Like most African weddings, there was both a traditional ceremony and a Western ceremony. I was most excited about the traditional part, and we ended up missing it because of a lack of communication. I was sooooo bummed. 8 hours on a bus and we missed it! We were sitting there waiting at the Aunt's house only to find out it was starting and it was too far for us to make it in time. It would have been an interesting ceremony as the groom is Zulu and the bride is Tswana... in a province where everyone spoke Sesetho and Afrikaans [typical South African dilemma]. The language barrier between the two families persisted for the rest of the day.
We went to the Western wedding ceremony which was... well, pretty western. White dress, preacher, church, reception, etc. They did bring African flair into it, though, and as the bride and groom walked out of the church they were followed by people dancing and singing around them and the typical ululations. On the way to the reception venue everyone stopped at both the bride's house and the groom's house to sing and dance with their families and show off the newly married couple. The preacher at the ceremony was shockingly rude. He said, "I am speaking in English because I come from the Eastern Cape where they speak isiXhosa, so I do not know isiZulu, isiseSetho, or isiTswana." He could have left it at that, but instead kept on going. "If you had the ambition and managed to finish high school and studied well, then you should be educated enough to understand me." The way he said it was so patronizing. That wasn't his only rude comment, but I will stop there.
We went to the reception and I couldn't understand a word anyone was saying, and Bongani could only understand the Zulu half. Roger was running around with his duties of brother to the groom. They had twice as many table set up as there were people in the church; Bongani explained to me that there aren't invitations to Zulu weddings-- everyone who wants to come, comes. If someone is walking down the road, sees there is a wedding and is hungry, they will hurry and wash up so they can join in the festivities. "What?" I said, "That's called wedding crashing." "No," Bongani replied, "that's called ubuntu." Well he sure did put me in my place. The courtesy is that the randoms sit closer to the back while those who actually want to hear what people are saying [i.e. friends and family] sit towards the front. I sat in the middle because I felt pretty random.
I kind of want to incorporate that sense into my wedding someday.... but it so expensive. Not so much that I want random people off the street coming into my reception, more like I want to make it so that all of my friends and family who want to come, can come. An open invitation to everyone who loves me and the groom. I wish catering wasn't so expensive. But, I really like the sense of community that brings.
Anyway, as Roger is running around with his brotherly duties, we manages to down lots of alcohol in the process. That is not abnormal in this country. In fact, all the women around me were drunk before they even got to the wedding-- they were drinking all the way over there from Pietermaritzburg. After the wedding Roger wanted to show Bongani and me the "real Bloemfontein," since that is where he grew up. In actuality, Bongani and I kinda just wanted to go to bed but Roger was drunk and drunk people don't like to go to bed drunk. They want to keep on going. So we went to this bar-type place where people just gather in circles outside and sit on top of the crates that the beers are delivered in... not the most comfortable of chairs. I got some interesting stairs as I walked between the circles of people sitting on their crates-- not only because of my very obvious skin color difference, but also because I was carrying with me a bottle of apple/guava juice. I consumed 4 bottles of fruit juice that night, which is actually a lot. I let the boys do their thang. Roger was a goner, and Bongani was "tisby" [words like this is where Roger's English gets confused]. It was a cool place kinda. Definitely a new experience. They played African House music in the background and whenever a good song came on people would pop up and do this weird dance that is popular here in South Africa. It looks like a grandpa dance to me.
We went back to the bed and breakfast we booked last minute. The boys shared a room and I had my own. We had an early bus back to Pietermaritzburg in the morning, so I said good night and went to my room. 20 minutes later I get a knock on my door. It is Bongani. They have been trying to get into their room for the last 20 minutes but can't get the iron guard gate open. I try to help them, and when we are not looking a drunk and frustrated Roger breaks the key inside the lock. Well, at this point it is 2am so there is no one to help us. So the boys sleep on mattresses on the floor in my room. Which had no toilet seat, and we found out that morning there was no water for the shower. One of those situations where I say, "ghetto," and everyone here says "Only in Africa." I actually laughed at the situation, and I am still laughing.
That morning we walked through Bloemfontein to get on the long bus ride back home. It was not the weekend I had expected in any regard, but it was still fun and I am glad I went. Like I said before, a new South African experience.
*Sorry the photos are up there all ugly. When I get to an internet cafe I will edit and make this look like a proper blog entry.
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