A Traditional Wedding

In my last post I wrote about some of the harder times I’ve had since being here. I think that was valuable; I don’t want to give an unbalanced view of my time here. On that same note, however, I thought it would be best for me to share at least one happy story on this blog as well.

The good news is that I had a very hard time narrowing it down to one story. A VERY hard time. I’ve had so many amazing experiences in Zambia with so many amazing people that it’s kind of overwhelming to start trying to choose. That is it was kind of overwhelming, until recently when I stumbled upon a pretty good choice.

Flash back to about two and a half weeks ago. I’m sitting around the fire with Mr. Silumbu (the farmer who’s hosting me), and Mr Kuveya (one of the cooperative board members). We’re shelling groundnuts from this year’s harvest. It’s pretty boring work, but the conversation/Zambian radio usually makes it fun.

Earlier in the day I’d been helping the two of them with a business proposal. They’re both board members of the Mpongwe Small and Medium Business Association. They’ve been trying to get funding to run programs for Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVCs) for a long time, and since I’ve come to Mpongwe I’ve been using some of my spare time to help the Association with business planning, proposal writing, and other skills they’re currently a little short on.

They’re talking about an upcoming board meeting for the Association. Always eager for learning opportunities, I enquire if I can come. It’s supposed to be Saturday, August 4th. “Actually, it’s been delayed” they tell me. After asking why, I’m informed “because of the wedding.”

“Who’s wedding?”

“Mary’s”.

“Mary’s?”, I think. “As in Mary Silumbu?” The answer comes back as an emphatic yes. There was going to be a traditional wedding on my farm in less then a week and I didn’t even know about it.

Anyway, after clearing things up and finding out that Mr. Silumbu thought he told me weeks ago, I started to get excited. A traditional wedding should be a pretty fun experience. At that time, I was feeling pretty happy.

On August 4th, people start arriving. I got home from work around 6:00pm and there was already a good crowd. As the night when on the crowd continued to grow. After showering and eating a quick bite of Nshima (basically corn meal and water) with cabbage, I joined everyone around the fire.

The group had quickly polarized into men and women. Naturally, I ended up with the men. Still, I felt this was the bad end of the deal.

The women had taken the bride-to-be off into a hut somewhere, and there was a lot of activity…singing, dancing, cheering, etc. I’ve heard a lot about African bridal ceremonies in the past. I was thinking to myself that if I was a female JF, this would probably be one of the most interesting nights of my placement.

Instead, I was with the men. We were all sort of just sitting around the fire. There was a radio playing somewhere. No one was really talking. Ok, definitely not the wedding party I had expected. Exhausted from a long day of work, I excused myself around 8:30 and went to bed, slightly disappointed with how a potentially exciting night had turned out.

Two hours later, I was woken up by the sound of drums. “Drums?” I thought drums in Zambia were a myth. I certainly hadn’t encountered any yet. But there it was…drumming coming from across the farm. Singing too, and cheering.

I was still really tired, but I also really wanted to check things out. I made myself a deal: if I stayed awake for another 15 minutes and there was still drumming, I would go check it out. Out of my 15 minute deadline, I lasted for only about 3 minutes before I couldn’t wait any longer.

I found everyone in the farm’s kitchen (a big circular building made of mud bricks and thatch). I waited for a quiet moment between songs and slipped in, hoping to find a comfortable place to stand and check things out. Instead, I found myself standing in the middle of a crowd. All of a sudden the drums start again; the crowd starts dancing. “Ok”, I thought, "I guess I’m dancing too."

Dancing in Zambia is really fun. You can basically do anything you want. I don’t think there’s such thing as bad dancing, as long as you move you hips and look like you’re enjoying yourself. As such, I had a pretty good time. I only wish I had known the words to the songs everyone was singing. Finally, I went back to bed.

The next day was amazing. I joined Joseph and Solomon Silumbu (who are both around my own age) and some assorted other people on a donkey cart mission to get cabbage and tomatoes. After visiting several farms we ended up coming back about 1 hour after the wedding was supposed to start, but this being Zambia obviously it hadn't started on time.

Choosing our cabbage.

About 1 hour after we got back, things got underway. There was a crowd of about 250 people to watch the wedding. The MC had been drinking since he woke up. I know this because initially I had joined him for a glass (not to get drunk, but because I was hungry and maize beer is thick). Still though, he was articulate and hilarious, and took any opportunity to dance by himself in front of the crowd when he thought it was appropriate.

The master of ceremonies.

Half of the crowd.

The wedding was sort of like a Canadian wedding, except a lot less formal, a lot less organized, and with a lot more dancing. First a line of men danced out of a hut followed by the groom, and took up residence in a purpose-built shelter in front of the crowd. Then, from a distant hut, a line of women danced out with the bride and joined them. Next someone put a small cake on a table in front of them. Then, a boy (“the knife boy”) danced out from another hut with a knife, and presented it to the couple, who cut the cake. (Note: there will be a video of the knife boy put on this blog once I get back to Canada).

Bridal entourage dancing out.

Bride and groom together.

During the wedding, I was playing the role of semi-official photographer. I had previously told Mr. Silumbu that I could do this, and then send him the pictures, and he was pretty excited about the idea.

Midway through the wedding, as I was minding my own business and taking some photos, Mr. Kuveya came over to me. “Mr. Silumbu wants to you get your guitar and play one of your songs for everyone. Can you do it?”

“Ok” I thought, it’s only about 250 people. Taking up the challenge with a bit of nervousness, I ran to my hut to get my guitar. As I was tuning it, I already heard the MC yelling at me: “Owen, we’re waiting for you…Owen come on”.

Giving up on tuning, I quickly handed off my camera to someone, grabbed a brick to sit on, and sat down in front of the crowd. With all those eager eyes on me, I suddenly realized I hadn’t decided on a song yet to play. Making a snap decision, I thought that Bob Dylan’s “Blowing in the Wind” was probably the closest thing to a good song to play a wedding that I knew, so I went ahead with it. It’s not like anyone can understand the words when I sing anyways...All in all though, I’d say the song went over pretty well.

The most beautiful moment in musical history.

After that, there was a few more words said in Lamba, and then the bride and groom, together with their entourage, danced off to one of the huts. Now it was time for food.

Entourages dancing back together.

We all gathered in a large enclosure, and then the bride and groom danced back in (again with their entourage), and then groups of people danced up to them to present them with gifts. After that, food was served, and then the formal proceedings came to an end.

The family had brewed 8 barrels of maize beer for the occasion, so definitely the afternoon saw a lot of dancing, a lot of slurring, and a lot of happy Zambian men. I didn’t really take part in the drinking, but sat around and talked to friends, played a bit more guitar, and generally had a good time. Eventually, people started to leave, and by 6:00pm everyone was gone. As for myself, I shared some of the leftover food with the family, said my goodnights, and then retired to bed around 7:00 (it was early, but I was still very tired from the night before). All in all, a good day.