In my last post I made reference to a wedding ceremony I recently attended. I think it is worth briefly describing. It makes me feel as though I have been immediately included in the social life of my new family. Brenda and Tears were organizing the wedding, and as their new guest and ‘sister’ there was no way I was avoiding this one!
My first observation is that weddings and family affairs here are no different then home. Expectations are always high, tensions between dissenting relatives are evident and a sense of frenzy followed the hostess (Brenda) around the whole day as she tried to impress and calm the mother of the bride. Food to feed an army of relatives was required, which resulted in makeshift cooking stoves being setup in the backyard on which big pots of rice bubbled away. The wedding party was late for everything, causing more stern looks and shaking of heads from the mother and aunt. I was thrown into the midst of it, cooking rice, cooking meat stew, running over to the bride’s house and back again… generally flailing around trying to help while staying out of the way… not an easy task when there are 30+ African women all crammed into a little kitchen and living area, most of whom are trying to tell you what to do.
The wedding was at the Roman Catholic Church in Dedza, making it my second mass in two weeks! Again, I understood nothing of what was said, but a wedding is a wedding, so I could follow the basics. A white dress, flowers, rings, bride’s maids and a man of honour, a proud father to hand off the bride… The one thing that was missing that was the ‘you may now kiss the bride’ moment. It is such a standard part of a wedding ceremony in Canada that the omission struck me noticeably.
After the ceremony, I was pilled into a car, and ended up in the front seat of what turned out to be the motorcade through town with the bride’s parents in the back. I was exhausted and ended up taking a blissful nap despite the honking horns of the parade.
The reception was like most receptions, complete with buffet lunch (with nsima), big tent, terrible dj and some dancing. My default when I don’t know anyone or what to do is to try my best to help, so I ended up serving wine and goat for part of the afternoon.
And then it got interesting.
Finally, guests gone home for the night, Brenda and I arrived back at the bride’s house. After a minute, I was ushered into a room with 5 other women and the bride. The bride and I were placed in the middle of the bed, the door was closed, and the older women gathered around, seated or lying at will. Brenda had told me that there was a tradition of older married women taking the bride aside to tell her in detail how to be a good wife, how to please her husband, etc. I had assumed it had already happened, and certainly I had assumed that I would not be present. I was wrong. This was it. So, covered by the puffy white dress of the bride, she and I proceeded to get a detailed description of sex, childbearing and married life. I’m half grateful that it was in Chichewa so I only understood a tenth of what was being said, but the content was clear enough. Near the end, they turned to me and asked if I had anything to add. I fumbled a “ummm… I don’t think so!?” The bride burst into tears. I would too if I had been sat down after an exhausting stressful day and told explicit sexual details by my family and how to prevent my husband from leaving me! We finished with a prayer, but it was not like any prayer. All 5 women started chanting, all saying something different, all at the same time, voices rising and falling, laughing and crying, patting the bride, holding her head, more chanting. I sat there dumbfounded. I understood nothing of what was being said, but sat, eyes closed, immobilized by the power of it all. I left exhausted but honoured to have been included and with plenty to contemplate.
