Here comes the bride...no, not me!

There's something entirely majestic and powerful about a group of 20 Cameroonian women, clad in a beautiful array of kabas, sitting around three pink-orange fires cooking all the food from scratch for the wedding of my host-cousin, Reine, the next day. And I mean all the food. In a patriarchal society, it is in this domain, providing nourishment for the family, that women reign supreme. That and ther natural beauty, enhanced by the colorful patterns of their traditional dresses. While eating cooked plantains, beef and, yes, intestine (washed down with the carbonated-cherry-cough-syrup taste of Top Grenadine, which would otherwise be the epitome of foul in my book), I took it all in: my first experience with intestine (a prized part of of the animal - which one I am unsure - which I tried really hard to palate) and Cameroonian weddings.

While I've only ever been to max two weddings that I remember in my entire life, I am absolutely positive of this: you've never been to a wedding until you've been to a Cameroonian one. There is simply nothing like it. I imagine it would be even crazier in the village, but it was plenty crazy even here in Yaoundé, probably because the Ngamo clan seems to be innumrable! My host-dad, Papa Fernand, is one of ELEVEN children, which adds up to approximately 75 Ngamos in Yaoundé alone, and they have their own website. Once I met my host-grandmother, I instantly understood where all the energy exhibited by Papa Fernand and his siblings stems from...and I hadn't even seen her dance yet!

The day of the wedding began with a lot of hustle and bustle, ironing and makeup. Yes, makeup, even though I knew I was just going to sweat it all off in a matter of seconds. We had to look our best (*cultural note: this is way difficult for me, la blanche, since a. Cameroonian women ALWAYS look their best and b. I am severely lacking in nice clothes here.). We arrived at le marié, the civil wedding ceremony, a bit late but still early for African time. My host sister, Patricia, one of Reine's bridesmaids, led me by hand through the crowd of family members to a bench where we squished in with other relatives in an attempt to glimpse the ceremony. Reined was stunning in a pink gown as she and Gérmain were married in the eyes of the government (*cultural note: apparently it is okay for the justice of the peace to answer his cell phone during the ceremony). Though a state ceremony, it was not without much noise and celebration - we were sitting behind that female relative who is really loud and makes obnoxious cheers (yes, you know, THAT one). But in Cameroon, this makes everything infinitely better. Vows, kisses, and rings were exchanged, clapping and bisous on each cheek followed outside in felicitations to the new monogamous couple (*cultural note: part of the reason for this civil service is to decide whether the marriage is monogamous of polygamous). After many pictures (of which the bride and groom tired quickly, something transcending cultural boundaries), we returned home to change for the church wedding at 15h00; again we had to look our best.

My best came from la fripperie, which from what I understand in French is a lightly-used, European-imported nice clothes store. Patricia chose 2 dresses there for me to don the day of the wedding, and I chose my favorite, a navy and cream wrap dress, for l'église. The church ceremonywas at the Catholic church on the campus of Patricia's school, l'Université Catholique. It is gorgeous, with unique architecture and an amazing staine-glass window that illumintaes a rainbow withing the church. The ceremony was surprisingly Western, with the bride wearing a traditionaly white gown with long train. All in French, the service was truly beautiful, with an uncle serving as one of the priests. The music was joyous and full of clapping, infinitely better in my opinion than Catholic mass in the States. Everyon gathered there was overcome with complete happiness for the now doubly married couple! The service was followed by an abundance of photos, where tiny cousins got ahold of my camera, which made for good fun. Being the only white person there made me stand out more than ever, but yet I felt included and part of the Ngamo family. What's one more in the grand scheme of things?!

We arrived back at the maison to find we had no electricity, so we readied for la soirée (aka wedding reception) in the dark. We came out looking superb and wre the first besides the bridal party to arrive at the venue. I felt as though I could have been in the US, except the music was in Frzench and the food was quintessentially Cameroonian (although there was delicious Moroccan couscous!). The soirée started off fairly awkwardly, but once the beer and wine started flowing and the dancing commenced, things picked up and got as quintessentially Cameroonian as the food. It was at this moment that I wished I had been born African and truly understood and felt the truth of the saying "white girls can't dance." But it didn't matter because soon I was being pulled onto the dancefloo by the radiant Mama Solange and shaking it, or attempting to, not knowing exactly what it was, with my fabulous host-parents. And let me just say they know how to dance and look incredible in the process! Before I knew it; I was being led by one of the bridesmaids, Ariel, into the middle of the kids' circle. Yes, that's right, for two, what seemed like a hundred, terrifying minutes, I was the dancefloor's center of attention. Then everyone quickly realized I couldn't dance like them and lost interest. Actually, the song just changed and I was saved from further humiliation and continued dancing with the tiny cousins in their adorably pink dresses and became bset friends with the flower girl.

After taking a breather for an extended amount of time, watching as my host-brothers and dad TORE up the dancefloor, something extraordinary occurred. You won't think it's that fantastic unless you were in my French 246 class with Professor Ngong in Fall 2007, but Alie Collins, I dedicate these next few lines to you. The Kassav song "Zouk la sel sel medikamen nou ni" blared from the four huge speakers in the reception hall and after bopping along at the table for a few mintues, Papa Fernand and I hit the dancefloor to finish it out. Yes, I danced with my host-dad in Cameroon to the only Créole Zouk song I know and reveled in the moment. The rest of the night was a blur, maybe because I got dizzy from watching all the incredible dancing going on, maybe from the wine and champagne I drank with my host-aunt, maybe because it was two in the morning when we rounded up the dancing fools who are my host-dad and brothers and left. Or maybe it was the natural high from the Zouk music. Regardless, as we drove back home to Montée Jouvance, I couldn't help but think, "It doesn't get better than this!"

That's all for now! It's been quite the weekend with the wedding yesterday and a family reunion with the Ngamos who we saw yesterday today! I got to hold some adorable children, help a host-cousin with her English and have my hair played with by a swarm of little cousins! I probably bisoused on both cheeks about 300 times this weekend and loved every second of it! Now it's time for some sleep! A la prochaine fois (until next time)!
bisous on both cheeks,
kmi