During the months of January and February Cupid takes a rest and sits back to watch the outcome of his well-aimed arrows. He dons his best and joins every other Ethiopian in town for wedding after wedding after wedding.
On Sundays the streets are filled with well-dressed people either coming from or going to a wedding celebration and the air is filled with the honking of horns as each bridal party circles the town in a procession of rickety cars and mini-buses garishly bedecked with ribbons and plastic flowers.
Recently, I attended my second Ethiopian wedding. Although I am by no means an expert on the traditions, I will do my best to describe what I saw on this particular day and what I have learned via my married Ethiopian friends.
There is a trend these days for many Ethiopian weddings to have a very Western feel. The bride wears a traditional white dress (usually rented) and the bridesmaids don formal floor length gowns in shockingly bright colors.
On the big day, the happy couple heads to the church around 5am for a brief religious ceremony. I didn’t attend this and I’m not sure who does attend other than the bride and groom. From that point on the couple is sent off in opposite directions…the groom to the home of his parents and the bride to hers to prepare themselves for the party. Later in the day, the groom and his men are sent to "capture" (i.e. escort) the bride and her maids to the reception tent. The groom comes bearing a peace offering (flowers), but as they enter the big tent you would think that this is the worst day of her life. The bride and her entourage of young women play the part of the captured spoils by looking distraught, fearful, and sad while the men follow behind celebrating and whooping it up like they’ve just returned from a successful raid.
Finally they’ve arrived! Smith, Sofie, and I have been sitting on hard wooden benches underneath this gigantic multi-tarp tent waiting for Maza (the bride and an acquaintance of ours) and her new husband to enter. At the recommendation of Maza’s brother, we arrived early. Early enough to get a back row seat (perfect for people watching) in the ladies section (yes…seating is segregated), but also to lead to numb bums (hard wooden benches without backs are tortuous for more than an hour). While the ladies around us have used the wait to work their way through liters of tella—the local home brew, we’ve whiled away the interminable wait people watching and attempting to avoid the eye of the photographer and videographer. Unfortunately our attempts are completely unsuccessful. Poor Maza. I cringe to think of the day that she sits down to watch her wedding video to find that three farenji women have stolen the limelight from her on her special day! Oh well, I guess that’s the risk one takes when inviting all three of the DebreMarkos farenji chicks to a special event. The reception proceeded much like a wedding reception in the states….blessings from a selection of priests, food, loud overbearing music and before we knew it the event was seemingly over.
I say seemingly, because at that point we were off the hook. The bridal party, however, continues to celebrate by driving their caravan of rickety cars and buses to the forest where the party will continue with more local brew and the delicacy of raw meat sliced off a hindquarter of something that dangles from a tree. Hmm…not sad that I missed that part of the festivities!
Overall, I must admit that I was a bit disappointed that the event had such a Western feel. My friend Gigi assures me that there is a more traditional ceremony (which I believe takes place the following evening), but this is not something that everybody and his brother attends. I do hope that is true.
On Sundays the streets are filled with well-dressed people either coming from or going to a wedding celebration and the air is filled with the honking of horns as each bridal party circles the town in a procession of rickety cars and mini-buses garishly bedecked with ribbons and plastic flowers.
Recently, I attended my second Ethiopian wedding. Although I am by no means an expert on the traditions, I will do my best to describe what I saw on this particular day and what I have learned via my married Ethiopian friends.
There is a trend these days for many Ethiopian weddings to have a very Western feel. The bride wears a traditional white dress (usually rented) and the bridesmaids don formal floor length gowns in shockingly bright colors.
On the big day, the happy couple heads to the church around 5am for a brief religious ceremony. I didn’t attend this and I’m not sure who does attend other than the bride and groom. From that point on the couple is sent off in opposite directions…the groom to the home of his parents and the bride to hers to prepare themselves for the party. Later in the day, the groom and his men are sent to "capture" (i.e. escort) the bride and her maids to the reception tent. The groom comes bearing a peace offering (flowers), but as they enter the big tent you would think that this is the worst day of her life. The bride and her entourage of young women play the part of the captured spoils by looking distraught, fearful, and sad while the men follow behind celebrating and whooping it up like they’ve just returned from a successful raid.
Finally they’ve arrived! Smith, Sofie, and I have been sitting on hard wooden benches underneath this gigantic multi-tarp tent waiting for Maza (the bride and an acquaintance of ours) and her new husband to enter. At the recommendation of Maza’s brother, we arrived early. Early enough to get a back row seat (perfect for people watching) in the ladies section (yes…seating is segregated), but also to lead to numb bums (hard wooden benches without backs are tortuous for more than an hour). While the ladies around us have used the wait to work their way through liters of tella—the local home brew, we’ve whiled away the interminable wait people watching and attempting to avoid the eye of the photographer and videographer. Unfortunately our attempts are completely unsuccessful. Poor Maza. I cringe to think of the day that she sits down to watch her wedding video to find that three farenji women have stolen the limelight from her on her special day! Oh well, I guess that’s the risk one takes when inviting all three of the DebreMarkos farenji chicks to a special event. The reception proceeded much like a wedding reception in the states….blessings from a selection of priests, food, loud overbearing music and before we knew it the event was seemingly over.
I say seemingly, because at that point we were off the hook. The bridal party, however, continues to celebrate by driving their caravan of rickety cars and buses to the forest where the party will continue with more local brew and the delicacy of raw meat sliced off a hindquarter of something that dangles from a tree. Hmm…not sad that I missed that part of the festivities!
Overall, I must admit that I was a bit disappointed that the event had such a Western feel. My friend Gigi assures me that there is a more traditional ceremony (which I believe takes place the following evening), but this is not something that everybody and his brother attends. I do hope that is true.
Smith, Sofie, and I. Sofie is a British volunteer with VSO who came to town a few months after our arrival
The "ladies section"
Tella—the local home brew which I like to refer to as "muddy water"
Cheering the arrival of the bride and groom
Maza and her bridesmaids
Maza and her husband
