Twenty Years

 The way was explained to me in advance: On the road to Nakurupast the hospital and the prison to Nyandarua Primary School, then turn into the dirt road and ask for Eston's house. What finally wasn't even necessary: Large, white arrows on the road and the people in front of and behind us were clues enough that we were right. We were welcomed by the master of the house and escorted to the big tent, which had been placed in the courtyard. An extensive Mass was followed by congratulatory speeches, all in Kikuyu, the local language. However, we understood the important moments also without being able to understand the spoken word: when the couple renewed their marriage vows. Or when the husband gifted his wife a car to celebrate the day, which was effectively steered in front of the entrance gate. After that, the obligatory Kenyan lunch for the assembled crowd arrived. The crew of the caterers had done a great job and distributed generously: two kinds of meat, two sorts of rice, mashed potatoes, pea purée, lentil stew, chapati (a type of pancake), braised kale and probably more. My plate was more than full after the kale so I skipped the other pots.