525,600 Minutes

One year. I’ve lived in Uganda for one full year.

This week, I got to celebrate the introduction ceremony and wedding of a fellow teacher, Frank. The introduction ceremony, where the groom is officially introduced to his in-laws, is a very formal affair filled with tradition and ritual.

On the day of the introduction, the women at my school looked me up and down and asked in a skeptical tone, “Are you ready?” They spoke in Lusoga about my scruffy sandals, my scruffy hair, the unsightly Ace bandage on my ankle from my spill down some stairs on Halloween. Mostly they fussed over the fact that I had nothing to wear.

It’s tradition for all married women (or, in my case, women of a certain age) to wear a gomezi to these formal events. The gomezi is a strange throw-back to, I don’t know, the 1800s? It looks Victorian and, honestly, kind of ridiculous to unaccustomed American eyes. It takes shoulder pads to a whole new level with pointed, winged tips rising to the height of your cheekbones on both sides. A good 30 pounds are added to the hips thanks to a heavy cloth worn underneath the outer robe. A thick belt, made stiff with paper inside of it, is tied in a giant square knot around the waist.

I don’t have my own gomezi, so I found myself being placed in a borrowed one on the day of the introduction. I stood, arms in the air, in the small, dark office of my head mistress while my fellow teachers fussed and preened and wrapped me in cloth like a sausage. The whole process took upwards of 30 minutes, and I felt like a bride on her wedding day with not one mother, but ten. When they were finished, and after being not-so-subtly clucked at to change my shoes, pull my hair up, and put on earrings and lipstick, I felt...beautiful.

To anyone who has seen gomezis, this feeling beautiful is nothing short of miraculous. First of all, I never feel beautiful in Uganda in the first place. The constant sheen of sunscreen, the dust and dirt and sweat, the hand-washed clothes that never feel quite clean, it all leads to a ratio of feeling pretty days to feeling hideous days at a rate of about 1:90. Then you add the gomezi. When I first arrived in country, I swore up and down that I’d never be caught dead in one of those dresses. Never buying one. Never wearing one. No way. No how. But there I was, in all of my rayon-ed, glittered glory, and I. Felt. Stunning.

It was in that moment that I realized, for the first time, that I am finally integrated. That this is home. If feeling beautiful in a gomezi is not a sign of cultural integration, I just don’t know what is. And yes, the ceremony was in local language, and no, I did not understand 98% of it. And yes, I was annoyed at waiting 3 hours for the event to start, and no, I didn’t care for the food. But still. I felt happy. I felt loved.

And so marks my one year anniversary.

Raise your glass with me, will you? Raise your glass to a culture who really thinks and acts like a community. To women and men holding babies in church who are not their own, but who need to be held. To conductors on taxis who get out of the taxi to hold the hands of young children, strangers, as they cross a busy street, even though time is money. To people who go to the home of a grieving mother who lost her child and take turns sitting with her in silence, day and night.

Raise your glass with me to a culture who cares about people above all else. To people who courteously greet friends and strangers alike. To people who put other people before any task.  

Cheers, Uganda! It’s been a great year.

 

Traditional male clothing.

The groom's family line up and go under an arch where the
bride's family is waiting to receive them.

Groups of the bride's family members kneel before the groom's family and
pay them compliments and welcome them to the family. They are then given
gifts. This group, dressed up like nurses, each got a comb.

My corsage  (made out of ribbon).

This group of nieces were given sunglasses. The bride's parents are
also presented with cows, sheep and other livestock as well as monetary
gifts. Ugandans consider this bride price a way to show honor and
respect to their in-laws.



The glorious gomezi and an adorable on-looker.




 

A group of local children watch the introduction ceremony from across the street.

Me and Rose posing in our "sheds" as we move
to the wedding reception. The church wedding and
reception are the day after the introduction ceremony.

Friends enjoying the reception.

The bride and groom cut the cake and then the bride kneels before
her husband to feed him a piece of cake. He also feeds her from a chair and
they both give each other a drink. Normally they drink champagne,
but this couple doesn't drink alcohol so they are drinking Fanta. The
bride then goes around the room kneeling in front of different groups
of people and offering them a bite of cake.

Most couples are wed traditionally (meaning they live together and
have children) many years before the introduction and wedding
 ceremonies because of the high cost of the formal events. Frank &
Mary have been traditionally married for 7 years and already have
4 children together.

Food at the introduction ceremony. The food at the reception was
a full buffet with rice, sweet potatoes, boiled beef, cabbage and
matooke. I should have saved this plastic fork because we ate with
our hands at the reception and I have yet to master the art of
eating rice with my natural fork.
 

The wedding cake.




Best angle for viewing gomezi sleeves.