Another wedding and injections up the jacksee

Sunday 2^nd March 2008

So, I had been invited to the wedding of one of the staff, in Mandura. The car was due to pick us up at 10:00. Of course, arriving at the front of the school at 10:00 there was a problem – something to do with someone being ill and someone else visiting them in hospital using the car, but a problem none-the-less. (That’s the trouble with no-one being able to afford private cars.) We hung around, eventually at around 12:15 (yes, 12:15) back at one of their houses, we had a small lunch of tebs (meat) and injera (the sour, fermented grain pancake that is the staple diet out here). I think we finally left at 13:00.

The place turned out to be about 5km further on from Madura (the nearest village to Gilgel Beles with one of our cluster schools there.) It was an, at least 1km drive across fields in the 4x4. Once there, with incredible views of the ridge, the driver informed us he had to go straight back – which would effectively strand us. After a few phone calls he was allowed to stay. The place was a few round stick-and-mud houses in a compound surrounded by a stick fence – totally in the middle of nowhere. There was a small tent made for the wedding and I sat and was offered the local beer which, the minute you sip it, gets topped up. Then the wedding ceremony took place, with a few chicks running around under foot. All the local elders were on one side, a colleague had written a sort of marriage contract and had to hastily copy it out two more times – something he should’ve done apparently. It mentioned something about paying 5000 birr if they split up. This was read out and they all signed the copies. Next, pieces of toilet paper were hastily laid carefully on a plate on which the rings were placed, and then, like in the UK they both put the other’s ring on. Then the elders took a turn to speak – give advice or something – then dorowot (spicey chicken stew) and injera + an egg each, then we were off back to the college. This time, we had the bride in with the groom + maid of honour + more. The car, designed for 5 (two in the front, three in the back) which had brought 6, now had the driver, me, a colleague with someone on his lap in the front, and six in the back (two on laps.) Thoughts of the number one killer of VSO volunteers by far, came to mind – road traffic incidents. (I had managed to get a seat-beat on, on the way out, but this had left a dusty brown mark on my shirt as I think I was the first to use it in a while – no chance on the way back.) Oh, and there were another 3 in the trailer of the pickup.

When we got near Gilgel, the lap people were told to get in the trailer as there was a traffic cop in the village – nothing like health and safety!!

Next it was back to the groom’s house. Both bride and groom hadn’t spoken or really looked at each other the whole time, or looked happy – tradition apparently. There we had more wot, drinks - including a 75% proof (apparently) aniseed smelling, clear concoction – and various styles of dancing, some of which I had to join in. At one point someone came round with perfume and sprayed some under everyone’s arms – another tradition.

It shows my character that I don’t really participate with these social things, I just observe scientifically.

The Gay thing.

It’s really funny in Ethiopia that homosexuality “doesn’t exist” but men can be totally touchy-feely – straight men. You see male student friends walking hand in hand, like female friends might in the UK. Men were dancing with men at the wedding, again – straight men – totally normal here. The Dean had his hand on my knee for a while, while I was sitting – again, just a show of affection. Oh, and pink is like any other colour, so men wear pink shoes, pink hats etc. If a homophobe came to Ethiopia, they’d think the whole place was bent as a nine-bob note!!

It’s nice that people do have platonic physical contact though. It’s got so sterile in the UK that no-one touches anyone these days. I also like the way children here are much freer and not bundled up in cotton wool like in the UK. There’s probably a half-way point though as you sometimes see very little (2-3 year olds) children wandering around the village un-accompanied, and of-course a lot of young children do not attend school, they just work – maybe in the market, in fields, carrying stuff etc.

Throat

I went to the medical centre this morning (Monday) and after finding out about which cards to get and where to wait, I was seen by a nurse who offered me antibiotics (via the buttocks) and warned me it would be painful.

In the end I had two injections, one in each cheek and it stung when the stuff was going in. Hopefully my throat will get better now.