This weekend I attended the wedding of Solange, HROC facilitator in Rwanda. She’s spent lots of time in Burundi, so my colleagues were excited to attend, and she equally excited to have them present.

The weekend began with the seven-hour bus trip, winding our way up to Kigali, stopping for corn and brochettes along the way. We stayed at Friends Peace House, a verdant compound which was formerly a school, and is now a base of operations for many peace initiatives. After hearing so much about this place, I was glad to see it myself. As colleagues said, it’s widely known in Kigali—all I had to say was “Friends…Kicukiro,” and all the cab drivers knew exactly where to take me. No such luck in Bujumbura.

The dowry ceremony was my favorite part of the wedding. The bride’s family and guests wait at her house for the groom’s party to arrive. When they do, they sat across the courtyard. An uncle from each side was given a microphone, and engaged in a dialogue that went something like this:

Bride’s Uncle: “Beautiful day”
Groom’s Uncle: “Yes, beautiful day”
BU: “We’re so glad you could come to celebrate the completion of the road in front of our house”
GU: “Yes it’s a beautiful road. There was one other small matter we wanted to discuss with you.”
BU: “Oh, no need to rush into things.”
GU: “It’s about a daughter of yours. My nephew would like to marry her.”
BU: “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, but we promised her to another family just a couple of months ago.”
GU: “I’m sure there is some mistake. Solange?”

…Twenty minutes of this sort of evasion on the part of the bride’s family; crowd in stitches…

BU: “OH, Solange, yes, actually it was her twin we promised to another family. We would be happy to have your nephew marry Solange”

Another highlight was when they actually brought the dowry—the cows—into the yard. An old man sang a song about how good the cows were. The church service followed, which drew a whopping 7 pastors (a testament to Solange’s popularity). Next, a reception, with military procession and the groom cutting the cake with his sword. Finally, a ceremony of presenting the bride and groom with food for two weeks, so that they could live comfortably and return to work on Monday. Total Fanta count for the day: three.

Kigali is striking for its order and cleanliness. Spread over hills and valleys, the roads weave their way between neighborhoods. The tourist infrastructure is readily visible here. There’s lots of English, the new official language, and people are eager to engage the muzungus. There’s even a Nakumatt, which is more or less East African WalMart. I bought a Cormac McCarthy book, to give you an idea.

I was grateful for the chance to explore Kigali beyond the bus station, but as usual I felt pretty good rolling back into Buja.