I went to my host sister’s wedding in Molepolole almost 2 weeks ago. It was a fantastic celebration. In the US, people are invited to a wedding, and usually people want to keep the #s down because of expense. In Botswana basically everyone in a village is invited, plus anyone else who happens to hear about it and stop by. People come & go throughout the day, so there is no formal seating. At least 1 cow is slaughtered the night before, and sometimes 2-3, plus several goats and chickens. Families are prepared to feed hundreds of guests.

On the last leg of the journey there, I jumped last-minute onto a bus crammed so full of people that I and another woman were standing on the bottom entry step. The bus started to move, and 3 men pushed themselves in, forcing us forward into the crowd (which a moment ago hadn’t even been possible). Eventually we worked our way in so that I and the woman were sitting on the engine and only 1 of them men was still hanging out of the open door. The engine was very very hot!!! I was sweating so badly that people commented on it, and my bum felt like it was on fire. Depending on traffic, that ride could have lasted 2 hours; but luckily we’d missed rush hour and it only took an hour.

I arrived at my host family’s house early in the morning, and was delighted to see so many changes. They were already a well-off-enough family; but they’d done considerable work to the yard to make it ideal for a huge gathering. They’d built several of the traditional mud circles around bases of trees (for sitting), created a big sitting area with green mesh canopy (green mesh is used to roof carwashes, cover plants, cover graves, ….), created a huge outdoor cookhouse with about 15 large cauldrons smoking in fires, redone the chicken coop, cemented par of the courtyard, and even tiled in front of the front door. In fact, the previously bumpy dirt rode (that’s putting it mildly) had been leveled by heavy machinery so a ginormous white tent could be erected between the house and the church.

My host mother was dressed in the traditional blue skirt and head covering, and wore a white blanket pinned at her chest. Several other older women were also dressed like this. My host father was wearing a beige suit. My younger host sister, a bridesmaid, was wearing a short gold dress and high gold heels. My 3 host brothers were wearing polo shirts and jeans; and all looked exhausted from their hard work overnight. My other host sister, the bride, looked gorgeous in her white dress. Her hair was piled on top of her head and accented with pearl-like beads. She’s like me; usually she just gets up in the morning, no makeup, maybe not even combing hair (well, at least in my case ...). She was truly a vision on this day.

I met many many more Aunts and Cousins than I had when I was living there. Everyone was helping to prepare food or aid the bride. Dad was entertaining many of the male guests; as headman, I’d guess his work is never done. No one had told me I must wear a skirt to enter the church (I was wearing jeans; weddings in Botswana are only formal for the bridal party). I had to borrow from my sister a wraparound skirt which was open at the back. Every time I stood or walked, I had to hold it closed!

The ceremony at the Spiritual Healing Churhc was really interesting. The groom sat at a table in front, facing the priest. To their right sat female guests dressed casually, behind them sat female guests (mostly older) dressed in the traditional blue garb, to their left sat male guests.The bride was walked down the back aisle by a woman I didn’t know; Mom was sitting in front, my other sister was in the front pew with the other 4 bridesmaids, and dad and the brothers did not attend the ceremony. The priest would talk for a bit, them someone would start singing and the whole group would light up, standing and signing and clapping and swaying with gusto.The song would end, we would sit, the priest would talk, and someone would start singing again. This went on for about 90 minutes. Then we all got up singing/clapping and snaked around the church in a line, shaking hands with the bride and groom. When we returned to our seats, the Bishop entered the church, stood on a pulpit, and spoke briefly. Then the ceremony was over, and the bridal party left for 2 1/2 hours to take photos at Lemepe Lodge by the pool.

While the bridal party was gone, the guests went back to the house to relax & chat. When they returned we all went into the tent, which was filled with tables and chairs covered in white cloths and accented with brown and gold. Since all of the weddings I’ve seen in Bobonong have been accented in pink, I was pretty amazed at the bold color scheme. The DJ turned up loud music, and the wedding party then entered, dancing traditional steps, almost like a line-dance.After they took their places at the head table, the music was cut and the DJ began introducing all of the distinguished guests (including the 3 American PCVs, who’d all lived with this family during PST this year and last year). During the introductions, dishes/glasses/utensils/sodas were passed out; as opposed to having the tables set before the guests’ arrival. Then the music was turned on and food served; There was more food than I’ve ever seen before; seswaa (pounded beef), chicken, sampe, chakalaka, 2 types of “salad,” rice, bogobe.

I’d been there for 8 hours before I had to leave. The dancing hadn’t even started yet! By that time, my host brothers had napped and changed into dress shirts & pants. The bridal party had also changed into their less formal party clothes, which still matched. ( :

*****

Groomsmen and bridal party children in the church; the celebratory tent

inside the tent; the bride, groom, and bride's sister leading the way

me with Mum; Shannon with youngest brother

Steve with middle brother; oldest brother

All my Dads like guns. (Dad is the one holding the slab of freshly killed cow.)