Wedding Day

10/11/08

We were up with the roosters, as usual, as 5:30am. We took our bucket showers and got dressed. Breakfast was porridge and eggs loaded with peppers and onions, really good—and my source of vegetables for the day! Sema walked in with one the seamstresses from the village, who was going to make long skirts for us with the fabric we bought on Thursday. With a baby strapped to her back, she took my measurements and my fabric, and then did the same for Denise. She was young, maybe mid-late 20s, and missing a couple teeth. One tooth in the upper front of her mouth was much longer than the others, and jutted out sideways through her lips, about ¾ of an inch. The wedding actually begins at 9am, but we’re going to wait and go around noon. The drumming and dancing can last about 6 hours, so the fact that we’re missing only the church ceremony part, which will be entirely in Ewe, is not so bad. The skirts should be ready between 11am and noon.

It rained off and on all day long—more rain than the usual afternoon storms. I read my new book all morning (Water for Elephants), and Denise slept—she wasn’t feeling well. Lunch was sliced boiled cassava, a tomato-onion mush, and more of the sausage-like patties of egg and canned corned beef. After lunch, Sema appeared with our skirts, which cost us 2 cedis each to make. It started to storm while Sema and Beatrice left to get dressed. Someone in the compound had a radio that was turned up so we could hear it—soft jams from the 80s and 90s, including Boyz II Men, Westlife, Elton John, Bette Midler, Bryan Adams, and “A Whole New World,” from Aladdin. It was nice to hear something familiar, and we sang along to every song.

After about a half hour, the rain had taken a break and the four of us walked up the road to the next village, Deme. We saw Hans and he introduced us to his daughter, Forgive. Louis (the old man who gave us liquor distilled from palm wine the last time we came to Deme) appeared in a traditional African robe, as he was the father of the groom. He led us through the mass of people to our seats, and as we followed, a large woman dressed in a white robe and head wrap, printed with a black and gray pattern, smacked her lips in a dramatic air-smooch as I walked by—about 5 inches from my face. Another older woman stood facing us, walking backward as she watched us, literally through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars.

Louis led us to our seats under a fabric tent, right next to the head table with the bride and groom! The scene resembled our welcome ceremony, but times ten. There were more people than you could imagine, from all three villages of Saviefe: Gbogame, Deme, and Agorkpo. A group of young men were drumming and everyone was singing and dancing. A few notable women (one dressed head to toe in gold satin) were demonstrating their version of African booty-poppin’. About 30 people danced around the drums in a large uniform circle, twirling their handkerchiefs in the air. A woman came around and handed me a cold glass bottle of coke and a small slice of wedding cake, cut into four pieces. The cake was really good—reminiscent of rum cake and coffee cake at the same time. I was very careful to use only my right hand to eat and drink. A table was set up on the sidelines displaying rice and banku for people to partake in. With a crack of lightening, it started to POUR. The rain was relentless, falling hard and plentiful over the celebration. It didn’t stop anyone—everyone continued to sing and dance to the drums in the pouring rain. We were soaked, but having a blast.

Later, everyone dispersed and we followed Louis back to his house. The bride and groom sat in chairs facing the entrance. We were seated next to them. Several people came in, greeted us, and congratulated the bride and groom, which is when we realized we were seated in the receiving line! This was a little strange, so when I asked Sema about it later, she explained that the bride and groom wanted to be our friends because they like our skin color. I guess that’s nice enough, but I still felt like a monkey in a zoo. Everyone greeted us with “mia woezo,” (you are welcome) and we replied, “yoo” (thank you). One guy walked up, who actually pretty hot but lost MAJOR points when he greeted us: “yavoo, yavoo.” I shook his hand, about to say “yoo,” and stopped short looking at him with confusion, and asked, “What?” He clarified, “Yavoo, yavoo. White, white.” I said, “Yea. I know that,” and took my hand away. “Yavoo” is not a greeting. What do I say to that? I think next time someone (an adult) says “yavoo,” I’ll just reply with “ameyibo,” which means “black” in Ewe. The kids, now that we introduced ourselves in their classrooms, will call out our names instead of yavoo.

Louis gave us more palm wine liquor and we had our pictures taken with the entire wedding party. It seems we were the guests of honor—I had no idea we were so important. We met one woman, related to the bride and groom somehow, who lives in Accra. We exchanged information so I’m hoping we can stay with her in Accra our last night before our early morning flight home. We were just about to leave when the drunk, dirty, old Roka burst in the room, arms up to the sky, and exclaimed “I FOUND YOU!!!” Very creepy. Sema and Beatrice quickly pulled us away and we headed down the muddy dirt road back home in the rain. On the way, a motorbike passed by, its driver donning a bright blue poncho that flew in the wind. He looked like a superhero.

Once home, I read more of my book and Denise took a nap. Dinner was plain noodles accompanied by a plate of cold baked beans, canned carrots and chopped tomatoes. I wasn’t very hungry but the dinner wasn’t very appetizing either. I picked at it and settled for two pieces of bread with jam, and tea. After dinner a boy from one of the JSS classes, Bright, came over to learn about the computer. He left at 7:30 and shortly after, we fell asleep.