December 22, 2008 - Two Weddings, One Sunday

Yesterday was a good indication of the difference between the upper class and the "village class" here in Guinea. Our village as been a flurry of excitement over the past few days getting ready for two weddings; the family in my compound had many family members come in from Conakry; the village population seemed to double overnight when the taxis came in Friday night.

The wedding on Sunday morning was one a celebration of one of the girls of the village next door. She is 15. Halimatou and I went around noon to this wedding. I wasn't exactly sure what was going to happen; when we were sitting in the home of the bride with thirty or so other village women, I was very confused by the parade of young girls that all entered the house crying hysterically. I immediately think I've misunderstood the type of event we were attending. The crying girls included the bride, her sister, and her friends. The women then start crying too. I inquire about these tears and learn that crying at these weddings is typical - the bride is young, she probably doesn't know the groom, and she now has to leave her family. She's scared, and everyone knows how she feels. From what I understand, the tears from this bride and the ladies also were in mourning because the bride's mother had recently passed away.

After the crying had died down, the bride came out with her face covered in a simple white garment. Under an umbrella of 100 bills (the equivalent of about 2 cents) she was escorted by her aunts and girlfriends to another part of the village where her girlfriends (who are my 7th graders - apparently the girl who was getting married did not continue school this year because she was to be married) sang songs and danced in a circle, reminding me of a high school dance back home. They laughed and tried to out-do each other's moves. While they were dancing, the bride was changing into an indigo skirt (indigo is the fabric made in my region of Guinea) and a lil' Bow Wow tshirt. There was still no sign of the groom. Supposedly he was back at the house and all of this activity was just part of the tradition on the wedding day; there wasn't going to be any sort of ceremony. The bride in her new outfit took photos with the elementary school teachers; not one photo had a smile from the bride. Everyone then processed back to the house where I guess they ate more (we had eaten quite a bit of rice and sauce before the crying started.)

When I left the wedding, people were still there eating and talking like a wedding I know at home, but the couple was never seen together, no ceremony. It was not much of a celebration; I'm still not sure if I missed something. Halimatou told me that this was how weddings in the village were.

The second wedding was the wedding people had come to the village for. The groom was a man about my age that I had met during the Fete de Tabaski. He currently lives in Amsterdam where he is finishing his master's degree. He is the son of the president of the parent's association in my village. The first time I had met him, he was dressed in very European-styled clothes, he talked about travels in Europe. His wedding was originally supposed to be at my house because my house is beautiful for weddings; I guess there have been others there. But at the last minute, they moved it because there were going to be too many people. I arrived at the ceremony which was conducted by one of the officials from my neighboring village. It wasn't a Muslim ceremony (I'm still trying to figure out if there is a Muslim element to any of this) but was a Guinean ceremony. The bride and groom were seated at a table with a book that they, along with a few family members, signed to make the marriage official. He was dressed in beautiful traditional African robes that were white and he wore a white hat; she was dressed in a western-style white wedding gown with white gloves and a veil. She looked like she was in her twenties. They both looked happy and excited.

After the signing ceremony there was a reception with dancing and lots of food. Everyone seemed to be having a great time; the school turned into a dance party that I heard went until 4 am. One of the traditions I found myself in the middle of was the eating rice and milk under a veil with the groom and 8 other ladies. We were all waiting for him (I had no idea what we were waiting for) in the house, sitting around a calabash of rice. His grandma was there sitting in the circle with us, holding a bowl of milk. When the groom ran in, the grandma said something to him in Pular, gave him a sip of the bowl, poured the rest on the rice, and me and the ladies shoved money in his pocket before diving into the milk and rice. The grandma threw the veil over all of us as we ate. The ladies giggled and were so excited about being part of it all. Although this wedding was in my village, it was not a true village wedding. Here was a Guinean man who born in the village but educated outside of it in the cities of Guinea because his family had the means to send him there. Now he is taking his bride to Amsterdam. It is really amazing how different the same event, on the same day, could be.