Most events are quite funny here in
At a wedding last weekend…
I really wish I could have video recorded every second of this wedding. My friend Anne and I went to a wedding in Seabe (the village I lived in during training). I had already gone to two funerals and thought a wedding would even out my “cultural experience” as Peace Corps like to consider them. We ride into the place in Anne’s host sister’s car. There are people all over the place. The house is quite small and off a dirt road. Everyone is seated outside in plastic chairs under the two big trees in the dirt yard. Instantly you notice that the men and women are separated. There are people in dressy clothes as well as people in jeans. Most kids have no shoes on and are covered in dirt. There is a big van with a plastic beer attached to it parked on the side of the house that’s handing out beer to people (kinda like an ice cream truck for adults).
Opposite of the ice cream truck (on the women’s side of the yard), there is a big white tent that the wedding party hangs out in. It’s quite nice and looks very typical of a wedding in
The serving of food is quite a process. You can tell that some people show up primarily for the food and for the availability of alcohol. Women stay up all-night cooking food for everyone. Usually a cow and a couple of chickens are slaughtered in celebration and it takes a lot of man (I mean, woman) power to do this. As the food is being put on a long buffet-style table, more women come out to assume their position to shovel food onto guest plates. The queue gets long quickly and many men and children cut in line so it’s usually a long wait to get through the food line.
Anne’s host sister informs us of a hidden smaller buffet table in the bridal tent and we get in line for food. We’re given plates and as drunken men try to talk to us, we are pulled in and out of line by gogos (grandmother/older women) trying to protect us. It’s a delicate tango trying to stay in line and be polite, but keeping out of the reach of the drunken men begging for attention.
When we finally get our food and sit down to eat, we’re constantly asked who we are, where we stay, where we’re from and if we’re having fun. Almost usually in that order. So, it’s: chew, chew, “Dineo…,” chew, chew, “Seabe…”, chew, chew, “
After the cow is eaten, the wedding party dances a really cool dance over to another house nearby to change into their traditional wear. During this time people continue to eat and drink. Anne and I are assaulted by a string of drunk men who don’t speak English and whose Swana is incomprehensible. They fall on us and they’re pushed away by Anne’s host mum and sister (and anybody else who deems it necessary to rescue us).
When the bridal party is dressed, they dance all the way back into the tent. They have on really cool outfits that are nicely made and look way more comfortable. They finally settle into the tent after thirty minutes of dancing and have dessert and champagne. By this time, women have changed the tent decorations to more traditional fabrics and accessories. Presents are presented to the bride and groom and the family that surrounds the tent make “Ohh” and “Ahh” noises as they open up each present.
We watch the drunken men make a mockery of themselves by dancing in the small area between the women and men’s sections of the yard. One particularly drunken man falls on me as another stares at my chest and asks me for my number. Once they’re chased away I see that another man is getting into a fight with the DJ. During all this, children stare at Anne and I as sober men and women ask us our details (who are you, where are you from, where do you stay, etc)
After two hours, we’re exhausted from dealing with all the different factors and are driven home where I meet my host mother who has been entertaining herself with adult drink.
The day before the wedding…
Peace Corps hosted a party for the families that hosted trainees. A few trainees (myself included) spent the previous evening cutting up tons of squash, carrots, onions, and potatoes. The next day, a few other volunteers woke up early and joined a couple of volunteer family members to cook the food. The men, from what I hear, busied themselves cooking the lamb that had been slaughtered in honor of the event (including my host father, which interested me because I’ve never seen this man make his own tea, let alone, any kind of food). The women cooked and served everything else.
The ceremony was set to begin at 11 a.m. Since we’re in Africa and thus on “
So we sing.
Finally, the training manager (Victor) makes his announcements and the MC (Casey) takes over. She introduces the “important people” and each trainee introduces his/her self to the audience in his/her “target language” (which is something that you are never pre-warned about. It just happens, “Trainees will each greet themselves in their target language.” It’s a statement that makes me cringe just thinking about). So each trainee greets themselves and names their host family. As each trainee speaks, the training family that is recognized begins a bigger and bigger spectacle. It starts innocently enough, “Hello, I’m so and so. I stay in Seabe/Troya with so and so family,” then the trainee smiles, points to his/her family and they stand up, get a slight applause, smile, wave and sit down. Next trainee. However, as trainees go, the families try to “one up” each other. By the end of the introductions, the families are dancing up and down the aisles, “praising Jesus” and hugging and dancing with their trainee. It’s funny but what is supposed to be a ten-minute introduction turns into half an hour. Then someone bursts into song.
So we sing.
After the song, Casey introduces the two trainees who volunteered to make speeches in their “target language.” So, Amanda begins her speech in Setswana and after two or three sentences, Victor interrupts her, whispers something in her ear, whispers something to a language trainer, and then a language trainer stands up and tells Amanda to start again. Yes, from the beginning. Amanda begins again, but wait, first…a song.
So we sing.
After the song, Amanda begins again this time with an interpreter. So she talks, the interpreter interprets, we laugh at the right spots and applause her when she’s done. Then, of course, as she makes her way back to her chair, a song begins.
So we sing.
Casey introduces the next speech giver, David. He gets up and begins his speech. Victor interrupts him, whispers something in his ear, whispers something in someone else’s ear. The other person gets up and a song begins.
So we sing.
Another language trainer enters the room, rushes to the front, and stands next to David. Victor tells David to begin again. Yes, from the beginning. David begins again, the interpreter interprets, we laugh at the right points, and when he’s finished, we applaud him and then…a song.
So we sing.
The program continues with the person who’s supposed to be speaking beginning and then being stopped (song break!), an appropriate translator is found and the person begins again. Oh, but I mustn’t forget Victor turning off and on the mic which screeches and emits a static that makes it hard to hear anything (and I’m sitting in the second row) and giving it to the person who’s talking, the person holding it awkwardly or refusing it altogether. During this time, we’ve sang about 20 songs and the program that was supposed to be an hour has turned into two hours.
The program trudges on. An American at one point made a very bad decision to have all the trainees sing an “American song” and because most of us refused to do “This land is my land” we begrudgingly decided to do “American Pie” because, well, it says American in the title, right? It’s a classic. So, we cut it down to two stanzas, congregate at the front, with no practice I must add, and begin the song. Immediately it is known that this was a very bad idea. Who are we to pretend that we have the voices of angels? We are Americans. We sing in the car or the shower when nobody is watching. We don’t sing like South African do: loud, powerful, and graceful. We didn’t sing at the beginning of each school day. We realize that we don’t have the natural singing ability of our host country nationals, cringe and continue anyway to screech through the song. To sooth the ears, a wise South African begins a song.
So we sing.
Finally as our stomachs begin to rumble, we present our families with certificates of recognition (during which another spectacle begins but this time loud house music is in the background and each family takes more time for their dancing/singing/praising Jesus performance), we (the trainees) get back up to sing the American national anthem (which we, thankfully, can do much better) and everybody finishes by singing “Shosholosa” which is a really nice song that is A, something we Americans can actually do well, and B, a really popular South African folk song. It’s in Zulu, I believe, and is about encouraging a train to go up a mountain…kind of like the Little Engine that Could in song.
The program ends with Victor telling the families to get their food first, then the children, then the trainees. Finally, food. However, by the time we go through the line, most dishes have finished and we end up with limited choices of cold drink and food. We don’t mind though, we sit outside in some shade and laugh at the day. After we’re done eating, many pictures are taken with our families and random adults and children who just decide to jump into the shot. Then it’s over. Three hours later, I’m home.
Ah,
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