Baby Naming Ceremony in the Village

So two weeks ago, I was planning on taking my friend and her mother back to her mother's village.  Her mother had been here for three months recovering from an illness. I have been longing to go visit this village since we came back to the states, but the time has not been right. I was so looking forward to this visit.

Then the mother came to my house to ask if we could instead go to another village for a baby naming ceremony the next week. Then she would return to her village with others who would also be at the ceremony. I was confused because she kept saying Wednesday and and Thursday. I finally got to understand leaving Wednesday. How Thursday fit in would become clear later.

I was not quite as excited about the change in villages, since my time in the other had been sweeter. None the less, I was looking forward to a day in the village with my friend. Two days before the ceremony, I went to visit my friend to be sure of the time we were to leave. She agreed that 8:00am would be best in order to arrive before the baby had its name.

The morning of the ceremony, I was getting anxious as I rushed around the house to get myself ready and ate a bagel with some coffee.  I made sure everything was ready for my family for the day and the big kids knew what to do for school on their own. I finally got out of the house at 8:30. Though I am not sure why I was so anxious.....

I arrived at my friend's house. My friend was not dressed and her mother's things were still being gathered. So I sat. And sat. And sat. I was brought some bread and local tea, kinkilibaa, and I sat.  Finally almost an hour later, everyone else was ready to go.

We loaded up and headed to the village. We were among the first to arrive. Not terribly shocking. We greeted and visited a bit and then we were given a hut of our own to spend the day. I went to the hut, expecting that people who wanted to visit her would come there. I was correct. For along time,we visited. They brought us bread and coffee.

A man named Issa came by to visit. One could not avoid noticing the man's legs. I finally asked what had happened. He said that he has fallen into a fire. It had been a "long time" but his legs were still very swollen to the toes and bandaged around the shin. One could see white skin around the bandage edge. I found it difficult to follow his story, maybe because I missed the beginning because I was concerned about his legs. All I caught in his conversation was the repeated word meaning "beginning". We use this word when talking about creation. I took the opportunity to recall a bit of the creation and fall story and promise of a savior in an effort to share about Jesus healing the son who was possessed by a demon and prone to throw himself into the fire. It did not get received like I had hoped it would. The conversation soon ended and Issa went outside to be with everyone else.

Finally, about 11:00, the baby's name was announced. Soon after, the celebration breakfast was served. If I did not know that I was in a village before, I certainly knew it now. In the capital, a thick grain mixture, like a thick oatmeal, is served smothered in a delicious sweet yogurt. Even in our town, this same thick mixture is served, though maybe not as sweet as in the capital. Others here might serve mixture of the same grain but more of the consistency of small noodles and mixed with a sweet milk. This day, rice. Rice cooked in oil and with some onions, but...rice.  Still full from all my bread, I was still political and ate. (For those counting, that was fourth breakfast. Hobbits would be so happy!)