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Sekai Nzenza On Wednesday

In Africa, mismanaging time results in mismanaging resources as well. Africans must move with time or time will leave them behind.

The pastor arrived at the wedding ceremony three hours late. My cousin Piri, niece Shamiso, her husband and myself arrived at the ceremony an hour-and-a-half late.

This was deliberate. Piri had assured me that if we are one-and-a-half hours late, the preaching and speeches would be almost over by the time we got there. The bride and groom would have exchanged rings, kissed and signed the marriage register. Then we would arrive just in time for the singing, dancing and throwing of the confetti.

But when we arrived at the church in Harare, the ceremony had not started at all. Wedding guests moved in and out of a big old church. There was uncoordinated singing and talking while some kids laughed and others cried.

Our relative was the groom and we had never met the bride before. Both bride and groom live in America and they came home to get married.

The bride was hidden in a car under a big tree behind the church while the groom sat at the top end of the table in church talking to the groomsmen.

We went to greet the bridal team. It was quite clear the pretty bride was not enjoying her wedding.

“The pastor is two hours late,” she said, speaking English with an American accent.

“Ii, why has he done that? Sorry hako,” said Piri.

“It’s African time,” said one bridesmaid, the others mumbled something about the unfairness of it all. Why keep a whole bridal team and the guests waiting for two hours?

Earlier on, the pastor called to say he had problems with the car and was in Marondera but he was on his way.

He then called to say he was running another half an hour late. After that, the pastor’s phone was unreachable. Everyone waited.

We found a spot in the sunshine next to our car. It was already midday and we were at a wedding ceremony that should have started at 10am. Parked next to us were three young men in suits leaning against a beautiful black Mercedes.

The young driver of the Merc in his early 30s was clean shaven, had a nice moustache and a long silver chain on top of a white shirt under a sleek long jacket.

He kept on checking his watch impatiently, pacing up and down.

“Guys, I am going to leave now. Even though it’s my sister’s wedding, I will not be kept waiting like this,” he said.

“Yes bro, why should you? Ngatirove pasi,” said another, meaning, “let’s hit the road”.

“This is why Africa is so behind. We do not know how to keep time.”

The three guys argued a while. Then they agreed to call someone they knew in order to find out exactly where the pastor was. From our eavesdropping point, we gathered that the pastor had an appointment to officiate another wedding at 10am.

“Why did he double-book the weddings?” I asked Philemon.

He said this was not at all unusual.

Since the bride and groom were from the Diaspora and not regular church goers, there are pastors who are hired to do the ceremony. Some hired pastors did not want not lose money because a couple only marries once. They had figured out that wedding guests must be patient and not rush a man who was doing God’s work. A two-hour wait was therefore nothing. Where would the bride and groom go anyway once they are all dressed and ready for the wedding?

Another smartly dressed man wearing a white suit and red tie arrived to join the others near the Mercedes.

“Poor time-keeping is Africa’s worst enemy,” said the guest in red tie, speaking with a deep American accent.

“Even in Texas, Zimbabweans are always late.”

We quickly figured out that this was another brother or cousin of the bride who had come along from America as well.

“But, let me ask you one question, are Africans really capable of keeping time?” asked the cousin from Harare.

“Yes of course,” said the one from Texas, “Do you think I will still be working at my company if my attitude to work was like this? Do you think my Texan girlfriend would put up with this nonsense of being late each time? No way man, no! I keep time. In Africa, mismanaging time results in mismanaging resources as well. Africans must move with time or time will leave them behind.”

“And are you an African?” asked the cousin one from Harare.

“What kind of question is that?” the Texan-based one asked, looking irritable.

“Of course I am an African. Tell you what, in America they will talk about the “CPT” theory or “Coloured Peoples Time” which means African Americans can be late at least for 15 minutes for anything. I do not subscribe to that.”

At that point, Philemon joined in the conversation, uninvited.

“Guys, Africans have a saying, ‘Africans do not wait for time, rather, time waits for Africans.’ Besides, our ancestors did not have watches. They waited for the sun, the moon and the stars to tell them time.”

“And the rooster’s crow,” added Piri and everyone laughed. We moved closer to the guys and also leaned on the Mercedes like we were all family.

“Africans keep time in their own way,” said Piri. “Take me for example. I can be late but everyone knows I will always get there. Sis, is that not correct? Why should I stress myself over time? I have no control over transport because I don’t have a car. I do not know when the food is going to be ready because I do not know when electricity will come back. I do not know when the Kombi driver will arrive in Harare because he has to dodge potholes, donkeys and cows on the road. When I travel, I say to myself, I will get there when I get there as long as I get there,” she said.

I smiled. If there is a problem that will one day break my relationship with Piri, it is time. She is never on time unless I keep threatening that unless she is waiting for me in town at a given time, I would only wait 15 minutes then drive off to the village.

“When I drove away without her the first time, she said I had been so unfair and I should take off the Western coat called time keeping and post it back to the Diaspora where it belongs.

But I was not going to move according to her time. My brother Sydney used to be like Piri as well. He would say, lets meet in Chitungwiza then we go to the village. I would wait for half an hour or even an hour. In the end, I said, “No; with all due respect to you my big brother, I shall no longer waste time waiting for you!” Now he is always 20 minutes or even half an hour earlier than me. I sometimes keep him waiting.

Although it annoys me when other people are late, I always remind myself that I used to be bad with keeping time. I am getting better.

These days, I manage time-keeping by setting my watch at least five minutes ahead. This idea came to me when I was living in the Diaspora. Almost every time, I was usually late for appointments.

Socially, I was even worse because I would be deliberately late for no reason at all. I would say to myself, do not be the first one to get there because everyone will be late. And so I sat back and turned up an hour or even more later. Others came even later than that and nobody seemed to bother.

But we cannot continue to have this laid back attitude at keeping time. I recall a business seminar in America once when the facilitator (who knew me well) seemed to address me alone when he said, “We must realise that keeping time shows respect. At the same time, it also shows that you are a person of integrity. We have to learn to value time.”

I took the message. By the time I came back to Zimbabwe, my time keeping had improved remarkably.

In general, Africans in the Diaspora have learnt to keep the time. They show up at work or appointments on time because there is a price to pay for being late.

Time is money and we are paying a heavy price in business for being late. Back here in Zimbabwe, we are also trying to keep up with time. But, at social functions, especially weddings, we are treating people badly and allowing food to stand in the heat for too long.

“I do not want to be a prisoner of time. I want to enjoy life slowly” said Piri.

“Taurai zvenyu Tete,” said the cousin from Harare, meaning, yes speak up aunt. At that time, as we talked and joked about African time and how we really must change an old habit of not keeping time, the pastor’s car pulled.

He wore a black suit and white collar. He briskly parked his car and accompanied by two men, they went into the church. Everyone started singing as if waiting two and a half hours was nothing.

Sitting in church and not listening to the message, I remembered one time when William Shakespeare, the English playwright, once said that it was better to be three hours too soon than a minute late.

In the changing global world of business and technology, where time is money, we are guilty of wasting time.

 Dr Sekai Nzenza is an independent writer and cultural critic.