African celebrations

(This post was written over the span of the weekend, so I apologize for the tense changes).

The surprised look on people’s faces when I tell them that I take a taxi from the office to Ntinda has done much to boost my confidence in my transportation abilities and helped me to feel more “local.” Catching the taxi today was a breeze, and I smirked as I sat in the front row. I have finally figured out that it is much easier to exit from the front, rather than having to crawl past people, babies, bike tires, and sacks of plantains from the back. I sat back, content, until about five minutes into the trip, the baby’s head near my right arm moved. Now, when I took my seat I had noticed that I was sitting next to a mom and her two children—one who looked to be very young. What I had failed to notice, but soon discovered when the baby’s head moved, was that this mom was breast-feeding her young son. And if I hadn’t mentioned before, these taxis are PACKED. So, essentially this mom was nursing both her baby and my right forearm. Fantastic. And the mom was not in the least bit fazed by my intrusion. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the situation. Just when I think I’ve seen it all…

This taxi experience was followed shortly by the experience of an African celebration/family gathering. And I must say, nothing could have prepared me…

A graduation party was held at the Mwadime house for a Kenyan cousin who just graduated from Makerere University. Because of this milestone, relatives and friends had come from Kenya and crowded into the house, bringing with them tote bags with Obama’s face plastered on them and sacks of different types of millet flour. I wasn’t in the front room when the group first arrived at the house, but from my room I could hear some sort of chant/song. Meki laughed at my bewildered look and then explained to me that it was a greeting song that family members in Sonia’s tribe sang/chanted in the mother-tongue when reunited after a long time apart. And I used to think that a hug or handshake was sufficient…

After hearing that “just a few” people were coming (“a few” being 60+) to the actual party I tried to mentally prepare myself for what the house would look like when I came back from the office around 4 on Friday. I figured the close family members would be home, and may have started the yard preparations and some of the cooking. I got off the boda-boda, walked into backyard, and was greeted by what I can only define as a “production.”

At 4 pm there were about 15 people (all who I’ve never seen before) in stages of stirring, cooking, frying, and baking. 15+ other people are crowded into the living room and kitchen, speaking a mix of Kiswahili and tribal languages. My room is a mess of handbags and grocery bags, and women are filing in and out as they start putting on their best attire and makeup. I thought that Americans dressed up for occasions, but I’d have to say, Africans have us beat—and not only because they can pull off rainbow colored frocks that do nothing but make me look whiter than I already am…

The official start to the party was about 9 p.m., and took place on the decked out front lawn. The graduate sat at a front table with her two friends while relatives and friends took turns giving speeches about her achievements and character. It was a very formal affair, with long-winded speeches (90% of whose space was occupied by praise for God), however, the traditional songs and dance performed by Sonia’s tribe absolutely captured what it means to “celebrate.” I was the unofficial photographer at this event, and now I’m working on editing the pictures and putting them on a CD to give to the family. All of the relatives and friends were so friendly to me, and genuinely interested in what brought me to Uganda and whether or not I was enjoying my time in the country. I am constantly taken aback by the sheer sincerity of everyone I’ve met here.