ENGAGEMENT PARTY
Before I saw the waving hips of dancing women, happy singing and clapping of hands had reached me on the street. About 40 people had come to celebrate the engagement of Emily and George. The air was filled with expectancy. Sitting on the floor of Catherine’s house, dressed in their Sunday best, people were waiting, singing and waiting. Even the empty straw mat on the middle of the floor seemed to be asking: ‘Where is the bridegroom?’ And suddenly, there he was. In his new ochre suit, looking handsome and happy. Greetings were changed, the singing continued and before long a lady, head covered with a chetenze was led in. This must be Emily, the bride I have met many times when talking to Catharine in her ‘shop’. Slowly the head covering fabric was removed…but doesn’t she look different, I thought, it must be the hair. I am sure nobody else was fooled but me: this was not Emily; this was just a trick to raise people’s expectancy.
By this time more and more people, clasping bundles of small notes had arrived and we all moved outside. Malawian celebrations are filled with money collections. A fluently chatting man, holding a green plastic bowl, was tempting people to depart from their notes: ‘Could everybody living in Manja raise their hand’ and then of course all of us who did, had to give a contribution. And so it went on…even ‘any azungus present’ was asked to give although I was the only possible candidate. Luckily I was prepared and 20 kwatcha note fell into the bowl. This is only 13pence, but people were putting even smaller notes of 5kw in and as this is done several times, money is adding up and at the end of the day there was 3800 kwacha collected. That £ 25 would hopefully cover the expenses.
But long before the final note was placed in the bowl, another mystery figure, wrapped in a chitenze was brought in. Again, is she the right one……and disappointment: this is not the right lady. George sat firmly on his straw mat, accompanied by the best man when Emily at long last appeared, green patterned chitenze moved and she could sit beside her future husband. Emily has the most beautiful smile, but it is not customary for a woman to smile in this occasion. She couldn’t quite hide it though when a starter kit for a new home was brought in and a huge knife - or more like an axe -was lifted from the basket accompanied with a witty speech.
And then I saw a chicken, black chicken, carried by Emily’s brother. I get always excited about chickens here as they have such a strong symbolic meaning. Anything important expressed and the chicken is there. This was most definitely an important occasion and there was not only one black chicken present, but the bridegroom’s uncle appeared carrying a grey and white cockerel well. The birds, live of course, exchanged owners and Emily & George were officially accepted into their new families. Later these fowl would be cooked and shared among the new family members, but in the party the traditional customs continued. Now a cooked chicken was brought in and two men representing the families were holding it. They pulled the legs off simultaneously and ate them. Then the rest of the meat was given to some selected people. These people formed a future support group for the couple. If the husband and wife had a quarrel, they could go and discuss the problem with a person from the support group. The rest of us visitors, not appropriate for being a supporter, were given a drink and while I was sipping my Coke from a bottle, Dien-Fait, Catherine’s 4 year old grandson came to sit in my lap. This was a personal victory and a lovely ending for my day as until then, every time Dien-Fait saw me he covered his eyes and cried: ‘She is too white, she is too white’. I was glad this little man had discovered something which even many adults haven’t realised: You have to look beneath the skin to find a person.