The Introduction Ceremony: Cow Values

A couple of weeks back, my good friend Jane called and asked me to “stand with her” during her introduction ceremony. I was both honored and confused.

Honored because Jane is one of my closest friends here in Uganda, and I knew this was a big event in her life.

Confused, however, because although I knew introduction ceremonies are akin to really big marital engagement parties in the U.S., I had no idea what this would entail and what would be required of me. I tend to like to be fully prepared to any sort of semi-official or ceremonial duties and, frankly, I was coming up short in the knowledge department.

Plus, this was Jane. And Jane has taken such good care of me since I moved to Kampala ten months ago, I didn’t want to do anything wrong.

I had met Jane during the month I was living at the Sheraton when I first got here while I was searching for a home. She was the server who always came to my door with room service and never once questioned why my jet-lagged and homesick self would possibly want a bacon cheeseburger at seven in the morning. She was also the one who forced my ass out of the Sheraton and made me start embracing Uganda and the fact that this was going to be my home for the next year.

So I decided to ask Eddie, my friend and part-time driver, about the details of an introduction ceremony while he was taking me around Mbale, eastern Uganda.

“Oh…that’s a big event. A really big one,” he conveyed.

Eddie operates a tour company so he is very familiar with Americans and American culture so I could quiz him on possible cultural similarities.

"So do I have to buy a bad dress that I will pay too much for, only wear once, and inevitably look fat in?” I joked.

He looked at me strangely.

"No, it is not like that. This is the time when the potential bride brings her future husband home to meet the family and where the bride price is negotiated. It is usually a day or two-day event and it is taken very seriously and can be quite detailed, depending on the tribe.”

Ah, the bride price. The dowry. This is an important and much debated custom here in Uganda.

Some families take it very seriously, and it can literally bankrupt the future groom and his family. Other families think of themselves as more modern and embrace a “token” bride price, usually symbolic rather than monetary, to avoid having to send their daughters to a freshly destitute family after their wedding.

Eddie asked me where Jane was from and I named the village.

"Oh boy, she’s from the northeast…I know that region. This is going to mean cows. Lots and lots of cows,” he related.

He continued to tell me, and my good friend, Janice, who was joining us for a beer, about the “cattle culture” of this region of eastern Uganda.

A bride’s value, he told us, is determined in cows, literally. Cows are considered sacred by many tribes in Uganda and a family’s status and wealth is determined by the number of cows they own.

"The more ‘pure’ the woman, the higher bride price she fetches," Eddie said. “If a woman is a virgin or has only lain with maybe one man, then she will get a lot of cows, even up to fifteen. If she has lain with too many men, however, or has had too many boyfriends, her value drops to only one or two cows. Or, in some cases, to another animal entirely.”

"Shit,” Janice said, “My father could probably get a goat for me…”

At the same time I was thinking to myself, “I wonder how my mother would feel about a pet hamster?”

In any case, Eddie concluded, I should check with Jane immediately because I had probably signed on for a lot more than I realized.

So I called Jane upon returning to Kampala.

"Oh, it’s not THAT big of a deal,” she said, “I only need for you to do a few things…”

First, she told me, I needed to go with her to her village to be fitted for a traditional dress. Her tribe has a specific pattern of cloth printing that can only be found in the village so I would need to make time for that.

OK, I thought, that is easy enough and sounds fun…

Then, I would need to commit to cooking with her female relatives for up to two days before the ceremony as they would be preparing a ton of food and all women were expected in the kitchen.

Alright, that too sounded like fun and I love to cook so, why not?

Then it got a little more complicated…

"And, of course, you will need to be present when my virginity is validated,” she said, matter-of-factly.

WHAT?!

"Do you mean I have to do something to see if you are, um, intact?” I asked, horrified.

"No, no, no,” she said, laughing heartily. “You just have to be present with me when the village elder woman does it.”

I thought about this for a moment and said, “Jane, are you really a virgin?”

She laughed again and told me that no, of course not, but this was symbolic and a tribal ritual.

OK…well I guess I can stand by and watch or whatever…

“Oh, and you have to check the cows along with my parents and my uncle,” she said.

“What do you mean, check the cows?” I asked.

She explained that the woman who "stands with" the bride-to-be is also required to inspect the cows that the potential groom brings as the bride price to make sure that they are healthy, well-fed, and fertile.

"Jane, I used to work in the veterinary field but, really, I don’t know the first thing about bovine fertility,” I admitted. Then, “Does it require long plastic gloves?”

She was nearly hysterical now and could barely breathe to answer me in between huge bursts of laughter.

"No…again, it is symbolic. But if you don’t like one of the cows, then it is your responsibility, along with my parents and uncle, to reject my fiancé because he would dare to bring a bad cow in exchange for me…”

I had two thoughts simultaneously: “Damn, at least I know she’s not a virgin so there won’t be too many cows to check,” and, “I would never tell Jane’s boyfriend, a Ugandan recently returned from Iraq, that I didn’t like his cows…I could never do that.”

“Sorry dude, know you just spent a year in a warzone supporting U.S. efforts but, quite frankly, your cows SUCK. Now go on and get out of here, you can’t marry my friend…”

No, I couldn’t do that.

“And that’s it!” she pronounced. That is all I had to do.

Then I thought of another question that I knew might be offensive but I had to ask…

"Jane, I know we have been good friends for a year but why did you pick me to ‘stand with you.' I know you are closest to your sister and that’s she’s in England but…well, why me?”

Luckily, she wasn’t offended, and, in her very practical way of explaining things, said, “Because I love you and I have so much fun with you…”

OK…

“And because you are white and having you there in a traditional dress with me, cooking with my family, checking my boyfriend’s cows, and affirming my virginity is going to draw huge crowds. People will want to come to see that and, for me, this will mean more gifts and more money and I could really use it to buy a house for me and Paul now. I hope this doesn’t upset you,” she said.

No, it didn’t. Made good sense, actually.

Later, I was relating all this to Scott, who was getting a good laugh out of the image of me checking the cows for Jane.

Then I asked him how many cows he thought I was worth.

He fell silent immediately.

Scott, smartly, realized that the wrong answer could very well lead him into a place he didn’t want to go, so he tried to be practical.

"Babe, I can’t give your mother a cow, her condo is too small…”

Hypothetically, I insisted.

He sighed. “Patti, I don’t know, I have never had to think about something like that. We don’t trade cows for women in the U.S. …but, alright, maybe three or four?”

"That’s it?? That is all I am worth to you? Three or four goddamn cows?!!!” I snapped.

"Jesus, Patti, this isn't fair! How the hell can I give you the right answer when I can't even begin to think like that...anything I say is bound to be wrong!" he snapped back.

"How many cows was your ex-wife worth, hypothetically?" I pressed.

Scott remained silent, refusing the bait.

Then, rightly sensing that he wasn’t going to win this one, he tried to change the subject.

"Do Ugandans take honeymoons?” he asked.

Although still pissed about my low cow-value, I allowed myself to be distracted.

"I don’t know…I don’t think so. Most Ugandans don’t have that kind of money and I think that the grooms are pretty much tapped out after the whole dowry deal so, no, I don’t think so…” I said.

"I would take you anywhere in the world you wanted to go,” he related. “Anywhere.”

Nice try, Buster, I told him.

Still, nowadays I am consumed with a whole new issue: My value in cow.

Maybe I'll ask my driver, Robert, on Monday. He should be able to give me a decent estimate.

In the meantime, I am trying to figure out if I can look into a cow's eyes and determine its fertility because there is no way in hell I am doing it manually.

I love Jane but THAT is a little much to ask...even for an introduction ceremony.