The Wedding (1 of 2)

Amy Johnson and Kaleb Becar were married on Friday, October 21 2011 in St. Louis, MO.  A unique combination of circumstances (a seven hour time change, internet unavailability, the Atlantic Ocean, and a $1500 airfare) prevented me from sharing their day and offering my congratulations in person.  Instead, I was able to do the next best thing: celebrate a wedding a little closer to home.  My friend, Bee Dladla, invited me to attend the wedding of his sister, Salisiwe, on the 21^st and 22^nd of October.  I was excited about the invitation, especially since the wedding was held only 6-7 km up the road from Umphumulo.

Bee called and said he would pick me up after the work day ended around 1pm at the church center.  More specifically, I heard through the grapevine that he would stop by sometime between 30 and 45 minutes after 1.  After a standard hurry up and wait fashion, we finally left Umphumulo a little after 3:30 in Bee’s small white bakkie.  As one of two passengers in the tiny cab, I was given a unique seat—literally straddling the gear shift with one foot on each side.  The short drive was relatively uneventful, but 2^nd and 4^th gears were a more than a little uncomfortable.  After driving on the main road for 10 minutes, we turned onto a small dirt road that led into the countryside.  Bee’s parents’ home was about a kilometer and many unnecessary gear shifts down, at the very end of the road.  As I extricated myself from the cab of the truck, Bee happily informed me that I would now experience “the real South Africa.” 

Bee’s home, like so many others in rural KZN, was built into the side of the hill.  The family lives in four peach colored houses, all built within about 30 yards of each other.  Below the main house was the kraal, where cattle are kept at night.  The home was the epitome of rural; chickens, dogs, goats, and their respective young wandered in and around the different groups of people.  A chicken coop and car park were off to the side of one of the houses, and the space between the main buildings had been designated as the cooking center.  The home was not connected to the power grid; the only electricity was provided by a small solar panel on the roof of the main house and was used to power a couple light bulbs.  As a result, cooking was done in large three legged iron pots over open fires.  The Dladla family had slaughtered a cow that morning, and friends, family, and guests had been eating, drinking, and celebrating all day. 

Cooking over an open fire at the Dladla's home

When I arrived, a group of young men introduced to me as Bee’s neighbors were sitting in the kraal, eating braai (grilled) meat and boiled beef off of a slab of wood.  Near the main house, about 25 older men were sitting in a circle sharing meat and Zulu beer.  I was introduced to everyone, and given a seat on an overturned 5 gallon bucket with the old timers just as the next round of meat and steamed bread was taken off the fire.  None of the old men spoke any English, but they all seemed happy enough to have a white boy less than 1/3 their age join the circle. Since the party had been going all day, I assumed that there would only be a few cuts of meat left.  Nevertheless, I was somewhat surprised to see a cow’s head (minus the horns, vertebra, and lower jawbones) plopped down onto the plywood cutting/serving board.  Dinner was served.  One of the younger men knelt by the board with a knife and proceeded to cut the meat into pieces and pile it on the board.  Everyone dug in without hesitation; the meat was served with small piles of salt on the corners of the board that were used for dipping.  Turns out cow tongue isn’t as bad as I had previously suspected. 

After the meat had been polished off, a clay pot containing home brewed sorghum beer was passed around.  Zulus don’t drink their beer from glasses; everyone drank straight from the pot.  Sorghum beer is a very creamy, pinkish whitish liquid.  It has a relatively low alcohol content, and tastes sweet and tangy.  The beer is a Zulu favorite; Mrs. Dladla brewed around 25 gallons for the occasion. 

I spent most of the evening relaxing and talking with the few friends and relatives who spoke some English around the cooking fire.  After dark, we moved into one of the rondavels and watched some of the young men show off their traditional dance skills.  Zulu dance involves lots of rhythmic singing and clapping, while the dancer moves slowly to the music.  When the dancer feels ready, he or she kicks a foot as high as possible and brings it stomping back to the ground.  Most dancers can easily bring their feet above their heads; it’s quite impressive to watch. 

Showing off traditional dance skills

Around half past nine, Bee and the other male friends and relatives led a caravan from the Dladla’s home to the home of the groom’s parents.  On arriving, the men snuck into the homestead with sticks and traditional Zulu shields.  They ran around some of the buildings, beating their sticks on the shields and yelling.  When the female friends and relatives arrived, everyone from the bride’s family gathered at the entrance to the groom’s home and started singing, chanting, and slowly moving forward.  The object of this charade was to allow the bride to enter one of the buildings of the groom’s house without being recognized.  Many of the women covered their heads with blankets to add to the confusion of the groom’s family.  Fortunately, the bride made it inside without incident, and everyone else followed her lead.  After 10 minutes, what seemed like the entire family of both the bride and the groom was crammed like sardines into a medium-sized rondavel.  After a few hours and several welcome speeches, drinks were brought for all the guests.  The singing, dancing, and celebrating lasted until 4 am.