Ataaya the knot

Weddings:

The bride did not smile all day until I agreed to get my camera and take her photo. Not once. So much for "the happiest day of your life."

It started with all the women squatting next to a fence in the small bit of shade it provided. When the sad girl came, they criss-crossed black fabric over her baggy red shirt and I could see we were off to a painful start. They covered her head with an unflattering bathing-cap-type-thing made of red bin-bin beads. They fussed over this for ages, slightly moving tangles of string or trying to add even more beads. Then they tied kola nuts so that they would dangle around her face like tether balls. They must have hurt, swinging into her face when she moved. They added more criss-crosses of beads on top of the baggy sashes. Then, in a culmination of ridiculous, they ceremoniously handed her sun-glasses, which she very seriously maneuvered around all her dangling head decorations. It really looked like we were weird little kids playing "wedding" who didn't even have cable as a point of reference. Fatou mawdo snapped open a black umbrella to top things off. It was such a strange mixture of traditional and modern objects that stood out weirdly from each other.

The girl's betrothed came and we clapped and sang and paraded up to a less-treacherous part of the path at which she could climb on his shoulders, frown, umbrella, and all. We followed, clapping and singing to his house. There, people gave her 25-CFA-ish (pennies) and she and her family and nosy people counted it immediately. Everyone else danced. Because THIS is when the ladies break it out. Haaaaa ronki!

The VIPs all went through the hut and into the shower and pee spot in the backyard. We all fought over spoons like squawking chickens for the gosi. I did not fight, of course, but offered my ladle to the sullen bride. Hello, it was her day, wasn't it? But they made me take it back and got her another one later. Then, still like chickens, we fought over the gosi, slurping away in the muddy bathroom that smelled like pee. Next, rice. My hands were so filthy from painting and shaking hands so I needed a spoon, which they obliged. Since I got a late start to eating Diardi's and my bowl, the others started a dance party while we were still squatting, squished to the side. Once I realized that urine-soaked dirt was getting kicked into my precious rice, I announced I was full. I did my part in dancing, appreciating that they persuaded me only slightly more than everyone else. Obviously, I was awesome.

Then we all waited until past dark for corn to be measured out to give away. I followed the women who all carried huge bowls on their heads while simultaneously clapping and leasing the songs. I kist had my water bottle and skirt bunched so I wouldn't trip on it and still I had to concentrate much harder than anyone else on not wiping out. The moon was almost full and pretty bright, but still, rocks ha hewi. Behind me-- RIGHT BEHIND me, like blasting speakers with bouncing woofers, all the kids shout-sang at the tops of their lungs all the wedding songs. Ahhh... at least it's better than funeral wails...