Le Mariage

Yesterday, my sister took me to her good friend’s wedding. (She called the friend her cousin, but I’m not sure if that’s really the case since family lines are very blurred in this country and all of our neighbors call my host parents “mom” and “dad.”) She told me the night before to be ready to leave at 9AM, but punctuality is not Malian’s forte, so you can imagine my surprise when, at 8:45 Sunday morning, Aka opened the door and said, “We’re leaving.” I threw on the one fairly nice dress that I brought to this country and was rushed into the car of a young man that I was never formally introduced to, but I assume is one of Aka’s friends. I sat in the back with Haby, my little sister, and her friend Ami. The car started up, drove quite literally around the corner, and we had arrived. Aka told us to stay in the car while she went into the house, and there we sat for 30 minutes. I asked Haby what on earth we were doing, and she said waiting for the bride and groom to arrive. Finally a big SUV pulled up, honking its horn oh so obnoxiously, and the bride and groom stepped out and went into the house. I was confused as to why we stayed in the car, but about three minutes later they came back out and got back into the SUV. Aka came back to the car and informed me that we were going to the neighborhood’s town hall for the official marriage. The drive there – and all of the drives that I would take on this day – was quite literally one of the more terrifying experiences of my life. The traffic in Bamako is not the safest, as there are so many cars and mopeds and so little street signage or traffic lights, but I never really feel like my life is in actual danger. Yesterday, however, was different. The marriage caravan was much like a funeral procession in the USA with everyone’s hazard lights blinking, but unlike a funeral procession, where drivers go especially slowly, these drivers were speeding especially quickly and slamming their horns the entire way.

When we arrived at the town hall, it was completely crazy. There were two other weddings there at the same time, so literally hundreds of people crowded into the small courtyard. Griots were all around, serenading people (I was lucky enough to be the recipient of a serenade…), and the overall energy was very high. The women were dressed very ornately, most of them wearing bazin, a white, waxy cloth that women purchase and then have colored in beautiful tie-dye patterns. Their make-up is pretty extreme – many of them paint on thick eyebrows and put on brightly colored eye shadow to match their dresses – and most of them wear wildly high plastic heels. (It is a funny sight to see them trying to walk on the dirt roads strewn with rocks and garbage). All of them wear wigs or weaves in their hair. Most men also wear bazin, with a “boubou” and a matching pair of pants, although some wore western-style suits and ties that didn’t quite fit them properly (pants too long, tie too short, etc.). We stayed at the town hall for about twenty minutes, mingling with the others and taking photos.

Finally we left, presumably after the official papers were signed, although I didn’t even see the bride and groom the entire time we were there. Getting out was a bit hairy, with a bottleneck through the tiny gate to the town hall, but eventually we made it out and got to the car. We sped back to the couple’s house and were herded into their courtyard. There was an area of seating for the men on one side, and women stood and mingled on the other. Sodas were served to everyone, and I was just opening mine up when Aka grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go!” Off I was, herded back into the car, this time to be driven all the way across the city to Hippodrome, a neighborhood in the Northeast. Time spent in the car: 40 (terrifying) minutes. Time spent at the destination: 45 seconds. I was told we were going to greet the parents of the bride and groom, but I didn’t even make it into the house before the greeting was finished. And so this continued: drive, get out at someone’s house, watch everyone go in, stand outside with a bunch of young men and women, watch everyone leave the house, get back in the car, and drive some more. This probably occurred seven or eight times. Finally we were taken to an Espace Culturelle, essentially an outdoor setting for functions, and were seated at tables with very loud music playing. We stayed there for about 10 minutes, for Aka to pose in some pictures with the bride, and then left before everyone else did. We drove back to the bride and groom’s house, and I was shocked to see hundreds of people there, sitting under a tent. Musicians were performing and people were dancing, even though the bride and groom were not there. Aka explained to me that they were waiting for them to return from the Espace Culturelle. I sat under the tent for about 20 minutes listening to the music and watching the dancing, until about 2:00PM, when my host mother sent me home for lunch. At this point, after five hours of running around Bamako, I was relieved to go home. My other sisters didn’t come home until about 4PM, and they told me that the wedding would keep occurring until sunset, when the couple would be delivered to the location of their first night together. The new wife will stay in that location in bed for the next seven days. According to my sister she can receive visitors, but she cannot leave. Quite a honeymoon…

I cannot believe how exhausting the wedding was. It was definitely interesting and I’m glad I went, but phew!