Looaa looaa looaa looaa looaa! to the beginning of your life together

Today I had the honor of attending a Batswana wedding. Unfortunately I was unable to attend another one that I had been invited to, but man, the one I went to was a blast! First they danced. Then they shook. Then they trilled. Then they danced. Then they prayed. Then they took a break to let the wedding party dance. Then they danced some more. Then we ate. Then, well, they just had to dance some more.

My good friend Mma Tshweu (Ms. White) invited me to a wedding at her church today. I think she invited me because I taught her how to make tissue paper flowers at the daycare last week. Tshweu loved them so much that she made a whole bunch to decorate her church for the wedding. She also declared that she will make a bouquet of the flowers for her daughters’ weddings rather than have to buy real flowers. The children at both Motse and A&E have really enjoyed the flowers, but the teachers have loved them even more. It is incredible to see a simple craft that every American student enjoys give women such pleasure. It has also been a stark example of how much I take for granted.

Tshweu assured me that, as her guest, it was totally cool for me to attend the wedding. It was hard to shake the feeling that it was rude to join the party a day before and that it was OK to not dress up. This trip is the first that I have not brought something nice to wear, and today it bit me in the tushie. Many people here have so little money that they don’t have a set of nice clothes to wear, so I wasn’t the only person wearing jeans or sneakers.

When I arrived at the church the party was in full swing. A figure wrapped in a bright pink shawl, gold head scarf, and huge earrings approached me at a bouncing gait. It was hard to recognize Tshweu because her intense happiness made her so beautiful, more beautiful and happy than the teacher I see during the week. She was beaming as bright as the sun, like everyone else. She grabbed me close, moved in time to the kickin’ music, leaned close, and gave a loud trill: looaa looaa looaa looaa looaa!  Women repeated the trill throughout the day; it was as if there was so much happiness bubbling up inside of them that they had to relieve some of the pressure by letting the happiness burst forth - looaa looaa looaa looaa looaa!  

The wedding party started dancing outside. They were in full swing by the time they got to the entrance. The bride and groom entered the church together, also rocking out. While the father was not needed to walk the bride in to give her away, the parents of both bride and groom were needed later to get up and publicly approve the union during the ceremony.

The pastor met the energy of the music and swaying guests. He gave a fiery sermon that stumbled between English and Setswana, as though he kept grasping to find a language that would get his message out. It was really bizarre to meet a peaceful and serene pastor later at the reception after seeing his sermon. He lectured the couple on how to behave to preserve the union. The bride needing to dress nice, be beautiful, do her hair nice (but switch it often, every two weeks, to stay looking fresh), and serve her lord. The groom was supposed to love his wife and do nice things for her, like buy her shoes so she can look nice. He lectured both on the need to behave well so the groom did not come home to a baby that wasn’t his and the bride didn’t come home to a husband who had many women.

The sermon was translated realtime by a guy who stood at the back and repeated whatever the pastor said in the other language. The pastor went back and forth between English and Setswana, so the poor dude had to go between Setswana and English, while keeping up with the pastor. He clearly struggled to keep up with the lighting pace and occasionally didn’t even try to translate when the pastor lost control and let it rip, which was often.

Awkward moments (for me) included when they asked me to join the wedding photos and when the pastor asked people to contribute money to the couple. Of course I contributed, but I was so shy to go up and congratulate a couple that I had never met, that I gave the money to someone else to take up…. Idiot. It was also awkward to sit under the main tent with tables. There was a second, undecorated tent for “the other people” to sit in and watch the main tent. Some of my worry was dispelled at the church when I asked the women next to me something about the couple – “Oh, I don’t know them. I was just walking by and saw a wedding was going on, so I came to check it out.”

Heaping plates of home cooked food (which Tshweu helped cook) were doled out: Pappa, traditional beef, beet root, coleslaw, potato salad, rice, bean and veggie stew. I think they had to wash plates as people finished so that the plates could be refilled and given to another guest. Music played the entire time and there were various instances of dancing. The bridal party stomped through the arch and down the path, but then they had to do it again. One group stomped along and then the groom’s family came in with a totally different song and dance that took them stamping up and then around in a circle. I asked Patricia what the song meant, but it was in a language other than Setswana, so she didn’t know.

As dinner continued the scraggly neighbor kids filtered in. They just watched from the sides and I think many of the people under the undecorated tent were also there to just watch what was going on. The party was hopping and I discovered on my walk home that the music could be heard all the way to the main road. 

  Some of my favorite moments were when the little old lady who looked straight out of a National Geographic issue on the cultural heritage of Botswana demanded that I take her picture. She was from the groom’s family who had come from a village near Francistown piled in the back of a pickup truck in plaid shawls and head wraps. The other moment I’ll cherish is when the ladies taught me how to dance, or tried to teach me. I was doing my little butt wiggle to the music (you would have been too) when they came and took pity on me. They had babies strapped to their backs bouncing along, but they still got down, down, down. They laughed pretty hard at me, the least I could offer in return for the fantastic experience was a bit of entertainment.  

  If I ever get married I want my wedding to be such a party. The bride was the only person who cried. There were no other tears or guests sitting. The mood was one of exuberance, joy, excitement, and celebration. It was fabulous and wonderful to see Botswana at its best – happy, swaying, grooving, partying, dressed up, and optimistic for the future.