Tarmac and Pineapples

Gonzaga has a library – at least one in the works – so this past month the students have begun to discover the wonders of the books and the mystical librarian.

We are in the midst of an election year. National elections will be held in January 2010 and so campaigning has begun with the ruling party, Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM), quite literally paving the way. With only a few months left in the term 2005 campaign promises are being fulfilled. This is big news in Mabibo, where the main road is being paved (a ditch was dug last year along the same road, though this has since been filled by the rubble of road construction.) To the locals, the situation is rather predictable as there tends to be an outburst of construction and infrastructure-related projects in the fall leading up to an election. While infrastructure development is needed and appreciated, frustration lies in the start-stop tempo of progress. I suppose we find solace in knowing that the master plan is beyond our vision.

I was recently invited to a celebration by one of our neighbours, supposedly for their grandson. The morning of the celebration I dropped by their house to confirm that I was attending and had breakfast with them. Taking tea, I tried to better understand what exactly I was getting myself into. Andrew, the son, explained that it was a family meeting. I laughed and explained to him that his mother had invited me and he didn’t need to cover up. He again said it was just a family gathering. I confirmed, in English, with him and the younger relatives that they too would be at the party, not giving up on this notion, though I was still unsure as to exactly what we were gathering to celebrate.

At four o’clock I left home with money in pocket in case a gift was expected and bought a pineapple to bring along just for good measure. I arrived solo and walked up to the family who were gathered outside the reception hall. I sheepishly handed over my pineapple to the matriarch of the clan and took my seat, waiting for the festivities to begin. An hour later we began. The family meeting was called to order. We sat together for four hours as they discussed plans for fundraising for their daughter’s wedding. Andrew wasn’t lying. While it was interesting to watch the communal aspect of planning for a major family event, my presence and, definitely, my pineapple were out of place.

The next morning I ran into Andrew on my way to mass. “Andrew, I didn’t see you at the family gathering yesterday. What happened?”

“Yeah, sorry. Something came up. I got busy.”

“Don’t worry about it. (While thinking, I don’t think you were ever planning on going since I was the only one there under the age of 40!)”

Kiswahili has improved, yet some things remain lost in translation.