Western-style Wedding!

Were you wondering about those random two days in July where, without explanation, I gave you nothing new to read? Probably not, but I'll explain anyway: I forgot. I thought I'd set this post to appear on July 25. Obviously, I didn't.

Anyway, here are some photos of the first day of the wedding in Yuna, the "western" wedding. It reminded me of the time I ordered ham and eggs in Hong Kong: served over rice, eaten with chopsticks.

Western wedding guests still wore non-western clothes, though of the sparkly, special-occasion variety.
One of these women is named Rugi.
The other woman is not named Rugi.

The wedding is [side note: someone once complained about the confusion I cause when writing in the present tense. I tried to write this story in the past tense, but on re-reading it, I realized I'd switched tenses half-way through. so: I give up] not taking place in Yuna, so I get into Bubacarr's car, along with Rugi-from-Yuna, Not-Rugi, and Mata. After dropping Mata off, picking someone else up, calling some people, buying some Africell credit, sitting beside a football field, complaining about "time wasted" and waiting for some more men in cars to arrive, we drive up to a compound where festivities seem to be happening.

The festivities are:

• Enter various, ornately decorated rooms. Sit on couches.
• Greet various, ornately decorated people. 
• Watch old men and women drumming with ladles on over-turned metal bowls.
• Eat ebbe (a spicy soup) from non-over-turned bowls.
• Drink juice from a glass (not the usual plastic cup) 
• Pretend to see the bride dancing. "Do you see the bride?" "No." "There." "Where?" "There. She is wearing gloves." "Ahh..yes. I see her."
• Get back into the car.

I think: the end. While disappointed that I'd spent more time in a car than at a wedding, I'm pleased I'll be back before sunset after all. I'm about to call my host and tell her I'm heading home when Rugi-Yuna turns to me and says, "Do you remember the compound we drove through, with the music? That is the bride's compound." I'm confused, since I thought we'd just left the bride's compound, but it definitely seems that this new compound we've arrived at is also prepared for festivities.

On either side of the road are rows of white plastic chairs, as well as some wooden armchairs and a couple of school benches. Priority for seating goes to old women, women with babies not strapped to their backs, and the toubab. Other women alternate between sitting and standing. I don't know where the men are. Lurking in the shadows? The children, I'm pretty sure, are closer to the music source (large speakers set up in the compound) dancing.

Then--here comes the bride!

1. A line of cars pull up with horns blasting. Someone near me says, "the bride is here!"
2. The bride and groom, followed by a lot of women and girls dressed in blue satin, step out of the cars and start walking down the road towards the entrance of the compound.
3. Walking backwards in front of them are the camera crew: a couple of men with huge lights and another man with a large flashing camera. 

And then it starts to rain. I think: the end.

Rugi-Yuna and Not-Rugi lead me back into our car where we sit and get bitten by mosquitoes. They speak to each other to Wolof and I pretend to be entertained by my mobile (even though that's impossible since it doesn't have that Nokia snake game). I assume someone will be by momentarily to drive the car, realize that's unlikely since our driver is the groom, wonder if we're going to spend the rest of the wedding in the car and scratch at some mosquito bites. 

Luckily, Not-Rugi says she's going to get out and asks if I want to come along. I do.

It's still raining, but not pouring. Grown-ups are crammed under the...what do you call the part of the roof that overhangs the porch? They were crowded under that. The children were dancing in puddles. I follow Not-Rugi to a room so crowded it takes me awhile to realize it's where professional photographs are being taken of the bride, groom, and assorted guests. People let me sneak closer, I assume because I am a toubab with a camera, but the real reason becomes clear when I hear Bubacarr shout, "Binta! I was waiting for you!" and then I am shoved next to the bride and groom and large cameras are flashing in my face.

The bride and groom.

Off to one side were a pile of wrapped (in actual shiny wrapping paper) and labeled presents. I took a photo but it was especially blurry so I didn't bother uploading it. I was hoping the bride would open the gifts, but she must've waited until everyone left. I was especially curious to see the gifts because in all the traditional ceremonies I've attended, the only gifts have been crumpled five or ten dalasis bills, or in the case of a new baby, bars of soap.

Asobi? Or bridesmaids? 

Oh, and random something I just remembered: while I'm standing watching others being photographed, someone behind me calls, "Miss Jallow," and sure enough, it's one of last year's grade twelve students, hundreds of miles away from Fatoto.

Sort of like being inside a prison, except the people clinging to the barred windows are the ones outside.

After the photos, we were served bowls of vermicelli noodles cooked with onions and chicken. YUM. Then we were served juice from disposable Dixie cups (as novel, to me, as the glasses we drank from earlier).

And then comes dancing in the rain.
Maimuna grabs an umbrella and becomes the first of the grown-ups to join the children in rain-and-mud dancing.
More women follow.
And the men.
Sainey does a splashing, arm-flailing dance in a large puddle.
There is music and screaming and happyshouts.
And the bride and groom dance.
And Musa grabs my arm and we dance.
And my tokara turns up and we dance.
And Maimuna claps for me and we dance.

And dance.

Take as evidence these mud-covered shoes.
Also, the fact that I didn't get home until well past 1a.m.