Since I have come to Dar, I have had two big outings with the Kileo family.
The first was the wedding reception of a cousin of the family on the first full day I was here. We drove out to a village on the way to Morogoro where one of Nsia's cousins who now lives in England had come home to celebrate her marriage with her family.
Now, I didn't exactly bring nice clothes with me from home. In fact, I brought the old and ugly stuff that I plan to leave behind to create room in my luggage for new purchases and gifts. Nsia's mother thought what I had on was "strange" (a wrap I'd bought in Zanzibar that I really like!) so I had to put on my FILTHY, salt-water soiled and stained jeans as my next best option. I was uncomfortable, but I figured it was really late at night and it was dark, so it shouldn't matter at all.
And all of a sudden I am sitting at the freaking head table next to Mama Kileo and her sister and sister's husband in a spot of honor, in front of a hundred friends and relatives!! I was mortified at first and was acutely aware of how much I was being stared at, but talked myself into believing that it was because they didn't know who white girl was rather than because of my homeless-style fashion sense.
Being at the head table was a big job at this reception. Nsia's aunt and uncle made speaches, her mother went out and led a traditional dance from their tribe, and I had to keep standing up and shaking hands with people and waving. It was mostly all in Swahili so I don't know what any of it was about. I ceremonally touched a bottle of champaigne at one point, and we got our very own layer of the wedding cake (with frosting folks! they don't do frosting in this country!) while everyone else got an orderve-sized piece on a toothpick. There was a formal introduction made of everyone at the head table. I had to stand and wave at the crowd by myself while the mother of the bride said I don't know what in Swahili (and by the look on her face she didn't really know what to say about me either) and I later was included in the wedding photos. In my stained jeans and falling apart dirty t-shirt. I hope when they look at the wedding video they laugh rather than cringe! I know my poor grandmother was rolling over in her grave.
It was a very nice party though, and some of it was done in English as the groom was from Sierra Leone. It would be difficult for them to have a wedding there because of the unrest and the fact that so many are scattered as refugees right now. There were wonderful speaches made about how they had honored their families by coming home to celebrate with them rather than doing it in England, and how their marriage was a unification of Africa. It was very heartfelt and powerful.
My favorite part overall was when they brought out the goat. Now goats are my favorite animals, and with me being a vegetarian, I was even surprised by my reaction.
The goat was cooked, but in a standing position with something resembling extremely limp celery sticking out of it's mouth. All of the fur was still on it's head, although it's ears had been cut off, while the rest of the body you could have put your mouth up to and taken a bite out of. It's legs had been cut off at the knees, and with the cooked neck meat, it's head kept wobbling to and fro with those dang celery leaves just wilting more and more by the second. It was obviously a very solemn tradition for the bride and groom to come out and cut the first pieces off the goat. There was dead silence while they sawed away at it, and I had to do everything in my power to cover up my hysterics at watching it's head full of fur and celery leaf wobble around like my Kirby Pucket bobble head doll.
The first was the wedding reception of a cousin of the family on the first full day I was here. We drove out to a village on the way to Morogoro where one of Nsia's cousins who now lives in England had come home to celebrate her marriage with her family.
Now, I didn't exactly bring nice clothes with me from home. In fact, I brought the old and ugly stuff that I plan to leave behind to create room in my luggage for new purchases and gifts. Nsia's mother thought what I had on was "strange" (a wrap I'd bought in Zanzibar that I really like!) so I had to put on my FILTHY, salt-water soiled and stained jeans as my next best option. I was uncomfortable, but I figured it was really late at night and it was dark, so it shouldn't matter at all.
And all of a sudden I am sitting at the freaking head table next to Mama Kileo and her sister and sister's husband in a spot of honor, in front of a hundred friends and relatives!! I was mortified at first and was acutely aware of how much I was being stared at, but talked myself into believing that it was because they didn't know who white girl was rather than because of my homeless-style fashion sense.
Being at the head table was a big job at this reception. Nsia's aunt and uncle made speaches, her mother went out and led a traditional dance from their tribe, and I had to keep standing up and shaking hands with people and waving. It was mostly all in Swahili so I don't know what any of it was about. I ceremonally touched a bottle of champaigne at one point, and we got our very own layer of the wedding cake (with frosting folks! they don't do frosting in this country!) while everyone else got an orderve-sized piece on a toothpick. There was a formal introduction made of everyone at the head table. I had to stand and wave at the crowd by myself while the mother of the bride said I don't know what in Swahili (and by the look on her face she didn't really know what to say about me either) and I later was included in the wedding photos. In my stained jeans and falling apart dirty t-shirt. I hope when they look at the wedding video they laugh rather than cringe! I know my poor grandmother was rolling over in her grave.
It was a very nice party though, and some of it was done in English as the groom was from Sierra Leone. It would be difficult for them to have a wedding there because of the unrest and the fact that so many are scattered as refugees right now. There were wonderful speaches made about how they had honored their families by coming home to celebrate with them rather than doing it in England, and how their marriage was a unification of Africa. It was very heartfelt and powerful.
My favorite part overall was when they brought out the goat. Now goats are my favorite animals, and with me being a vegetarian, I was even surprised by my reaction.
The goat was cooked, but in a standing position with something resembling extremely limp celery sticking out of it's mouth. All of the fur was still on it's head, although it's ears had been cut off, while the rest of the body you could have put your mouth up to and taken a bite out of. It's legs had been cut off at the knees, and with the cooked neck meat, it's head kept wobbling to and fro with those dang celery leaves just wilting more and more by the second. It was obviously a very solemn tradition for the bride and groom to come out and cut the first pieces off the goat. There was dead silence while they sawed away at it, and I had to do everything in my power to cover up my hysterics at watching it's head full of fur and celery leaf wobble around like my Kirby Pucket bobble head doll.
No comments:
Post a Comment