So, part 2 of 3 of the marriage process.
My bridal shower was to take the more modest place of a
kitchen party, an important pre-marriage event, that for some couples actually
constitutes the marriage itself, traditionally if not legally.
Basically, lots of women come along and bring the bride
everything she needs to set up her kitchen, including a fridge, oven etc. It is
a very important event for the bride.
I didn’t want such a big event, ovens being hard to pack in
a suitcase, so I arranged to have a bridal shower. I wanted to have a nice
event where I could thank and celebrate with the women I wasn’t able to invite
to the wedding. As I have written before, things morphed as a committee took
charge, and the event turned out rather differently to what I had anticipated.
Atkins and I had ourselves all ready, with our matching
outfits (way less dorky than it sounds). (If I’m being honest, the excuse to
get a really Zambian dress made was a strong motivating factor in having the event.
I was pleased with the results – see photos.)
We drove across town to pick up his sisters and my wana
chimbusha (the woman who ‘prepared’ me for marriage through some interesting
tutorials). At this stage things were about 2 hours behind schedule, which
didn’t bother anyone except me, and Atkins. Poor thing – my regard for
punctuality must be rubbing off him.
Food was prepared, make-up applied, all without power. I was
quite pleased with my make-up efforts. Done in a very dark room, I managed to
avoid a Bridget Jones-ish blusher incident.
We headed down to the venue, which had been decorated very
nicely. We were not the only ones behind time. I finally entered the hall at
4pm, 3 hours after the time the invitations had naively stated the event would
begin.
My entrance was a new experience for me. Myself, my wana
chimbusha and another woman were covered in a chitenge and crawled in on our
knees, to the accompaniment of drumming. I was then kept covered until Atkins
arrived to unveil me. That bit was surprisingly fun, and felt less demeaning
that I had expected. I felt like a really nice Christmas present.
I then had to kneel before my future husband to show my
submission to him. Not my favourite part, and only agreed to after he promised
to do the same for me at our New Zealand wedding, and thereby set himself apart
as an extraordinary Zambian male. Gifts were also presented to my Zambian
‘mother’ and representatives of Atkins’ family. We grabbed a quick hug and
kiss, and he was then escorted out.
It was again a female-only zone. People ate, there was some
entertainment, I was asked to dance for everyone and was then returned to my
platform. I wanted to dance more, but apparently it was not appropriate for me
to do this in front of future in-laws (in case it made them think about what
Atkins and I would be getting up to in the bedroom). I acquiesced, but no such
restraint will be shown at the wedding!
People soon began drifting off, and we too returned home. No
reunion with Atkins yet though – I was sequestered away in the neighbour’s
house while my wana chimbusha prepared for a final ceremony.
When she was ready, I was led to my bedroom, where Atkins
was waiting with my wana chimbusha. I knew that we were going to be briefed on
the physical aspect of marriage, so was rather concerned as to the role the
cooked chicken in the middle of the room was to play. Luckily, it turned out
just to be another reassurance to Atkins that he will not starve at the hands
of his new wife.
Some rather intriguing instructions on personal hygiene and
other matters followed. I was presented with some needles for reattaching any
errant buttons of Atkins’ and warned that one must never borrow needles or salt
from anyone, because these are potent vessels for witchcraft.
By now I was beginning to slip into culture shock, but wana
chimbusha was finished. The house emptied out, and we were alone, kind of
married. My first words to my new husband were “darling, I really don’t want to
shave your armpits like she said I should.” His response? “Sweetheart, I can’t
think of anything worse.” And that’s why I’m marrying him!
All said and done, it was a fascinating experience, and I am
so glad I did it because it meant a lot to Atkins’ community, and reassured the
people around us that I respect Atkins’ culture, and want to be part of it.
Some parts of the ceremony were really moving, such as both being formally
accepted by our respective in-laws. Other parts were really fun, like the
dancing. Some parts, like the kneeling, I fundamentally balked at, but accepted
that not doing it would ostracise us both, and would also be too insignificant
a gesture to improve women’s status here. Overall, I was humbled that all these
people I barely, or even don’t know, were willing to open up their culture for me,
and spend hours organising this event.
I feel that participating in both chilanga mulilo and the
bridal shower has helped Atkins and I prepare for marriage. After each ceremony
we have felt a little more married, and the experience has brought us closer,
forcing us to discuss things we probably wouldn’t have otherwise. So while
there are aspects of both ceremonies I would change, I can also see the mental
and emotional benefits of thoroughly preparing for, and commemorating, an event
as significant as a marriage.
