The Dowry of Dogomadji (Emelie's last name and a nicely alliterative title, but now it's all messed up because I had to explain it to you, thanks a lot 🙄)

Post-ceremony dancing with the bride

Since my meeting this afternoon was postponed until an undetermined time in the future, I have a bit of time to write up the events of the dowry ceremony before I forget them completely in the next few days due to old age and chronic lack of sleep. 

I don’t always get lots of chances in Chad to attend cultural events like weddings and dowry ceremonies. I have a weird work/travel schedule. But I do like getting to be a part of these events because they’re usually interesting and fun. In this case, I didn’t just get to attend a dowry ceremony as the awkward foreign friend invited along to give her a bit of fun, but I was an active participant in the ceremony. 

The most difficult zipper to do by myself,
so I used a coat hanger.

Some background: my friend and colleague, Emelie (mentioned frequently in this blog) is marrying an American who cannot be here in Chad due to coronavirus and other difficulties making it impossible for him to travel at the moment. As Emelie’s sole American friend in Chad, she asked me to stand in for her fiancé’s family. I would have attended with him as a sister if he could have come (we’ve met and we are friends in real life too), but she wanted me to stand in for his mother, as the dowry ceremony is more about families of the bride and groom than about the bride and groom themselves. So now I’m Emelie’s dowry mother in law, and I’ve been told she has to respect me. Apparently before it was optional, but now—I have power. 

Moussa and Nadji insisted on a pre-ceremony meeting the day before
the dôte to make sure we were ready. Joe attended because he takes these meetings very seriously.

Lead up to the dowry ceremony involved Emelie bringing many things to my house—suitcases full of stuff, crates of bottled soda, money, etc. I also went to two meetings with her pastor. I had a dress made in fabric she chose and a design she chose as well. I was also warned strongly, after making too many jokes, not to say ANYTHING until I was told to, and then only to say what I was told. But I will say in spite of all of that,  I did get to make a speech all by myself on the spot in 3 languages to WILD APPLAUSE. Wild. Applause. There were cheers and whistles. For real. I am THAT GOOD. At saying two sentences in Emelie’s tribal language. The rest of the speech was not important. 

Pika inspecting the stuff while Lea is packing it up.

The day of the dowry ceremony, I had the dress and the head wrap and permission to wear my own shoes (since I do not own any light purple heels, as previously established), but I realized that I do not know how to tie a head wrap. I made some attempts, documented them kindly to give some fodder to my friends and family for mocking me, and then called Emelie to ask if she could give me the phone number of a mutual friend who lived nearby to come help me tie up the hair. She reminded me that people from the office, including Marthe, were coming to my house to drive to her house together. I knew Marthe would be up to the task of fixing the head wrap, but before she could even get there, Nadji arrived with his wife and daughter, and his daughter Gloria fixed it right up. Marthe came along a bit later and tucked in bits and made it better, according to her. I just let them tie it on and wished I hadn’t washed my hair that morning because what is the point when it is going to be completely covered? 

My head wrap attempts: the undone topknot, the post-shower towel,
the pirate, the bunny rabbit

Moussa overcome by how amazing my head wrap looked.

Gloria hard at work

She fixed it!

I was told by Emelie that the ceremony started at 9:00. I told everyone to be at my house by 8:30. I myself was ready by 8:15. Moussa, also participating as an American because unexplainable reasons, was also ready and laughing at my attempt at a head dress. He said, “No, no really it looks great…” before collapsing on the couch laughing. I did not believe him. Nadji, Tabita and Gloria showed up around 8:40ish. Tabita widened her eyes at my head dress and immediately sent Gloria into action. Marthe showed up around 9:00, but apparently Dieudonne and Christian were also coming and we needed to wait for them. Also, I had thought that we were going to Emelie’s church, but no, we were going to her house, even though I know her pastor had told me the plan was to do it at the church. Emelie, “Of COURSE it’s at my house it CANNOT be at the church! Why do you not know that?” Me: “Oh maybe because I’m not from here and I don’t know everything!” Emelie had a couple of “dôte-zilla” moments (thanks to Naomi for coining the word from the French word for “dowry”), but it’s understandable considering the stress that comes from planning such events. She also yelled at me the day before for not having a photocopy of my passport to give to the guy coming from the city office as a witness, which apparently I should have KNOWN I needed in spite of never having been a representative in a dôte before. I was all ready to defend my ignorance and insist SHE should have told me a day earlier so that I could have been prepared, but before I could get to it,  Moussa calmly took my passport and went to get it photocopied along with his ID since he also needed his for the ceremony. It’s really nice to have calm, patient people around when in the middle of stressful party planning. Anyway, don’t worry: Em and I are all good. And she has to respect me now because I’m her fake mother in law. 

Selfies while we waited for everyone to arrive

The ladies

At 9:00 when we should already have been at Emelie’s house for the ceremony, you would think that the one Westerner (I mean me) would be stressing about the lateness of our party’s imminent arrival at the other party’s party, but I wasn’t. This could be because I grew up in a culture where “jam karet” (“rubber time,” aka flexible timing) is a thing, and I rarely allow myself to be stressed out by the thought of arriving late (unless it’s to the airport). But actually, as I said to Nadji when he was concerned about time—“they can’t start without us! We are the ones bringing the stuff for the party!” And they all laughed and said I was right. Finally at 9:30 we all departed and made it to Emelie’s house before 10:00. I was driving so it could have been faster, but Nadji was in the back of my truck with three crates of glass soda bottles and I tried to be careful.

Packing up the truck to go to Emelie's

When we got to Emelie’s house, the tent was up outside in her courtyard and the couch/thrones for the parents (including me!) were outside and about 50 of her family members were gathered around (I’m sure we were all less than 50 because of coronavirus rules, but I’m also sure that no one counted). We unloaded the stuff, and we (the ladies) all ululated and carried in the stuff where Emelie’s female relatives all took up the cry. Ululating is really fun, and I’ve always known I would be good at it, but it’s not something you can practice without looking like an idiot because you don’t just go around ululating for no reason. It’s not like whistling tunelessly under your breath while you’re working. It must be done at full volume. Technically there are people who do it at church, but never having been one to “Amen” the pastor in my own cultural context, I feel like ululating in church in this cultural context doesn’t fit my persona either, so like I said, I don’t have many opportunities to practice. Luckily, I have been genetically gifted with powerful lungs and the ability to make noise as needed. And in settings when it is actively encouraged, I can participate effectively.

Off-loading at Emelie's

We put the stuff in the middle of the mat under the tent, and then Moussa and I took the Mother and Father of the groom thrones next to Emelie’s parents in the Mother and Father of the bride thrones. We sat there for a few moments of introductions by the MC, Florent (a cousin of Emelie’s whose wedding I went to last year). Then we were all invited down to sit together around a special carpet with some of Emelie’s male relatives. She doesn’t have any brothers so it was cousins who were there representing her. One of them I know and like, and the other I know and really have some serious issues with his behavior in the past, but for Emelie, who is wonderful, I played nice. Sometimes I can do that. 

Emelie's parents in the thrones, plus her auntie

The stuff with Florent as MC in the background

We all sat around and there were speeches and prayers and the cousins gave their speeches in Guley, Emelie’s tribal language for her family. They translated to French after, as no one representing the groom’s side is from Emelie’s tribe. We were a group of Nanjere, Kwang, Ngambaye, Sarh, and Moundang, plus one American passport holder. All of our side speeched directly in French. And then they saved me for last, hoping that I would have learned a thing or two from listening to other people’s speeches. I gave my two sentences in Guley that I’ve been practicing to, as I mentioned before, WILD APPLAUSE. Then I told them since they speeched in Guley for their tribe, I would speech in English in honor of the Americans whom I represented, which I did, before finishing with a brief “petite résumé” en français at the end. 

Sitting on the rug, ready for speeching

After the speeches, there was a brief awkward pause when everyone looked pointedly at me, and I had no idea why. Tabita whisper-yelled at me to get the money, which I did. I handed over an envelope of money in local currency and in American dollars. I had a moment of panic that they were going to make a big deal that we hadn’t brought enough money. After all, Emelie’s family is quite large, and she’s important, and we hadn’t brought any cows with us, and what if I was supposed to bring a cow, but no one told me (like they didn’t tell me to bring a photocopy of my passport)? Tabita assured me that we were fine, that we had brought more than the amount required by law, and it would be ok. Emelie’s cousins, meanwhile, were struggling to count the US dollars. The cash was in various denominations and they kept coming up with different numbers, and no one asked me to help, so I figured I should stay out of it. Florent, the MC, while waiting for the counting, smirking into the crowd said “I guess counting American money is like counting votes in an American election—it must be done over and over again to get the right number.” I laughed for 10 minutes, but no one else seemed to get the joke. Florent appreciated my appreciation for his comedy. And by the time I was done laughing, the guys were done counting, and we moved on to the next portion of the ceremony.

Counting the money like votes in an American election (still funny)

The bride’s attendants came out with a large wooden bowl that was empty. (Note: Emelie did not come out at all during the whole ceremony.) They said: “it is customary for us to bring out a bowl of water, and everyone drinks water from the bowl, but because of this covid-19, we are not going to do that. We have individual glasses of water for everyone.” So you see, Covid-19 awareness is really helping prevent the spread of communicable diseases through common water bowls at ceremonial events—not all bad! (Though I’ve frequently drunk from communal water bowls and never gotten sick—thanks, parents, for raising me in Indonesia with only half-hearted attempts to convince me to brush my teeth with filtered water and never drink from the tap.) 

The attendants coming in with my cool new giant wooden bowl

They handed the glasses to everyone, and I took a genteel sip, as befitted a genteel lady, before I noticed everyone else was drinking it down. So I chugged quickly to catch up, and put the empty glass on the table with everyone else like I knew I was supposed to do it all along.

Serving the water

Tabita got to drink from the little bowl, 
which we all would have shared except that Covid has improved
our cultural hygiene

The bridal attendants inspected the stuff in the suitcases (which I happen to know they bought and packed in the suitcases because they did it at my house), took the envelope with the money in it and went back to Emelie to discuss. Of course, they know that she knows everything that is there because she arranged for all of this stuff to be purchased and prepared. I realized after speaking with the ladies that it isn’t just because the fiancé isn’t here that Emelie knows everything that is in the bags. Even in a normal relationship where both members of the couple are in town, the woman goes to purchase the stuff while the fiancé trails behind her with the money. I don’t think these ladies trust their future husbands to give them the right kind of surprise at a serious ceremony like the dôte. I said, “So basically, at the ceremony you are approving stuff you already approved when you chose them at the market?” “Yes,” she said, smiling indulgently at me because I’m clearly ignorant. 

Organizing all the stuff the day before the dôte at my house

The ladies came back with the money and said, “While we would like to keep this money for ourselves, we leave it for the family, and instead we take this soap and perfume.” (The soap and perfume having been taken out of the front pocket where they had put it the previous day for easy access.) I’m guessing this is the traditional speech to make at that time. To my understanding, the next day, Emelie’s family and any unmarried girls from the fiancé’s family (sorry to all of them who are in the US), come together at Emelie’s house to take presents from the suitcases, which were full of shoes, make up, cloth, soap, perfume, sugar, and other stuff I can’t remember. I wasn’t allowed to go because I was the fiancé’s mother, but I’m sure it was a lot of fun.

Emelie's parents--isn't her dad cool with his walking stick and his hat!

The adorable Daniela, daughter of Emelie's cousin,
the equivalent of a flower girl, I guess.
She knows she's cute and she knows how to work the camera!
We love her.

After the bridal attendants went back to Emelie’s room, we all prayed and ululated again. Speeches were made about the unity of our families forever, and I was given the large wooden bowl (placed on my head), and we danced out the front gate. Then, we broke protocol and danced back in to see Emelie, which isn’t tradition, but we are all her friends and wanted to see her. We danced around with her in her room for a bit. She looked amazing, hair and make up and pretty dress and I hope that she went out later to celebrate with her family because it seems like a waste to keep her hidden when she looks THAT GOOD (unless that was the point?). 

I love this photo of Emelie because she is so full of joy and we were laughing and dancing

This one shows off the dress more though

Blurry dancing photo from Moussa, I think

We didn’t stay long with Emelie. We piled back into the truck and drove to our office, followed by Emelie’s family members bringing food for us. We wanted to have the party in the office so that all of our colleagues who had to work and couldn’t come with us (it was a Friday) could eat with us. Traditionally the food comes to the fiancé’s family house.

It's over! We finished our duties and we are off to get some food!

Lea dropped off the food at the office for us

It was very delicious!

All gathered around the food

It was delicious food, but I knew we wouldn’t have enough plates sent by Emelie’s family, so I waited to make sure everyone had plates, and then I got an extra plate from our office kitchen and joined in. Kadessou (the new Chadian Country Director) asked me, “Amanda, how long have you been in Africa?” I said, “I first moved to South Sudan in 2013.” He said, “Oh, you seem like someone who was born here. You really get us.” And I think that was the best compliment I had all day. Better than wild applause. And I am thankful for my strange, international, multicultural upbringing that has led to to this strange, international, multicultural family that I have.

And now some more photos, grâce à Moussa for those who made it this far and are still interested:

Me showing Marthe my head wrap attempts.
She said, "Some of these are ok."
She did not say that about the bunny rabbit look.

Another blurry dancing photo

I handed off the bowl to Marthe so I could really dance for a bit

Not sure who took this photo, but Moussa insisted we needed one with a Bible in it.

This is like one of those photos where you find a ghostly image in the background and get all freaked out,
but the white thing is actually me.

Thank you, Moussa, for this really important photo that you took and posted on Facebook.

Also thanks for this one. The world definitely needed to see this.

Still Alive

With my friend Nadji's grandkids

It’s been a while since I’ve written. I haven’t really been in the mood to document my life these days, though I can happily report that I am seeing the Lord do really good things through our work, and that is exciting and encouraging.

So a quick “so far in 2020” update on my life: I got the new Director for Neverthirst and our new Chief of Programs (or I always forget what his title is, but he’s the Boss) out to visit our programs in Africa. After a smooth and fulfilling visit to projects run in Uganda, a country where education and infrastructure seem rampant compared to the wilderness of Chad, I was a bit nervous to bring them over to the Wild West(er) Part of  Africa. But I’m happy to report that they LOOOOOOOOVED it (their words), in spite of, or perhaps because of, the challenges of working here. We ate a lot of camel meat, rode camels, spoke with many communities, pastors and government officials, and were gifted many goats and chickens, which we donated back to whomever was with us at the time. Most importantly, they saw how huge the need is out here and how big the hearts are of the local pastors and churches who want to help in the name of Jesus. So they’re all in for Chad, and that makes me happy, in spite of the fact that I just attended a packed meeting with a government official I will not name who really desperately wants to make life difficult for everyone who is working here trying to make life less difficult for his people. These are the little things that get to you sometimes, but if it were easy, would it be as fun? Maybe not? Of course long pointless meetings are not fun either…

Matt and Jason visiting an biosand filter home in Uganda-
excellent project.

Photographing the drilling team in Uganda-
also an excellent project.

And I got to see a wonderful friend and faithful prayer partner for the first time since South Sudan!

Then we get to Chad and I realized I forgot to tell Matt
to bring passport photos because I always have them and I assume everyone else does.
So I took him to get passport photos--Chadian style.

Second day in Chad--flat tire. Yeah, that's about right.

Free chicken!

The weapon in the car of our friend who helped us get a rental car.
He said he shoots those metal balls to defend against thieves.
Another welcome to Chad!

Joe also loves camel meat and bones!

The woman in the nomad village who really impacted
Jason and Matt when she showed us the water she and her family have to drink.

Also in 2020, I took a nice little break from life to adventure with a wonderful friend who showed how much she loved me by last-minute planning a trip with me when she is NOT a last minute person. But we had a wonderful time because she is a wonderful person. Also the beach was there.

And work marches on…thanks to Jason and his love of documents and organisation (with an ‘s’ because he’s Australian), I have lots of documents and I am way more organized (with a ‘z’ because autocorrect doesn't want me to be pretentious).

Moussa's hôtel des milles étoiles at sunset

This past week, in pursuit of documents and planning, I took a 10+ hour car trip, bumping along the sandy roads, down down down to the riverside in a small town few people know about, including our driver hired so I wouldn't have to drive. I was hoping to camp out with the guys outside of  the church, but because I’m female, propriety dictated that I pitch my mosquito net tent inside the storage room in the pastor’s house. “Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s only hot now, but later around 2am it will be really cold and you will prefer to be inside.” Personally, I think it would have been nice to have slept on a folded up rug on the sand like our driver did, but I threw down a sleeping bag on top of a yoga mat on a hard brick floor, and managed to sleep until 4:45 when the rural world gets up with the sun to sweep, start the cook fire, pump water for the day, and make the nasara feel bad for being so lazy. I meant to take photos, but I forgot. The house also had a walled off area (no door) for showering and peeing, but if your toilet needs are more than “Number 1” you are requested to find a private place behind a bush outside of the compound for that.

When you're on a 10 hour drive through the bush and you run into people you know!

Nesie and I were there two nights and one full day, which was a very full day, actually. We met in the morning with the pastors who had come in to hear about our project and learn how to follow our application process to find villages where the need is highest. Since the need is high everywhere, we have to find ways to prioritize. It’s never very fun doing that.

Telling the pastors how to fill out the applications.

We also had a bit of time to hear from the pastors about their work and pray for each other. It’s in these moments when I am sometimes overwhelmed with how truly impressive these guys are. You know that bit in The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis when the narrator sees a woman who is really being celebrated and admired and he asks the guide to Heaven who she is? He thinks he knows who she is because she is clearly an extra-impressive person, so surely she was famous on earth too. The guide says, “She is one of the great ones. You have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are two quite different things.” He goes on to tell why this woman who was an unknown during her life is being celebrated for her faithfulness and the way she lived her life and how many people she influenced for good. I think about this a lot when I meet certain people out here and see their faithfulness and their joy in spite of the difficulties that they face on a daily basis. They are out here fighting for others, and you will hear about them someday. Here’s a sneak peak:

Some pretty wonderful men there.

One pastor was a mechanic and a successful businessman. He earned a lot of money and instead of spending it on himself or his family, he and his wife spent a month fasting and praying about what to do with it. He felt the Lord called him to go to seminary. At seminary he was called to be a missionary. He finished his studies as a pastor and missionary and went to this remote town where he saw a need for schools for the children around him. He started teaching the children at the school and then went to get a degree in education. Soon he was noticed by the local government and asked to be the director of a local government school. He is doing this, but he is also working to start schools in all of the churches in the area (open to students of any religion) to make sure that children who can’t travel far to the government school still have a chance to learn to read and write.

Church school blackboard. Local village children are taught by the pastor.

Another pastor was up for a chance for a good job also in the education sector. He passed the exam and was told by the person in charge of the test to go find his name on the list because he had been accepted! He went to go see the list, and his name wasn’t on it. He checked with the administration at the main office—his name was not on the list. Someone had taken his name off and replaced it with the name of their friends and relatives and he didn’t get the job he worked for and earned. As he told the story, I found myself getting angry—injustice, unfairness, cheating—it really gets to us middle children. But he told the story without malice. “God had something else for me,“ he said. “I trained to be a missionary and I’ve been serving the Lord all over and it has been exciting.”

Church instrument--turns out it is more for rhythm than melody.
Very cool sound. Really spices up the Chantes de Victoire

Another pastor has been working with nomads all over Chad, and he said, “I’m basically a nomad myself. I travel all over.” When asked if he had any prayer requests, he said, “Well, I’m really trying to learn a new tribal language. If I learn it, I can speak to 3 unreached tribes in this area. They have been really interested in the Gospel, but we haven’t been able to communicate much.” The man is probably in his mid-50’s and this is his eleventh (11^th!) language. How many 50 year old men at church have you ever heard ask for prayer to learn their 11^th language so they could share the Good News with people who have never heard it before? I feel like our prayer lists tend to be sickness related.  We should pray for sick people for sure (now as much as ever), but not one of the 10 people who asked for prayer that day asked for protection or deliverance from illness. One guy did ask for protection from hippos and snakes when he is fishing though…

Speaking one of his 11 languages.

So those are some of the great ones! People giving their lives to serve others in relative obscurity, though now the 2 people who read my blog will know about them. It’s pretty cool to work with people like this. They know the water needs in the area so well, and they know that clean water is not enough to change lives forever. Just like Jesus telling the Samaritan woman, “whoever drinks from this water will get thirsty again, but whoever drinks from the water of Life that I give will never be thirsty again,” we want to help people get access to the Water that quenches thirst for eternity.

River near the pastor's house at sunrise.

Side note: when Westerners read that story of the Samaritan woman at the well, do we talk about 2 cultures that had been at odds coming together through water? Because Nesie pointed that out—Jews and Samaritans speaking kindly to each other, listening to each other, sharing a resource. He reminded everyone that we can use water to bring reconciliation between estranged tribes and communities too. It was a reminder to me as well about the relevance of the Bible across cultures and times. There is no specific language you have to learn to speak with God. There are no rules and regulations tied to a specific location or time zone that you have to keep. There is no superior culture that everyone should strive to attain at some point. To all who are thirsty, let them come and drink from the water of Life.

A few other photos from recent days, if you want to keep scrolling down:

Two of the best people ever to walk the face of the earth,
neither of which know how to take a photo without smiling with their whole face.

Moussa photographing his food--nowhere is safe from the food photographers!

I gave him the bag so that he could carry a bunch of stuff he had accumulated.
He proved that he is actually a normal guy because he was going to refuse since it looked too girly.
Then he decided that he would keep it in honor of women's day, and he now uses it all the time.

Nadji broke his foot! I went to visit him and hang out with his grandkids
(first photo on the blog)

Took them for a short ride in the car.
It was the BEST. Day. Ever.
It's nice when kids are easy to please.
And also adorable. The one in my lap definitely knows his power, though-
he gets what he wants because he is irresistible.

Henry (our Finance Director) and I crashed a wedding.
As a Kenyan, he was disappointed that they didn't dance as they do in Kenya.
He said: at my wedding, we danced SERIOUSLY.

It was a packed house, celebrating the marriage of a man who
lost his wife suddenly a few years ago and was left with small children.
God blessed him with a new wife who loves his kids and will serve alongside him in the church here.
There was a lot of rejoicing for this couple.

Wedding selfie from Claire and me!

The Kenyans teach the mzungu to make East African chapatis!

Oh they are soooo good.

They have layers!

And I made mango cobbler (that's cinnamon on the top, not burned bits).
It doesn't look as tasty as the chapatis, but Henry liked it anyway.