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Illustration by Mary Kirkpatrick
For as long as I can remember, I have loved celebrations that honour a special occasion, tradition or ceremony. I even married my high-school sweetheart twice in one day. We had two ceremonies – a Sikh and a Catholic wedding to honour our respective cultures.
So why wouldn’t I want to celebrate our 25th anniversary with a Maasai blessing/renewal of vows ceremony while on our first safari in Africa? We were in Kenya in August (our anniversary month) to experience the Great Migration, when wildebeests are in search of water and food and travel from the Serengeti in Tanzania to the Maasai Mara in Kenya and back again.
Watching the migration was unforgettable. But our Maasai celebration was the perfect ending to a perfect safari.
The festivities began when three Maasai women (Elizabeth, and her daughters Mary and Margaret) came to our room to help me dress. Much giggling ensued as we tucked and cinched, making sure the traditional attire fit just so. I marvelled at the exquisite design of the blouse and full-length skirt. Soft white cotton was decorated with silver discs. As I moved, they sparkled in the light and made a gentle tinkling sound, heightening the brightness inside me. I gasped when I saw the final piece of the outfit. A white cape bordered with a checkered Maasai pattern of deep burgundy was fastened around my neck and flowed elegantly down my back.
Next came many beaded necklaces and bracelets. And then, as the final touch, a beaded headpiece. Red, blue, yellow, black and white beads entwined to sit virtually weightless on my head and forehead.
With my ensemble complete, we turned toward the mirror. There was a momentary silence among the four of us as we took it all in. My eyes began to fill as joy, awe, anticipation and gratitude swirled inside me.
I remembered the morning of my Sikh wedding, when family and friends helped me into my lehenga, bangles were slipped gently over my mehndi-decorated hands and a gold tikka tenderly affixed in my hair.
Elizabeth sighed softly, “You look beautiful,” before turning to Mary, “I remember when we did this for you.” In that moment, we were bound together through our shared memories and traditions. Hugs followed.
Soon we were whisked off in a jeep to the Maasai Boma, or homestead.
As I stepped down from the car and looked up, my breath caught in my throat.
We were greeted by Maasai elders and the large group of Maasai warriors and young women, draped in magnificent red clothes, fanned out in a semicircle. A deep rhythmic sound began as they began to sing and escort us to the ceremony site.
My husband and I smiled at each other, held hands and glided along.
Margaret had kept close. “Are you nervous?” she asked, taking my hand. “No,” I gushed, “I’m just so happy right now.” Her answering grin matched my own.
We had only been walking for a few minutes when I felt a few raindrops. Immediately, the singing ceased. The group stopped walking. Maasai was rapidly spoken. There was an undeniable sense of elation. Margaret was jubilant.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Oh, but this is wonderful! You are blessed!” She explained that the Maasai consider rain on your wedding day to be a sign of immense blessings. The drops turned to a light shower. Umbrellas miraculously appeared. The showers came, sprinkled their blessings and went merrily on their way. The singing resumed and we walked to the ceremony site.
The setting couldn’t have been more perfect, the boma had dramatic views overlooking the Maasai Mara Reserve. Surrounded by the tribe, my husband and I exchanged quiet words of love and gratitude for these 25 amazing years and all the years to come. This was a celebration of our original vows and our love for each other.
While I could not understand the words being spoken, I felt at peace as the Maasai elder gave the blessings while gently placing his hand on my shoulder and then my husband’s. The elder asked one of the warriors to translate.
Then the elder gave us Maasai names. I was named “Nolari” which means “to celebrate a life event while being blessed by showers” and my husband was called “Olyamanuk,” which was my name in Maasai.
I remembered how it had rained momentarily on the morning of our Sikh ceremony, which is seen as good luck for a marriage in the Indian culture, too. There was that familiarity again. Of customs and rituals. Of receiving blessings from the priests and our elders at our wedding ceremonies, surrounded by family and friends, all while experiencing that whirlwind of emotions.
We expressed our gratitude to our Maasai hosts, humbled that they shared their culture and customs with us. A brief hush fell over the group when the elder responded, “That you would come from so far, across the ocean, just to have the Maasai bless you … this is an honour for us.”
I cherish this celebration because it reminded me how to grow by sharing cultures and traditions, and appreciating that people are more alike than different.
Lucky Kalsi lives in Toronto.