CHAPTER 12

When I came back from America, Linda was getting married to the father of my niece. Our parents prepared the two parties to perfection. So, our Tanzanian wedding culture goes like this; There will be a total of 3 parties. The first one is called a Kitchen Party, an all-female event, no man allowed, only the DJ. In this party, the bride-to-be will be gifted with almost all household necessities, cookers, laundry machines, furniture and stuff. The married women in the family will take turns speaking to the bride in front of the guests, telling her the marriage's what to dos and what nots. 

The second party is called A Send-Off Party. Here, the bride and groom's families are all invited. This is the event where the bride's family officially sends the bride off to the groom's family. The groom's family representative will come with a suitcase filled with fancy stuff to gift the bride's parents. If the parents are moved with the gift, the bride will be sent off. It's a bitter-sweet party, kind of my favorite.

The last party is the wedding ceremony, and it's the same thing world-wide.

During Linda's kitchen party, our cousins had secretly planned not to show up. I could see the sadness in her eyes when her gaze flickered across the venue but not spotting them. They eventually attended her Send-off party after my mom and aunty called their stupid behavior out.

On Linda's wedding day, she sent me a text from the saloon.

Maybe God wanted you to come back for my wedding. I can't imagine going through all this without you. I love you very much.

Now I know why people cry during their sister's wedding. It was a very emotional day for both of us.

…

It's been a few months since I went back home, and little by little I began to forget about America. I had found great universities elsewhere and all I had to do was apply. Terrible news: we had no embassies of those nations in our country, and nobody in my family was ready to finance my trip to Kenya for a Visa interview with no guarantee that I'd actually pass. I get it. It was a gamble, and I knew we couldn't afford the repercussions.

My mom started talking about the US again. She was very convinced that it was where I was meant to be. Life at home was very hard. The easiest path was me going back to the USA and giving it another try. There were times when I thought I made a terrible decision coming back;

"Do you think I made a mistake?", I asked my mother one day while we were doing laundry.

"Why do you think that?", my mom asked.

"I don't know. I mean, I've watched people go to the States and pass through hardships without breaking. Sometimes I feel like I'm weak. I wasted a great chance to change our lives here.".

"Jenny, you're the strongest person I know. What you went through was tough, even for me. It was a good thing for you to come back and take a breather.", said my mom, "But, I still think that you're meant to be there. I really want you to go back and try again.",

The thought of me going back was scary. Flashbacks played in my brain. They gave me shivers.

"Even if I decide to go back again, we don't have that kind of money.", I argued.

"Don't worry about the money. You just need readiness. Everything else will fall into place after.".

I was intrigued to actually try again. When my half-brother heard the news that I was ready to restart the processes again, he was excited. He even financed some parts. In December 2021, my family and I were at the airport saying goodbye to each other again.

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