On Friday evening I attended an Afrikaans wedding, where I knew all of two people – two people removed from the bridal couple by several degrees. This left me related to the couple in no way whatsoever. But I was comfortable – in my red wedding shirt and with my camera behind which I could hide if the need arose.
I had been anticipating the wedding with some trepidation, because Afrikaans weddings are known to be very traditional, with many long, repetitious and tedious speeches after a long, repetitious and tedious ceremony. In the weeks leading up to the event I had been practising how to sleep with my eyes open, and had been listening to Afrikaans songs to get me into the vibe but, as it turned out, none of that was needed…
The ceremony was undertaken by a German dog-collar wearing minister in Afrikaans. It was rather confusing because of the computer analogies he used to explain marriage but it was all very entertaining none the less and I learnt a lot about the world of PCs but little about married life. He also tried to be funny, but clearly something was lost in translation from German to Afrikaans, and he was often the only one laughing.
We had one song to sing, but the music system failed in the moment and the bride was left standing at the altar while the groom and best man tried to resurrect it. Eventually we all just went a cappella, with the bride leading in full voice. I hummed.
There was much standing up, sitting down, kneeling, standing up and sitting down again. During one of our upstandings everyone in my pew spread out a bit too much, leaving me without a spot to rest my derrière when it came to be seated again. Memories of childhood musical chairs came to mind… but I made the most of it, took my camera, and started snapping away at the happy couple like a manic wedding photographer.
During the service, the flower girls were outside having a merry time scattering rose petals on the lawn, gathering them all together in the baskets again, and flinging them in the air again… By the time it came for the guests to sprinkle petals on the bridal pair they were mixed with twigs, grass and other unmentionables … but no-one seemed to notice.
After the ubiquitous stock photos outside it was on to the reception. The organisers were very wise in serving sherry to all the guests to help dull the senses in anticipation of the speeches. But again, it turns out it wasn’t needed – the alcohol just made them all-the-funnier. They were unlike what I’d been expecting – random and rapid. The MC forgot people’s names; the bridesmaid (who was beautiful and feminine in her blue puffy dress) threatened to meet guests who had arrived late outside to teach them better etiquette; the groom forgot to mention the bride in his speech but then tried to make up for it by exclaiming in a high-pitched, sing-song, gnome-like voice that she would be his forever; and the minister, in the lead-up to his prayer for the food, told the same bridesmaid he would see her in hell… Say what?
The kids were tearing around like loons throughout the speeches, appetisers were served loudly, and guests became more and more tipsy… Very early in the evening I heard one of the guests at my table speaking to one of the others about sport. And then he asked her, “Do you cycle at all?”
“No, I’m too drunk for sport” she responded. Clearly, she’d hit the pre-reception sherry and champagne a bit hard, a bit too quickly. I’m amazed she could make it to her feet for the tossing of the bouquet … But, all in all, the time was very chilled.
In fact, I enjoyed the wedding so much that I started dreaming of gate-crashing other weddings. I’m thinking of driving around on a Saturday afternoon in my wedding best, finding a wedding on the go, and wandering in pretending to be one of the official photographers. It should work. What do you think?