Will our bottoms ever recover?

The Saturday before last started at the quite unearthly hour of 3.50am when we got up, to leave the house at 4.30am, to catch a bus that was supposed to be leaving the diocese at 5am sharp…but in fact left at a very Rwandan 5.50am. We were all too aware of the extra hour we could have spent in bed, but that's how things go! We then proceeded to drive for five hours (with one wee stop in a very dark long drop toilet, down which I nearly dropped more than I should have!) to a place called Mutara on the East side of Rwanda. We arrived about 11am at a marquee just off the road. And the event? A traditional wedding introduction that we had been invited to – a perfect opportunity to wear our traditional outfits again, and to really experience traditional Rwandan culture…on not-so-traditional Rwandan plastic furniture that was to be home to our backsides for the next five hours!

So, we arrived about 11am, and then went and got changed in a dark room in a house with no electricity. The lack of electricity wouldn't have been such a problem, if the family hadn't decided that the doors needed a fresh coat of paint, probably only hours before we arrived! It was nothing short of a miracle that my pink material remained pink… I can tell you! My only mistake really was dressing myself. I fastened the bottom half round my waist, then put the top half over my shoulder which Tracy knotted in the traditional way…then thinking I was ready, I picked up my backpack, promptly un-knotting the top half and then tried to leave the house, at which point I was mobbed by half a dozen people protesting at me in Kinyarwanda! I tried to explain that it was OK – I was going to retie the top half once I was outside in the light…but somebody translated that there was no way I was leaving the house, with a gap the length of Rwanda running from my hips to my feet where I hadn't done the skirt up, even nearly properly! So, I was redressed by a Rwandan woman who knew exactly what she was doing, overlapping the skirt which I had totally forgotten to do, and tying the top half so that even my bag couldn't destroy the knot!

Well, a Muzungu is always looked at, and pointed at…but one with underskirts showing would be too, too much! So after that narrow escape we were lead to our plastic seats and sat down thinking that it wouldn’t be long before the introduction started…we couldn’t have been more wrong! About two hours later when we had exhausted every “spot that guest” game with a particularly fine variation of “spot the old man with a stick” it finally began. It was at least another half an hour before the groom arrived and another hour and a half before we had any site of the bride!! In fact the first half of the wedding was dominated by the old men with sticks that we had had so much fun spotting! It turns out that Rwandans love to speak, especially the men – if there is an opportunity for a speech it is rarely missed! The beginning of the wedding introduction is an exchange between the old men with sticks on the groom’s side who are asking what the old men with sticks on the bride’s side will take in exchange for the bride. In this case they wanted cows…and that was EXACTLY what they got. Well, this is the only wedding I’ve ever been to attended by six long-horn cows…they played special cow-marching music and in came the cows, poked from behind and not looking terribly pleased about it! Then the groom was introduced, and went to sit at the front amongst the grass pots (which seem to be a big part of traditional culture – they don’t have anything in them but they are everywhere, stuck to walls, propped up on poles…blowing off in the wind when a storm blew up – sending the DJ running for shelter – dreadlocks and all!)

To cut an already too long story short and save you all the boredom that we experienced, the bride finally appeared about four hours into the ceremony and walked on with three other girls, who were apparently all called Ruth, and Fred (the groom) had to go and identify which Ruth he wanted. Then everyone cracked open a fanta (obviously a highly important part of the traditional Rwandan culture, seeing as crates of it featured highly throughout the ceremony and the bride and groom wandered off to get fed to much singing. And then…wait for it…we were fed – I don’t think I have ever been so hungry – it was about 6.30pm when we ate, and we hadn’t eaten since breakfast at 4.00am and the snacks I took on the bus…most of which had to be shared by the entire bus. However, they entertained us with their singing so I didn’t mind – it is amazing how these people just break into song in harmony, with rhythms being beaten out on the roof of the bus (a habit I have assumed, much to Pam’s annoyance when I scare the life out of her by hammering along to David Cassidy – now he’s also a new discovery!)

So, after a very long journey back on which we took it in turns to sleep on top of each other – Pam being infinitely more successful for some reason…I think she was so tired she managed to sleep for the entire journey regardless of whether she was on top of me, or vice versa. I’m afraid I was too aware of the fact that my bottom felt like it had been pounded by a herd of buffalo and didn’t fancy being sat on any longer to sleep much! There was of course a customary long-drop stop, though this was the most entertaining of the lot, because I was lead around the back of a building in the pitch black, a door was unlocked and then I was thrown in with only a torch to find the hole with…I was SO glad Tracy had come with me!

Well, I apologise for this mammoth entry. I’ll fill you in on the second part of the wedding in my next one…and I’m sorry to say that this week’s occasion was just as long as last weeks…and not even as interesting! I’ll try to condense it for you!

PS. 3 DAYS TO GO!