Nabuguzi. Kiwanuka
At the beginning of the year I wished I had a biological sister. I thought that perhaps there would be someone I would share the emotional load of mom being sick.
I expressed this to a friend. Her father has been ill for a very long time. She said, “well, not every sister does what you wish for right now because my sister barely shows up for our dad, Dad”
Yesterday I spent over 10 hours on my feet just because the other three sisters did not bother taking management of the event or even helping out their mother.
We offered our home to host my mother’s friend’s daughter’s Kwanjula, and I ended up doing things or receiving insults I wasn’t meant to do or receive.
Hours went by without a trace of the bride’s mother only to learn later on that she stayed at her home cleaning out everything that had been used for mass and probably those that had been used the previous nights of preparation. I was told that most of her sisters and children had already sat in the tents.
At around 2 pm, I had been told that the mother of the bride had been seen around. I thought that perhaps she’s outside sorting something or failed to get into the house. So I went through the back door to look for her. I asked the people in charge of cooking for the bako whether they had seen her but the negative response was followed up with insults, highlighting how unserious “we” are since they had already finished cooking and there is no one to carry the food into the house.
I went on to continue with the search and I was lucky I found her entering the gate. Basically the mother of the bride arrived at her daughter’s Kwanjula at 2:00 pm.
I decided to carry in the food because the old lady of the Bako food was really really angry. Mother of the bride was only starting to catch up with what has happened so far. Out of her 5 daughters, we only knew where one was – and that’s the bride.
Their youngest sister is the only one that did the best she could. Was really close to the bride. Organized space for where the “greeters” would be. Went on to serve juice to the bako. I think by the time her mother arrived, that’s where she was. She stayed outside and stood by the bride’s “stage” to cheer on her sister while she walked down to it.
When the afternoon was nearing, their eldest sister (I only got to master her face as the day unfolded) brought boxes of dirty glasses and just dumped them on the dining table. She had on a short dress throughout the day and only changed when she went to greet as a Ssenga – with another Ssenga. Meanwhile, they had over 4 Ssengas seated in the tents).
This eldest sister disappeared and only resurfaced while trying to extract beers from beer bottles into water bottles.
The day before, I had learned the face of another sister. I think she had come to ask for food from the bako’s table but the moment I saw her, I started sending her around to get things moving. I can only be glad that she wasn’t resistant. In fact, in the evening I saw her trying to sort gifts to see what goes where – and equally worked with the boys to carry the other gifts to the truck.
There’s one that I got to see yesterday but it took me until evening to master her physically and the main thing that helped was the weird dress she was wearing. At the end of the day I learned that she left very angry because no one went outside to have her husband served, so he left hungry.
They all left mpola mpola and their mother ended up walking back home alone, in the night.
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