Mountain Meets Lake.

Some life transitions just creep up on you. The older we get, the more we become like our parents. We find ourselves involved in events we never thought we would be part of. We remember accompanying our parents to weddings, funerals, and all the other gatherings in between. We had no role to play other than to sit and watch things unfold, while silently hoping for chips and sausage, or nyama choma on the menu. I never thought that a time would come when I would be the parent or mzee taking charge of such events—or, at the very least, involved to a major degree.

That was the case over the Easter weekend. My buddy Sancho’s son has spotted a beautiful girl from the lakeside county of Siaya. I was corrected not to say that we were going to Kisumu. No, we were going to Siaya, specifically Gem constituency, where many of Kenya’s professors and doctors hail from. My buddy asked me to accompany him, his family, and other close friends and relatives to the Nyombo ceremony. It was an honour, especially as his son, KJ, is a fine young man.

Hapo ndio tumefika. We are now negotiating for our sons to get wives and marrying off our daughters, too. I never saw myself reaching this stage. It reminds me of about two years ago, when another pal’s son asked me to help him through the process of finding a wife. I felt quite honoured to be entrusted with such a responsibility, so I jumped right in, though without any prior experience. This was one of those things that you learn on the job. But then again, we grow when we do things that we are not qualified to do.

That was the first time I made the shortlist to enter the inner chamber, joining a select few wazees from both the groom’s and bride’s sides. Hearing men negotiate in low tones using parables was quite the experience, hehe. Behind the men on each side were a few women. When I stood up to introduce myself (with heavily rehearsed Kikuyu, hehe), I could see the women from the bride’s side giggling as they consulted amongst themselves in low tones. Initially, I thought they were laughing at my Kikuyu until I recognised most of them. These were my mum’s friends, and they had known me since I was a kijana. Now, they were seated listening to this mzee kijana who had brought his ‘nephew’ to ask for their daughter’s hand in marriage. It was like a blast into the future.

We finally agreed after some push and pull. The symbolic white smoke emerged when we all came out smiling and laughing together in agreement. It was a similar scenario last weekend in Gem, although I was not in the small room this time.

What stood out to me was how stereotypes can be misleading. In this country, we really do judge books by their covers. Luos and Kikuyus have been on opposing sides for years, thanks to tribal politics. Consequently, I must admit I was a bit apprehensive that the negotiations would generate more heat than we would like.

That said, we showed up in large numbers to take our son to Siaya; after all, there is safety in numbers. I hitched a ride with some friends. We left Nairobi at 6 AM and headed out towards Narok via the Suswa road. It was Good Friday, so we didn’t want to risk getting bogged down on the Naivasha-Nakuru highway. Long drives and road trips make for good friendships; I didn’t know two of my co-passengers, but by the time we got to Narok, we were pals already. We had so much banter. The laughter was refreshing and therapeutic. I love driving through this country with good company in the car; that shortens the trip significantly.

We drove on winding roads through maize fields, forests and tea plantations. After a few stops, we arrived in Kisumu. It didn’t feel like we’d been on the road for eight hours. We drove another sixty kilometres to Siaya and arrived at the VIP hotel. Yes, that was the name of the place. In this part of the country, titles and accomplishments are paraded at every opportunity. You’ve got to love Luopeans, hehe. The service and accommodation were not exactly VIP, but our purpose and the crowd that had gathered outweighed the slight inconveniences.

We caught up late into the night and woke up early the next morning to prepare for the Nyombo. Everyone cleaned up pretty well, and by 10.30 AM, we were in a convoy headed to the girl’s home, hooting and singing. It was a grand entrance; the groom and his boys each brought a calf or goat to walk into the home. Our ladies did the jig at the gate until we were allowed in, led by the groom and his groomsmen, though it seemed as if the animals were pulling them in, hehe.

We were welcomed warmly, and the formal part began with introductions and speeches from both sides. We even had a rainmaker who was committed to holding back the rain until the event was over. He succeeded 90%. It was a lovely afternoon and evening of speeches, intertwined with lively intros and dancing. We were attacked with food, and since it is my love language, I fell for those guys.

Our son was given full blessings, and we were happy to welcome a new addition into the family. This event really shifted my perception of people from other places and backgrounds. I even felt guilty for judging people harshly out of ignorance. Folks, may we not blindly adopt stereotypes handed down to us, nor believe them without proving them for ourselves. I was glad to go to Nyanza and happy to have played a part in picking a ‘gem from Gem’ for our kijana.

The mountain was comfortable by the lake, and that’s how we should view life going forward. I liked that picture.