A couple of Fridays ago, I woke up, brushed my teeth and went into work like any normal day. As soon as I got into work my boss told me we are going out. He was sick and tired of just sitting around all day. We were going to hit the ground running that day.
We ride over to the market area and then Diarra (my boss) wants me to go and meet his Tae Kwon Do master. So he carts me over to his master’s house to introduce me. We sit, watch some bad music videos and then France 24 News. I keep thinking we are going to leave any minute but we never do. More and more little kids in Tae Kwon Do outfits keep coming in and soon after a dance party breaks out. Diarra uses his cell phone to DJ, I hand out candy to motivate the kids to dance.
After sitting in the Tae Kwon Do Master’s house for three hours I finally ask Diarra, “What are we waiting on?” He keeps telling me to just wait, something will happen soon. About five music videos later I start to hear honking moto horns coming our way. Usually honking moto horns in processions is saved for marriages and I didn’t think there would be a wedding on a Friday morning. But sure enough I was wrong. The honking stopped and the once empty living room filled up with about 100+ Maliens dressed for a wedding.
I try to search out Diarra but I’m swarmed by the photographer and bride party. Mind you I didn’t know the bride (or groom for that matter) let alone I didn’t even know there was a wedding going on. But I smile nicely for the photos because I know that one day the will decorate some wall and grandchildren will be told about how I was once friends with a Toubabou.
Then it got even weirder. Suddenly everyone leaves, leaving Diarra, the master and I alone in this living room. I get swept away by the master into the gym where the tae kwon do classes are held and then the wedding party enters the gym. The bride and groom put on the Tae Kwon Do outfits over their wedding gear. We take a few more photos and then everyone leaves. So there I am, alone thinking, what just happened?
No comments:
Post a Comment