In the past year, I have been quite taken aback by how many
people told me they wanted to marry a Muganda woman. People, come on. If you
want to marry me, just say it. Those round-about ways of hitting on me by saying
that you like Baganda girls because we kneel, are submissive and know how to
make money are just vague and ineffective. Eh..
Okay, let me get over myself. You really do want to marry a Muganda girl? Here
is a quick guide as sourced from various relatives and personal experience.
Step 1: Make a declaration
In some
cultures, this initial ritual is referred to as proposing marriage to
the girl. In those cultures, a man is expected to debase himself by falling on
one knee to present a sinfully expensive ring with a shaky hand and tears in his
eyes. Once, my sister and I were watching the Queen of that culture, Miss Oprah Winfrey. Right there
in her televised sitting room, men were falling to their knees, feigning doubt
about their partners’ willingness to marry them (as if the whole world doesn’t
know that every woman over 20 is just waiting for a man to ask for her hand).
Anyway, at that point in time, we were impressionable teenagers so we were
ooh-ing and aah-ing in tandem with the studio audience. That is where our
father stepped in to implore us to not dream our youth away. “He’ll just say;
in January we go and see your parents.”
Anha. So now you know. No need to debase
yourself. Just say, “In April, we go and see your parents.” It is quite enough.
Step 2: Prepare to meet the Ssenga
I am assuming that when you made your
declaration, she pretended she hadn’t even heard you speak, but then went ahead
to make you breakfast katogo for the first time since the second month of your
relationship. That’s all you need in answer. Your proposal was accepted. Now
give her ‘transport’ to go and tell her Ssenga that she’d like to visit ‘with a
friend’ of hers. Not 50k naawe. Ssenga has to repaint her sitting room, and
cook luwombo for when you visit. Facilitate like you intend to send the message
that you’ll be a properly provident muko.
Step 3: Apply in writing
This was a surprise to me too. But
apparently you actually have to apply (in writing) to join her father’s family.
I don’t think you are allowed to type the letter even. So, sit down with pen and
paper and in cursive compose an epistle to her father explaining how you met
his daughter, blah, blah, blah (because I don’t even know what such letter
would contain). Just don’t forget to say that your father begs to visit the
recipient’s home to explain your bad manners properly.
Step 4: Meet the Ssenga
With above letter burning a hole in your
breast pocket, hit the road for Ssenga’s home. , Two or three friends (plus the
girl and her chosen brother) can accompany you to this luwombo feast. The objective of your visit is to beg Ssenga
to deliver the letter to her brother, in whose presence you are not yet fit to
appear. (Yiii… I wish I was the father of a Muganda girl. I’d thoroughly enjoy these power
trips). So anyway, once you’ve polished off Ssenga’s luwombo and complimented
her on the new paint in her sitting room, give her the letter. Eh! Brother, you
have to give her transport for the mail delivery trip. Once again, roll like a
properly provident muko,my friend. Haha. Kampala was not built on smiles and handshakes!
Step 5: A Power Trip Interlude
In his own time, you prospective
father-in-law will tell your prospective aunt-in-law who will tell your
prospective wife when your father can be received at court. If you’d like your
prospective father-in-law to make this decision speedily, don’t make that first
declaration to his daughter until she is well over 30, has had two of your kids
and her younger sister has already been married off. Those circumstances make
for an eager father of the bride. Nonetheless, we can’t give you any guarantees
on time here. Just sit, fret and be irritated while you wait.
Step 6: An exercise in diplomacy
When you do get your appointment, you’ll carry
3 or 4 of the biggest men (figuratively but also size matters) of your
immediate clan and go to lunch with your prospective in-laws. This lunch my
friend is a boot camp in diplomacy. You know, we the Baganda are not one of
those backward tribes that still ask for and negotiate bride price. We don’t
sell our girls. Nedda bambi. That is why, over this long leisurely lunch, we
will go over our daughter’s life story in minute detail, making sure to mention
everybody who has been instrumental in her life and our own. Memorise (or discreetly
enter each into a memo on that smartphone of yours) and be sure to buy a gomesi
or kanzu for each one of them come kwanjula.
And prepare varyingly weighty envelopes to accompany each item, of
course.
Step 7: Kwanjula
Now this is an easy one. You have all seen
it, in its glam and pomp. There are YouTube videos of it even. Basically, go
and buy out all the vegetable stalls in Kalerwe market and heap their contents
into handwoven baskets. Oh, throw in a rocking chair for the man who will
forever hate your guts. Now borrow every available car in the clan to ferry the
same. Some people have been known to hire trucks to deliver these. We don’t
think very highly of those people. What kind of bako don’t have enough private
cars at their disposal to go to a kwanjula? So, if you do hire a truck, pack it
very far away from our compound and prepare your sisters to carry baskets on
their heads that whole distance. Women really shouldn’t wear high heels to
kwanjula. The logistics don’t work in heels.
A few dos and don’t for kwanjula
·
Don’t take your father or anybody from your parents’
generation. Just your siblings and friends. We’ll be bullying you. Don’t make
the exercise awkward for us by bringing the elders.
·
Practice not speaking for a whole day. You
really will be spending an entire day on display before our clan and you aren’t
allowed to speak or laugh loudly.
·
Hire a spokesperson. Speaking at a kwanjula is a
legitimate performing art. No, the Muganda friend who sits next to you at the
office is not qualified to do it. Hire a real professional.
·
Buy your bride away from the Kabaka first. You
know how the Baganda call the Kabaka “Baffe.” Yee, they mean it. So your
prospective bride is actually currently part of the Kabaka’s harem. Luckily for
you, he is cheap. For about Shs50,000 you can obtain a certificate from his
people allowing you to go ahead and marry one of his women.
·
For other things, just have your hired
spokesperson check them against his checklist of must-haves. He’ll also give
your party a set of codes and cues to walk you through the whole ceremony as it
happens.
I
wish I could tell you to look forward to kwanjula. But it is a drawn out
monstrosity. It won’t be fun and it will be long. Sorry.
But, at some point during that battle for
words and quips, that woman will become your wife. Somebody somewhere will ask
her if her family should accept your ‘gifts’ and she’ll say, “mubilye.” ‘Eat them.’ That’s it. From that point
on, you may take her home and beat her, right after she kneels before you ---
like you’ve always dreamed.
Step 8: Watch the power tide turn
Actually, I was kidding, you can’t take her
home right away. We have to first check if those tomatoes you’ve brought are
not rotten. Not that we can reverse our acceptance thereafter but, oh well, we
gotta milk at least one more power trip out of this. I’ll admit that at that
point, we are merely exercising vanity. Power has decidedly turned to your
side. That’s why, at the end of kwanjula, Ssenga will crawl her way towards you
and ask, “Sir, when will you take your wife?” Your call. You can name any day.
Just give us a night or two to talk to her about how to treat you properly.
Step 9: Kasiki
This should interest you so very much. The
night before you are due to pick up your wife, the more notorious version of
ssenga-ring happens. The boldest women in the clan will lock her up in a room
and tell her things that will make you go gaga. Happy endings for you only. So
you want me to give you examples? Excuse me! My parents occasionally Google my
name. Let’s keep this within the publicly consumable realm.
Step 10: Kasuuze Katya
I have no idea why, but you have to pick
your wife before day break. You also carry random items like a tiny kerosene
lamp (tadooba) and a matchbox and hand them to whoever meets you at the gate
with your wife. No further ceremony, no nothing. Just hand over your sachet of
curiosities and get a wife in return.
Step 11: The real wedding
As you make your way out of our gates with
our daughter, you might hear her mother whisper, “I hope we’ll now get a real
ceremony for which we can wear proper busuutis not these working clothes.” It’s
a hint. Even if she’s now your wife to beat, a wedding with proper western pomp
would be nice. You know; the one with priests in the morning, photos in the
afternoon and a real feast in the evening? Fully at your expense of course.
Step 12: Wedding Night
This may be the night after step 10 if you
are that kind of miserly muko who won’t give us a real wedding or the one after
step 11. Either way, we will not be there. Those things people say about
Ssengas sleeping under the bed to supervise nocturnal self-expressions are
false, baseless lies spread by our haters. It has even never happened. Ever,
ever.
Step 13: She Cooks for You for the 'Very First Time'
Now, I know she did that breakfast katogo following your declaration. You might even be that kind of dishonest bugger who's been making our daughter cook for you for years already. But, let's all turn over a new leaf. After honeymoon, which we strongly encourage, even if you only just lock yourselves up in the bedroom at home...
Anyway, after honeymoon, Ssenga will come by with an aide or two and supervise your wife cook her first meal for you. Proper matooke wrapped in an entire plantation of leaves and completely rid of any nutrients from overcooking. Proper chicken luwombo too. Ssenga, will see to it that she kneels down when she serves you and sits by waiting on you as you eat. That's our promise to you. That, this is your life now. You did us the favour and grace of marrying our daughter. She'll now spend the rest of her life serving you like that.
By’ebyo. Now don't ever come back to our home unless someone has died. You are a muko bugger. We won' be cooking chicken luwombo on random Sunday afternoons just because you got bored at your house. But this is a good thing. It makes us the lowest maintenance in-laws in the history of mankind. We won't contact you unless there is a real crisis. Isn't that just dandy?
