The Wedding Drums are Pounding

It seems like every week there is some kind of ceremony going on in my site (trying to squeeze everything in before Ramadan), but a few weeks ago, our neighbor and friend, Fanta Damba, got married, and for the first time I didn’t feel like an awkward outside observer at the event.  Also, the day before the wedding, a package arrived from my parents bearing an Africa-proof (ie dust-proof and sand-proof) camera, so I was able to take advantage of my non-outsiderness and take pictures.  

Malinke weddings (and possibly Senegalese weddings within different ethnic groups—I still haven’t been here long enough to know whether things that I experience culturally are strictly Malinke or whether they are general West African phenomena) are three-day affairs, typically taking place on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. There are still so many nuances of this culture that I know I am just starting to understand, so this account of the wedding is merely my own observations.  I still have a lot of learning to do about the why of these traditions.

In the book Poor Economics, the authors discuss the phenomenon that people in poor countries who do not have enough to eat will throw lavish parties.  They conclude, "We are often inclined to see the world of the poor as a land of missed opportunities and to wonder why they don't put these purchases on hold and invest in what would really make their lives better.  The poor, on the other hand, may well be more skeptical about supposed opportunities and the possibility of any radical change in their lives.  They often behave as if they think that any change that is significant enough to be worth sacrificing for will simply take too long.  This could explain why they focus on the here and now, on living their lives as pleasantly as possible, celebrating when the occasion demands it" (Banerjee and Duflo, 38).

Senegal calls itself the country of Teranga, or hospitality, and everyone is invited to weddings and baptisms.  (This is how I have found myself at multiple weddings and naming ceremonies when I have had no clue who was getting married or named).  

For this particular occasion for celebration, on the first day, Wednesday, a giant speaker system was brought in to the bride’s family’s compound.  The Senegalese like their music, and they like it loud.  They also don’t seem to mind continuous repetition of a select group of about seven songs, which played throughout the day at high, high noise levels.  Guests come and go, depending on their other obligations of the day, but it was made clear to Pat and I that we were expected to be a pretty constant presence.  There is dancing off and on during the day, mixed in with a lot of sitting around and drinking tea. 

Chilling under the shade tree around the tea set

 

Women spend a good part of the day doing serious hair braiding and food preparation.  Ceremony food is often a big step up from what we eat on a daily basis.  A big chunk of this is cutting onions, using hands as cutting boards (this is foreshadowing, FYI). 

Cooking fire in the cooking hut

About a week before the wedding, women come together for a "tugulo", or pounding party.  This either prepares food for the celebration of is used as a dowry or wedding gifts...so many things to still figure out!

Sisters-in-law preparing the food for the guests.  Practically every ingredient seems to get pounded at some point or another.

 

As night fell, a more steady influx of guests arrived.  Fanta emerged from her hut, flocked by her female friends wearing one of four matching outfits.  The amount of make-up she had on reminded me of the citizens of the Capitol in the Hunger Games.  The women walked in formation around the interior of the circle created by guests chairs and took unsmiling pictures.  I kept waiting for the groom to show up, since I hadn’t seen him yet…but he never did.  That is the most surprising thing to me about Malinke weddings, is that there is no element of public ceremony with the bride and groom together.

  

The bridal party

Sira, my counterpart, was part of the bridal party.  The women wearing her particular dress were mostly sisters-in-law of the bride

The bride in her night one outfit--this was my first time using my camera, so I hadn't figured out the night settings yet

After a delicious dinner of oily pasta and raisins, the speaker music cut out, and the women began drumming and chanting.  Two griots showed up with djembes around that time and began a process of djembe preparation that I never knew existed in all my summers listening to djembe at camp in Montana. 

Griots are the most visible caste in the Senegalese caste system.  They tell stories and provide music at ceremonies and often ask for money or other gifts.  At most weddings I have been to, bolts of fabric were given out…I thought the giving was at random, as I had received fabric for no particular reason.   Well it turns out that my toxoma (namesake) is not a griot per say, but she is a niamaxalo, which is the larger grouping of castes that the griots are a part of.  The Tiganas (her last name) are traditionally the metal working caste, but she does some griot-ish things like naming babies.  Apparently I have received fabric because, since I am my namesake in their interpretation of the namesake relationship, I am also a niamaxalo, and close enough to a griot to receive a special gift.  This was big news that I’m still trying to sort through.  I have also been given small amounts of money on several occasions, I think for the same reason.

One of the griot women getting the dancing going

Djembe preparation

After the Djembes were sufficiently warmed, a procession (not including the bride or groom), went to the dondula (place of dancing, which turned out to be the basketball courts) and danced until late in the night.  Since I am always exhausted and ready for bed at about 8:30, I did not stay long, but got rested for Thursday’s festivities. 

Thursday I went over to Fanta’s compound mid-morning.  She was preparing for the day by getting henna tattoos on her hands and feet, the only part of the bride that is shown when the guests show up in the afternoon.  I spent a lot of time during this whole process thinking back on the day of my own wedding and the preparations the morning of, and how very different it all is.

Wedding day preparations: when your face won't show, you have to make your hands and feet look really pretty

After lunch, someone said, “The sisters have arrived.”  I looked up to see a procession of women approaching the compound, singing and clapping.  Fanta went into her hut and was led out sometime later with a wax sheet covering her head.  She was laid down in the middle of the circle of dancing women.   Her feet were washed and her hair was braided while drums pounded, women danced, and the griots told the stories of the last name of her new husband (who was nowhere to be seen).

 

Dancing is quite the thing here.  I love watching women dance.  This video is of Sira, my community counterpart and best friend in site, dancing like a maniac.

I have discussed with fellow volunteers about how dancing is a powerful tool for integration.  People love you for putting yourself out there, and there is no verbal expression involved.  So whenever I’m asked to dance, I typically go for it full force, as you can see here:

After the dancing calms down, all of the gifts were brought out to be counted as everyone watched.  My host dad actually announced the counting of fabric, household goodies, and grain, and a griot would repeat everything he said.  Prior to the wedding, the bride’s family typically gives things like cola nuts, an animal, or money to the groom’s family to seal the deal.  

On the left is my host father, who would count the gifts.  On the right is the griot that would echo the number in a louder voice.

After the gifts were counted, a crowd gathered around Fanta to escort her to her groom’s house, where he was waiting for her.  As she was led away from her compound, her best friend was crying hysterically.  Upon marriage, women traditionally go and live in the husband’s family compound.  In this case however, her husband was living in a faraway city called Touba, and she would be leaving the next day.

The entourage of female guests plus Fanta's twin brother leading her to her new husband's home.  

The third day of the wedding is held at the groom’s family’s compound.  The men are more involved this day, and there are proclamations made and a goat slaughtered. 

 

As usual, I had my pocket knife with me and was ready to go when the carrots started getting chopped.  Most women think that I am incapable of doing the things they do (which is often true), so I’m always trying to prove myself.  Well I proved that cutting boards are necessary when you use a knife that’s actually sharp.  I sliced a chunk of my finger into the giant bowl of carrots and had to run home bleeding and humiliated.

All healed up now and I didn't even get a staff infection

The third day seems to be the most chill, however, so I don’t think I missed all that much.  Pat and I went back as Fanta and her two kids were loaded into the car with her new husband, headed to a new life in Touba.

I definitely think I wasn't supposed to be smiling in this picture.  Oops.  Habit.

I learned so much about this culture and community by being involved in this event.  However, another wedding was taking place right around this same time.  Kristi and Nick’s wedding was the first major event that I’ve missed due to Peace Corps, and there are already four other weddings that I know I’ll miss, which breaks my heart. 

 At least I made it to Washington in stick form.