Okay, so maybe I didn't find the best Boxing Day sale ever, on who-knows-what. Maybe I didn't manage to score my usual haul of bargain priced wrapping paper for next Christmas. And maybe I didn't get to eat seemingly endless leftover turkey and dressing. BUT....I did have a pretty interesting Boxing Day nevertheless.
Still full from all the Christmas meals, I was picked up late morning by a crew of wazungus from Arusha. The family of Cheri who had been my housemate here for some time, were all visiting for the holidays (some from Canada, some from Sri Lanka), and we'd all been invited to attend a traditional Maasai wedding celebration in the small village of Engarinaibor. I have no idea how far away it is...can only tell you that it takes an hour and a half to get there by jeep, on some incredibly bad roads.
We were warmly welcomed on arrival and introduced to the bride and groom. Everyone except our party was in full traditional Maasai dress...even Steven who is the Executive Director of LOOCIP and normally wears only Western clothing, was fully decked out in his Maasai finest--sword, stick and all. The groom's face was decorated with designs drawn in red ochre, and his hair was pulled into a top knot which had a very blond extension flowing from it...looked like some sort of animal tail. Overall, the effect was really pretty scary. The bride's face was partially covered by a special headdress. She was really tiny, and looked to be about 12 years old, but I was assured she was actually 18 (from a family of uncharacteristically small folks!) The actual wedding had taken place on Christmas Day. We were there to share in the celebration portion only.
First we were taken for a walk away from the house, where the men were cooking a slaughtered cow and some rice. We were offered cooked meat and bowls of rice to share. The meat arrived in our seating area, a little way apart from the main fire site, carried on a large stick. Steven's brother proceeded to carve off chunks and serve them up for us. Women are not typically invited to share in any of this. However, it seems that it's acceptable for any woman who is not wearing typical Maasai clothing, to take part (though perhaps the presence of three mzungu females accounted for us being seated away from the main group).
Next, we walked back to the house to watch the women dancing. Turned out 'watching' was not an option. Before I knew what I was getting in for, I accepted an offer to join the group. I was then given two large neckpieces to wear...one about the size of a pizza pan, the other a bit smaller, as these are critical to the dance moves. Essentially, if you get your shoulders going just right you can make your neck ornamentation bounce just so. I was placed in the centre of the group and was doing fine to that point, bouncing like I'd been born to it. And then, the jumping began. Now, most of you probably know that the Maasai are known for their jumping ability--from a standing start, they can make great vertical leaps. Silly me, I thought only the men jumped but was about to be proven wrong as again and again I was urged to join with another woman at the centre of our group, and leap like my life depended on it! One small problem arose though. As often happens, I think this group of gals mistook me for a much younger woman, and they really weren't open to accepting that I was quickly worn out by all of this. Oh well, it was a blast and I've got the pictures to prove it!
Next, a well deserved breather, accompanied by a cup of milk-chai and then we were off to watch the arrival of group after group of morani (Maasai warriors). They came in single file processions from all directions, and began a sort of dance competition that lasted for ages. Each group in turn formed a chanting and dancing circle and then they too got into jumping mode. What a sight! I have no idea how many people were ultimately in the main pasture field, but the crowd seemed huge. After a group had danced sufficiently, they slowly moved off and let another begin.
Still panting from my own dance experience, I decided to take a breather and go inside the house to download my photos of the day. I had a chance to show them (once again thankful for the longlife battery on my laptop) to a group of moranis who had gathered in the house. As always, everyone was thrilled to see the pictures on the 'big screen'.
Night was falling (the sun always sets just before 7 here, year round) so the wazungus were asked to join the men of the family at a bonfire a short way from the house. On arrival, after almost stepping in a warm goat carcass in my flipflops, we were seated on benches around the fire, elbow to elbow with the group of men. Goat meat was cooking on sticks over the open fire, and everyone wanted to tell and hear stories from the others. Unfortunately, we rarely had a translator available, so clearly something was lost there, but the spirit of it all was tremendous. I got some extra points by being the only mzungu who accepted the first meat offered--fresh roasted goat liver. Stephen had assured me that this was one of his own herd, and that his goats are faithfully dewormed every 3 months. I happen to be a fan of liver when it's properly cooked, and in recent years have stopped eating it mostly out of fears about the various hormones and such that we're told are given to our cattle back home. With this one being 100% organic, I was happy to partake. It was delicious, though I couldn't get the thought of an accompanying pan of fried onions out of my head!
After the rest of the meat was cooked and shared, it was time for us to pile back into the vehicle and make our way to a guesthouse in the nearby village. We were doing great until our vehicle slipped into a crevass in the muddy road, and left us hung up to the axle on one side. After a fair bit of fruitless pushing, our driver and Joseph (the only one of us who could speak the language) decided to leave the rest of us behind and try to get to the village on foot, find a rescue vehicle, and return to tow us free. So, that left 6 of us, with only one small flashlight, standing around by our vehicle under a sky threatening rain, with at least a 3 hour wait ahead of us. However, one of our members was Felix, ( the Ghanain who was also one of my earlier housemates) and he's not one to stand around not working on a problem. Felix managed to find the jack, rig things up, and get us in a position such that one quick push freed the vehicle. We piled in and drove to catch up with the others at the village. By the time we got there, the guesthouse had given up on our ever showing up, and had given away our rooms. So, not long before midnight we decided to pile back in the vehicle and make our way home. There had been some rain during the day and at times the roads were unbelievably slippery. Luckily our driver has had many years of experience driving in Africa, and got us through everything the road tried to throw at us. Round about 1:30 am, we got back to Longido, and I opened the guesthouse doors to the whole crew. We were all totally exhausted, and 'home' has never looked so good.
Guess the holiday sales will have to wait 'til next year.
Jotu
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