From the City to the Shamba and Back

The second week we traveled from the city to the shamba, to visit Pwani University. The University was located in the town of Kilifi which was a short, one-hour drive up the coast from Mombasa. Upon arrival, most of my classmates were disappointed - we were under the assumption that we would be staying in a guest house, but instead we set up camp in one of the many vacant dorm rooms at Pwani.

Aside from the dorm room and the rural location, the week was full of intensive lectures, homework parties and abundant laughter. After a chocolate and cake run to the grocery store, and a beer run to the bar across the street, we celebrated my birthday in style. I never thought I would have a curfew again, let alone drink in a dorm room. All-in-all it was an excellent birthday.

These are the women in my Swahili class from left to right: Shatreen (also known as Schmarta), Kimberly, myself, Emilee, and Rachel. We also share a two-bedroom house together; with our little twin beds and mosquito nets we seem to make it work. These are the men in my Swahili class: Devin and Caleb (our other classmate, Luke, is missing):

We returned to Mombasa later that week to attend a wedding. The celebration we attended was the fourth day of a five-day wedding celebration. We managed to get tickets to the celebration through the intermediate class' instructor's daughter's friend's cousin :) During this celebration, all of the women affiliated with the bride gathered to praise her entrance into marriage. Before the bride's arrival, a few women smoking cigarettes sang and played the drums, performing a variety of Taarab and Swahili songs. The older women of the family performed a dance known as the chakacha, where they wrap kangas (scarves) around their hips, emphasizing the control of their bodies through particular hip movements. A few of us joined the Mamas and they attempted to teach us to chakacha. After dancing, the women started to cheer Hongera Harusi, which signaled the entrance of the bride.

The bride entered wearing a brilliant turquoise, kimono-like gown, with thousands of dazzling appliques. Her face was hidden behind a silver and gold jeweled veil, leaving only her eyes, hands and feet exposed. She walked slowly and stoically, as if she was slowly drifting to the front of the crowd, allowing the other women to observe her beauty and praise her union. Following her entrance, food was served, and every person took a picture with the bride before the night was over. The presentation of the bride was only the beginning of her night. After the formal ceremony, the bride spent the evening having henna drawn on her body to prepare her for her wedding day and night. The henna further adorns an already intricately constructed bride.

As my friend Connie told me a few days ago, "You have been to more weddings than anyone I know!" Through my eager attendance of weddings, I have developed many apprehensions towards ritualistic marriage ceremonies. When I witness a spectacle signifying the transition of a woman's guardianship from her father to her husband, I can never seem to reconcile my feminist and romantic sides. This type of ceremony glorifies the future marriage as a significant departure from the contemporary relationship, rather than a continuation of the same relationship, but with a developed understanding of commitment that was negotiated over time. This wedding was particularly perplexing. Not having a significant connection to the bride, I was a foreigner in multiple ways, bearing witness to a very intimate event.