The Introduction

Today we go to the Introduction. I ride there with Festus, Dan (who drives) and two woman (Waboe and Roobe) who are visiting from Kenya form a sister program to Volset. We drive in the opposite direction for 15 minutes to get gas at a village right on Lake Victoria. People are wading in the water all along the shore filling jerry cans (the yellow ones) with water. Long fishing boats scatter the shore. Then we visit ( 15 more minutes out of the way) another sister program to show the Kenya girls.

I am missing home as we drive. The roads are so incredibly bumpy and uneven. WE drive through huge puddles of opaque orange water. I sleep most of the way.

We get there and eat before we go in. Festus says that way we are full and look really polite and patient during the ceremony. We had bought food, yogurt, and soda in Mukono. (I eat dairy every chance I get.) A man comes up with money thinking we are selling from our trunk.

I change into the traditional shirt and put on Festus’ coat. Most of the men at the Introduction are wearing a shirt like this. It starts to rain so we wait in the car for about an hour before going inside. Festus doesn’t want it to look like we are coming in just because of the rain. And I think he wants to wait for the Irish who are still pretty far away. (I don’t think most of them want to come.)

I like the Introduction as much as I like American weddings. It is very long and in a different language, but sometimes the crowd would burst into laughing. Sometimes I would pretend I knew what was going on and I would laugh too. The Kenya girls were just as lost.

The groom’s side sits across from the bride’s and each has a spokesman with a microphone. Then women and men (equivalent to the bridal party and groomsmen) take turns to come out and dance for the different sides. There are people with cameras and a videographer (with an old school camera that fists the whole VHS tape, like the one my brothers and sisters and I used to play with.)

Eventually, the groom side (30-40 people) go out and come back with the dowry to place in front of the bride and her grandmother (or maybe that’s her mother) and bridal party. Cases and cases of soda, salt, sugar, food, greens, a big butchered animal, a rooster, and a goat (both alive.) The goat starts eating a small banana tree. Also luggage and a piece of furniture wrapped in shiny wrapping paper, and small gifts for the bridal party and also fathers and grandfathers.

Then the bride and groom cut a small, decorated cake. The man sits in a chair as the bride, with her party, feed a piece of cake to the groom, and give him sips orange and citrus Fanta.

Festus has to leave and drop of Lydia’s daughter in Kampala at her university. I go with the Irish to leave and we make it to the car, but Julius says it is rude not to eat. So we go back and wait in line. They let us go right after the wedding party. I don’t like it and say that we don’t deserve to just cut in front of other family. They say they understand we have to get home. Erin says she used to try to fight it, but Ugandans are sometimes persistent at placing a Muzungo traveler in a seat of honor. The food is typical Ugandan food, but a bit better with more spices.

On the ride home the Irish are Irish. I told them they might as well be speaking Luganda, I have no idea what they are saying half the time. They are surprised that I feel safer in America than another country like Uganda. I think they have this idea that we live in constant fear of terrorist attacks. I read about Osama’s video in a Uganda newspaper.

We pass through Kampala and I go into a grocery store that looks almost western. The Indian owner introduces himself and shows Erin and me his commercial drivers license from Atlanta, Georgia. He used to drive up and down I-75. I buy chocolate milk mix and a 3 oz. bottle of Louisiana hot sauce. Made in the USA! I’ve been dying for some – it was on my list of things I wish I brought.

I try to sleep on the way back but the roads make it impossible. Two of the Irish boys find out through conversation that I’m a virgin. They try to tease me about it – but I told them maybe if it wasn’t my choice to be a virgin, I would be embarrassed, but I live the way I do on purpose – so I’m not ashamed of it one bit. I am annoyed at how clever they think they’re being.

I get home and go right to bed. Who knows what I’m doing tomorrow.