grumpy. I leaned over and asked Kelvin if there were bathrooms. He said yes, and then asked a woman sitting near us to accompany me. She grabbed my hand, and led me to a row of cars. She pointed to the ground, and then stood next to me and crossed her arms. Shit, is she going to stand there and watch me? Well, this is Africa… I pulled up my dress and squatted. She is watching! I’m sure this is normal for her, but come on! I’m a mzungu, turn away. I tried to urinate, I really did. But I couldn’t! Not with her watching. She finally turned her head to talk to somebody, but then I felt like she could hear me. I pretended like I finished my business, and then pulled down my dress and returned back to the wedding with her. I sat back down, more grumpy than before because I still had to pee, and now I felt like I needed at least 30 minutes in between now and when it would be acceptable for me to go again. I was the only mzungu, and everyone was watching me. I couldn’t walk anywhere without everyone’s eyes following me.
Next was gift giving. People were called to the front by the MC in groups. The first group consisted of teachers, because the bride was a teacher. They gathered into a group at the end of the aisle, and then danced to the front carrying a toaster oven over their heads. The same was done for several other groups, all with different gifts. Eventually, the “brothers” of the bride were called up. Included in this group was Kelvin. Again, he asked me to accompany him but I said, “No way! I’m not a brother and none of the other men have their girlfriends accompanying them!” All the other brothers went, and gave money, one at a time, to the MC. If they tried to give less than 50,000tsh, the MC would yell at them and demand more money. They all gave in, and seemed like they expected it. Last was Kelvin. When he stepped up I heard the MC say, “blah blah blah blah…mzungu…blah blah blah…mzungu!” I buried my face in my hands. Now I really didn’t want to go up there. Kelvin came, grabbed my hand, and dragged me up there. I saw the bride laughing, and I had forgotten to dance. Kelvin reminded me, so I started dancing. Then the bride REALLY started laughing at me. The MC said, “blah blah blah…mzungu…blah….MZUNGU blah…” and then everyone started laughing. I know they had to be laughing at me making a fool of myself with my horrible dancing. In my defense, the music playing wasn’t even good! And I was put on the spot. The music stopped, and the MC held out her hand. Kelvin gave 20,000tsh and I gave 20,000tsh. Then she demanded 10,000tsh more. Kelvin gave it, and then I returned to the safety of my seat.
At this point, I was exhausted. There was still a lot more gift giving, dancing, and kanga swapping left to go. The father of the bride fell asleep, and I found myself drifting as well. I don’t know how, because the music and MC were so loud. Also, the power had gone out, so they were using a very bright outdoor light. Whenever they faced it in my direction, the light would blind me. I don’t know how the wedding party got used to it being on them all night. Finally, it was time for food. I got into line with Kelvin, but then had to use the washroom. Badly. It hurt. I had to go. I asked Kelvin to get me a plate, and then I left for the front where the woman had guided me before. As I walked up, I saw a woman squatting. She stopped, midstream, and scooted over. “Apa.” At this point, I didn’t care. I had to go, audience or not. I squatted and peed right there. I had no toilet paper so I did a shimmy and drip. When I was finished, I turned around and saw a young boy standing by the wall. He was looking at me. I guess I should have been mad, but I was only wondering if my squatting techniques differed from the pros. I said, “What, never seen a mzungu pee?” and then I walked away. Who knows if he even understood me.
I went back inside so join Kelvin for dinner. Luckily, I had my hand sanitizer. We had kuku, chips, wali, chipati, and salad. All of us ate it with our hands. I hurried and ate mine, because I knew we could leave as soon as we were done. It tasted good, and I was starving (it was about 0300 by this point and I hadn’t eaten since lunch), so it didn’t take much effort to eat it quickly. Afterwards, we said thank you and goodbye to everyone. Kelvin and I piled into his aunt and uncle’s car, and I fell asleep during the car ride back to our hotel, my head on Kelvin’s lap.
I’m really happy that I got the opportunity to see and be a part of this wedding. I’m especially happy that I brought my camera, because it was only one of two cameras that were there, and the other one didn’t take that great of quality photos. The bride was very grateful to see and receive the pictures Kelvin and I took. I’m especially grateful for meeting Kelvin, because my African experience would have been entirely different without him.
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