It started in the morning. We were told to arrive about 10am, but in good African style (we have lived here 14 years) we showed up about 11-11:30. And, in good African style, we were still pretty early. When we arrived we were taken around to all the different places where activities were happening. We greeted people at the gate. We went inside a house to greet the old ladies (the father lives in this house and the son and his family live in the other). We went around behind to see where the meat was being cooked and were treated to a piece of very tasty and completely un-chewable beef. Then we went to where the chairs were set up in the yard for the actual party. We greeted the old man and several other people before being shown to our seats.One truly neat thing that we experienced was the "music man". He is like the traveling minstrels of centuries ago. He has a traditional instrument that is like a violin that echoes into a wooden drum. It is not played with any sort of tone or melody. It is used just to accent the lyrics. And the lyrics range from the hilarious to the mundane. As the party went along, the minstrel narrated. He told who was arriving. He told that this person had gone to Dar es Salaam. He sang of the Wazungu (us). It didn't really matter what he said. He said it all. And as he moved around the group, if you liked what he said you put a little money in his drum
One thing you have to know how to do in Africa is sit. Sit and wait. David likes to say that waiting in Africa is not a passive action, and I think that is true. So we did a lot of sitting that day, moving our chairs every few hours to keep in the shade. And we met new people and visited. As honored guests we had our own little coffee table that always had at least three drinks per person. And, as outsiders, we observed.
Off and on there would be dancing. That was not accompanied by the minstrel but by a modern sound system. The music was Swahili, but not traditional, and not the modern rock you hear today. Someone told us it was from the seventies. Anyway, when the music began it was the old people who got up to dance. They did not gyrate and run around, but it was like dancing in a group, moving your feet to the rhythm, just enjoying yourself. Even I got up and danced, too!
But there's a story that goes with my dancing. I asked why the younger people weren't dancing. It was only the truly older ones with gray hair. I was told that it would be disrespectful for the younger people to dance when the older ones were dancing. But I could go and dance if I wanted to. I was one of their "age-mates"! Just to be very clear: I am 38. We are rationalizing this away as I was an honored guest and therefore had the respectful place that an elder would hold. Trying.
We ate a huge feast, which is always wonderful. We love traditional food. We do not, however, like intestines. Even David, who likes everything, doesn't like them much. David's friend said, "You have just not had them cooked properly." He used this as an opportunity to make sure we tried intestines again. Did you know there are different kinds of intestines and that they look very different? One looks like spiny fruit. One looks like a book with pages when cut open - and is called "book" by the local people. Yeah. None of them are good. Even cooked properly.
After the feast was the gift giving. The old man and his two wives, his third one wasn't there for some reason, sat in front of the group. Several people gave them blankets and vitenge (cloth). The fun part was that the giver would drape the blankets and cloth over their laps and heads!
The party was ended with another dance, but this time in true Kuria style. Again, it was mostly the older people, but the middle aged ones joined, too. The dance is very similar to the Masaai with a kicking back of the heel and jerking forward of the chin to the beat. We felt that we were seeing a little bit of true Kuria culture that hailed back to the traditions of the past.
We arrived home in the late afternoon, tired, a little sunburned, but so glad that we were invited. It was a day of people and fellowship. Watching little two year old girls jerk their hips in perfect rhythm when the kids had a dancing contest and laughing at the older boys who were doing their best to imitate music videos. And watching the old people display the true Kuria traditions. It was a blessing.
Blessings to you, too.
