Sunday, March 6, 2011

Malian Matrimony

A few weeks ago I was more or less invited to a wedding in my village. I put it this way because in Mali, weddings always fall on Thursdays and Sundays and never on any other day so you know that when you hear a commotion of people, women dressed in flamboyant dress, men somewhat dressed up as if they were going to the bank, and the sound of music in the distance, a wedding is going on and that is your official invite. There is no formal invite. Just a word of mouth transfer in a conversation is all you need to be invited. Something like this:

Me: Hey Amadou, how are you?
Amadou: No problems. How are you?
Me: I am well. Where are you going today?
Amadou: I am going to Yaya's older brothers wedding? You should come.
Me: I was going to wash my clothes today, but Ok, i will come.

A bana (Finished). This is how you are invited to attend a wedding. And since i am the only foreigner in village, my presence is always welcomed with open arms and blessings. So after washing my light load of dirties, i put on my best "Sundays" and went to Lassine's house were he was having the reception. When i arrived people were still filtering in while others sat comfortably under neath the shade of a Neem tree, chatting and drinking tea while others standing on sheep skins prayed to Allah, the third prayer of the day set at 2pm. I took my seat only after greeting all the men there, the cordial yet loose greetings of "hows your family? are they in Peace?, no problems?" and such. We continued to get comfortable with each other, learning of where we came from and what we do for a living. I fielded the questions of where i come from and dispelling the impussive guessing of China, i filled everyone in on what America is like and how we only have ONE wife, a total universe-crasher to them. It makes no since here, hence the wedding i was at which was the marriage of a second wife to the groom. Also, by the way, Obamas my cousin if anyone asks. Having a little tulonke (fun) with them. We sat for a while and was getting tired, mostly the lack of food was bringing on the daylight snooze I was feeling until the bowl of dege came around and I perked up anticipating the best tasting porridge i have ever had in my life in my belly. After a few rounds of dege, content for the moment, we waited for what was next.
The women gathered around the house entrance singing and dancing, clapping in a harmonious tone. They were greeting the new wife as the men looked on with a simple gaze then turning back to the conversation at hand. After the women greeted the wife-to-be, we ate our first helping of rice and sauce. Nothing out of the ordinary at a wedding to eat a little more extravagantly. This was coupled with goat meat they had just prepared that day. I was handed a ladle of meat of dont-know-which-parts and began to have flashbacks of Tabaski where i ate a lot of sheep and goat but payed for it the next day with stomach cramps and Mr. D ariea. I knew the culprit, intestine and was destined to not repeat Tabaski. As i ate there was no sign of intestines so i was in the clear until i found it on the bottom of the ladle. I knew the next day would not be good and true to my thought, it was not. But in the moment, a celebration, you accept it and move on. After dinner we allowed the food to digest before the ceremony started.
Everyone in the neighborhood gathered by the eldest man of the village, the "Chekorroba", highly respected and revered in the neighborhood. As we placed the seats around and got comfortable the chekorroba came out and sat down, a frail man, partially blind and deaf but aware of his surrounding. He was surrounded with other elders of close age who assisted him in sitting down. After opening blessings, the proceedings began, spearheaded by one man who acted as the minister role. He started everything, acting as the liason of cordial communication. A person will tell another something, pass it to the minister, who then passes it to another elder who then passes it to the chekorroba, this network of telephone that says the same thing and that you can hear on the first go around. I couldnt make out most of what he said but managed to get some coupled with the feeling and content of how he used the vocab he did. Basically he at one point laid out the role of the 2nd wife role, so she and everyone knows her role in the family and community. The wife is there, with fabric over her head, shielding her face from everyone accompanied by her mother at her side. As the procession grew, the women presented the new wife with kitchen ware, big bowls, cups, fabric, and everything else that supports her "women as housewives role" in Malian society. They also brought out this paultry looking set of items that had no purpose but to throw in the nearest land fill. A flashlight with no light, punctured gas lamp, a 4 inch piece of cloth. I took it as a "pepsi/coke challenge" where she had to choose the right set to pick just by instinct because she could not see them. A little game in the wedding i thought was humorous. Once the items were laid out, chosen, gifts given to the elders as a sign of respect, her face was revealed to the crowd with utter surprise, she had a stone cold look on her. I was expecting a face of a cracked smile at least but nothing, a down beaten look of dispair at the realization of being married, possibly prearranged with the wife not looking a day over 17. And this man is in his 30's or 40's. I had to remember that this is not America and my beliefs are my own, holding very little ground on foreign soil. But could only imagine this woman and wife to be and how her life is going to change. 7-10 kids, harsh manual labor, and neglect, affectionately, awaited her for the rest of her life. And i imagine a life where she is off to college, pursuing a business degree and in control of her life and not the property of someone else. However this will not be the case as with other cases. But this is cross cultural experience and one to take in with out beliefs getting in the way. A hard thing to do.
Once the ceremony ended, i took endless pics with attendees who wanted a photo with me for their album which i happily did and only wanting copies for myself. I headed home just before dusk to simmer on what i had just gone to. Nothing elaborate, no bells, organs, white dresses, receptions with a cover band that plays only the "top 10". It was beautiful in its on style and the main component, bringing people together to celebrate the joining of two people, connected with me and I appreciated that i was welcomed to be apart of it. Looks like i have 2 more weddings this month to attend this month and I look forward to seeing if there are any differences between Christian Malian weddings and Muslim Malian weddings. The first was a Muslim wedding so we will see how the other two materialize. I just need another shirt to wear.

Peace,
Geoff