Dowry Ceremony

Last weekend we were in Nairobi for a dowry ceremony. The long and the short of it is that if bloke wishes to marry bird and bird agrees marry bloke, blokes family have to come to an agreement with birds family to compensate them for the money they have invested in her thus far. If agreement is reached, party ensues, if agreement is not reached, then it’s good night Vienna.

I was a guest of James and James is the cousin of the bloke, so I was part of the bloke’s entourage. . As the whole family is involved and the whole family is expected to stump up to get the dowry together, we had all been instructed to meet up at a petrol station in Kiambu on the outskirts of Narirobi just before lunchtime. I told myself this must be to agree on our negotiation strategy over numerous cups of tea. As always my imagination ran away me and I beguiled the mutatu ride to Kiambu with visions of an enormous Mario Puzo mafiosi style family meet. I was eagerly expecting to meet people called Teflon, Two Times and So n’ So “the boss” So n’ So with information on who shot Kennedy, and crooked senators from Idaho and Arizona who would grease the wheels of my Foreign Office job application in exchange for the return of the compromising photos I had of
them. I didn’t.

It seemed that the tactics were on a need to know basis also, and I didn’t need to know , but family member after family member slipped off to the back of the cafe to hand over cash to a formidable woman who I assumed must be “book-keeper”. Once all the cash had been stashed in the book-keepers handbag (god have mercy on the mugger who tried to snatch her bag!) we moved to the cars.

The bride’s family had very thoughtfully provided a list of things that we had to bring with us as the “entrance fee”. This included crates 8 of fizzy pop. I was told as we loaded the crates that it is not uncommon for the bride’s family to go so far as to refuse the groom’s family entry and scratch the whole fixture should the shopping list not be brought in its entirety.

With the crates loaded we moved off in convoy and drove the 15 minutes or so to the meet. I suggested that we take a slightly convoluted route and make a couple of U-Turns to ensure we weren’t being tailed or hadn’t been compromised. No one else thought this necessary and some thought it just a waste of petrol, so I shut up and I decided to drop the gangster euphemisms.

We arrived to an empty garden laid out with chairs and 2 tables laden with food. Seeing as I was the only one who thought it strange that no-one else was around, I kept my mouth shut and followed everyone else.

But still none of the bride’s family appeared. Wondering what was going on I turned to my neighbour and inquired. One of James' cousins told me that until a deal had been brokered, no intercourse was allowed between the 2 families .. so until then the entire bride’s family must remained inside while we sat outside chit-chatting and wolfing down the food that had been provided.

Once we had eaten our fill, 5 from our side (including the book-keeper) got up and made there way to the house to begin negotiations with an equal number from the bride’s side. This is invariably the way apparently; it can be of any number as long as they are equal. We, well I, sat in tense anticipation. The others , seasoned veterans, were doing their best t hide it.

I almost wish I could say that discussions went on through the night and after several desperate acts of brinksmanship on both sides, the talks broke down, all the guests were ejected, and the bride and groom eloped to Gretna. But I can't and to the relief of all concerned, agreement was reached in record time. (emissaries must have been dispatched in advance to prepare the ground).

No sooner had the negotiators announced the good news, the bride’s family appeared from their hiding places and joined the throng. General merry making ensued: introductions to each and everyone (I was introduced as Matthew from the British branch of the family), singing, dancing and consumption of the 8 crates of fizzy pop. Then as night fell we all went on our way.

James and I spent the night at his Aunt’s place. A formidable women and printing magnate she spent much of the evening grilling me on where she could pick up the best second hand printing machines. I told here Heidelberg and she seemed more than satisfied with my answer.

On Sunday we went to buy gear for climbing Kilimanjaro. With 2 friends from London who are evidently as mentally unbalanced as I am (yes that’s you Ali & Ivor), we are embarking upon this mass suicide on the 25th August. Apparently it takes 6 days up (the last 1-2 days with the likelihood of excruciating altitude sickness) and 2 days down (there must be a helter-skelter). So armed with new boots, gloves and one of those water sack things with a pipe that I cannot figure out for the life of me, all of this week I have been walking miles. Indeed today, together with Mr. Jackson who I have engaged as my guide for the coming weeks in exchange for lunch and as much tea as he can drink (a lot as it turns out), we have walked by my estimate 15km. I am sitting writing this with my feet in a bucket of cool water.

But what of the school?? Well:
. Leopard won in the inter-house football competition this week.
. Tomorrow we have a dance troop called DICE coming from Nairobi to work with our music club. They kids are VERY excited (they get excited very easily).
. We have started landscaping part of the school field to have an area for reading and sitting to watch the games (I spent much of the last 2 days sketching designs)
. Plans to erect a green house are well underway also so we can grow tomatoes and peppers

And next week end of term exams begin.