Of Village Weddings

So whilst people celebrated the death and resurrection of our Lord this Easter holiday, I spent mine giving my cousin-sister or rather cousin away at a simple but lavish ceremony and then also officially sending her off on a nice and yet very simple wedding.

Unlike town weddings/introduction-giveaway ceremonies, where its extravagant and so and so is being invited, this, this was something else.

It was beautiful how the whole village assembled when they saw tents coming up and speakers being put. This to them was a sign of what a great night it was going to be. To them it was an opportunity to see lights and listen to the latest local tracks that they enjoyed dancing to.

Food was also something. These fold don’t care! They love food. Actually, meat was the thing. An opportunity to eat as much meat as you can without being castigated was also reason to celebrate. Let the story begin.

Part of the family left early Thursday travelling west along the Masaka-Mbarara highway. As is the norm, packing was done the day before with a buzz of what it would be like travelling. Before day break, we had set off. What had began as a simple drizzle letter broke into rain it was hard to see. Seeing as the road is still under construction, there were no lanes or even markers as people zoomed by.

I prayed the day break early but seeing as it was raining heavily, that wouldn’t help either. The car was is a serviced-the-day-before condition so driving was not a issue.

Since I was driver, I had to ensure the safety of the people I was driving. As day broke, around 7:15 am, 50km along the Masaka road, my worst nightmare happened. As I sloped down approaching Kamengo, a trailer that had also turned on the furthest end of the road lost control. I can’t be sure why, but the trailer sort of glided over the road and into the embankment by the road side. Confused and dazed, with the heavy rains not helping, and the desire to stop and help, I decided that the best help would be to get to the police station that was close by.

As soon as I reached the police, all I could stutter was accident, now, down the road. The police quickly set up for set off. Feeling that I had done my part and praying and hoping for the best, I continued my journey. It rained from Home till somewhere past Lyantonde on the Masaka – Mbarara road.

The lightning fizzled in the background and sometimes the streaks shuttered in the distance I wished they had not struck anything.

Finally, we get home, exhausted but also down. My prayer was hoping that the trailer driver was alive.

As with going to the village, every one is excited to see you, even the farm dogs.

I need to rest. I had barely slept the previous night and had spent all morning driving.

That evening, we made preparations for the Friday introduction and give away ceremony which I dare was a success.

But the wedding, the wedding is what did it for me. Mass was supposed to start at midday and the maids were done dressing at 11:15 am. Unfortunately, the church was 55km away and needed to be there in the quickest time possible. Seeing as we were going to represent a large part of the bride’s side, we also need, or rather, I was supposed to give her way so I had to be at the church at midday.

Driving 55km to a church with a mother as a co driver is not the best experience. It comes with instructions, questions about how you go the driving license even after she paid for it a couple of years to you are driving too slow in a fast zone and too fast in a slow zone. But we made it in time albeit 30 minutes later.

We waited another 1 hour before the actual mass began.

After the mass, in our simple motorcade, we went to the reception grounds. As we approached the grounds, we made a slight detour to through the town, and the detour continued. There’s no part of that town we didn’t reach with our motorcade. I mean, it was a special day for their loan officer. And the best part, we hooted the whole way like we were campaigning for another marriage or something.

We then went to the reception the talk of the town. As we sat down to eat, there was quite a crowd. After we were done it, we don’t know what happened to the crowd. There was enough drink and…..splish splash splosh cake cutting. There was also a ridiculous MC aka Big Spender.

But the fun part began when they opened the dance floor. All the village kids arrived. From where though, I don’t know. But they were all over the place. Some even somersaulting into the venue. I did actually see one with a sachet of Uganda Waragi but then it was not my place to judge but rather muse at how he had come.

Being designated driver, I had to see my folk take down alcohol like their kidneys and liver were just 20 years old. It was amazing.

My take way from this trip is definitely Taban lo Liyong’s Frantz Fanon’s Uneven Ribs. I did carry this book with the hope I can peruse through it but that too failed. It is an amazing write and read. Why do we not have people of such literary awe these days?

His first musings of Wanted (Dead or Alive) Black Orpheus do tackle this and I wont deny you the opportunity to find out.

No, I am not proof reading or correcting anything. It’s 2:28am. I have been back less than 6 hours.