February 2^nd

Yesterday I attended a traditional Ugandan marriage ceremony. Let me tell you the story. Last week (I’ve only been here a week) I was reading a wedding invitation for Jimmy and Rebecca, posted on the bulletin board outside of the Director’s office.  Jimmy, a teacher in the school whom I had met, came up beside me and said, “That’s me. I hope you will come.” And I said I would. I arranged transportation for the wedding which was to be at 10 AM on the following Saturday. Tony, the regular driver for the school, said he was going to the marriage ceremony. He told me that it was not a wedding, but the traditional Ugandan marriage ceremony, called the “introductions”, that takes place during the week before the religious/civil wedding. When I said, “So, you will pick me up at about 9:30?”, he laughed and said, “No, I will pick you up at about noon. These things always run late.” Little did I know.

On Saturday, yesterday, I waited, and by 1PM, I figured he wasn’t coming. I was somewhat disappointed, but also somewhat content because I was (am) reading a good novel. At 2 PM, a different car than usual pulled up, driven by Sam, the Director, who was handsomely dressed in a dark suit. I don’t even have a suit with me, so I apologized and he said don’t worry about it. We went to the second campus (the original campus) of UCI, where there were many men in suits, and women in beautiful dresses. From there, in several cars, we went to the other side of Lira, to a field which had been prepared with open-sided tents of the type used in outdoor meetings, set up on three sides of an approximately 50 yard square, with a building (where the cooking was being done), the shade of which provided shade for the fourth side of the square. In the middle of the square, under a canopy, on a table was a beautiful multilayered wedding cake, with a number of smaller cakes around it Already several hundred people were there, about half of whom were dressed in finery. The ceremony had not yet started.

In the car in which  I traveled, Sam’s car (actually Sam’s car borrowed from a friend) a very small, somewhat decrepit Toyota,  rode me, Sam, Jimmy Francis, brother of Augustine and acting director of Keframa College, Reverend Bosco of the Lira Pentecostal Church, and another reverend (he is a youth pastor). When we arrived at the celebration we were escorted directly to the front row of the bride’s side of the gathering. I sat beside the mother of the bride, but we didn’t say much. Two of her beautifully dressed and beautiful grandchildren (I imagine) would come and go from her throughout the afternoon, becoming whinier and clingier as the afternoon went on, and as the day got hotter and they got hungrier.

There was a master of ceremonies, and fortunately most of the things he and others said (in Luo) were translated into English, not for my sake, but for the sake of many of the bride’s family who were from a different clan and speak a different language. Also fortunately, I sat beside Reverend Bosco, who would answer my questions and occasionally provide other information. There were multiple introductions, including people who had come from other regions, introduced as groups, other important people such as bosses and pastors. Some of those introduced gave speeches, extemporaneous and of varying lengths. I was introduced. I did not give a speech.

Some time later (at this point I wasn’t keeping track…yet) the ceremony began, and it was wonderful. Through a small arch of flowers (they called it a “padlock”, and previously, before the ceremony, there had been some activity about waiting for the “key” to the padlock; I had wondered about chastity belts before I knew the story) came first the groom’s party, which included some relatives and close friends, about 20 in all. They all sat on the groom’s side of the square facing us. Next through the arch came a group of young women (about 15 or so), dressed in finery, processing slowly and rhythmically, many carrying baskets with gifts. They went around the square and then knelt on large woven mats in front of the groom’s party. Several of the groom’s party came forward and walked around the young women, searching for the bride (I was told). They made a great show of it but couldn’t find her, so that group of women processed back through the padlock, and another group of young women, similar to the first group, processed and were reviewed in the same way. In the middle of this group, surrounded by the kneeling and standing women, the groom’s men found the bride.

After she is found she stands (kneels?) in front of the groom’s party and is asked to find the groom (called the best looking one) which she readily accomplishes. They then cross the square and she  introduces him to her parents. They then cross the square again and he introduces her to his parents. The couple then sits across from each other in front of the groom’s side and exchanges some gifts. Several preachers in the audience were called forward to bless the couple.

Next, one of the preachers said, “We have had this ceremony, now let’s hear from the Lord” and proceeded to give a long (45 minute?) fire and brimstone sermon about marriage, all of it translated phrase by phrase.

There followed a young woman who sang a song, karaoke-style. Many people got up and danced as she sang. Then some time-filler jokes from the MC, followed by a Ugandan dance performed by a youth group from a local church. They wore grass skirts and grass headbands over their western clothes. Again many people got up to dance with them toward the end.

Finally, the caterers brought out 4 long tables and pots and pots of food. But before we could begin, the fathers of the bride and groom were asked to introduce all of their family and clan members in attendance. And they did, every last one of them. The head of the bride’s clan gave a rambling speech, un-translated, so I don’t know what it was about.

Well, finally (again) we lined up buffet-style and loaded our plates with white sweet potatoes, beans, a white sauce with greens in it, tough barbecued pork, chicken, and a black kind of gooey bread that tasted all right. We ate with our fingers, as most people here do at most meals. They kept shooing local ragamuffin children out of the line, but let them in after everyone else had been served, to give them the leftovers.

After we ate, everyone left fairly quickly. And five and a half hours after I’d left home I made it back.

What a day.