Hey!  Come here.  Let me tell you a secret.  Something I bet you never would have suspected.  Are you ready?  Here it is.  Malaria is…NOT…fun.  I know, right?  Who would have thought?!?

I really shouldn’t complain too much.  I have a mild case.  The pounding headache is really no worse than what I put up with during the usual migraine.  Sure, I feel like every single movement requires Herculean strength and yeah, my entire body aches worse than the time I decided it would be a great idea to do a metric century road bike race despite never having ridden more than 40 miles in one go (and that only once).  But really, as far as health issues run, I’ve had worse.

Except, that is, for the sweating.  And the subsequent chills.  And the sweating.  And the chills.  And the sweating.  And the chills.  On endless repeat all day, over and over again.  I am literally just sitting at my computer, barely moving except from the middle knuckle of each finger on down.  And yet, two minutes ago, I suddenly found myself drenched in sweat for absolutely no reason.  In a bit, I will just as suddenly get goose bumps and start looking around for a scarf.  It.  Is.  Miserable.

But, I had somewhere to be last night.  I had delayed my whole trip to Ifakara by a week to attend the Send-Off party of Happiness, one of my teachers.  Happiness is getting married soon, and the Send-Off was described to me as sort of the Tanzanian equivalent of the American bridal shower.  In retrospect, I would actually describe it as more like a giant Sweet Sixteen party or Quinceñera in scope, but it is similar in that the focus is indeed on the bride.  I did not want to miss this.  Furthermore I couldn’t miss it as Geoffrey, another teacher, and I were on the same invitation because we paid together (attendees contribute money towards the cost of the party); I was currently in possession of that invitation which was needed to get in.

So, with plans to go for an hour or two and take a taxi home early, I got myself prettied up and headed out with Ingrid, Anne, Geoffrey, and a few other folks.  When we arrived, the venue was lit up with strands of lights and music was blaring.  Chairs were set up in rows facing the anterior of the room, with an aisle down the center.  Up front, a dance floor took up most of the space, with three smaller rows of chairs on either side, set at a right angle to the larger rows.  And finally, in the place of honor at the very front, a raised platform supporting a cloth-covered table and two chairs.  The entire stage area was decorated with lights, flowers, and pink bunting.

A pink theme!

Ingrid, Anne, Abraham, and Geoffrey

As people arrived, we amused ourselves dancing to the DJ.  Given that I had malaria, I was happy that dancing primarily consisted of swaying from side to side and, occasionally, forming a circular conga line.  With one amazing, fantastic exception.

There I was, just minding my own business, getting my sway on, when suddenly the music segwayed into a new song.  Suddenly, as if on cue. the entire dance floor broke into the Hustle, not missing a beat.  Ann was slightly bemused for a few minutes- perhaps the Hustle hasn’t made it to Germany, but I reassured her, “Don’t even worry about it, just watch me.  I spent the better part of two years attending Bar and Bat Mitzvahs growing up.  I’ve got this.”  Confidently, I merged into the crow, ready to wow with my slightly jazzed up Hustle dance moves… and then ran into two people because apparently the Tanzanian hustle is not the same as ours.  Don’t get me wrong, it is close.  But, three steps where we take four in one place, an extra dip thrown in another; it was just enough to make me look like an idiot.  But!  I am no line-dancing novice.  I stepped out for one sequence and soon enough I was back in there, shaking things up.

Slowly the crowd had built and so we made our way back to our seats.  A band led off, sporting hot pink ties.  Moving up the aisles, they had everyone moving.  What followed was far more involved than a simple bridal shower and there is far too much detail to go into here but I will give a few highlights.  A large group of girls dressed alike came up the center aisle, something like the equivalent of bridesmaids, followed by the bride herself.  She was accompanied by a young woman who was dressed like her in a shiny pinkish-gold dress made in the Tanzanian style who stayed by her side most of the evening as a Maid of Honor.  For some time after, it was primarily about the bride, who stood up front while various family members and the MC made speeches.  The bride’s family sat on one side of the dance floor, while her husband’s sat on the other, and both were in great spirits.  Finally, at one point, the groom came into the back of the room.  Rather than join his bride up front, however, he hid in the audience.  Tanzanian Send-Off custom, I’m told, calls for the bride to “find” her groom.  Happiness, slowly roamed around the room, feigning ignorance of her groom’s location.  Up and down the room she went until finally, she located him two rows behind us and everyone clapped and whooped.

The happy couple!