A Wedding and….

We went off on an adventure to a local wedding that took us over hills and fording a stream in a truck because the cars had to be left by the side of the road. When we started we could barely see the green and yellow tent that marked our destination in the distance.

When we arrived at the location and pilled out of the back of the truck, we were greeted by a crowd led by a stately woman dressed in orange with white markings on her face. She seemed to be a sort of mistress of ceremonies for the wedding. Directly in front of the tent there were two ominous looking blue vats filled with a living breathing foam that would play a part later.

The couple was standing behind a table at the end of the tent with all the women seated on the ground dressed in their finest. Some had similar white markings on their faces. The couple maintained a somber expression throughout our visit, incongruously dressed in western outfits, the groom in a black suit and small fedora and the bride complete with gown and veil. The men were seated outside the tent in rows, saying little throughout the ceremony. Periodically the women would let out a range of sounds that are difficult to describe, including songs, wails, and clicks, but all joyous and often accompanied by clapping or, on a couple of occasions, dancing.

As the end of our time at the wedding began to near, they brought out two plates of meat freshly killed, roasted and on the bone, along with some rather large jack knives. There we sat carving away on the slabs of meat eating with only the knives and our hands. On our way out we passed another line of old men (a group that I no longer deny as “my people”) squatting by the fence drinking a milky white liquid from a galvanized steel bucket. It was the brew that had been breathing in the blue vats when we arrived. As an honorary member of that group, I squatted down with them, took the bucket when passed, and took a couple of swigs. Then back in the truck for the next adventure.

It was not long before we found ourselves at a male initiation. I won’t go into detail out of deference to both the ceremony and the three young boys, but it was a moving experience I will not forget.

In one day we had the amazing experience of two rites of passage. We had no right to be at either, and afterwards we wondered if we should have said no when the opportunity was presented. Whether we should have been there or not is a mute point now. What is important is that in the early years of my seventh decade the world is still offering wonders to discover that I never could have imagined.