Earthquake

We had an earthquake one day this week.

We live near volcanoes, inactive and active, and also near the Great Rift Valley, so it is an area that has had a lot of seismic activity in the past.  And, apparently, some in the present.  We have noticed cracks in buildings - our house has one across the front porch and another (patched) in the living room floor.  The staff room of the school has a crack in the wall that is as much as 1/4 inch wide.  I didn't know if this was due to earthquakes or merely shoddy construction.  Now, I think it is a combination of the two.

I was teaching one of my math classes when the quake hit, starting to write an assignment on the blackboard.  The tremor lasted 3 to 4 seconds, which seemed like a long time.  Long enough for a flatlander like me to realize what was going on and think, "Oh, ___!"

My 47 students all started screaming and most of them rushed to the door, which was closed.  They knocked over desks and chairs in their panic, and pushed and shoved at the door (which opens inward).  My yelling "Don't push!" went unheeded.  Soon, a male teacher outside managed to get the door open, and they poured out.  I turned to survey the room and saw 2 or 3 boys jumping out of the windows.

There was no damage to the building, and after a few minutes we all returned to the classroom.  I gave my kids a little talk about keeping calm and exiting the room safely, but I don't think my words of wisdom registered.  What this school needs is earthquake drills.  I talked to the assistant headmaster about it on Friday, and he liked the idea.  So, now I have the assignment to research the best way to do it, and to start implementation.

Wedding details

We went to the wedding of one of the teachers at our school last weekend.  In most respects, the ceremony resembled a Christian wedding held in the States -- except for the Swahili, of course.  The bride wore a long white gown with a veil.  She was accompanied by one attendant in a dark pink dress.  The groom and his best man were dressed in black suits with dark pink shirts and pocket handkerchiefs.  The sanctuary was also decorated with dark pink bunting.

The church, in a setting with a beautiful view of Mt. Meru in the background, is a large, plain building made of cement blocks covered with stucco.  It has a tin roof with exposed beams soaring high above the parishioners.  Carved into the end wall of the interior is a 15 to 20 foot tall cross.  Clear windows cover most of the right and left walls of the room.  There are no pews, but white plastic chairs are provided for the congregation.   The church can hold several hundred people.

We settled into our seats before the ceremony was ready to start.  Soon, the groom and best man came through the door, in slow procession with relatives behind them.  Lively recorded music played while all performed what I think of as the Tanzanian processional two-step.  (One foot moves forward, touches the ground lightly, and then forward and slightly outward with a firmer step.  Then the other foot repeats.  Step STEP, step STEP.  It produces a deliberate, slightly swaying gait.)  A few of the female relatives broke into high-pitched ululation as the group trailed down the aisle.

Some delay followed.  The ceremony and reception were photographed and video-taped, and many times the proceedings were stopped to allow the participants to pose for pictures.

The bride and her party appeared at the door.  The groom and best man walked slowly back to meet them and escort them into the sanctuary.  Then, they all moved down the aisle again to the front of the church, this time with the bride's family stepping behind in a joyful crowd.  Everyone then took their seats.

There were songs -- one by the church choir and another by a soloist.  The ceremony that followed was familiar.  A sermon, albeit a long one, prayers, and the wedding vows.  Finally, the couple embraced.  Then, everyone sat down to watch a duet sung and acted, which turned out to be something of a morality tale with the theme of respect for one's husband(!)   Afterward, the bridal party exited the church in the same deliberate fashion that they had entered it.

The reception was as elaborately choreographed as the wedding ceremony.  Each family member of the newly-wedded couple was introduced to the assembled guests.  Then, the "cake" was brought out -- as in other important events (see my earlier blog, "Confirmation Day") this was a whole, roasted goat, complete with head, horns, and green leaves sticking out of its mouth.  The bridal couple made the first slice and then fed each other a piece of the meat on toothpicks.  Then they proceeded to feed bits of meat to the close family members and most honored guests.  "Champagne" -- probably non-alcoholic -- followed.  Big tumblers were poured for the bride and groom, and they gave each other a sip, then gave sips to the close family members.  After that, small cakes (pastry, this time) were presented to family groups.  The teachers of our school were presented with one as well, as honored guests.

The next item on the agenda was the bridal couple's giving of gifts to their parents.  These were lengths of fabric for clothing.  No first-world trinkets here, but solid, useful gifts.

With  each presentation, the bride made a deep curtsey.  It isn't easy to give a sip of wine or a bite of meat to a standing person while one is sinking to the ground, so, in some cases, the groom supported her arm with his.  (The better not to spill, perhaps?)  the groom did not bow when the bride curtsied.  The woman is the one who has to demonstrate humility.

(As a side note, the couple dropped by the school a few days ago.  When I was introduced to the young woman again, she greeted me with her eyes on the ground, as a sign of respect to me, a higher-status old person.  I have noticed this in other young women, but not to such a pronounced degree.  It bothers me, and is certainly not what I am used to seeing from confident, respected, Western women.)

Finally, it was time for the guests to give gifts to the couple.  People formed a line and danced their way to the front of the room, holding their gifts above their heads. Our group of  teachers brought a glass-topped coffee table and matching stools.  Other groups of guests gave a bed, loveseats, and a refrigerator.  The gifts were handed to an attendant, and then we were able at last to greet the couple.  It was, literally, a receiving line.

After the gifting, dinner was served.  As usual in Tanzania, guests first had an opportunity to wash their hands.  There was an attendant with a pitcher of water and basin at the beginning of the buffet table.  The food served was plain rice, pilau (seasoned rice), bits of beef in gravy, fried chicken, fried cooking bananas, stewed cooking bananas, cucumber salad, watermelon, and orange segments.  We ate with our hands, in the traditional way.

Dinner marked the end of the festivities for us.  Our group had to rush out after dinner to make our way back to our town, well over 40 km away.  So, I don't know if the bride tossed her bouquet, or what other concluding activities there were.  I just know that it was a very interesting day.     

A Wedding -- on Tanzanian Time

This blog turned out to be so long that I decided to make two separate posts.  The one below will discuss logistics and timing, and a separate one will detail the ceremony and reception.

One of the teachers at our school got married last weekend, and we attended the wedding in a suburb of Arusha.  At least a dozen teachers planned to go, so one of them arranged to hire a dala-dala to take us from our town directly to the church.

The wedding was scheduled for 11:00 a.m., and the reception was to be at 3:00 p.m.  We were told that we would leave from the school approximately at 9:00 and likely return around 6:00.  That was good, as it is not wise to travel at night here.

Mark and I showed up at the school gate at the designated time, in our punctual American fashion, to find no one there.  We located the transportation organizer in the school kitchen, and he told us he would call us when the dala-dala arrived, probably around 10:00.

We did actually leave at that time, and jiggled and jolted our way to Arusha.  On the way to the church, we stopped at a small shopping district.  Two teachers hopped out and purchased a glass-topped coffee table with two matching stools as a wedding gift from the group at the school.  They loaded it into the dala-dala, and off we drove to the church.

We arrived at noon, only an hour late.  The bride arrived at 12:30, in a car adorned with roses and ribbons.  Her car was preceded by a pickup truck with a brass band in the truck bed, tootling away to herald her arrival.

The guests and wedding party made their way into the sanctuary and the ceremony started.  It was a long service. Afterwards, an announcement was made that the wedding party would go to a hotel in central Arusha for formal photos before returning for the reception.  Off they went, again preceded by the pickup truck of musicians playing as loudly as they could.  The time was 3 p.m.

While we waited, the guests relaxed and chatted in the field surrounding the church. We enjoyed the clear view of Mt. Meru to the northwest.  Some guests organized their gifts -- a queen-sized, carved wooden bed frame was assembled, as were wooden-framed loveseats with upholstered foam cushions.  One group released a refrigerator from its packing crate.  These are gifts that large groups of guests pitched in together to purchase.  No bridal registries exist here, but families have always been able to get the word out about what a young couple needs.            

The wedding party returned at 5:00.  I was starved, since I had not had lunch, but, happily, there was a small shop near the church, where several of us purchased drinks and sweet crackers to hold us over.  Besides being hungry, I had an uncomfortable feeling about the trip home.  The dala-dala driver had been told that we would call for pickup at 6:00. That obviously wasn't going to happen.  However, I decided to relax and enjoy the evening.  We were with a large group of people who were familiar with how things work in this country, and it was not up to me to organize things.

The reception was at least as elaborately choreographed as the wedding ceremony, and dinner was the last item on the agenda.  The groom was aware that we needed to return to our small town, so we were directed to the buffet line after the wedding party and immediate families.

As soon as we were finished eating, our group of teachers headed out the door.  It was now 7:30.  On the way to the road, we learned that the dala-dala driver who brought us had given up on hearing from us and gone home.  Here we were in a dark, semi-rural suburb of a city that is 40 km from home.  It is not considered safe to travel at night here.  No street lights.  Bad roads.  Crazy drivers.  Occasional bandits.  (Yes, bandits!) 

We were fortunate that a dala-dala stopped in front of the church when the driver saw our group standing there.  He took us back into the city and dropped us off at the spot where the buses that go to our town make their pickups.  Of course, there were no vehicles waiting.  The normally bustling street was nearly empty.  The shops were shuttered and padlocked. The academic head of our school strode off in the direction of the main bus station to find transportation, and most of the rest of us settled in to wait.  A few teachers had friends in the city that they arranged to meet and with whom they would spent the night.  I was beginning to think that we would have to find a guest house ourselves, when a dala-dala pulled up.  Hooray!   We loaded up.  The trip home was uneventful, after our long day.  As Mark unlocked the door to our house by the light of the flashlight on my cell phone, I reflected on the wealth of cultural experiences we had had since morning.  And, it was only 9:30 p.m.