A Communal Kenyan Wedding

Myself and new bf. Wish he had brought a ring for me.

Kageni getting carried into her vehicle by female fam members.

The bride having a pre-wedding cup of tea.

I had such a wonderful time this past weekend in my first Kenyan wedding experience. Mostly, I felt honored to be in the wedding as a bride’s maid and got to really soak up the experience from beginning to end. I was reminded over and over again that it’s not about the parents, the big cake, the dresses, the suits, the presents, or even the married couple to-be, but it was about…the community. Since we don’t really have this sense when it comes to weddings (or many other things), I was very curious how they were going to pull it off. But I am now a believer in this alternative approach to the big event…

The process, for many of us involved, started about four months prior to the wedding. This time when I was whisked away without knowing where I was going, I was taken to a local pub where “the elders” had gathered. The tradition stems from “the old times” when the tribal elders would gather around the fire and either approve or disprove of a marriage proposal (as in, the wannabe husband would propose to the tribal elders eons before proposing to the woman he wanted to marry- in fact after the father agreed as well, she didn’t have much say in it at all, but I’ll leave that for now…). Instead of cain licquor, Tusker beers were passed around in plenty, and the overall tone was one of mutual.merriment. At some point, Njugi and Kageni got around to the “official” announcement of their engagement and desire to start planning the wedding. Cheers were passed around, and then things became a bit serious when the elders started to offer their advice to the young couple. My Kiswahili is still shamefully minimal, but even if it was up to par, I would have no hope of following their mother tongue of Kikuyu. My friend that translated parts told me generally that they had wished them well, that marriage was blessed but not an easy road, but that if they needed any support, the community would offer it to them in any way they could…

From there, it was down to business. Kageni and Njugi gathered up about 20 of their peers to form their “wedding committee.” Every Sunday afternoon for those few months we became their wedding planners and financiers. The tasks of nailing down the photographer, decorater, caterer, etc was all delegated, and everyone had pledged a certain amount to cover the cost. A daunting task became light amongst all of us. After a few meetings, all that was left was to brace ourselves for the big day. Here, they have very open invitation weddings. As in, you are allowed to invite friends of friends even if they don’t know the couple. The event is also announced to the whole church. There is no RSVP involved, so one never knows how many people will show up. They prepare for the whole village.

The week before the big day, about every big reservation was changed at the last minute due to factors beyond anyone’s control. Miraculously, it all got sorted out in time. The morning of the wedding was something I thoroughly enjoyed- about 60 women crammed into Kageni’s mother’s home all dressing and prepping. It was delightfully chaotic with one bathroom and one mirror. Having spent a good five hours on her hair the previous night, Kageni was mostly set. While the groom’s family was negotiating the final dowry details with the bride’s father, we kept the bride’s nerves at bay by dancing, singing and taking pictures. Our singing was soon echoed by all of the women outside, signaling that the negotiations were through. We all lined up, escorting our bride out of Kageni’s house. Our heels kept sinking into the wet ground from the rains the night before and I was horrified how Kageni was going to get into her vehicle with that long white dress… My fears were quelled when I looked behind and realized she was being carried by about 20 of the singing and dancing women.

After a slow ride around town in the flowered vehicles with plenty of honking and whistling, we pulled into the church about noon, two hours after the ceremony was supposed to begin. Of course, no part of the ceremony went as planned. It was hilarious how random people from the congregation kept passing the pastors notes to indicate that they wanted to make a speech or sing a song. Somehow, the pastors were able to keep up. The tear-jerking things that are the same everywhere held emotional weight here as well. The groom fumbled his vows in an endearing way. The bride had at least one big tear, and I’m sure I had a few of my own. After the two hour ceremony, we continued to the reception. We sang and danced to the food line, sang and danced to receive the gifts, to pass out the cake… I didn’t even notice time passing and before I knew it, all the guests were clearing out around 5 pm. We had a bit of time to relax, change clothes, and all the young people sorted themselves out for the big after party, which more or less resembles the reception that you find in the music (even the appropriately cheesy kind), drinks, the fun…

It was a great day all around, and I really did feel like it brought everyone, not just the bride and groom, together.

May God Agree With Us: A Samburu Prayer

Morning walk, Meru.

Mountain sunrise.

Yes, my God, you will save us:

Yes, my God, you will guide us,

and your thoughts will be with us night and day.

Grant us to remain a long time,

like the great wing of rain, like the long rains.

Give us the fragrance of a purifying branch.

Be the support of our burdens,

and may they always be untied,

the shells of fertility and mothers and children.

God be our safeguard, also where the shepherds are.

God, sky, with stars at your sides

and the moon in the middle of your stomach,

Morning of my God that is rising,

Come and hit us with your waters,

And God said, “all right.”

-Samburu, Kenya, from an African Prayer Book by Desmond Tutu

Pictures...

...can be found here. :)

Lost and Found

When people are gone for a long period of time here, Kenyan friends and family generally greet you with, “Where have you been? You’ve been lost for long…” I haven’t looked it up, but I’m thinking maybe it’s a Kiswahili translation that comes out a little differently in English. I knew right where I was the whole time. I could point it out to you on a map, but this isn’t exactly what they’re talking about here. I wasn’t lost, myself, I was lost to them…the community notices the absence, and the question posed is one of concern and care.

It has made me question the literalness of their question, though. I think I have been feeling a little “lost” as of late in the sense that they mean. I’ve been lost in my own thoughts, mostly about my future. I’ve been lost from home (home) and family (family) for a long time now. But even as a grade school kid, I realized that the best part of getting lost was finding a new way back… In this case, I’m being found…

I was in Kisumu, the western part of the country, for the National Drama Festivals when a kind stranger provided my first example. I was looking around in the evening our second night, hoping to find a cheap place in town to stay when I bumped into someone who immediately said, “you look lost…” I laughed inwardly, and said that I wasn’t lost, I was just looking for a place to stay, and did she know any? She mentioned her hotel and the price, which was too much for me, so I thanked her and thought I was moving on when she promptly told me I wouldn’t find a place at that hour and to please follow her… She whisked me away in her vehicle, found an empty room where she was staying, and decided to sponsor me for the night. I later learned that she worked for the ministry of education and also that she decided to sponsor me for the rest of the week- meals included, no charge. I didn’t really know how to take all the kindness in. My first reaction was to question it, “are you sure this is ok?” “I can really find a cheaper place to stay…” “Is it too much trouble…?” etc. She was a little taken aback by my questions and used the opportunity to tell me, “You see, though Africa is changing a lot, we still operate with a village mentality… when someone is lost and not from here, we have to take them into our village, to provide for them…It is our way.” I reluctantly accepted this new-found way.

Another example was when I “lost” my phone. I’d like to point out that clearly and unmistakably, my phone was stolen, but people over and over kept apologizing for my “phone getting lost…” As soon as it happened though, a search team quickly banded on a red hot hunt. My phone was never recovered, but someone let me borrow theirs until I replaced mine, and I made some friends along the way… The community was again taking on my loss as their own.

Things that I’m now losing as a result of my experience here is my tendency to bare loss on my own, or to not admit when I’m lost and need some guidance. Things are rarely done alone here, and their unwillingness to let me “suffer in silence,” reaffirms what I actually believe: that we are only truly found in community, in relationships with others. It was around Easter time when all of this took place. The holiday that evokes new life, of joy…of accepting a gift of life undeserved and then letting this gift be transformative in your own life. I know these beautiful gifts of hospitality I’ve received all throughout this year are working their transformations in me…

"What is our community, and how might that community be reconciled with our freedom? How far do our obligations reach? How do we transform mere power into justice, mere sentiment into love?... I find myself modestly encouraged, believing that so long as the questions are still being asked, what binds us together might somehow, ultimately, prevail." -Barack Obama, Dreams from My Father

What's UPdate

-The first term of school has been really busy, and I’ve been mostly consumed with co-directing the school play and taking it to various level competitions

-I moved to my own house on our school campus, nearest to the boys’ dormitories- who like to knock on my door to play UNO at odd hours

-I became a class teacher of Std 6. We are a class of 9 and they have really improved over the course of the term. I threw them a party

-I went to Kisumu near Lake Victoria for the National Drama Festivals. We didn’t place, but it was definitely an accomplishment to make it to the competition. I was so proud of our little ones. They really did their darndest.

-We took a boat ride on the big Lake (second largest freshwater lake in the world, only to Lake Superior) as a group and ate some freshly caught (like 5 min ago) fish

- I was able to take a day trip on my own in Kisumu and road on my first motorcycle (piki piki in Kiswahili) and got a special boat ride to see some hippos swimming around

-I got accepted to McCormick Theological Seminary in Chicago, and I’m now heavily weighing all the factors in going next year

-After my trip west, I went to the east coast, Mombasa and Malindi on the Indian Ocean, for some R & R with a fellow YAV teacher

-Went swimming every day on the coast because it was too ungodly hot to do much of anything else…developed a nice sunburn

- I’ll probably head back to Meru in the next couple days to teach those who want some extra assistance in the April holidays

- I’m a bridesmaid in my Kenyan friends’ wedding- a marathon ceremony will ensue on May 1

- Finding it hard to believe that come July 25^th I’m leaving Kenya… Only about three more months…

My Musings

Hey all. Apologies for not writing this month. It's been kind of a whirlwind, mostly because of our competing in the National Drama Festivals. It's all coming together this week when we head to Kisumu (in the western part of the country) for the final competition. I've had a real blast co-directing...

Below are some musings inspired by other YAV blogs- the brothers Josh (Kenya) and Tyler (India) Orem. I added to Josh's list below...

You know you're in Kenya when...

-the kiosk on the corner= you instant friends
-the polite "you go first wave" in traffic does not exist
- everyone can and does sing- on pitch- is a completely different story
- it'll be above 90 degrees and people still wear fleece
- a shoat or a geep is a hybrid goat/sheep and is fun to say
- if it smells like a burning rubbish heap...it probably is a burning rubbish heap
- Ugali= food staple consisting of corn meal and water: solidified on your plate AND in your stomach
- turns out, elephants don't live in their backyards, but you might pass one on the road...
- trousers= pants. pants=underwear. so it's best not to say silly things like "I got my pants all wet!"
- Intercessory Prayers during church sometimes become a shouting match over who can admit sin the loudest. The one with the mic usually wins.
- Who needs African acapella harmonies when you have a keyboard synthesizer and midi tracks? :(
-Rain= mud bath on your way to work the next morning
- Kenyans don't like cheese. So don't invite them over for dinner if you're having cheese pizza (lesson learned the hard way)
- That piece of colorful fabric can and is used several different ways: skirt, apron, baby holder, seedling spreader, picnic blanket, towel...
- Loving things made into other things! : bottle caps into jewelry, plastic bags bundled into soccer balls, tires into sandles...
-The peace sign means that one is abstaining (or "chilling") from sex, so it's important to know the context in which one flashes the symbol
- dubbed over Hispanic soap operas are primetime TV
- using God to advertise your business is effective marketing
- if you leave your shoes on the porch, someone might sneak by and clean them for you
- there is always always time for another cup of tea
- being on time is early, being a little late is still early...
- eating out: a hearty meal prepared with completely local foods probably costs $1.50
- everything is eaten with either a spoon or your hands- forks and knives are auxiliary

More to come most likely...

Much love from here,
D

Kenyan Monks and Merton

I spent two consecutive weekends in Benedictine monasteries recently. First with the kids for camping and scouting in Nanyuki (near Mt Kenya, cold, wet...). Then, in another place with the other YAVs for our bi-monthly meeting (also cold and wet, but very green---should I be complaining about cold? I'm not really...). Anyway, it's funny how feelings can transcend borders, and I definitely felt the same air of peace and tranquility that I did at the time I spent in the monastery at Gethesmene where the infamous activist and contemplative Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, lived. I was kicking myself over not bringing some of his books along with me, but I was not left completely void when I found this in my little YAV handbook. Maybe you will like it too...

Thomas Merton's, "Letter to a Young Activist"

Do not depend on the hope of results. When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on, essentially an apostolic work, you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but on the value, the truth of the work itself. And there, too, a great deal has to be gone through, as gradually as you struggle less and less for an idea, and more and more for specific people. The range tends to narrow down, but it gets much more real. In the end, it is the reality of personal relationships that saves everything.

You are fed up with words, and I don’t blame you. I am nauseated by them sometimes. I am also, to tell you the truth, nauseated by ideals and with causes. This sounds like heresy, but I think you will understand what I mean. It is so easy to get engrossed with ideas and slogans and myths that in the end one is left holding the bag, empty, with no trace of meaning left in it. And then the temptation is to yell louder than ever in order to make the meaning be there again by magic. Going through this kind of reaction helps you to guard against this. Your system is complaining of too much verbalizing, and it is right.

…The big results are not in your hands or mine, but they suddenly happen, and we can share in them, but there is no point in building our lives on this personal satisfaction, which may be denied us and which after all is not that important.

The next step in the process is for you to see that your even thinking about what you are doing is crucially important. You are probably striving to build yourself an identity in your work, out of your work and witness. You are using it, so to speak, to protect yourself against nothingness, annihilation. That is not the right use of your work. All the good that you will do will come, not from you but from the fact that you have allowed yourself, in the obedience of faith, to be used by God’s love. Think of this more and gradually you will be free from the need to prove yourself, and you can be more open to the power that will work through you without your knowing it.

The great thing after all is to live, not to pour out your life in the service of a myth; and we turn the best things into myths. If you can get free from the domination of causes and just serve Christ’s truth, you will be able to do more and will be less crushed by the inevitable disappointments. Because I see nothing whatever in sight but much disappointment, frustration, and confusion.

The real hope, then, is not in something we think we can do, but in God who is making something good out of it in some way we cannot see. If we can do His will, we will be helping in this process. But we will not necessarily know all about it beforehand . . .