Child's Birthday Party: A Potential Landmine of Social Blunders

The kids were invited to a friend's birthday party the other Saturday. It was quite the ordeal for our three little kids ages four and under (not to mention their mommy and daddy). You may remember from a previous experience we posted that birthday parties in Mozambique are very different than in America. But like in America, the birthday parties can vary quite a bit depending on the individual's culture and values and what a "party" means to them. It was a privilege to share in celebrating our friend "Prescott's" birthday...and once again it was quite the experience!

The invitation said the party was at 3:00pm.

We arrived just after 4:00 pm (taking our cue from the last party!) and were still one of the first families to arrive. The party was held in the (small) apartment of the family and children and adults mingled and sat chair to chair in the living room and veranda (a few meter's square). A variety of loud music was playing from the stereo system when we arrived, and apparently in our honor, was turned up even louder when we entered the house.

By about 5:00pm the kids were soaked in sweat and getting restless from just sitting. (Incidentally, children don't typically play structured games at a Mozambican party--they just run around and entertain themselves). My attempts to correct any of my own boys' roudiness was promptly condemned by the surrounding adults with the typical Mozambican expression of "e crianca"--literally,"he's just a child" and with the meaning/implication "don't be so hard on him" and "let him do what he wants".

We finally gave the kids freedom to just run around the hallways of the apartment building with some of the other kids--it was much cooler out there than in the house even though it was a bit more difficult to keep track of them. I was pretty...um...bored...myself, to be honoest. And every time I offered to help with something I was given a shocked expression and told that no, I needed to just sit!

By about 6:00pm Stefan disappeared with Wesley and I found him a while later outside the apartment trying to get some fresh air. :). Soon after that the kids all sat down--filling the veranda, the living area, and the hallway--to await the food.

Finally I was allowed to help! We spent about 45 minutes serving food to all the kids--a banquet of typical Mozambican food--grilled chicken, fried potatoes, rice, xima, matapa, baked fish, cabbage salad, lettuce salad, potato salad and lots of fried batter-type apetizers. When the kids were finished eating, most of them were shooed out into the hallway while the adults finally all rushed to the food--and I mean literally rushed! An orderly line and taking turns at the food plate is not so much valued here. One lady offered to hold Wesley for me so I could get some food and I could tell she was getting frustrated that I wasn't forcing my way in there and that I was allowing others to push me out of the way.

At that point (around 7:00pm) there was still no end in sight. So after Stefan and I politely juggled a plate of food around the swarms of people while trying to keep track of our kids, I tried to figure out a way to politely excuse ourselves. You can sort of imagine at what point of melt-down our kids were in after spending three hours in a hot, packed, house with loud music! And there was not a single space in the house--bathroom included--that didn't seem to have bodies filling every square foot. So feeding Wesley, who was quite hungry, with any sort of peace and privacy was not an option. However, telling our hostess "the truth" wasn't going to translate accross the chasm of our two cultures. Leaving a party because your kids are tired, hot, and overstimulated just would not make sense to most Mozambicans. And the need to feed a baby with privacy and/or quiet is also just not understood.

Eventually I just thanked the hostess and told her we had to leave (no reasons given!) and she insisted that we could not leave without staying for the cutting of the cake. Seriously. That was not just a polite invitation to stay longer, it was a big huge hint to the apparently ignorant foreigner who had the audacity to suggest they leave before singing to the birthday boy! And who should appear on the scene at just that time? Prescott! The two-year old birthday boy who had just woken up after sleeping through the first four hours of his birthday party! So we stayed. And we sang. And ate some cake. And then wearily packed into the car and drove home around 7:30. We said lots of things on the way home like, "Wasn't that fun!" and "That was so nice that Prescott invited you to his birthday." I think we (Stefan and I) were mostly trying to brainwash ourselves.

Whew! Who knew attending a friend's birthday party could be such an ordeal and provide so many opportunities to commit huge social blunders?