Wedding Day One, Saturday July 26, 2008

As the sun came up our caravan was nearing the Swaziland border. It was a majestic sunrise and even though most of our team was starting our third day with little or no sleep, you could feel the excitement with each passing kilometer. The road out of South Africa is quite boring and characterized by parkways lined with sugar cane fields and little more. But the road into Swaziland is characterized by towering mountains and majestic fields. In the valleys one can see mud huts with thatched roofs which one might expect were abandoned except for the ribbon of white smoke rising skyward from the protruding stove pipes. There was a light frost. It was indeed a magnificent dawn.

We arrived at the border a little later than planned, which is often the Swazi way and as we had come to expect, there was a slight delay. One of the vehicles had an expired registration, but nothing paying a fine wouldn’t fix. They assured us that the rental agency would reimburse us for the expense. Yebo…. (sure).

As we neared Manzini the sights became more familiar and I had the eerie feeling of one coming home. The clear blue sky, the crisp mountain air and the smell of burning wood and coal brought a familiarity that I found reassuring.

We stopped in Manzini at the shop of Make Gideon to buy some African attire for the wedding. The women in our group were assisted in buying wrap around material for bottoms and tops. Of course they chose to make accommodations to avoid peek-a-boos, a precaution not taken by the African women we found out later at the wedding. The men considered donning African attire, which consisted of a wrap around, a loin cloth and little else. Once I found that the loin cloth alone was over $100, and coupled by the fact that that would be too much white for anyone to have to endure, we all decided to pass.

We arrived at the wedding early in the afternoon and the chill of the morning had given way to a splendid winter afternoon. The temperature was probably around 75 degrees and there was not a cloud in the sky. The wedding was outdoors on the homestead of the groom’s uncle. The entire focus of the traditional wedding is for the bride and her family to present the groom and his family with gifts and prove the bride’s worthiness to be accepted into the groom’s family. The negotiation between the groom and the bride’s family has happened previously when the groom has presented the bride’s father with 15 cows to purchase his daughters troth.

We were greeted by the father of the groom, Babe Gideon, and his wife Mandweli. I was again impressed with the graciousness of the Swazi people as Babe and Make Gideon expressed what an honor it was to have us in attendance at this special occasion. We on the other hand felt so honored and privileged to be invited and to share in this rich cultural rite.

It was explained to us that there had been a slaughter of a cow earlier in the morning at the river and the meat was being prepared. The women were all at the river with the bride, who would later be presented to the groom’s family, so our women were taken to the river to join with the bride’s party. I and the other men in the group were led

to the Babe’s area, where we sat in a circle on wooden benches reserved only for adult males.

Meat was roasting over an open fire and we were brought plates filled with pap (corn meal mush), cabbage, lettuce, and pumpkin. We availed ourselves of the roasted meat. Though the spices were different than what I was accustomed to, I found it all to be delicious and very filling. In a showing of abundance and plenty, the servings were huge. When we had eaten all we could, one of the Sissys (unmarried females) would take our plates from us and give it to the children who were playing nearby and weren’t allowed at the babe’s circle. Nothing is wasted in Swaziland.

After our meal the women rejoined us and everyone went to a field to observe the bridal party who would dance for the groom and his family. It was explained to us that the groom had sent for his bride twice, but still had not come, a customary part of the ritual. The groom’s party, all bronze skinned thin males in traditional African attire with lots of skin showing (mental note: I am so glad I didn’t spend $100 to be humiliated and embarrassed) would call out for the bride to come. After a while of this posturing, we heard enchantingly beautiful tribal singing coming from the river as the bridal party (probably 50 or 60 women) came dancing up the path.

The women in the wedding party, and several of the guests, were dressed in bright fabric and colorful headgear. Most were bare-chested, as was the bride. The guests formed a sort of amphitheater with the groom’s family in the center and the dancing began. Each dance was done to a tribal chant or song. There was lots of percussion and each song/dance had a special significance. My personal favorite was, if the bride misbehaves, please don’t beat her, just bring her back to her home. There’s got to a country song in there somewhere.

The singing and dancing continue into the night, but we were going on practically no sleep and still had to check into our accommodations. So as the sun set over the festival, we made our exit.

We checked into the Timbali Lodge, a very rustic but amply clean and comfortable accommodation, and for the first time in several days, I climbed into a real bed and immediately fell into a peaceful, restful, restoring sleep.

We would return to the wedding tomorrow.