Always a bridesmaid...(posting from the road)

I cannot recall the exact circumstances that led to me wandering around alone in the town of Musanze Rwanda, but that is where fate took me. Despite a fledgling tourism business, specializing in gorilla trekking, pale faces wandering around the town still draw attraction.
Wanting to escape the constant stares I popped into a store called the "Nice Shop". vPretty hard to go wrong there eh? French is the predominant language of Rwanda so this visit also gave me a chance to practice my second language (no doubt my bilingual siblings are rolling their eyes about now). I chatted with the very nice lady who ran the shop for a few minutes, namely about the weather and where I am from, two subjects of my language expertise - I could have also discussed what time it was, should the topic have arisen. Anyway, my language skills almost fully exhausted I started to browse through the different items in the "Nice Shop", which seemed to be large pieces of fabric and candlesticks.

My gaze must have lingered on this zebra print material for too long because the lady rapidly yanked it from the shelf and presented it to me. I tried to ask if it was material that was to make a dress out of, but I think my French failed me because before I knew it the lady had draped me in the material and strategically tied it to form a sort of toga.

We spoke at each other for the next few minutes; me trying to explain that it was lovely material but that I really and truly have no need for a large square of fabric that resembles the hide of a zebra and her telling me how beautiful I looked. Of course I bought the material/dress. After I parted with the few dollars, the kind shopkeeper proudly showed me the photo. Apparently the style of dress/toga I was wearing is a popular bridesmaid dress in Rwanda. In fact she happens to have a photo of a bridal party where the bridesmaids are decked out in my EXACT zebra print dress. The main difference...they are tall, thin, and African - I am none of these things.
Attempts to take the dress off were thwarted as the lady kept telling me how good it looked and that I would be crazy to take it off. I smiled and nodded, fully intending to remove the garb as soon as I stepped out of the shop but the woman was so excited that I liked her dress enough to wear it that she gave me a gift, a carved statue of a gorilla. I just couldn't, in good conscience, remove the dress. So I wore it. All the way home.

Two kilometres is not far, in most circumstances; when you are dressed in the silky hide of a faux zebra it is. But I did it - I wore my bridesmaid dress through the town. I felt and odd combination of pride and humiliation but I waved to curious onlookers and smiled at the boys and old women who commented. In hindsight, I think I received more compliments on that outfit then any other outfit I have ever worn.

After all is said and done, all I could think was that if I studied French harder I wouldn't be dressed like a zebra today.