This last week my compound has been bursting with people, music and animals for the celebration of Bisirat, my compound family’s youngest son, and Rahel’s wedding. I’ve been taking notes and writing snippets of events happening; however, I have been struggling finding a way to clearly articulate all that is happening and why, when I’m still slightly unsure. What I’ve gathered is that a wedding is a never-ending dance party with plenty of behind the scenes the stage work.
I woke up on Saturday (January 9) thinking it was just going to be another slow, relaxing day. I still had groceries from the week before so didn’t need to go to market, just errands to check the post office where I was blessed with some letters. As I was writing to Grandma I noticed men here hanging a tarp in a corner of my compound off the gutters to the laundry lines. I continued to write until three women poured large rice bags full of onions on the ground. Soon a couple of plastic deep buckets and one made from a turned out tire were around them as the ladies sat on a small concrete stoop with knives in hands. Off came the tops, bottoms and outer peals of the onions before being halved and thrown in the bucket. I tried to keep writing, but my Mom’s voice popped in “If you see work that needs to be done, do it.” Prompting me to abandoned pen and paper in room and bring out a small knife. We started as three women, and finished five hours later with around 30. As we were working, men were walking in and out of the compound with meat, bajajs (a sort of taxi) were delivering injera and there were people going everywhere. It was fascinating watching legs come in and buckets going here and there. After eating, the speakers were hooked up so that we could all dance and rejoice for the newly-to-be-weds.
Sunday I gave up sleep around 7 as pounding for canopies was echoing in the compound. I found that 2 of 9 large pots were still cooking. The soot under the other 7 places made me assume that people had been cooking all night. People started to filter in, and I got to try some awesome coffee before being commandeered by the kids to keep them busy and out of the way. I sat with a student and her family in the womens’ section for lunch. Usually I am with lots of male teachers so I’m not usually surrounded by women. It was a pleasant change. One of my family members’s daughter is Ethio-American and visiting Tigray for the first time. She is slightly younger than me, but it was a blast to hang out with her and speak English. Together we hung out with family for the rest of the night/early morning.
Around 3:30pm family, friends, groomsmen and community members piled into cars to drive to the bride’s house in nearby Shire. As we reached the outskirts of the town, we pulled over so that Bisrat (the groom) and his groomsmen could go the rest of the way in a horse drawn decorative carriage. Before proceeding there was a dance party in the street that would violate plenty of American street laws. We made it to the bride’s house where a giant tent was taking up a giant portion of the street. I stuck close to my new friend and sat with her father and uncle (who is somehow related to my landlady) with the family closest to the wedding party’s stage. Soon the groom entered with the bride in a beautiful white dress and her bridesmaids in single shouldered-strapped, light yellow gowns. They cut ribbon before coming through an arch and taking their seats. An official reading of documents with witnesses and handing over cash and goods were exchanged between families. I heard later that if they ever get a divorce they have to pay back their families everything that they were given. Tables loaded with more food than Thanksgiving was brought in for the families to eat before dancing ensued. As a farewell, the wedding party was put on steps with sparklers to wave back and forth in front of a giant cake stand. We left soon after.
After a quick break at a local hotel for “some refreshment” we loaded back up into the cars to arrive in Selekleka around midnight for similar proceeding to happen at the grooms’ house. I tried to eat again, but there was so much food in a short amount of time. This time a live band from Mekele showed up. Family was only allowed to dance to songs that lasted 10-15 minutes. I danced some when more friends were welcomed, but called it a night around 2 am when my friend had to leave. There were people wrapped in white blankets called “gabies” asleep on benches around the place.
I tried to get some sleep, but was extremely thankful that I don’t teach on Monday after 6 hours of broken sleep and waking up sick. Not much happened during the day in my compound; however, after coming back from a Christening (see other blog) I was surprised that my compound was filled with men and students were sitting on my front steps. I ate a small plate of chicken and injera in the back with the girls before sneaking in and working on lesson plans. I was told it was only for men and didn’t want to overstep.
Tuesday was filled mostly with teaching, coughing, and hanging out with friends. Nothing wedding related was noticeable in compound by the time I went to bed around 10 pm.
Wednesday there were people around and in compound, but not overwhelming or so many that I was uncomfortable opening my window which is directly into the compound square.
Thursday night I came home from a coffee ceremony to have 30-45 women in my compound, sitting around drinking beer and local drinks. The stereo had been brought back out so that there was plenty of dancing and jams to fill the starry night.
Friday I realized that the bride and groom were back to (or had been living the whole time) in a spare room in our compound when they came out to play with the kids and me. A teacher asked me how the “honeymoon,” was going and I only assume that is what is happening now. (For the personal record, I hope to love my future husband’s family, but I don’t want my honeymoon to be in their house for weeks.)
I am currently spending the weekend with a friend getting ready for another wedding next weekend, but have no doubt that the family will still be in celebrating the marriage when I return. It’s been a busy week full of sickness and work, but there is always music. If I’ve learned anything from Ethiopians it is that when the music starts to play, the dancing can’t be contained.
I woke up on Saturday (January 9) thinking it was just going to be another slow, relaxing day. I still had groceries from the week before so didn’t need to go to market, just errands to check the post office where I was blessed with some letters. As I was writing to Grandma I noticed men here hanging a tarp in a corner of my compound off the gutters to the laundry lines. I continued to write until three women poured large rice bags full of onions on the ground. Soon a couple of plastic deep buckets and one made from a turned out tire were around them as the ladies sat on a small concrete stoop with knives in hands. Off came the tops, bottoms and outer peals of the onions before being halved and thrown in the bucket. I tried to keep writing, but my Mom’s voice popped in “If you see work that needs to be done, do it.” Prompting me to abandoned pen and paper in room and bring out a small knife. We started as three women, and finished five hours later with around 30. As we were working, men were walking in and out of the compound with meat, bajajs (a sort of taxi) were delivering injera and there were people going everywhere. It was fascinating watching legs come in and buckets going here and there. After eating, the speakers were hooked up so that we could all dance and rejoice for the newly-to-be-weds.
Sunday I gave up sleep around 7 as pounding for canopies was echoing in the compound. I found that 2 of 9 large pots were still cooking. The soot under the other 7 places made me assume that people had been cooking all night. People started to filter in, and I got to try some awesome coffee before being commandeered by the kids to keep them busy and out of the way. I sat with a student and her family in the womens’ section for lunch. Usually I am with lots of male teachers so I’m not usually surrounded by women. It was a pleasant change. One of my family members’s daughter is Ethio-American and visiting Tigray for the first time. She is slightly younger than me, but it was a blast to hang out with her and speak English. Together we hung out with family for the rest of the night/early morning.
Around 3:30pm family, friends, groomsmen and community members piled into cars to drive to the bride’s house in nearby Shire. As we reached the outskirts of the town, we pulled over so that Bisrat (the groom) and his groomsmen could go the rest of the way in a horse drawn decorative carriage. Before proceeding there was a dance party in the street that would violate plenty of American street laws. We made it to the bride’s house where a giant tent was taking up a giant portion of the street. I stuck close to my new friend and sat with her father and uncle (who is somehow related to my landlady) with the family closest to the wedding party’s stage. Soon the groom entered with the bride in a beautiful white dress and her bridesmaids in single shouldered-strapped, light yellow gowns. They cut ribbon before coming through an arch and taking their seats. An official reading of documents with witnesses and handing over cash and goods were exchanged between families. I heard later that if they ever get a divorce they have to pay back their families everything that they were given. Tables loaded with more food than Thanksgiving was brought in for the families to eat before dancing ensued. As a farewell, the wedding party was put on steps with sparklers to wave back and forth in front of a giant cake stand. We left soon after.
After a quick break at a local hotel for “some refreshment” we loaded back up into the cars to arrive in Selekleka around midnight for similar proceeding to happen at the grooms’ house. I tried to eat again, but there was so much food in a short amount of time. This time a live band from Mekele showed up. Family was only allowed to dance to songs that lasted 10-15 minutes. I danced some when more friends were welcomed, but called it a night around 2 am when my friend had to leave. There were people wrapped in white blankets called “gabies” asleep on benches around the place.
I tried to get some sleep, but was extremely thankful that I don’t teach on Monday after 6 hours of broken sleep and waking up sick. Not much happened during the day in my compound; however, after coming back from a Christening (see other blog) I was surprised that my compound was filled with men and students were sitting on my front steps. I ate a small plate of chicken and injera in the back with the girls before sneaking in and working on lesson plans. I was told it was only for men and didn’t want to overstep.
Tuesday was filled mostly with teaching, coughing, and hanging out with friends. Nothing wedding related was noticeable in compound by the time I went to bed around 10 pm.
Wednesday there were people around and in compound, but not overwhelming or so many that I was uncomfortable opening my window which is directly into the compound square.
Thursday night I came home from a coffee ceremony to have 30-45 women in my compound, sitting around drinking beer and local drinks. The stereo had been brought back out so that there was plenty of dancing and jams to fill the starry night.
Friday I realized that the bride and groom were back to (or had been living the whole time) in a spare room in our compound when they came out to play with the kids and me. A teacher asked me how the “honeymoon,” was going and I only assume that is what is happening now. (For the personal record, I hope to love my future husband’s family, but I don’t want my honeymoon to be in their house for weeks.)
I am currently spending the weekend with a friend getting ready for another wedding next weekend, but have no doubt that the family will still be in celebrating the marriage when I return. It’s been a busy week full of sickness and work, but there is always music. If I’ve learned anything from Ethiopians it is that when the music starts to play, the dancing can’t be contained.
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