Culture Platter

I am going to be sick. The rhythmic bass from the punctured loudspeaker provokes my gut’s integrity synchronously with the echo of fracturing bones from the kitchen. My invitation as the newest local in Ntungamo positions me in the generous end seat at the twenty-four hour wedding celebrations, where both kunhingira and sanguinary slaughter are visible. Uganda is playing with me.
Tradition, however, is taken fervently in Ankole culture - as my eardrums will attest - and the butchery of goats and cattle for feasting is just a part of it. Under the sagging tarpaulin opposite, a banquet of banana based delicacies is teasing crowds. Canary coloured matooke, deceptively chocolate kalo, and creamy eshabwe complete the spectrum.
The horseshoe of tents is generously entwined with amethyst satin ribbon connecting the two facing families. The women gracefully parade their wealth on their body, the finest regional silk, fashioned into tangerine shawls, coral kangas and majestic magenta kitenges.
A solitary groom, nameless to most, sits patiently. His head is bowed awkwardly, absorbing the tangible fusion of polylingual chatter, anxiously awaiting the introduction of his new wife. The breeze is sensuous with apprehension: one wrong word could terminate the marriage agreement.
The decorated enshagarizi - young girls and boys of the families - tour the jovial in-laws, presenting ornate platters of viscid goat chunks and flagons of lilac tinted tea.
“Mzungu.” It is my turn to receive.
“Agandi,” I reply with a nod before I pick up an arbitrary goat part.
“Gyenda mpora” – slowly, says the girl as I chew aggressively. A buried bone shard penetrates my gums, soaking my eyes and enticing a tang of calescent blood as my faculties exult. The deterring, bass beat alleviates and my nausea is consumed. The unique, permeating aftertaste of Ankole wedding goat throbs sublimely.
In every unseen manner, in every antique way, tradition conspires to infuse Uganda zestfully into the senses.