African Time 1/14/11

Matt was gone for the weekend and I was not looking forward to spending two full days alone here on the compound. So, when Nancy invited me to her sister’s wedding Sunday morning, I figured it would be fun. Weddings are not very common here. Funerals are huge events but courtships are generally as follows: boy meets girl, boy’s father gives girl’s father agreed upon number of cows, everyone considers boy and girl married. So, I was very interested to see how Luo weddings worked.

                Nancy called me Saturday night. “We will meet you at the gate at 7:30.”

“In the morning?!?” I asked.

“Yes, we have to be to the wedding by 10.”

Okay, seven-thirty it is. Knowing that we would be functioning on “African time” I got to the gate about 7:45 and the car pulled up at 8. It was what the Kenyans call a cockroach; a small hatchback sedan. I was the sixth person to get in. Along the way we continued to pick up people until we reached Sori. At that point we had 11 in the car. Three in the front, four in the back seat, and four in the trunk. At Sori everyone got out. “Is the wedding here?” I asked.

“No,” Nancy replied. “The bride and groom are not ready yet, so we are going to wait here and then follow them to the church.” At this point it was 9 am. We sat outside of a store for a while and had a soda. Every 20 minutes or so someone would make a phone call, yell a little, roll their eyes, and then hang up. After an hour and a half, one of the women suggested taking a walk to the lake. So, we paraded down to the shore to see the omena (little fish) drying in the sun. Then we walked up to the market to buy some vegetables. Then they decided that I needed a kanga (wrap) so we found a stall selling kangas and haggled for one. Then we walked to the shop where they sew the ends of the kangas and got that done. Then we sat around and had another soda. Finally, Nancy jumped up from her chair. “There is the car!” So we all piled back in to the cockroach. It was 2:30.

About a half an hour into the drive, the car pulled over. “Is the wedding here?” I asked again, silly me.

“No, we are taking a rest break. When we get to the church it will be very busy.” Oh, great, the Kenyan rest stop. Also known as a grove of trees on the side of the road. Unfortunately, we had all had two sodas, so it really was a necessity. We used the “facilities” and got back into the car. A motorcycle zoomed past with a driver and a woman in a nice dress holding a goat. The goat did not look impressed. The woman waved at us and everyone waved back. “That is my sister,” Nancy told me. I guess the goat and I were attending the same wedding.

After another half hour we came over a hill and saw a small church surrounded by a huge crowd. This was the wedding. The crowd parted for the cars to pull in. We got out and were pushed into the church. All of the family (myself included) was seated at the front of the church in the pews. Then the community was let in. You would have thought this was a Justin Bieber concert. People pushed and shoved and piled on top of each other to get into the church. At this point the car ride seemed spacious. When it was clear no one else would fit in to the place people started crowding around the windows to see in. I have never been claustrophobic, but I was having visions of a headline in the Fargo Forum “Fargo Native Killed in African Church Fire”.  It was now 4pm.

Finally at the end of the church I saw a young woman in a fancy dress. Awesome, the procession is starting, we can finally get to the wedding part. Little did I know the procession would last 45 minutes. Person after person came down the aisle dancing slowly. “That is my sister, and that is my sister, and that is my sister,” Nancy kept telling me. It turns out Nancy’s father has 4 wives and 40 children.

Finally the bride and groom were escorted in by their parents. They walked up to the front of the church, the pastor said a few words, they exchanged vows and started processing out. The ceremony was less than 30 minute long. All of this commotion for a half an hour ceremony? No music, no speeches (and Africans looooove speeches), no livestock? Really?!?

As I stepped out of the door the driver of the car grabbed my arm and said, “we are going to eat quickly and leave in 10 minutes”. Um, okay. Unfortunately, being the only mazungu there (or within a 60 mile radius) everyone wanted to talk to me and wanted me to take their picture.

“Jackie, come over and eat, quickly.” Suddenly I had a plate of beans and flat bread shoved onto my lap.

“Come wash your hands and then we will go. We need to get home before dark!” Now we are worrying about our schedule?

So, by 5:45 we were all back in the car . . . plus two more and a 50kg bag of beans. That’s right, 13 people in a hatchback. That may be a record, even for Africa. We sped back the way we came dropping people off at their respective stops. At 7:30, just as the last sunlight was setting over the lake, the car pulled up to the clinic gate. “Thanks for coming, Jackie! See you tomorrow at work!” They yelled as the car pulled away. I wandered down to my house and collapsed on the hammock. A 12 hour day for a 30 minute wedding. That really is operating on “African time”.