Wedding Day Blues

I attended my first African wedding last Saturday.  I was the plus 1 of another volunteer who had an invitation.  Not unlike most American weddings, the day started out with hair, nails, and pampering of the bride and bridal party.  We, who have lived in this town for about 3 months, were the honored guests from America.   We were picked up by the father of the bride at around 9a and taken to their home where we were served tea cakes and ginger beer while curtains were being hung.  In an effort to not look and feel so out of place, I took pictures like I was paid to do so, and also helped to wrap the party favors.  Around 1p the village was filled with the sounds of women singing as they danced toward the home of the bride. 

This I surmised was a signal that it was time for us to leave for the church.  The festive crowd grew quite large as it arrived in front of the house singing and dancing until the most beautiful bride appeared in the doorway.  Everything was perfect except for the missing smile that normally accompanies such a joyous occasion. 

It is not uncommon in most parts of the world to arrange marriages for financial and security reasons, and we suspected that this was the case.  Why else would there be such apparent despair?  None the less, the cars were sprinkled with Holy water, prayers for our safety were offered, and we left for the church.  Once we were on the road the need for the car ritual became obvious.  The entourage began playing a dangerous game of “dice”; swerving from one side of the road to the other, sometimes barely missing the head-on car, as we snaked around the two-way road through the mountains.

As though intruding during the brides’ preparations wasn’t embarrassing enough, when we arrived at the church we were promptly escorted to the front.  No, really, I mean the front, front.  You know, next to the pulpit, facing the bride and groom.  Why…all because we are the Americans.

The wedding went off without a hitch and within hours we were back on the road to the house where the ‘reception’ was held.  My only prayer was that the Holy water car bath was still in effect.

Despite the somber moods, I’m willing to bet that in 50 years, they will look back on this day with fond memories. This couple may have a better chance of going the distance that those who marry for lust or love. Besides, who better to find your perfect mate than the 4 people who love you the most and “know you better than you know yourself”?

Xoxoxo