Marissa and I arrived at the party at 6:30pm. Our friend Martha (sister of the bride) escorted us to our table. We were then re-escorted to a reserved table. We don’t know how we classified as reserved guests but to guess that the color of our skin played a significant part. We sat near the high table which included all of the family of the bride. Our friend Martha said that over 100 relatives came together to plan this special send off. They had invited 500 guests. Of those 500, Marissa and I were the only wazungu (white people). She showed us the detailed schedule of the night that began before we even arrived. They had each activity planned down to the minute. At this point, we were waiting for the groom’s side of the party to arrive.
While we were waiting for the groom’s side to arrive, the aunties of the bride began to do some traditional Haya dancing. This is the tribe of the mother of the bride. Marissa and I were privileged to be the only white people attempting this dance. While they were all very encouraging and welcoming, I’m sure they got a good laugh out of the dancing wazungu.
An hour and a half later, the groom’s side finally arrived. They came in to the party dancing, chanting, and carrying gifts. They greeted the family and presented all of their gifts. The next section of the wedding included all of the many traditions involved in asking for the bride. While it all took place in Swahili, our friend tried to translate some of the happenings. For the next hour, they plead their case as to why the family should send off the bride. After much discussion, they finally consented.
At this point, the guest of honor, the bride, finally enters the party. She arrived with an entourage of dancing children and her maid of honor. She and her friend were escorted to the stage where they carried out many more traditions. They toasted with champagne and cut the cake. But all of the activity took place between the bride and friend (not the bride and groom).
At 10pm, they finally started serving the food. I’m not sure what all I ate, but I can say that it was good. During the dinner, a live band began to play. Since all of the evening was in Swahili, it was quite a surprise when we heard “Show me the meaning of being lonely….” The older lady sitting next to us who had not spoken to us the entire night said, “You like?” We just kind of chuckled. And she responded, “Backstreet?” She began to sing along. You never know what to expect when you’re in Africa. The next song was a Shania Twain song. They topped of the English portion of the night with Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing.” Marissa and I could barely contain our laughter.
After the live band, they began to present the gifts to the bride. Each group who had bought a gift would dance in towards the stage with their gift. Then they would all dance around stage for a while and greet the bride. After everyone danced, the bride would sit back down and the next group would enter with their gift. It was a very interesting way to present gifts. I’m thinking about trying it at my next birthday party.
During the gift giving, I excused myself from the table to use the restroom. My friend asked if I needed someone to accompany me. I said I would be alright. I think I might reconsider that answer. After doing my business, I attempted to open the door to the port-a-potty. Attempt being the key word. I turned and turned the lock, but nothing happened. I shook the door several times. Still no help. Panic started to set in when I realized I was locked in the bathroom in Africa where they don’t speak English. People began to bang on the door from the outside. I started banging from the inside. All I could do was say, “Hello!” I don’t know if I have ever prayed that hard before. I continued to fidget with the lock. Finally, after what felt like hours, but I’m sure was more like 10 minutes, the door unlocked. I opened it to find a crowd of Tanzanian ladies staring at me. All I could do was say “Asante” in their language and walk off. I am sure they will forever be talking about the night the white girl got locked in the bathroom. And I’m sure the first thing I will ask my Swahili teacher is how to say “Help! I’m locked in the bathroom.”
At 12:30am, we finally left the party. The dancing had just begun again and the bride had still yet to be sent off. But we managed to sneak out. The drive home proved eventful as well. As our car began to break down, we noticed we were heading the wrong way down a one way street. When we stopped to turn around, we were soon surrounded by policemen with guns. After much pleading and lots more praying, they finally let us go without any punishment. Our car safely made it home and we safely made it to our beds... exhausted.
