If you thought that blind dates are a modern phenomenon, the following story on a hilarious Luhya version of Tinder will re-frame your perceptions.
This story isn’t about arranged customary marriages from the days of Jairus, my grandfather, and Nakhatama, my grandmother. Our story today is set in peri-independence Kenya. To put it another way, we travel to the time when modern tools of communication such as telegram, fixed telephone and photographs were taking root; reshaping society and human interactions.
Therefore, just as the telegram can be considered the grandfather of instant messaging today, the happenings that we will detail henceforth can be considered the precursors of online dating as we know it today. I make this bold claim as the basic constructs of what I have christened: the Luhya version of Tinder, match those for finding love online today, via dating sites such as Tinder.
THE ROLE OF SISTERS AND SENGE IN SETTING UP A PROFILE IN THE LUHYA VERSION OF TINDER
First, in both case situations, decisions on your preferred choice of a mate are dependent on a profile that they supply themselves. In today’s dating sites, people looking for lovers put up their profile on signup. In our Luhya version of Tinder, the profile would be presented orally by word of mouth by a relative. This was usually a sister or senge of the person whose object of affection you were.
As rule therefore, male children in Luhya societies were gendered to take good care of one’s senges (paternal aunts) and sisters. Among many other reasons, this important role of being custodians of a bachelors profile of eligibility, meant that they could get back in irredeemable ways.
For example, because these custodians usually had a photo on them of the bachelor to show to the girl, they held the power to make and break the prospective union. This is because there was a particularly cruel trick they often employed. It especially worked if the bachelor in question didn’t have the looks or ‘sauce’ to win the girl’s heart. I will be detailing this trick later in this post.
Thankfully, today the internet takes care of this relay. Further, algorithms with some success today match lonely hearts with their wants. Back in the day, close social relations and strict rules such as baring marriage between close relations did a better job. Moreover, how the game of love rolled on from that point of hearing or clicking, as appropriate, on a profile of interest is chillingly similar. For, needless to say, the game of courtship then becomes all about the art of the chat.
THE ART OF ‘THE CHAT’: DIFFERENCES BETWEEN ONLINE DATING AND
In the 21st century, love is found and lost on the basis of ‘sliding into DMs’. During the heydays of the Luhya version of Tinder, love blossomed or fizzled on the basis of broken-telephone-conversations. Thus, a slighted senge or sister could intentionally screw up details of the meet by the river or other secluded spot. With no mobile phones or ways to drop pins on your location, the blossoming love would be dead at the bud. With online dating, ineptness in the art of chatting up a love interest is a debilitating disability.
Nonetheless, a comparison on the two mediums of the chat reveals that the success rate of what I have called the Luhya version of Tinder pips technology aided love of today. The reasons of this apparent success are varied. However, one particular trick that played out in the next phase of the hook up could be key.
THE MEET UP: WHY THE LUHYA VERSION OF TINDER WAS A POTENT MATCHMAKER
The tricks of getting out of an underwhelming blind date or hook up is common fodder. However, to get out of the crucial ‘meet up’ or date that’s a result of the matchmaking powers of the Luhya version Tinder was much harder. The Luhya folktale of Nabalayo and her five sisters and Namakanda the frog, presents a case study on how such hookups took place.
First, it was squad thing. The boy came along with his crew. The girl tagged along her squad. This is to say that other interest were at play. For example, the boy’s companions would be out fishing for mates. The girl’s squad would also be hoping to catch the eye of a strapping lad from among them. In other words, the interests of the principal parties would be somewhat fickle in these circumstances.
Secondly, just by the concerned parties agreeing to the date, the matchmaking job was considered done. Thus what took precedence was for other sparks igniting love to fly from within the group of those tagging along.
Thirdly, only members of each contingent knew who exactly among them was the prospective bride or groom. It was therefore not uncommon for a girl to be sitting there confused as whoever she thought was her prince charming hits up another girl. Further it often happened that the group would tactfully manipulate situations that would mismatched pairings: right groom-wrong bride; wrong groom-right bride. So on and forth.
SEALED FATE
The most cruel trick was when none of the grooms or brides would resemble or match the profiles shared earlier by word of mouth. It even happened that the group would maneuver their way out leaving the girl with an entirely different boy, often the least desirable of the lot.
Nonetheless, when this happened, the fate of the girl and boy was considered sealed. The two were considered husband and wife. This is because in traditional Luhya society, girls and boys of marriageable age interacted sparingly. Indeed part of the moral of the Nabalayo folktale is to caution excitable youth from rush decisions on courtship.
Therefore, what lay ahead for the couple was such matters as enganana (Lubukusu: Dowry negotiations); looking forward to marriage rites such as kuvika kesegese (Maragoli construction tradition) or khuboa chinyinja (Bukusu marriage custom).
CAMERA TICKS
So how did it happen that there could be ‘wrong’ pairings even with photographs? Well, senge or sisters would often play a trick on a prospective niece or sister in law. The trick was dependent on them having with them any photo of an eligible close relation. Being it that photos were rare commodities then, it often was the case that the photo of her alleged prospective husband was the first one that the poor girl had ever interacted with.
It’s therefore not far fetched that the girl would have no way of telling if the photo was an accurate representation of what to expect. Sounds familiar? Air brushing, touching up of photos, fake profile images; anyone? Parallels with modern tricks aside, why this trickery happened is a story for another day.
That said, do you find the Luhya version of Tinder cruel? In some ways it places the con job of come-we-stay marriages at Titanic levels of romantic. In other ways, it’s not only pragmatic but with utility for those having trouble coupling. What’s certain though was that young people have always had problems finding love. Still, the question persists: Who would you prefer to give up your agency to chose a mate; an algorithm or a relative willing to pull all the tricks to find you love?
