All in the title.

I've been thinking about the title of my 7^th blog all day, should it be “Bulls Eye” or “Slow down horsey”. After you finish reading you will understand the dilemma.

I have been visiting my permanent site for 5 days, 5 days of whirlwind activities that do not have anything to do with the first American volunteer living here. It has been five days of me participating in these people's everyday lifestyle and cultural traditions.

Starts with Saturday; I'm hosted by a woman, in her mid 50's, who is renown in this small village of approx. 60,000 residents. She was raised and educated here and currently has a public position working in social affairs. Donna Chica has been the best hostess I could think of. My room was all made up, including sheets on the bed, a towel, and a pair of flip-flops. According to the Peace Corps packing list that was a pleasant token of hospitality. I also think we will be friends for a long time, according to her we are family. 

Now because of my new “sister” I worry about what is going to happen next. Follow me, you will understand:

SATURDAY: I arrive and Donna Chica was out but I was greeted my her sister, Rosalina, and their helper, Grandma, with a table of food and hot water. I must say when you have no idea of where you are going to land with food is very welcoming. After a nap and a bucket bath (I'm adjusting to that! I am so happy with a toilet that flushes, running water, and a tiled shower area) Donna Chica arrived and we sat for dinner. We had just finish and her phone rang asking her to come to a family's home because the woman just was killed in a car accident. I had recently learned that when deaths happen people all around town gather at the home. I suppose it is just the presence of people that comforts the loss. Well I was half right. After waiting outside for others to gather and for their faith leaders (this woman was Muslim), only the women go inside. Now the next hour was mind boggling, 30 women dressed in formal wraps entered the home and sat on the floor, all remained silent. Donna Chica in a very low voice spoke the tribal language, I didn't understand anything nor did I realize what was going on until the victim's mother and daughter started to wail. Ohhh, so this is I need not to explain the rest of the evening, it can be imagined. So sad.

I also learned that only the men go to the funeral, and women take part the in prayers done in the home for three evenings.

SUNDAY: Donna Chica and Rosalina are strong Christians but we could not go to church Sunday morning because we needed to head out of town for a wedding. A traditional wedding. A brief description of this is that a traditional wedding means there is no church ceremony and also contrary to Christian beliefs men can marry more than one woman. It is opposite from our traditional weddings – here its is traditional tribal weddings. The weddings procedure is also very different, I had to have explanations with all the happenings.

Here is the pictorial explanation of my understanding so far:

The wedding takes place over two days, here is the second day were the bride is welcomed by the husband's family at their home. Everything is done by the whole family group. It was not easy just figuring out who the bride or groom was.

Donna Chica is part of the bride's group, so we traveled way out to the bush (30 miles) to join up at the bride's family and headed out together to the groom's ranch.

Once we arrived the ceremony starts like this:

The song is called “Shana Ma We Amukela” and that means “We are here, will they receive us”. The groom's side is singing “Yes, please enter”.

Now on Saturday the groom presented the bride with a dowry; three cows. Goats. Clothes for each member of the family, and money. 

One cow is then killed the next day and the side in which the head falls determines which family will get what half of the cow. Lobolu – tradition which divides the cow among the families. The side the head falls is the determining factor. I don't know who got the tail side because I could not watch. Poor cow.

Each side selects a family representative (it's not the parent) who finally after food has been served sings the “Song of Happiness”.

These are build for antecedents of the family, they are their spiritual homes.

MONDAY: I start to work at the hospital. I will write about that in another blog. So far so good.

TUESDAY: Donna Chica's godson's birthday party. We visited him the night before and he and his mother were given the traditional clothe called capolana as gifts. They visited tonight and brought cake. This was a lovely birthday shared between the modern Portuguese ways and in the traditional tribal Changana. The role of godmother seems to be a very big position here. The mother of the birthday boy brought a capolana for Donna Chica, Rosalina, and me!

So, you must understand my uncertainty in titling this blog. I have only been here 5 days and I have experienced a death, wedding, a public holiday (Tuesday was “Day of the Children” and I attended this ceremony at the school), and a birthday party. It's all the “how's” and “why's” that makes up the “cultural adaptation” of this journey. There are no days off either.

So far I'm enjoying this adventure, yet I miss my kids, family, and friends. X O

ps. It took me many scrubs but my feet are finally clean from my training site! Terracotta no more! I go back to Naamacha in 2 ½ weeks for 4 more weeks of training and swearing in. As of August 1^st I will be a Peace Corps Volunteer and living and working at the hospital in Magude for two years.