The ceremony was very Westernized, full with a white dress, matching bridesmaids' dresses, and men in tuxes. It was much more celebratory than weddings at home though, which was really cool. Ugandan churches don't have the same quiet reservations that our churches do. People felt completely free to yell out and cheer during the middle of the service. It was wild. I didn't really appreciate the remarks from the pastor though. First, he talked about how Jumah chose his bride because she was so beautiful, more beautiful than all the other women. There was no mention of the bride's character. Then he talked about how a woman's place is in the home serving her husband, even if she gets a good position, for example, as a headmaster or the country's vice president.
After the service, we walked to the reception. It was scheduled to begin at 3:00. Silly us, we got there at about 2:45. Naturally, an African reception doesn't start until at least two hours after its scheduled starting time. So we sat around for a couple hours and the bride and groom finally rolled in at nearly 5:30. By this time we were ravenous and quite excited for some food. Again, silly us for thinking we would get food right away.
First there were presentations, which means people sang karaoke. It was humorous at first but then hunger took over and my patience was being severely tried. After the presentations were speeches. What a wonderful practice it is in the States to have just two speeches at our weddings! I think we heard at least five yesterday. And Ugandan speeches are not concise.
Finally, it was time for cake. They had eight beautiful pink cakes up front and I had been eying them for about four or five hours at this point. Instead of cutting up all the cakes, they cut just one of them and each guest got this tiny morsel! They just wrapped up the seven other cakes; I have no idea what they did with them. Well, when we got our pieces of cake, we greedily stuffed them in our mouths. Silly us to think this cake would taste like cake at home. I don't know what was in that cake, but my taste buds did not appreciate it.
After cake it was finally dinner time, but there was no silverware left for us. So we ate rice and matooke (which is the consistency of mashed potatoes) with our hands. I tried reminding myself that I was in Africa and needed to be flexible but I was too grossed out to finish, so I gave it to someone else.
After dinner, I met this young man from the Congo. We talked a little about how his parents had died and he moved to Kampala and was learning English. It was difficult to understand him, what with his thick accent and the loud music. He started telling me that he was all alone in Kampala and that it's not good to be alone. Then all my friends said we were leaving, so I tried saying good bye to this guy. He said he would walk me out. I told him I didn't want him to but he followed me. While I was on the stairs exiting the church, he caught up to me. He told me people shouldn't be alone then looked at his feet and asked me to marry him. Oh my...
I stood there baffled that this guy I had known for thirty minutes was proposing! My friend Kyle, another American on the program, saw what was happening from afar and came over to help me out of the situation. He put his arm around me and said it was time for us to leave. My new suitor assumed Kyle and I were married and took the hint.
It was an interesting experience. This guy really did have a very sad story. It's very depressing that he felt so desperate and hopeless in his current situation that marrying an American girl seemed like the best option for him. So many people here see getting to the States as their only way out of difficulties and therefore see white women as opportunities for visas. It's hard that we American girls always have to be on our guards, assuming the men here just want to use us for a visa. But it's even harder to know there are so many people who feel so hopeless that marrying a stranger and going to a foreign land seems better than their present lives.
2 comments:
Nothing like a good wedding to put a person in the marrying mood... people back home would sure have been surprised if you came back home with a husband! These are all such great cultural experiences you're getting to take in and share. Thanks!
Pastor Pat <><
Hi Rachel ... Kyle's dad here. I found a story that you might be able to understand in greater detail now that you're in Uganda. Enjoy your time ... live with no regrets.
David Navis
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Maasai warrior hairdressers break taboos
By Guled MohamedMon Sep 8, 12:05 PM ET
Maasai warrior Lempuris Lalasho went to Kenya's tourist haven Mombasa to find a white woman to marry, but he ended up working as a hairdresser, a profession that is taboo in his culture.
His story opens a window on the strains faced by this ancient tribe as it adjusts to modern life in east Africa's largest economy, whose Indian Ocean beaches lure thousands of tourists, including women seeking sex.
Maasai warriors, or moran, are a familiar sight on Kenya's beaches and in its renowned safari parks -- dressed in distinctive red robes and wearing beaded jewellery, they often act as guides or work in security.
But sometimes, the eager young men who flock to the coast hoping to make their fortunes -- some with dreams of marrying a white tourist -- have to go against their traditions.
Lalasho's status as a moran means he is charged with protecting and providing for his people, and it makes his transgression all the more serious.
Maasai warriors are not allowed to touch a woman's head: it is regarded as demeaning in the patriarchal culture. Moran who become hairdressers risk a curse from the elders, or could even be expelled from the community.
"If my father finds out what I am doing he will be very mad at me or even chase me from home," said Lalasho, who comes from Loitoktok, near Mount Kilimanjaro on the border with Tanzania.
"But I have to eat, that's why I broke my taboo since city life is very expensive," he said.
An estimated 500,000 to one million Maasai live in scattered and remote villages across northern Tanzania and southern Kenya, eking out a semi-nomadic existence with herds of precious cows.
As drought and hunger bite harder in their rural homes due to climate change and increased competition for resources, hundreds of Maasai men are heading to towns and cities.
SPINNING HAIR
In tourist resorts like Mombasa, these men end up as hotel workers, night guards, herbalists and hairdressers.
Lalasho, who is illiterate and does not know his age, was inspired by the good fortune of a friend, Leishorwa Mesieki.
"My friend Leishorwa is now rich. He married a mzungu (white) woman who took him to ... is it New Zealand or Switzerland? I don't know. He came back to build a big house and bought so many cows. I envy him," he added, shaking his head.
Lalasho did not have such luck and he was forced to use his skills at spinning hair, which he learnt during his initiation into moranhood in a thicket near Mount Kilimanjaro.
Morans learn to weave hair into thin, rasta-like dreadlocks during the initiation, which takes place when boys are aged between 17 and 20. The warriors' hair is often dyed red as well, and the red style is popular among women in cities.
For Maasai elder Michael Ole Tiampati, the fate of men like Lalasho threatens the wider Maasai culture.
"It's an abomination and demeaning for a moran or Maasai man to touch a woman's head," said Tiampati, media officer for the Maa Civil Society Forum, which protects Maasai traditions.
"They have gone against the cultural fibre ... They have to pay a price to be accepted back into the society," he said.
CULTURE UNDER THREAT
Kenya's Maasai are based in the picturesque Great Rift Valley region, home to the famous Maasai Mara game park. But the tribe who gave the park its name earn little from tourism, which is among Kenya's top three foreign currency earners.
This lack of revenue pushes young Maasai into other activities, but their increasing renown in tourist resorts is also bringing competition.
Men from tribes like the Kikuyu or Samburu are disguising themselves as Maasai on the beaches of Mombasa and elsewhere.
"Foreign tourists love Maasai for their sincerity. We are good-hearted people who do not feel jealous," Lalasho said.
Tiampati is more explicit.
"(Maasai) warriors are perceived to be erotic, that is why women pensioners from Europe come to look for them. The warriors take a lot of herbs -- some known to have Viagra-like contents like the bark of black acacia tree -- to re-invigorate their loins."
The copy-cat trend has angered some Maasai.
"It's the beginning of an end of Maasai culture," said tour guide Isac Oramat in Nairobi.
"Soon our tradition will just exist in books ... I warn tourists to be aware of these fake Maasais."
But for the morans in Mombasa, survival for now takes precedence over preserving their traditional ways.
"I have not gone to school. This is the only thing I can do," said hairdresser Ole Sambweti Ndoika, 35.
"The women here love our style. We get good money ... I hope to save enough to marry my second wife ... by end of the year," said the father-of-four from Narok in the Rift Valley.
Longishu Nyangusi, 25, also works as a hairdresser and like Lalasho came to Mombasa to find a white tourist wife. He says his lack of English has held him back.
"I could have hooked a white woman by now. I regret refusing to go to school. I was fooled by our fat cows and thought life is just fine," he said near his open-air salon-cum-shop.
(Editing by Clar Ni Chonghaile)
(For full Reuters Africa coverage and to have your say on the top issues, visit: http:/africa.reuters.com/)
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