Week 70: My Friend’s Wedding

A dear friend of mine got married this week in Moshana and I had the privilege of attending all eleven hours of the wedding, and I am not being sarcastic it really was a privilege. The day began early, as I went to her house at 7:30am, however, the day began much earlier for others who were cooking since the wee hours. We then went to a district office in Kanye for the exchange of vows and signing of the marriage license. There were 21 other couples exchanging their vows on that day and thus quite a crowd. The traditional outfit for married women involves a blue skirt, white shirt, and a blue plaid blanket over the shoulders. Although there is plenty of variation, one is guaranteed to see a sea of blue plaid at most weddings.  By 12:30 we were on our way back to the village to celebrate. As soon as getting out of the vehicle the wedding party and most guests start doing a two step dance march around the yard. Now I have been to many weddings and done this dance just as often, yet somehow the seemingly simple steps require my full concentration and I can guarantee I look a fool in such a way that my fellow wedding goers don’t, I still don’t understand this. Next there are speeches and the wedding feast, which everyone should be thankful, I had no part in preparing. The meal consisted of samp (a maiz product), rice, seswa (pounded meat), shredded beets, and butternut squash. The rest of the afternoon was filled with dancing (mostly on the part of the kids), and socializing. I am extremely grateful for this friend and her entire family. When my friend had bridal duties to perform she would make sure I had someone to talk to and to explain things to me. I was never without a buddy, which made for an enjoyable day.

Week 69: The Chicken Killing

In honor of Thanksgiving my landlady gave me a chicken. Now there was some confusion on what this meant. In my mind my land lady was being very generous and killing and cooking a chicken for me. In her mind, she was giving me a chicken as plain as that, and I, as a good village daughter, would know what to do. My city roots shone through in this moment and I was a bit helpless. Lucky for me in Botswana one is never alone and a friend came over to do the dirty work of killing, plucking the feathers, etc. Prior to coming to Botswana I was a vegetarian for seven years and thus was very out of my element. However, I watched the whole process and from “farm to table” (my front yard to my plastic plate on my lap) I think it took 2 hours. Although the whole experience has pushed me back to my vegetarian roots, it was the sentiment that will stay with me and I could not feel more loved than I do by those around me.