If you thought Catholic weddings were long, try a Maasai wedding...

I looked around and was amazed. Looking back, four colors stick out in my mind: Brown for the dust. Blue for the sky. Red and purple for the hundreds of Maasai draped in shukas. True to their colors, they looked like royalty.

There are times when I just know to set my camera aside, plunge headfirst into the event unfolding around me, and hope that my mental pictures become just as permanent as a photograph itself. Today was one of those times.

We met Lalahe our first week in Arusha and we’ve been hanging out with him regularly ever since. The best way to get to know Lalahe is to go on a walk with him… “Maasai love to walk,” he said. So a couple of weeks ago on a walk, Lalahe and his friend Yacobo (known to muzungus as Jacob) invited us to Yacobo’s brother’s wedding. We were eager to accept.

After much anticipation, the day finally came for us to take our first visit to a Maasai village. We were all nervous that a group of 14 muzungus would feel awkward at a traditional Maasai wedding, but Lalahe insisted “100 muzungus are welcome!”.

And welcomed we were.

From the time that we arrived in the village in the afternoon (which was only a 45 minute daladala ride away from town) to the time that we left the village at dusk, I hardly felt like a foreigner. Women and children immediately welcomed us with handshakes, Maa (the Maasai language) greetings, and high-pitched chants (called an-gu-lu-lu in Maa). The children at first seemed shy, but as soon as we passed out the candy we brought them, all shyness disappeared. Saying that we “passed out” the candy is a loose term. We barely had time to open the bags of candy before kids came charging at us with outstretched hands. In less than a minute, the four bags of candy had been demolished, leaving behind only a few empty candy wrappers soon to be buried in the dust.

We had been told that the wedding would start at 3 o’clock. In America, that means to get to the church at 2:30 to get a seat. In Africa, that means to get to the village at 3:00, relax, sit under a tree, eat a full meal, and then begin the festivities a couple hours later.

So that’s exactly what we did.

An older Maasai woman with collars of beads around her neck ushered us into a boma (better known to Americans as little mud huts) where we sat on tin cans and passed around a cup of Maasai alcohol. According to one of Yacobo’s friends, the Maasai believe that the alcohol has the power to rid the body of its harmful diseases. If that’s true, then the old Maasai men carrying around huge buckets of the concoction won’t be dying anytime soon. Politely, I took a sip and passed the cup to the next person.

I squinted my eyes as I walked out of the shade of the boma into the ruthless sun. The dust had settled from our arrival and I finally had the chance to absorb the scene around me. Trees were sparse, cattle and goats were abundant. The bomas were spaced fairly far apart from one another, but still close enough to constitute a village. Someone asked Lalahe how much of the land was Maasai land and he responded, “as far as the eye can see, and even beyond the mountain.” I questioned myself as to whether or not that was a direct quote from Mufasa in The Lion King.

Despite that it is currently the rainy season, Tanzania is still in the midst of a severe drought that has nearly devastated crops and cattle. Lalahe said that his father lost over half of his family’s cattle to drought and disease this year alone. As we walked from the boma to the nearest tree (about a football field away) I noticed the effects of the drought for the first time. Lalahe said the ground is usually green where we were walking, but instead I was kicking up dust. I looked at the vast plains around me and saw dust storms resembling small tornados forming.

We headed for the nearest tree that provided just enough shade to shield all of us (plus several Maasai men) from the sun. There weren’t many trees in the area, but under each one that was there I could see the vibrant red and purple colors of Maasai gathered underneath. We sat under the tree for about half an hour, relaxing and watching the cattle graze. At one point some of the Maasai guys found entertainment in chasing a goat around.

Speaking of goats, Yacobo and his friends brought all of us our own bowl of rice, grilled bananas, and goat meat as a special celebration dish for the wedding. By the time Yacobo handed me my dish, it was covered in dust and flies because the walk was so long between the boma and the tree. Nonetheless, I took it with a smile. And so there I was, a muzungu girl from Tennessee sitting in the middle of the African bush eating goat meat with Maasai warriors.

Each of us had enough food in our bowl to feed three to four people and we were afraid that we’d offend them if we didn’t finish most of our food. The first few bites were delicious until I realized that I was full with over half of a bowl still left unfinished. I looked around and considered my options. I could a) offend the people who gave me the food… and who also have machetes around their waist b) inconspicuously feed it to a rogue cow or c) finish the plate myself. Before I had time to decide which option I would choose, I looked up and saw a dust storm headed straight for our tree. I immediately turned to the Maasai, hoping that their pastoral instincts would know what to do. One said “Run!”, another said “Cover up!”, and a third yelled something in Maa. I closed my eyes, covered my food, and hoped that the food that I had eaten was substantial enough to keep me grounded. Thankfully, 20 seconds later I was still on the ground, unharmed but quite dusty. And then we continued to eat our food.

After our meal, Lalahe took us to a ring of acacia branches where he said the warriors would be performing (the acacia branches are very sharp so it protects them from dangerous wildlife). At this point we had thrown all conventions about western weddings out of the window because it was clear that this was more of a celebration with singing and dancing than an actual ceremony. Six of the men gathered (along with Ben, who they invited to join in the dance) and they began to walk in seemingly arbitrary circles in the distance, occasionally waving their staffs around. As they slowly approached the place where we were standing, I could hear a low, grumbling chant. We got in line behind the men and entered the circle of acacia branches for the rest of the dancing and singing. We formed a circle and the warriors began to chant to a new tune, more upbeat than the former one. The men would hop into the center of the circle one at a time, jump three or four times, smack the ground with their feet, and then return to their original position. The Maasai are known for their vertical jump, and it was incredible to witness it. This exchange continued for about 45 minutes until the rest of the women entered the circle. There was clearly no structure to the festivities and at this point I was still unsure who the bride and groom were. The women formed their own circle and began to sing their own song.

The women and men were in separate circles for another 45 minutes when they slowly and naturally convened. I had been so distracted by the jumping, singing, chanting, and dancing that I noticed for the first time two large groups of girls; one group was draped in long solid purple shukas, and the other group in red shukas. They were all wearing layers and layers of white beads around their necks, on their heads, in their ears, and around their waists. They really did look like magnificent African princesses.

Two of the girls in purple stood out from the others because they had beads that were delicately draped over their faces. As I later learned, this was a celebration for two couples instead of just one, and these were the brides! They didn’t make a grand entrance or demand any attention. They just blended in with everyone else, save for the extra beading that made this day theirs.

The cattle grazed. The men jumped. The women sang. The children played. And everyone (maybe even the cows) danced.

The most vivid mental picture I took was of the silhouettes of Maasai warriors bobbing up and down as the sun was dwindling and the clouds had cleared just enough to see Mt. Kilimanjaro.

The dancing and singing continued until dusk when we had to leave the circle of acacia so the cattle could enter to be protected for the night. I paused for a second to think of how I would feel if I were kicked out of church on my wedding day so that cows could get a good night’s rest.

Although we were reluctant to leave, the setting sun was hastening our departure. Lalahe said that the singing and dancing would continue for another few hours. I said goodbye to the children that had latched on to me and headed back to town with a lot on my mind to write.