Here’s To One Heck Of An Introduction

 The word around the volunteer compound was that we’d been invited to a wedding introduction. A wedding introduction? “What’s that?” I’d asked. Moses approached us after dinner on Friday night and explained that a wedding introduction is a big event in which the families of the bride-and-groom-to-be meet for the first time. He explained further that one of his neighbors had a son whose wedding introduction was the following morning, and because the location of the introduction was in a remote village near the border of Uganda and Kenya, an approximate 2-3 hour drive away, this man, not having an adequate vehicle for the journey, had asked Moses for transport. Moses, who’s keen on sharing Ugandan culture with others, had informed the neighbor that he had volunteers visiting, and managed to get the invitation extended to us. As a group, we decided that this was possibly a once in a lifetime opportunity and one we did not want to let pass us by. We were only asked to contribute the equivalent of $8 USD each to help cover the cost of petrol, as Moses would now need to take his van instead of his car.

We rose early on Saturday and had our typical breakfast of hard boiled eggs, bread, peanut butter and jam, and bananas fresh from the tree. Except on this particular morning, instead of being allowed to fully finish our meals, Pam and I were whisked away by the ladies of the house to begin getting dressed. We each started with a base layer of our own tank tops and leggings. First, we were wrapped in a thick, brightly colored fabric that looked like a rainbow. This layer was
tied tightly at our waists and served the purpose of covering our bodies if the outer, prettier layer gaped open. My outer, pretty layer was a sheer light pink and Pam’s was red and white silk. Both had flowers and over the outer floral layers, large sashes were tied at our waists. The sashes, along with the pointed shoulders of the dresses were the prominent features that identified our attire as traditional Ugandan garments. Pam and I stood with our arms raised high as Florence, Winnie, Lidia, and Sharon buzzed all around us, delicately folding and tucking fabric and cinching and tying where needed. They took great care with every detail, down to silver clip that Winnie placed in my hair. What an honor it was for them to allow us to borrow some of their best clothes, so that our experience could be enriched. When we exited the room where we were getting dressed, I did a little dance, swirled the dress, and held it up on one side as Winnie had shown me. This was the
traditional way to walk in the dress. There were smiles all around. Climbing up into the van, however, proved to be rather challenging. As lovely as the dress was, it was about 3 sizes too big for me, and drug the ground when I wasn’t lifting it.

We piled into the van, not knowing what to expect. Pam, Chris and I took the bench seat in the very back of the large van, and Parker chose the front passenger seat next to Moses. We knew we had to stop and pick up the father of the groom, but when we did, 3 ladies, all dressed similarly to me and Pam, also accompanied him. All 4 of them squeezed in together on the middle bench seat. They greeted us warmly, and although they looked exquisite, they almost completely blocked our view toward the front of the van, and most of the air circulating back to us. There were now a total of 9 people inside, and boy was the day starting to heat up!

Next, we stopped at two different gas stations. I still don’t know why went from the first gas station, to a second one, then back to the first, but I do know that Moses realized we had a flat tire, which he changed on our second visit to the first gas station. While we waited, with no air at all circulating, it felt like my body was roasting in the abundantly layered clothing! At our next stop, we pulled up to a building and all the Ugandans exited the van. We had no idea where we were, nor for what purpose, but I did not hesitate to seize the opportunity to remove my leggings from under the other two layers. Ah, minor relief! Soon, the locals returned, but they now had several large cakes and one extra large cake. The baker had accompanied them out to discuss transport and display. As we were observing this exchange, we realized that these were all of the cakes for the event and I already had a good idea where they would likely sit during transport. Moses and one of the ladies approached the vehicle, leaned in, examined the space between our feet and the back of the seat in front of us, and then politely asked if they could load all of the cakes in the floorboard at our feet. Of course we agreed, although our level of discomfort increased from “just sitting here melting” to “just sitting here melting and unable to stretch out our legs or move our feet.”

Just as with previous travel with Moses around Uganda, we opened windows for air while traveling on paved roads, as this saves on petrol expenses. When we traveled on dirt roads, we were asked to close all windows and use the vehicle’s air conditioning. This is done to keep the dust from coming inside the vehicle and choking us. The realities of this situation were as follows: a) there was no coolant in the AC, so it just circulated warm air and b) we really couldn’t feel any form of air in the very back anyway. Did I mention that we were melting? We could just barely see around the heads in front of us enough to glimpse Parker’s long, flowing, golden hair blowing in the breeze in the front seat. At this point, we realized that we had already been in the van for over 2 hours, and we hadn’t even left town to officially begin the journey yet. No wonder the motto in Africa is to always expect the unexpected.

We finally set off for the introduction. About half way there, we stopped for Moses to buy us all chapatti from a man cooking them along the roadside. It was interesting to see the man patting out the dough and grilling it on his little burner. Moses waited patiently for each one to be made, then passed them back to us in clear bags. We ate the folded, scorching hot dough straight from the bags, giving the term “bag lunch” a whole new meaning. This was the beginning of Pam’s love affair with roadside chapatti. The downside, the super hot temperature of our food made us feel even hotter!

Our destination was about 10 kilometers from the Kenyan border, and as we got closer, I saw more mountains rising on the horizon. The view was looking more and more like the land I was familiar with seeing in Kenya and Tanzania. After we’d been in the van for approximately 3 hours, we pulled from the main road and onto a dirt road. We followed the dirt road for a few miles, then turned onto a more rugged dirt road that appeared to be nothing more than a path, barely visible in the bush. “Where in the world are we going?” I wondered.

After driving through tall grass for a few minutes, we came upon a small community of nicely spaced out dirt homes. Children came running from all directions to investigate the van, and the strange people inside it. Once again, all of the Ugandans exited the vehicle and left the 4 Americans curiously waiting inside. While our friends walked off to greet some of the elders, more and more children gathered around the van. I observed their inquisitive stares and their big smiles when we waved. When I said “jambo” they all got so excited, and a few of them whispered “jambo” in response. It occurred to me that this is a place where no volunteers visit. We were quite literally in the middle of nowhere, where we had gained access only after forcing the van over large tree roots and between deep trenches. It hit me. We are the first white people they have ever seen. Back at the school, in Jinja Town, and in Kampala, seeing white skin often results in a second glance, but the children at the school have seen other volunteers, and people in the cities have seen more than a white traveler or two. Here, far away from the cities and the places where volunteers visit, they live a very simple life and have not had much exposure to the world beyond the end of their dirt road. Our van sits parked in the shade of a large, beautiful tree. Parker makes the remark that we are like animals at the zoo. The large knife in the hand of one of the older boys made Pam and Parker nervous. I sat quietly, absorbing the realization of what a miracle that moment was.

When our Ugandan friends returned to the van, the man we were assisting with transport explained the reason for our stop here. He told us that this is the home village of he and his wife (one of the ladies with him) and she had wanted to stop and drop off some supplies to her mother, who still lived in the village. Without us asking, he next told us that we were the first white people the children had ever seen, confirming our assumption. He thanked us for visiting and for coming along on this journey. As we pulled out, all of the children ran after the van and cheered. A few adults approached the van to greet their old friends, and when they saw us inside, they smiled warmly and greeted us too. What a pleasant community.

Our next stop, about 15 minutes later, was at the village where the groom was currently living. We incorrectly assumed that we had finally reached our destination, and began looking for the white party tents we’d heard so much about. While there was a small group of people gathered here, we learned that this was not the location of the introduction. Moses explained to us that this was just the groom’s family, and as part of the tradition, they were all gathered here first to collect gifts and then to travel to the bride’s village together. After being stuffed inside the back of the van for roughly 5 hours by this point, the cakes were finally removed and we got to crawl out. Upon planting my feet on the ground, I quickly realized that in all the squirming I’d done in the back of the van trying to get comfortable, the pretty, outer layer of my dress had come undone. We are all excitedly greeted, then I am ushered over to a tree where all of the women are getting ready separate from the men. All of the women looked up in surprise as I approached in traditional garments. Some smiled broadly, some laughed, one told me I looked “smart.” The same lady who offered the compliment stopped doing her make-up and stood to assist me with my dress. At this point I then realized that the event videographer is videoing me. Another woman rushed up to snap photos on her phone. She was standing just next to Chris, who had by this time joined the paparazzi-like scene, and was also taking pictures.

We walked back over to where Moses, Pam and Parker were sitting in plastic lawn chairs in the shade of a tree next to a home. We joined them in the few rows of strategically placed chairs. We are introduced to several members of the groom’s family as they periodically take a break from the festivities to say hello. We sat for a while and more curious children gathered around. Scattered across the lawn were various gifts for the bride: brightly colored gift bags, baskets filled with
fruit, boxes of household supplies, a live chicken with its feet tied together, wearing a blue bow.

What happened next, I will never forget, although I wish I could. I asked Moses where I could use the toilet. Since he himself did not know the answer, he went to inquire. He came back and told me, “You are about to have another true African experience.” I was about to use a real pit latrine. Moses led me and Pam to a tiny dirt hut behind the home. Pam did not have to use the bathroom, but I had asked her to come for moral support. Moses asked me to follow the path around to the front of the hut, but when I urged Pam to accompany me, he insisted she stay at that end of the trail. I just wanted someone to hide me from view if need be! Or rescue me if there were a tragic accident! I wandered up the little path alone and turned to face the front of the hut. Standing at 5’3″, even I had to duck my head to enter. I pushed back the dirty, tattered rag that only partially hid the dirt hole in the ground and went inside. A fly buzzed. A pile of dirt completely filled all of the space behind the hole. There was barely enough room in front of the hole, and on either side, for me to stand, hold up the long dress with all of the layers, and pee. The saving grace is that there was surprisingly no bad smell. Toilet paper was out of the question. Crawling out of the hut, I felt disgusting. I was a hot, disheveled mess. Moses did show me some water to wash my hands, but soap was also out of the question. Thank goodness I am a hand sanitizer addict!

Shortly after revisiting my chair by the tree, everyone announced that it was time to load up and travel to the bride’s village. We were asked if the videographer could ride with us. He climbed inside and stood on the middle bench with his head and body out the sunroof. We led the trail of cars and he videoed the parade behind us. I couldn’t believe we were able to fit another body inside that van! Another 15 minutes later, we’d finally reached our final destination! We saw 3 very large white tents, a long red carpet leading up to an arch, bustling caterers, and about 300 official guests seated under the tents. Even more people from the nearby villages had gathered around to watch, standing under trees or sitting in the grass all around. Another surprise came when we were asked to officially enter the event with the groom’s family and friends. Two long lines formed along the red carpet, one for men and one for women. Pam and I joined the line of women, who were all straightening their bright dresses and perfecting their hair. I was so thankful for Florence’s kindness in allowing me to wear her dress, despite the previous hassles from earlier in the day. Chris, Parker, and Moses joined the line of suit-wearing men. We all entered under the arch and were seated under the tent reserved for the groom’s side. 

Over the next several hours, we got to witness many more of the cultural traditions of a Ugandan wedding introduction. There was a lot of music and dancing, a drama acted out by the bride’s family, much back and forth conversation over microphones that we couldn’t understand (Moses helped translate some), and an elaborate gift exchange. Everyone sat and watched as each part unfolded. A lot of the women from the bride’s family would bow to receive gifts from the groom’s family. We got to witness the bride’s family “find the groom” and the groom’s family “find the bride.” Both the bride and groom were randomly seated somewhere under their respective tents and only after the family searched for them and “found” them, were they allowed to sit together. It was also part of the tradition for the brother of the groom to present a chicken (the one with the blue bow) to the bride’s family. Unfortunately, the cow exchange had already taken place so we missed it. At one point in the festivities, Chris was identified as Barack Obama and Parker as George Bush.

The evening was getting late and since we had not had much to eat, and it hadn’t looked like dinner would be anytime soon, Moses got special permission for us to have our dinner before the rest of the guests. We slipped away to a small home behind one of the tents. A few members of the family served us heaping plates of green beans, carrots, posho, peanut sauce, and chapatti. The others also had chicken. After our dinner, we returned to the festivities and had front row seats. The ants here were ferocious! They kept attacking all of us, crawling up our legs and across our clothes. I admittedly whined in misery a few times about the continued heat, the uncomfortable dress, the bathroom experience, and those darn ants. All around me, people celebrated with such joy. Another lesson learned.

Although Moses had originally told us we’d be back on the road, headed home by 7pm, dinner was just being served to the rest of the guests at 8pm. Also at this time, a huge storm with strong winds and lightning began sweeping across the field. The trees were blowing vigorously, as were the tents and all of the decorations. Pam and Parker tried waiting for the cake, as they’d been dreaming about a piece ever since they’d been placed at our feet. I wanted nothing more than to be back inside the van before the rain hit, as getting caught in the rain would have been the icing on my cake. I was wearing sandals and my feet already had a few cuts from trying to navigate the natural landscape earlier in the day, and I knew it could be treacherous trying to make a run for it in the dark, in the rain, with all those people. Thankfully, Chris and I rushed back and made it to the van in just enough time to beat the torrential rains. Outside, everyone began running. I was also thankful that I had just enough time to change clothes before the others came jumping into the van. The drive home was scary with the heavy rains and poor road conditions. Parker and the father of the groom had to get out and push the van over some large tree roots once. Late that night, we made it home, safe and sound. The wedding introduction proved to be a memorable introduction to our time in Uganda!