Pot on my head!

So I shall start where I left off last time and tell you about my matebeto experience. My legendary colleague Bubala invited me and I could not pass up the opportunity.  I arrived at the home of the bride-to-be as the ladies were all getting ready. We all dressed in matching chitenge’s which are a little like sarongs and are the traditional outfit here.  We all stood in a line and passed hundred of pots of food down in a line until they filled the centre of the sitting room. We all then sat on the floor around the pots.   3 women played drums and everyone sang songs.  At the end of this part of the ceremony, the bride-to-be laid down on the floor and mimicked sleep.  Then the ladies began to pick up all the pots of food and carry them outside to make the trip over to the groom's home.  The bride-to-be does not go neither does her immediately family. I could feel my western blood rising at the thought of this woman having cooked for hours and not even getting to eat any of it.

After we arrived at the groom's home we all stood in the street holding our pots on our heads. The drum music continued and many of the ladies danced until the women of the groom's family came out to welcome us. I chose not to embarrass myself by trying to dance in a tight chitenge with a pot of beans on my head. Money was thrown on the ground by the grooms family and when it was deemed there was enough we all danced into the garden. There were about 60 of us women in matching outfits filing in and it was like nothing I have ever seen before.  When we got to the door of the house we sang another song which Bubala translated for me, essentially we asked how we should enter the house and were told to come in backwards like a monkey. Dutifully I edge up the steps backwards desperately trying not to spill beans all over myself, like a monkey.....

The ladies then all laid the pots on the floor dancing whilst more money was thrown down on the floor. I took safety in a corner so I could watch everything. The groom, who honestly looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, was seated on a sofa at the end of the room next to an advisor who was explaining everything to him as it happened.  As the ceremony began, the Matron and another lady began to open the huge bowls and pots of food - with their teeth - to show each dish to the groom.  I have since tried to remove the lid of one of our saucepans with my teeth (after a few cold beers!!) only to fail.

After each dish had been displayed, the Matron was handed a bowl of water, a bar of soap and a towel with which she washed the groom's hands, feet and face. Then, the Matron laid down on the floor, was covered by a chitenge and pretended to be asleep. To finish the ceremony off, the ladies of the groom's family did a traditional dance for all of us . I was asked to dance and responded:

‘Have you ever seen a musungo dance?’

The response- ‘fair enough, why do musungo’s dance like that with their arms flailing around anyway?’

Enough said.

The grooms family had a marquee up and caterers there to provide food for their 100 plus guests as well as the endless pots of food the bride and her family had prepared. To my astonishment the bridal party, including myself, filled out to go and eat at the wives house. So after all that work, dancing like a monkey backwards and realising I did not have enough upper body strength to hold a pot of beans on my head we were to leave!! Bubala and I decided not to return to the brides house but instead went to a beautiful spot for a drink to celebrate my first Zambian woman experience.

I have since been invited to a kitchen party which is the next stage of the celebrations where the Aunty’s teach the bride (and I presume others in the room, including myself) how to please her husband to be in the bedroom department. Sadly the groom will not receive the same lessons....

So bank gate progressed and after 6 days and various trips to different Barclays I finally had my card returned. After much detective work and patience I discovered my card was at a branch near my office. I located the correct person to talk too and sat down and explained to the chap behind the desk that I would not be leaving the bank until my card was returned or re-issued. Looking slightly terrified he ignored the computer in front of him and pulled out a large book. He went through list after list of hand written names but could not find Sarah Eldon. I implored him to look again and together we went through the book to discover my name had been put down as Sarah Sunshine. This amused said staff member who shouted across the bank:

‘ Hey everyone this musungo is called Sunshine.’

Humiliation over I then had to sign for my card and write down my driving licence number which incidentally he did not check so I could have just made it up. He then hands over my card. I was about to leave when I realised he had given me someone elses card. Ten minutes later I was able to leave the bank, card in hand with no tantrum needed.

Things at the orphanage are going well. The older children are back at school which allows for more time with the babies. There are a few volunteers who now join me so it is easier to make sure all of the babies have a good cuddle and get taken out of their cots. I am becoming very attached to some of the characters and always feel sad when I leave. The staff there think we are crazy as we take the babies outside for a bit of fresh air. This encourages a flurry of activity as they rush out to cover the babies with hats and blankets. Hmmmmmm it is already quite hot here but the rule of thumb in Zambia is that babies are super wrapped up and kept very warm.

On route back from the orphanage our bus driver seemed to forget he was driving a bus load of people and drove onto a large roundabout in a busy area. On dismounting the roundabout he managed to drive straight into a rather large hole for drainage in the road, how the axel was still in one piece was a miracle. Shaken up and a little bruised we continued on our way with no one uttering a word as if such a mishap was totally normal.