Wendy Turnbull is PAI's Sr. Policy Research Analyst. She is in Kenya with other colleagues working on PAI's latest documentary.
The small, one-room primary school building in Kibera has broken windows in a few spots, but is otherwise in good shape. Located in the heart of Nairobi, Kibera competes with Soweto, South Africa to lay claim to being Africa’s second largest slum: it is home to more than one million people.
Colleagues from PAI and Pathfinder International and I are in Kibera to film and participate in a Muslim bridal shower. We’re here in Kenya for the week producing a short documentary about the vulnerability of married women to HIV/AIDS. Because the bridal shower is a women-only event, our male filmmaker, Nathan, is unable to attend, so we’ve lined up a local female camera-person. We women have been advised to “bling up” and wear as much gold, sequins, and makeup as possible. We do our best to comply but we’re utterly out of our league in this crowd. Jeans are a no-no.
The small, one-room primary school building in Kibera has broken windows in a few spots, but is otherwise in good shape. Located in the heart of Nairobi, Kibera competes with Soweto, South Africa to lay claim to being Africa’s second largest slum: it is home to more than one million people.
Colleagues from PAI and Pathfinder International and I are in Kibera to film and participate in a Muslim bridal shower. We’re here in Kenya for the week producing a short documentary about the vulnerability of married women to HIV/AIDS. Because the bridal shower is a women-only event, our male filmmaker, Nathan, is unable to attend, so we’ve lined up a local female camera-person. We women have been advised to “bling up” and wear as much gold, sequins, and makeup as possible. We do our best to comply but we’re utterly out of our league in this crowd. Jeans are a no-no.
As we’re setting up the camera equipment and lights, a steady stream of
women arrive with plastic basins overflowing with food they’ve prepared
for the celebration -- lots of sweet breads, samosas, and all things
fried. In one corner, a few young women practice their DJ skills with
the boombox brought in for the occasion. From this point forward, the
dance music rarely stops.
A traditional Muslim bridal shower celebrates marriage and imparts female wisdom to the young bride on what it means to be a wife, how to keep the home, and how to ensure her husband’s happiness. Obiya, the bride-to-be, strikes us all as quite young, maybe early 20's, if that. She wears a full-length white gown reminiscent of a formal wedding dress complete with tiara and shimmery eye shadow to accentuate her incredible eyes. Obiya’s two bridesmaids sit on either side of her during the festivities, adjusting the curls framing her face, laughing and whispering in her ear.
The bride’s grandmother wields the microphone with authority and proceeds to outline Obiya’s wifely duties in detail -- embrace and kiss him when he returns home from work, always see to his comfort and never complain, don’t let other women in your bedroom, as they will surely try to seduce him. The bedroom, she declares, is a sacred place for husband and wife only; if you become so ill you are bedridden, don’t even allow your friends to visit you. As if on cue, one of the old aunties sitting in the front row shouts out crude interpretations of the marital advice, setting all the women cackling.
The significance of the bridal shower is not lost on us: not only is it an important rite of passage for the young bride rife with sexual instruction from her “aunties,” it is a rowdy and joyful party for women only. For these women, this represents one of the few opportunities to get together for much dancing and singing. “We are free to enjoy ourselves here, with no worries about our usual household duties, or the children,” explains one older married woman.
Kibera Primary Academy has turned into a crowded private disco throbbing with African pop music. And it is the only kind of disco that most women here -- Muslim and non-Muslim -- will ever experience. Bars and pubs throughout Kibera, are the domain of men, as are most public spaces throughout sub-Saharan Africa.
“The man is the head, the woman is the neck -- that’s the advice my aunties passed on to me before my wedding,” comments another middle-aged woman at the shower. This mentality prevails still, we’ve discovered.
As dusk settles over Kibera, we wish Obiya well in her new life and take our leave. This all-women celebration has offered us a fascinating and intimate view of Kenyan and Muslim culture. While it remains to be seen how much of this footage we’ll end up using in the documentary, many of the themes we’re dealing with in the documentary are on display here -- women’s low status in society, early marriage, influence of religion, poverty, and the limited public space that women occupy in African society -- all of which play their part in predisposing married women to HIV/AIDS.
A traditional Muslim bridal shower celebrates marriage and imparts female wisdom to the young bride on what it means to be a wife, how to keep the home, and how to ensure her husband’s happiness. Obiya, the bride-to-be, strikes us all as quite young, maybe early 20's, if that. She wears a full-length white gown reminiscent of a formal wedding dress complete with tiara and shimmery eye shadow to accentuate her incredible eyes. Obiya’s two bridesmaids sit on either side of her during the festivities, adjusting the curls framing her face, laughing and whispering in her ear.
The bride’s grandmother wields the microphone with authority and proceeds to outline Obiya’s wifely duties in detail -- embrace and kiss him when he returns home from work, always see to his comfort and never complain, don’t let other women in your bedroom, as they will surely try to seduce him. The bedroom, she declares, is a sacred place for husband and wife only; if you become so ill you are bedridden, don’t even allow your friends to visit you. As if on cue, one of the old aunties sitting in the front row shouts out crude interpretations of the marital advice, setting all the women cackling.
The significance of the bridal shower is not lost on us: not only is it an important rite of passage for the young bride rife with sexual instruction from her “aunties,” it is a rowdy and joyful party for women only. For these women, this represents one of the few opportunities to get together for much dancing and singing. “We are free to enjoy ourselves here, with no worries about our usual household duties, or the children,” explains one older married woman.
Kibera Primary Academy has turned into a crowded private disco throbbing with African pop music. And it is the only kind of disco that most women here -- Muslim and non-Muslim -- will ever experience. Bars and pubs throughout Kibera, are the domain of men, as are most public spaces throughout sub-Saharan Africa.
“The man is the head, the woman is the neck -- that’s the advice my aunties passed on to me before my wedding,” comments another middle-aged woman at the shower. This mentality prevails still, we’ve discovered.
As dusk settles over Kibera, we wish Obiya well in her new life and take our leave. This all-women celebration has offered us a fascinating and intimate view of Kenyan and Muslim culture. While it remains to be seen how much of this footage we’ll end up using in the documentary, many of the themes we’re dealing with in the documentary are on display here -- women’s low status in society, early marriage, influence of religion, poverty, and the limited public space that women occupy in African society -- all of which play their part in predisposing married women to HIV/AIDS.
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