14 days to go
Whilst attending an ‘adoring’ for a local newborn baby, Lydia, Amy (Lydia’s sister) and I are invited by a local seamstress to attend her wedding ceremony in two weeks time.
The three of us purchase cloth and take it to a local seamstress (actually the bride to be) and a local tailor to be made into ‘Ghanaian wedding attire’ suitable for the occasion.
9.30am morning of the wedding
To our delight it’s a slightly overcast day – the sweating will be kept to a minimum. On time, the three of us turn up to the church looking dapper.
The church, (the Dangme East, Evangelical Baptist Church) is actually one of two school classrooms, very long and thin with perhaps 200 chairs set up for the ceremony. Blue and Purple fabric hang in drapes from the ceiling, and a ‘floating’ archway of balloons sits as a central feature where the bride and groom will stand. It looks just like a wedding venue would look in England, except that it’s deserted. A lone pastor approaches us and explains that things are running late. We should come back in two hours.
We get in the car and go home.
11.30am
Bingo, other people. The same pastor guides us inside and we sit down to watch the preparations continue. There are about twenty guests so far.
11.45am
‘The Angelic Singers’ with their accompaniment begin to warm up just as the amp arrives and is plugged into the six enormous speakers. True to form the speakers are ‘blown out’ (broken) but turned up to full volume anyway. It’s frustrating because warming up the singers were actually quite good. The noise is almost unbearable.
12.00pm
In a somewhat casual beginning, the pastor welcomes the (still relatively small) congregation, and we begin to pray for the couple with the Angelic Singers in the ‘background’. Praying is taken very seriously here, and after a short introduction from the pastor the prayers are said individually, heads bowed, speaking with fire and passion and really willing god to look after the couple to be. The congregation grows.
12.30pm
The bride arrives and, just as at home, walks down the aisle to much admiration from the guests. She greets her husband to be and they sit under the arch at the front of the church. The pastor introduces the special guests at the wedding, including a surprise welcome to ‘Mr and Mrs Addison’ – which turns out to be us. Being a ‘special guest’ at a Ghanaian event is never as innocent as it sounds, as we were to find out later.
The hymns begin.
The vows are said, with much cheering and whooping from the guests after each section. The pastor is dismayed as this ‘serious’ section of the ceremony is repeatedly interrupted, but the congregation won’t be quiet and the ushers are positively encouraging the noise. People continually dance down to the front, round the couple and back to their seats. Everyone is on their feet cheering and the band can’t resist striking up. The couple love it, and before long they are formally married.
1.30pm
After another hymn and a collection for the church, a pastor steps forward with a large plastic bucket, and over the background music states that he wants 20 people to come forward and put 100,000 cedis (10 cedis in new money) in the collection for the new couple.
This is awkward.
A few people (perhaps 5) go up straight away. The pastor keeps talking as they return to their seats. Slowly one or two more make their way forward, deposit the 10 cedis and return. Two or three minutes have now passed, and we’re only at about 10 deposits. 10 cedis is a lot of money for the average Ghanaian, even one with a good job. The pastor continues to talk about the couple’s small children, the cost of the wedding and the money they need for a house.
This is really awkward.
Lyd, Amy and I had planned to give a 45 cedi gift between us, in an envelope, with a card. Even writing this number down knowing that you’re reading it makes me uncomfortable. Standing up in a wedding, marching down the aisle as the only white people and proudly displaying to everyone “we’re rich, we can afford this” would be horrific. So we sit tight, still planning to give the money privately at the end.
After five minutes the money still was not raised, and an usher came forward, took the bowl and replaced it with a new one.
“Five cedis, everyone who can give five cedis come forward now”. Dear God no. This time more people stand up, parade down to the front, deposit the money and sit. Again there are five minutes of songs, with the pastor laying on the emotional blackmail, and one at a time more people make their way to the front.
The usher reappears, with another empty bowl. It's clear he's going all the way. “Two or one cedi”. Just about everyone in the congregation has now given something. We sit there, shame faced, feeling eyes burn into the back of our heads. We can’t stand up now and give two cedis, we’d look ridiculously tight. Half of our workforce from the sewing centre are here, and we’re horribly embarrassed.
Finally the bowls disappear and we crack on with another hymn.
2.30pm
“The first dance” announces the pastor. Unexpectedly soon, we’re still mid ceremony. But there’s a catch. “Anyone who wants to dance with the couple must pay 5 cedis”. It’s never going to end.
3.00pm
The ceremony finishes and we pile outside for photographs. Lyd, Amy and I are starving, we’ve not had lunch and we try to sneak off quickly for some yam. Too late, caught in the act by the bride we’re pulled into the (second) wedding photograph with the lucky couple. Well, we are distinguished guests.
After our sneaky bite to eat we return to the venue expecting to stand around chatting while the photos finish, but they’ve all been taken, and everyone’s back in the church sitting down.
Round 2.
A sermon from the ‘guest’ pastor from Tema is the lead up to some serious praying for the couple from the congregation.
Next ‘all the single people’ (read single ladies, there were only about 10 men in the church) are invited to stand up, parade up to the front, round the lectern and back to their seats, in the hope of finding a partner. The music picks up and, to much cheering and encouragement, the ladies line up and bop down the aisle, African style, with their bums shaking. Everyone is smiling. The ladies return to their seats.
“Mr and Mrs. Addison, you are invited to come forward and dance”.
We’re stone cold sober. We’ve barely got over the morning’s ‘fundraising’. And now we’re going to dance for 200 Ghanaians. It’s moments like this you never forget.
Not wanting to let our countrymen down, Lyd and I lead the charge up the aisle with a slightly reluctant Amy following close behind. As the music begins we swing our hips, put our hands in the air and give it everything we’ve got. Why not; they seem to love it. For the first time in my life I understand what it must be like to perform at a concert, I could get a taste for this. It’s a long song, and we’re soon joined by every member of the Global Mamas team at the wedding, ‘looking out’ for their bosses. Soon enough, we return to our seats.
A final round of fundraising, paying 1 cedi to pop one of the few hundred balloons in the floating arch begins, and the guests, slowly at first, begin to make their way out of the church. It seems a little rude, the bride and groom are right there at the front looking over the congregation and people are just leaving. After 15 minutes we join them outside, drop off our present and mingle in the fresh air.
5pm
Assuming it’s over we head for the car, but are told that as special guests we’ve been invited to a sit-down meal at the couple’s uncle’s house. A short ride through PramPram and we arrive at a house that would give a Californian mansion a run for it’s money. It’s a lovely place with a huge flat-screen TV, high ceilings and a sofa that could easily seat 30.
What a day.
Love Tim, Lyd and Amy x
