"Miss Rachella Regrets"

I often find myself hoping my life has achieved the poised, elegant sophistication of an Ella Fitzgerald song.

"Miss Otis regrets, she's unable to lunch today, madam,
Miss Otis regrets, she's unable to lunch today."

It would mean I'm a woman of substance, charm and grace. It would mean that I issue invitations like this one I just received, all gold foil and lacy ribbons. It would mean I have arrived, and that attention must be paid.

Come to think of it, though, I suppose my life IS like an Ella Fitzgerald lyric. After all, Miss Otis is sending her regrets through her loyal minion because she just caught a case for blastin' her cheating lover with a handgun concealed under her velvet gown. Girlfriend got dragged off by an angry mob, and was later strung up on the old willow across the way.

"Dysfunction Junction," for reals. Not that my life holds quite as much homicidal passion, unless you count the way I want to strangle the dumbass cretins behind the wheels of the matatu death sleds that choke Nairobi roadways.

Anyway, besides l'il orphaned babies, I'm also thinking of things like RSVP's and social graces these days, after receiving my first Kenyan wedding invitation! It's from a young woman I mentored briefly before she decided she wasn't interested in health reporting and switched to covering courts. I actually don't see her very much anymore, so this gorgeous gold invitation took me by surprise.

But when I thought about it, it's not so different from what happens in the US, when people you barely know send you invites to their 3rd wedding, or to their kid's graduation or bar mitzvah. It's so obvious they're fishing for presents, you almost wanna just puke into the envelope and mail it back to them. Now, I've been hit up often enough over the past few years in Kenya, mostly to help with burial costs, or school fees and real-life stuff like that. You feel like a real asshole if you turn down that kind of request. But I'm actually kind of shocked that it's taken this long to be invited to a wedding.

But then maybe I shouldn't be. Kenyan weddings seem to be extremely boisterous, extended family affairs. The operative word being family, or at least people who you feel close enough to consider family. With family sizes being what they are on this side of the world, this rarely leaves room for outsiders. Which is what I continue to be considered by most people here, after all.

So, like I said, it was a pleasant surprise to be invited. I've wanted to experience a Kenyan wedding for quite a while. It's a pity I have to send my regrets, though. You see, I was also invited to a golf tournament in Arusha, Tanzania that same weekend, and that happened before I was handed this gold envelope.

Few mortals can truly comprehend the crushing burden of being in high demand on the social scene. It's like a butterfly having its wings pulled in two directions at once, desperately attempting to rise above the clamor of its own blinding beauty and popularity.

Or something like that.